The Pioneers

1843 - mid 1850's

‘They rise to mastery of wind and snow;

They go like soldiers grimly into strife

They colonize the plain.

They plow and sow,

And fertilize the sod with their own life,

As did the Indian and the buffalo.’’

—Hamlin Garland

When the land west of the Red Rock Line was open to white settlers in 1845, they came walking, on horseback, by prairie schooner, or covered wagon into this unknown land. They came from New England, Pennsylvania, Kentucky, and elsewhere. There were no roads or bridges across the rivers. They followed Indian trails; they forded rivers. The women and boys often walked behind the wagons, driving the cattle as they went. Small babies, pregnant women, and children who were ill were among the westward-hound. Sometimes, they had to stop for a burial along the way, and it was difficult to go on and leave the loved one behind. When a baby was born, they could stop only briefly as time was precious, The glorious prize they sought was a piece of land they could call their own.

The earliest settlers followed the Des Moines River Valley up from Keokuk; it was the most frequented of the early routes into central Iowa. The southeastern areas of the Greenbelt were thus occupied first. Marion County was the first to be settled and Webster County the last.

Traveling along at about 15 to 25 miles a day must have been very wearisome, but the landseekers beheld a grandeur that those who came at a later time would never see. Nature, in its pristine beauty, was an exotic, enchanting spectacle, new and unfamiliar to these trail blazers.

‘When I first came to Marion County," said pioneer settler, W.H.H. Barker, the prairie grass was knee deep. There was a great quantity of big timber, and the water in the Des Moines River was so clear you could spear a fish five feet from the surface," (Harvey: 1981, 7). (Already in Dr. Barker’s lifetime, he could report that the Des Moines was a muddy stream, so filled

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with eroded soil and sewage that most of the fish had suffocated).

The bottomlands provided long vistas of soft blue-green meadows. The upland prairies were a waving sea of green, dotted with a changing panorama of colors, with crocuses, butter-cups, violets, wild roses, tiger lilies, asters, sweet williams, and other flowers, each blooming in its own season.

In the swamp lands and sloughs, especially of the northern counties, interspersed with the tall bluestem grasses and canes high enough to hide a man on horseback, the newcomers saw floating pink, white, and yellow lotuses and water lilies.

They beheld clear, cold springs issuing from the river banks. Every little brook and rivulet was as clear as crystal, its bottom reflecting the brilliant colors of red, white, and yellow stones.

In the woods, elk, wild turkey, and deer darted before their eyes; in the prairies they beheld the awesome sight of herds of buffalo and startled wild prairie chickens rising in flight, almost darkening the skies; in the sloughs and ponds, they saw geese, ducks, and other waterfowl.

There were other forms of life not so pleasing. Snakes lay hidden in the tall grasses. Mosquitoes were a plague all along the way, especially in the wetland areas. Pioneer women told of wearing their hats and coats in the wagons even in the hottest weather in order to protect themselves from mosquitoes.

At night as they lay in their wagons or on the ground, they could view the stars and constellations shining brightly through unpolluted skies. They could hear the prairie chickens, said to be the musicians of the evening and the early morning.

The settler was more than likely looking for a location near the timber along the river, or even better at one of the creeks that flowed into the river. In these places, the timber extended farther out, and the land was a little higher, thus less subject to flooding. The creeks were easier to bridge or to ford than the river When the settlers finally decided on a place to homestead, they felt as if they had found the Promised Land!

Problems in an Unfamiliar Environment

When a family stopped at their chosen site, everything had to he done at once—a shelter constructed, food procured, and seeds planted) They constructed log cabins if they lived in the

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woodlands; dugouts or "soddies," in the prairies. Dayton’s earliest settlers made their first homes in caves they dug in the hillsides. A fireplace, which would serve the double purpose of heating and cooking was another immediate necessity; cooking out of doors or in a hole dug at one end of the cabin was a temporary, most unsatisfactory expedient.

A continuing anxiety was a daily supply of food. If it had not been for abundant game and wild fruits and berries, many families might not have been able to survive, Corn was foreign to the settlers and though they didn’t like it that much, corn, converted into johnny cake, was their mainstay the first few years. One pioneer woman told of making the corn bread out of coarse corn meal which had been ground in the coffee grinder and then mixed with water often without soda, It was baked on a covered skillet over the coals or laid on a homemade ‘‘Johnny cake board’ tilted over the fire.

Corn was the Indians’ greatest gift to the whites. Iowa’s Henry Wallace said, ‘‘No matter how much the white man may accomplish in rearranging the corn genes, he may well be humble as he contemplates that corn breeder of 10,000 years ago" (Wallace: 1930, 217).

Getting the corn to a mill was a nightmare. It might; take the men two or three weeks by horse or oxen and wagon to make the trip to Keokuk or Bonaparte. There were no bridges, and during high water the trip could he dangerous. They might have

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to wait a week at the mill for their turn. Meanwhile, the women at home worried about the waning food simply, Indian intruders, wolves, and sick children.

The loneliness suffered by women confined to their houses for long days without even a neighbor in sight was eased as new families came westward, There was no more thrilling sight than that of a prairie schooner coming across the distant horizon, and high hopes would he entertained that the newcomers would decide to stay.

Ague (malaria), probably carried by mosquitoes, was a dread prospect.. Its victims alternately shook with chills and burned with fever. A Marion County pioneer reported in his JournaL

At the end of the bitter first winter, the entire family was stricken with ague. Finally, Father recovered sufficiently to go for provisions and medicine. Meanwhile, Mother kept a lonely vigil during his two-day absence. When she saw him approaching, she went to help him get to the house. Meanwhile, one of their twin babies died, but Father was so weakened he was forced to go to bed.

My heartbroken mother alone had to prepare her child for burial. She used her most prized wedding gift, a silk nightgown, for a shroud. The coffin was a walnut dresser drawer Next morning, a neighbor dug a grave next to a large oak tree. Prayers were said, and the child was buried, no marker for its grave. (Harvey: 1981, 7).

Wolves were a real menace all up and down the river area. They killed livestock and were a peril to human beings as well. A dramatic story is told concerning Isaac and Jim Hook at the early settlement of Hook’s Point (near Boone Forks), who were returning to their cabin with game they had killed. They noted they were being followed by a pack of wolves, Jim threw them a rabbit and Isaac shot into the pack, but the wolves, instead of being diverted, came on at a more rapid pace, yelping furiously. The Hooks made a run for the cabin and got in just in time. But the lead wolf had managed to get his foot and leg in the door and was pushing hard. Fortunately, the brothers had an axe on the wall, and while one pushed against the door, the other chopped off the wolf’s foot. The wolf ran off, howling with pain, followed by the rest of the pack (Madsen: 1976, 4).

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The chill sweep of the unaccustomed winter winds brought suffering and illness. The pioneers pasted many layers of newspapers on their walls for insulation; some kept their children in bed during the coldest days; the family huddled around the fireplace whenever possible,

Life on the Prairies

In time, the forested lands along the river and its tributaries had been claimed, arid latecomers had no choice but prairie land. They were apprehensive about settling on the prairie as they had no experience in the grasslands, They felt lonely and homesick when out of sight of tall trees. lb them, there was something fearful, perhaps poisonous in grassland soils. As they said, "It stands to reason that land which is good will grow trees.’’

The peculiar problems of living on the prairie are described by Carl F. Seashore (later Dean of the Graduate School, University of Iowa) who came with his parents from Sweden to settle in Boone County:

"We had to fight grasshoppers with kerosene; we had to patrol the seeded ground against the clouds of game birds—ducks, geese, cranes, swans, and prairie chickens—which would pick up the sprouting wheat and corn, and at times darken the sky like a cloud.

Snowstorms were a severe menace on the treeless, windswept expanses, I rode horseback one whole night lost in a cold blizzard.

Prairie fires were a dreadful threat. I have seen a fire cloud like a gigantic torch advancing at tornado speed toward our prairie grass surroundings." (Seashore: 1941, 181-2).

When a family spotted the dread spectacle of an approaching prairie fire, they joined in feverish activity to try to save their cabin. They plowed furrows around the house, poured water on the sparks which jumped the fireguard, and flailed the fire with wet sacks.

Despite their destructiveness, there were also blessings associated with the prairie fires. After the fires had passed, thousands of pigeons and prairie chickens scrambled over the ground in search of seeds and insects. They were an easy and

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bounteous source of meat, Prairie chicken eggs, white against the blackened ground, could be picked up by the pailful. They were not hurt by the fire.

The poorly drained prairie lands in the northern counties were interspersed with many lakes and sloughs. Large portions of the land could not be cultivated; they were wryly referred to as ‘‘liquid real estate.’’ They were difficult for school children to traverse, as well as for horses and wagons. (Often the traveler had to go a great distance around the wet places in order to arrive at his destination).

Breaking prairie sod was an unfamiliar task and hard. It was better with oxen pulling the plow than with horses. The mosquitoes and flies made the horses so skittish that they could not he made to stick to the furrow. Seashore said, ‘Breaking the prairie was one of the most beautiful, most epochal, most pathetic things man ever did; one of the loveliest things ever created (the prairie) came to an end." (Seashore: 1944; 183):

Fuel for cooking and heating was difficult to procure. The settlers twisted the prairie grasses into knots, dried them, and used them for fuel. Some of the farmers traveled by wagon to dig coal out of the river banks. They loaded it on their wagons and then had to walk homeward along the wagon in the bitter cold and the sweeping gales of the prairies.

European Immigrants Come

A group of settlers who deliberately chose the prairie over the timbered river lands were the Hollanders who came to Marion County in 1847. They had come from a background of pastures and canals.

They differed from most settlers in that 700 of them came at one time, members of an association already formed in Holland, headed by Dominie (Reverend) H.P Scholte. Many hundreds of additional Hollanders came in the next few years. The 1847 settlers had put their gold in an iron chest, and their leader went ahead and arranged for the purchase of land in Marion County, for which the families later drew lots.

Because of their large numbers, the Hollanders were able to tackle problems of the new land cooperatively; this meant a more rapid transformation of the landscape than most settlers were able to achieve. Also, they had the advantage of a greater amount of capital than most pioneers had. They amazed

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everyone with whom they traded in that they paid in gold whereas money was in short supply with most early settlers.

Twenty-seven room home built by Dominie H.P Scholte in Pella in 1847. Continuously occupied by Scholte family until 1987. Now a museum. (John Vroom)

They were several miles from the river (and timber). They constructed dugouts with roofs of long slough hay for their first homes. These ‘‘soddies" were dusty and insect-ridden, but at least they were relatively warm. Pella, their town, was nicknamed ‘‘Strooistadt’’ (Strawtown).

The Hollanders soon had surplus goods to trade and so felt that they needed a port. In 1848, Dominie Scholte platted the town of Amsterdam, the port of Pella on the river. At the time Amsterdam was laid out, small boats were plying the river, and hopes were high that it would soon become an emporium of trade. Circulars were sent to the eastern states, advertising the advantages of the place and inviting capital investment. When steamboating declined and finally ceased altogether, the only business enterprise in Amsterdam was a lime and brick plant. Amsterdam soon ceased to exist.

Another European people who put their ethnic and societal stamp on the land were the Swedes who settled in Boone County at Swede Point (later known as Madrid). Mrs. Anna Dalander, a widow 54 years of age, was the organizer and leader

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The Amsterdam School (present structure, 1882) survived the town by many years. It held classes until 1960. It is now used as a community center for residents of the rural area. (Heusinkveld)

of a party of 42 people, including her six adult children, who left Sweden, hoping to join their friends, the Peter Gassels, who had left Sweden a year before. At Keokuk, they bought oxen, horses, wagons, and other supplies and proceeded up the Des Moines River Valley.

Along the way at Fort Des Moines and other points, they asked about the Peter Cassel group but no one had heard of them. (It was learned later that the Cassels had settled along the Skunk rather than the Des Moines River).

Four months after their departure from Sweden, in September 1846, the Dalander party was "lost in the wilderness’’ in Boone County. They decided that with winter coming on, they must stop. They chose a spot in the timber back some distance from the river near a spring of good water. Some of the men immediately began to construct shelters; they were used to working with wood in Sweden and had brought good Swedish axes, saws, and hammers. Others went in search of fish and game. It is said that the first thing the women did was to go to the spring to wash their clothing. Soon Charles Gaston, an ex-Dragoon and the first settler in Boone County, found them and offered to sell them potatoes and squash and to help them build cabins. (Later he married one of the Dalander daughters).

Before their homes were finished, they slept in their wagons and in temporary shelters of brush and grass. Each morning,

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they held worship services outside, the wilderness all around them.

Despite hardships, they survived the first winter In the spring, they broke ground in the river lowlands with pick and spade and planted corn. Other Swedes came in the succeeding years and brought cows, chickens, and hogs. Life gradually became easier.

The Dalander Cemetery located one mile west and one mile north of Madrid, contains the graves of Anna Dalander and most of the other original settlers of the area.

Swede Point (Madrid) pioneer Anna Dalander’s grave (Heusinkveld)

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Both the Holland and the Swedish group made a permanent impact on the area they settled, in terms of church denominations, life goals, and family customs.

Other immigrants, usually in single family units, came from Ireland, Germany, England, and Norway and other parts of Europe. Each ethnic group helped to form the mosaic of peoples that is the Greenbelt.

The pioneers were indeed men and women ‘‘to match their mountains." Some seemed almost to thrive on challenge and hardship. Amazingly, there were those who, when comfortably settled, were stricken with wanderlust for lands farther west, and they packed up once again to trek into the great unknown. They felt the land here was getting too crowded.

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