Polk County IA Archives History - Books .....Social Reminiscences 1898
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Book Title: Annals Of Polk County, Iowa And City Of Des Moines

CHAPTER XV.
SOCIAL REMINISCENCES. 
BY BINA M. WYMAN.

AS WE grow older our hearts turn backward at times to the pleasures and
associations of youth, when "hope was young and life was all abloom." Today I
have been living over again the scenes of thirty and thirty-live years ago, with
the society of loved ones, some of whom are now gone forever, who were the very
life and light of every social event.

   In 1859 and 1860 Des Moines was a small village of between two thousand and
three thousand inhabitants, with no railroad nearer than Iowa City, a distance
of a hundred and fifty miles. Those who came here in a stage coach well remember
their experiences, some of which were thrilling. Then everybody knew everybody
else, and every party was made up of all the young people, married and single
(there were very few old persons in town then), and every stranger who came as a
visitor was hailed with delight, because he or she swelled our numbers, and
jolly good times we used to have.

   About the first person of the procession who looms up to memory's view was
the Episcopal rector, Dr. Peet. Always cheery, even humorous, he carried
sunshine with him and was ever a welcome visitor. It was the fashion in those
days to have surprise parties, and one could be arranged for on short notice,
because there was no need of much formality.

   Dr. Peet lived about a mile north of town on the river road, as we used to
call it, now First street. His house is gone and the place laid out in lots, so
that we can hardly find it. Then he had one of the coziest homes in town, made
bright and cheerful by himself, his good wife and family.

   One winter night we planned a surprise party on them and started out full of
glee, a goodly company—carrying our supper with us. The snow lay thick upon the
ground and the sleighing was fine. Mr. Hoyt Sherman took his two-seated sleigh
and fast stepping bays, and away we sped to the music of the bells; Mrs.
Sherman, Mrs. B. F. Allen and the writer occupied the back seat, while Mr.
Sherman and the driver were in front. Mrs. S. was carrying, very carefully, a
pail of cream and watching the driving.

    All went merrily until we came to the "bad place," a very narrow strip of
road bordering on the river bank on one side and a steep bank on the other, so
that if the sleigh should swerve but a few inches, over we would go, and being
so narrow there was no room to turn out if we should meet another team.
Altogether we felt rather nervous and "scary," and were holding our breaths till
we should pass this dreadful place, when all of a sudden we missed Mrs. Allen,
and looking back saw her sitting in the snow in the middle of the road! We
halted and Mr. S. went back to her and after some arguing and coaxing got her
back into the sleigh, although she declared she would "rather walk any time."

   We drove on and soon reached our destination in safety. The house was
brilliantly lighted, and there was a great wood fire in the fireplace, which I
can see now, with a group of friends standing around, who welcomed us with real
old-fashioned hospitality. How we did enjoy that supper, and the games and
charades that followed.

   There was Col. and Mrs. S. F. Spofford, Col. and Mrs. E. F. Hooker, Mr. C. W.
Keyes, Mr. and Mrs. John Mitchell, Misses Ella and Abbie Mitchell, Miss Kate
Stanley, Mary and Lucy Love (Mary was Miss Ella Quick's mother), Judge and Mrs.
Rice, Mr. and Mrs. Finch, Miss Mary Calder (Mrs. Rice's sister), Mr. and Mrs.
John A. Kasson, Mr. and Mrs. Ira Cook, Warren and Tac Hussey, Lizzie and Abbie
Cleveland, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas F. Withrow, Mr. J. B. Stewart, W. S. Pritchard,
the Callanans and Inghams, the Reeds, Terrys and our party, and many more who
have slipped from memory.

   Dr. Peet was a good story teller, and could keep "the table in a roar" any
time with humorous stories. Many associations cluster around his memory;
weddings, christenings and funerals in that little old church on Seventh street,
where Mrs. Kasson used to play the organ and Mrs. Sherman and Mrs. Keyes to sing.

   One of the "oldest young men" was Col. S. F. Spofford (who now sleeps in
Woodland), "mine host" of the old "De Moine" house, that stood on the corner of
First and Walnut streets. He had the finest turnout of fast going, black horses
and a big sleigh, and he used to take turns in giving everybody a ride.
Sometimes he would get a big wagon-bed, put it on runners, fill it up with a gay
party and drive through the streets and out to somebody's house in the country,
get supper and have a dance, and then go home singing, "We Won't Go Home Till
Morning."

   Mr. O'Kell, who afterwards married Mary Teesdale, was the wit of the company,
and often convulsed us with his mock schoolboy speeches. Many a pleasant evening
was passed at the old De Moine House, where O'Kell, Col. Spofford and Charlie
Spofford were the leading spirits. And here we are reminded of Billy Woodwell,
another wit. He still lives in Pittsburg, and his daughter, Mrs. Reece Stewart,
lives here. He is a cousin of Mrs. John Mitchell and Mrs. Mott. Mrs. Mitchell
visited him this summer and reported him well and as jolly as ever. His sister,
Miss Gerty Woodwell, married John H. Stewart, who was Consul to France. She was
a beautiful girl, and he was a polished gentleman. Both died abroad within a few
years of each other.

   We did not have many concerts or theatres. Occasionally a stray troupe of
actors or a lecturer would come this way, but we generally got up our own
entertainments. Mr. Jocelyn, the Methodist minister, gave a series of lectures
one winter that were well attended.

   One of our pleasures in summer, was to get up a party and drive out to
"Swans," a few miles southwest of town. There we always found a good supper and
music for dancing. And then those drives by moonlight! No matter whether we lost
our way, and run into sloughs or trees or upset, the glamour of youthful romance
was over it all, and nothing was serious then.

   How well I remember one summer night, after we had stayed in the house as
long as we could, some of us started out to serenade our friends. There were Mr.
and Mrs. D. O. Finch, Mary Calder, J. B. Stewart, W. S. Pritchard, George O'Kell
and myself. We had a three-stringed guitar, a tin-pan and a flute, coarse comb
with paper wrapped around it, an accordeon and a sheet of music rolled up for a
horn. Mr. Finch and Mr. O'Kell took the lead across the open lot where Kurtz's
bakery and the rest of the buildings in the rear of Lichty's drug store now
stands. Mr. Sherman's house stood facing on Walnut street, where the drug store
is, and Judge Rice lived exactly opposite on Locust street, where the book store
building stands. Their houses, by the way, were built at the same time and
exactly alike. Judge Rice moved his house up near Twelfth and Locust, where he
now lives. Mr. Sherman's house was burned about 1873. Our serenading party
stopped in front of Judge Rice's and gave one of the best selections, and was
rewarded by a bunch of onions, and because we didn't go away with that Mrs. Rice
threw out an old calico wrapper, which Mr. O'Kell put on and made much fun for
us, as a very shy old maid, who was dreadfully shocked by Mr. Finch's advances.
From here we went over to Mr. Allen's, who lived on Court avenue (where the
Aborn House is now), and after some more fine selections Mrs. Allen threw out a
withered bouquet of flowers, over which the prima donnas quarreled until we
laughed heartily, when we all went home.

   Can we ever forget our first fancy dress party? It was given at Mr. Edwin
Sanford's, who lived on Seventh street, below Mulberry street. There were some
fifty or sixty invitations issued (that was about all the society people there
were here then), and a great event it was. We prepared our costumes with much
secrecy, and great was the surprise when we unmasked. Mr. Sherman was a
Chinaman, Wesley Redhead an Esquimaux, B. F. Allen a Turk, Mr. O'Kell a sailor,
who called off the cotillions, "Ladies to larboard, gents to starboard," in true
nautical style. Mr. C. W. Keys was Brother Jonathan, Mrs. Sherman was Mrs.
Partington, and Jed Warner her son Ike, Mrs. John A. Kasson was Pocahontas, the
Indian Maiden, whom she represented well, with her long black braids, gay dress
and feather trimmed leggings. Mrs. Judge Rice appeared as Kitty Clyde, "with her
basket to put in her fish," while the Judge followed her with a huge codfish
hanging down his back as a take-off; Mrs. Allen was a Spanish gypsy, Mary
Calder, Morning, Bina Moulton, Night, Miss Fanny McCain, Walter McCain's sister,
who died years ago, a lovely young blonde, was also Night. Miss Jennie
Chittenden was a flower girl, Mr. Friday Eason a soldier. The house was full of
these strange characters, and just as fun and frolic was at its height, all were
suddenly hushed and amazed by the appearance of four ghostly looking individuals
led by another, who introduced the party as the "Hard Family"—a take-off on the
Hart Family, who had recently given a concert in town. The leader arranged the
men in a row and beating time vigorously with a dust brush, saying "sing" and
they "sang" the most doleful, lugubrious tune we ever heard. It suggested "Hark,
from the Tombs," sure enough. The quartette consisted of B. F. Allen, Hoyt
Sherman and Mr. Sanford, with Mr. Keyes for leader. That evening was a gerat
[sic] event in Des Moines social life—because it was the first of the kind.

   We had some dramatic talent in those early days. During the winter of '59 and
'60 the writer taught in the first High School in the place. Among her pupils
were Hon. H. Y. Smith, Mr. P. G. Noel, now a prosperous banker of Topeka, Kan.;
Mr. Charles Green, who still lives here; Miss Louise Napier, a beautiful
brunette (since Mrs. Ham Brown); Miss Rachel Winters, who was quite a belle.
"Hy" Smith was one of our most talented young men at that time (he was about
seventeen). He was fond of the drama, and got up some scenes from the "Lady of
the Lake," quite creditably. Rachel Winters was the Lady, and he was James Fitz
James, her spirited lover. His lines,

   " Come one, come all, this rock shall fly 
     From its base as soon as I,"

quite brought down the house—Sherman Hall, corner of Second street and Court
avenue—which was filled two nights to hear it.

   Later on when our town library, which has grown to such proportions, and
which Mr. Smith was instrumental in starting, needed a benefit, we got him to
take the character of Claude Melnotte in the "Lady of Lyons," with Miss Florence
McKay as Pauline. Mrs. James C. Savery was Pauline's haughty mother, while the
writer was Claude's. This was another success, and Moore's old hall was filled
two nights. I shall never forget the scene where the mother welcomes her son,
and proceeds to give him some supper. The teapot was empty, and all efforts to
make it appear otherwise were in vain, and as she tipped it up, in the act of
pouring out the tea which never came, we heard Mrs. Allen's musical voice laugh
from the audience, which made us realize the absurdity of the situation. But we
were all friends, and lack of detail was considered amateurish and the more
charming. The library netted a handsome sum, and that was the great object.

   Old folks' concerts were very popular at one time, and many were the "stars"
brought out in them. We gave one for "Bleeding Kansas," in which every one that
took part was a star, and some who couldn't even sing were in costume. Mrs. Webb
Mills (now Mrs. E. R. Clapp) took leading part as soprano, and Mrs. Hoyt
Sherman; the latter sang "Barbara Allen" to Mr. Hatton's violin accompaniment,
which was encored loudly. Then the public tableaux and charades, for church and
other benefits, were a great feature. Some of them were decidedly realistic,
especially "Blue Beard's Wives," the execution of Mary, Queen of Scots, and the
burning, of Joan of Arc at the stake.

   We had no fire department in those days, and when a fire broke out, we all
assisted in extinguishing it. One cold winter night we heard the cry of "fire,"
and all rushed out to see where it was, and found that the new Savery House (now
the Kirkwood) was on fire. The women and children formed in line and passed the
pails of water that some of the men drew from the wells on to those who threw it
on the fire, and so extinguished it. The dining room of this hotel, by the way,
was where we held our dancing parties for a long time.

   New Year's calls were a great feature; when everybody called on everybody who
kept open house. This promiscuous calling became wearisome, to say the least;
the ladies got tired of waiting on droves of strangers whom they never saw
before and never expected to see again, and so one after another closed their
doors on New Year's day, and gradually the calls ceased, and up to this date
have not been revived.

   The cards that the young men got up in those days were curiosities, if not
monstrosities. They vied with each other as to who should have the largest and
most absurd caricatures of themselves. The young ladies who could secure the
greatest number of these cards were happy.

   As the town grew larger, society became more formal and exclusive; surprise
parties were replaced by receptions and dinner parties. Amateurs retired from
the stage, professionals taking their place, and society became divided, first
into church circles and cliques, which in turn evolved the general society we
have now.

   Among the pleasant "evenings at home" in the early seventies were those given
by Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Hatton, who lived where the U. P. Church now stands,
corner of Seventh and Grand avenue. We were always sure of a good time there,
for they not only had a musical treat in store for us, of their own, but we were
sure of meeting some musical or literary celebrity, if there were any in town.
Mrs. Hatton was a fine pianist and Mr. H. often accompanied her with his violin;
Miss Nellie Reeder was one of the finest pianist we ever had, and she would
sometimes play for us, and others since famous, were there and sang. Our own
church choir, with V. C. Taylor organist, Mrs. Childs, Mrs. Mosher, Joe Sharman
or Mr. Moody gave us exquisite quartettes, solos and duets. Marshall Talbott,
the artist, would sometimes be there, reminding us of King Lear (which he
personated well), with his long white hair and beard.

   Mr. and Mrs. J. M. Griffiths, who lived in East Des Moines at that time, used
to give the most delightful dinner parties. How well I remember the faces around
their hospitable board: The Kassons, the Aliens, the Shermans, "Friday" Eason,
Mr. Miller, Mr. Lunt, Mrs. Keene (since Mrs. Sypher), Wheeler Carpenter and his
good father and mother, long since gone to their rest; Mr. and Mrs. Frank Mills,
Mr. and Mrs. Webb Mills and many more. Then there were the Callanans and
Inghams, the Nourses, the Robertsons, the Reeds, the Williamsons, the Hulls, the
Cattells, the Elliotts and the Hepburns, the Lyons, the Deweys. Everybody
remembers Major Kavanagh, with his polite smile and bow; he was a very large and
fine looking man, whose best friend was little Mr. Hanna. These two would go
about together visiting schools and other places, entirely unconscious of
exciting any comment by the difference in their size. Both have gone to their
rest, too.

   The greatest social event up to that date or since was the party given by Mr.
and Mrs. B. F. Allen, when they moved into their new house on Terrace Hill,
where Mr. F. M. Hubbell now lives. It was on January 28th, 1871, and the whole
town was invited and looking forward to the great event. The great house was
crowded; everybody went, if they never went to a party before. There were
members of the legislature, strangers from out of town, even from the East.
There was music, feasting and dancing; brilliant faces and handsome gowns, and
many stayed until the wee small hours. The newspapers said next day that it was
the greatest social event west of the Mississippi; that a caterer from Chicago
furnished the refreshments, and that the flowers and decorations alone cost a
thousand dollars. The Allens were in the height of their prosperity then, and
Mrs. Allen was the leader in society. She was a lovely woman, kind and genial
and unspoiled by her wealth. Her friends were numbered by hundreds, and all felt
sorry when she and her family moved to Chicago, and grieved as for a personal
friend when she died. She, too, lies in Woodland, with so many of her and our
dear friends —Mrs. Sherman, Mrs. Hatton, Mrs. Savery, Mrs. Ingersoll —all
leaders in society and charming women.

   The writer has kept a list from memory of the personal friends who have died,
and those who have moved away from Des Moines, since the early sixties, and when
counted up, there are nearly seven hundred moved away, and nearly three hundred
who have died, making a grand total of nearly one thousand friends and
acquaintances, who have been taken right out of one's life, as it were. But
there are still some of the older society left here; the Griffiths, the Casadys,
the Hippees, the Shermans, the Tuttles, the Husseys, the Stewarts, the Cooks,
the Clapps, the Robertsons, the Hubbells, the McCains, the Polks, the Rices, the
Wrights, the Wests, the Talbotts, the Rawsons and many more who have come to Des
Moines from time to time, but who properly belong to a more recent date. The
memory of those good old times will remain with us forever.

   "You may break, you may shatter the vase, if you will.
    The scent of the roses will cling to it still."


Additional Comments:
Extracted from:

ANNALS OF POLK COUNTY, IOWA,
AND
CITY OF DES MOINES
BY WILL PORTER.

"And this volume, dedicated to its people, sets forth in attractive style all
the facts and incidents that go to make up the history of which all citizens are
justly proud."
—Major Hoyt Sherman.

GEO. A. MILLLER PRINTING COMPANY,
PRINTERS AND PUBLISHERS,
DES MOINES, IOWA,
1898.

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