Day 14, September 14—I Walked Nearly to Lincoln, Past Burton View

New Holland (and the GPS Mileage Anomaly)

About 7 miles east of Mason City is a small town (350 people) called New Holland. I drove there this morning from my undisclosed overnight location, then walked back to the Mason—Logan County line to begin my walk.

New Holland is home to the Taloma Farmer’s Grain Company, and right now in the midst of the corn harvest, corn is arriving by semi, by gravity wagon, by straight truck, and so on. The hauler drives onto the scales, then on to the unloading area, where a moisture probe takes random samples of the load. Then the golden corn pours out into the system that will auger it up to the dryers and eventually into a storage bin.

I can’t look at those elevators without thinking of the recent disaster—a tragic, heart-stopping elevator accident that occurred just weeks ago in my home town of Mount Carroll, Illinois. Two young men lost their lives, and a third young man narrowly escaped with his life, when all 3 disappeared beneath the corn in a million-bushel bin.

All grain bins are potential death traps, and those who work in them shouldn’t even think of venturing in without a proper mask or breathing device and without a safety harness and a safety line, none of which those young people had.

I’ve been trying to calculate my mileage since Day 1 of my walk by entering the junction of Broadway and U.S. 24 (in Quincy) into my Garmin GPS, but that is a problematic way of determining miles traveled. For one thing, the GPS chooses a route that may not be the one I traveled. For another, as my route moves north and south along the way, strange anomalies crop up in the GPS calculations.

For instance yesterday I walked to what I had determined to be the 100-mile mark, but after walking quite a few miles beyond that point, the GPS said I was 102 miles from my start point. Obviously, as one would expect, the GPS figures the distance back to Quincy from one’s present location. I had already decided to not count the detours into towns off the main route, but I am now stymied as to the most accurate way to reckon how far I’ve come.

Of course this is all academic. Lord willing, I’ll make it across the state regardless of the data generated by my GPS, and I’ll walk a certain number of miles, whether they are registered or not. I want a GPS like the ones I see on the CSI TV shows. The lab techs just touch the screen a couple of times, and the GPS provides a record of everywhere it’s been, and when it went there. I’ve had several GPS units and GPS programs for my computers, but I’ve never had one that would do precisely that. Maybe I can send my GPS to one of the crime labs and ask the forensic techs there to retrace my route.

Despite my Angst, I continue to be slightly ahead of schedule, but I’ve decided to do my best to stick to the itinerary listed in my flyer and by my press releases. That has me walking into Lincoln tomorrow morning and walking across Lincoln on Thursday. I’ll probably be beyond Lincoln by the end of Thursday, but I probably won’t be all the way to Beason until some time on Friday as planned.

As I was unloading my bike in New Holland, a lady came out of the bank building. She said she had seen me with a flag on my bike, and she just had to ask what I was doing. She was Nancy Otto, bank employee, who proved a font of information about the history of New Holland. Though I am indebted to her for much of the information I’m sharing here, any errors of fact are my own.

Volunteer Fire Department Memorial in New Holland

I am also grateful to Lawrence B. Stringer, who has written a detailed history of New Holland, which you can consult online at http://history.rays-place.com/il/logan-new-holland.htm if you don’t want to take my word for it.

My walk into New Holland took me across Prairie Creek, just east of the Logan County line. North of the highway, the creek seems to meander where it will, but once it flows south of the highway, it has been canalized, with a high levee on each side. That work must have been done before the more restrictive laws concerning the straightening of creeks in Illinois.

When a creek is straightened, the water tends to cut the channel deeper, and that new characteristic changes the very nature of the stream. On the north side of the highway, someone had dumped rip rap into a few small gullies on the outside bank of a turn in the stream in an apparent effort to slow the erosion of that side of the stream. That same bank had considerable sand deposits.

Nancy Otto grew up in Middletown and later lived in New Holland. She’s now a resident of Lincoln. After my ride north and west, back to the county line, and my walk back into New Holland, I went into the bank building to ask Nancy some questions about the town.

Two early settlers, Henry Niewold and Oliver Holland, merged their last names to come up with the name New Holland. Thomas G. Gardner surveyed the town, which initially comprised four blocks. Other early settlers were Jacob Bolinger, A. M. Caidwell, Adam Wenzell, and J. W. Wurtzbaugh, who platted a further 20 blocks in the town.

The first building in the town was the house built by William Towberman. Randolph & Company built the first general store, and William Towberman built his own store soon after. In 1875, M. R. Laforge built a grain elevator at the staggering cost in that day of $6,000.

Inn 1885 and 1887, a series of disastrous fires wiped out much of the town, but the tenacious settlers rebuilt. In 1910 yet another fire destroyed the D. H. Curry and Company elevator. By 1904, a local telephone company was organized, and residents had phone service available through the New Holland Telephone Company. The town was not incorporated until 1897.

The present bank is still at its original location, though it began life inside a general store. It is, however, in the same building where it began its life.

William Scully came to Logan County from Ireland in the 1850s. It is believed that at one time he owned more land in the United States than anyone else. A May 30, 2008 article in the Lincoln Courier (http://www.lincolncourier.com/news/x1644563963/Logan-County-land-heir-Scully-dies) tells some of the family history in the context of the death of William’s grandson Michael John Scully.
Logan County historian Paul Beaver has written a book called William Scully and the Scully Estates of Logan County, Illinois. Nancy Otto first told me about the remarkable Scullys and their pervasive influence on Logan County and New Holland.

Michael’s mother Violet donated 175 acres of land to start the Kickapoo Creek Park, and she donated more land and money later on. She personally did lots of work on the park, which is named for her. The Lincoln College land where the wooly mammoth tusk was found (it’s on display at the college’s McKinsty Library) was also a gift from Violet Sculley.

Logan County

Logan County itself did not come into existence until 1839, when the Illinois Legislature voted to create three new counties out of part of Sangamon County. Abraham Lincoln had a lot to do with the county’s creation. He had done a lot of surveying in the area as assistant surveyor under John Calhoun, and he was chair of the Legislature’s committee on counties. When Lincoln reported the bill to establish three new counties, Calhoun suggested the matter be referred to a special committee of 5 lawmakers for further study. Lincoln was appointed the chairman of that special committee.

It was also Lincoln who suggested naming the county after Dr. John Logan, state representative from Jackson County. Dr. Logan was the father of John A. Logan, who would become a successful Union commander during the Civil War. He would later serve as U.S. senator from Illinois. General Logan is perhaps most well known as founder of our Memorial Day, a national holiday, though not recognized by several southern states.

The very earliest white visitors to what was to become Logan County are believed to have been captives of the Kickapoo Indians. A somewhat garbled University of Illinois Web site (http://libsysdigi.library.uiuc.edu/OCA/Books2008-08/americanaerialco/americanaerialco08drur/americanaerialco08drur_djvu.txt) says this about that:

When a white mother and three of her small children were captured by a roving band of Indians in Kentucky and transported northward into future Illinois, they unwittingly became the first white people to set foot on the soil of what became Logan County, It was in the year 1790, when this part of America was the Northwest Territory, that Mrs. James Gilham, Sr. and her three small children were captured by some Kickapoos who had invaded Kentucky. Her husband was absent at the time, working in his cornfields.

The mother and her children were forced to march some three or four hundred miles through Illinois until the party arrived at a large Kickapoo town on Salt Creek, just northeast of what became Elkhart, Logan County. After an extensive search through the wilderness, James Gilham found his wife and children, and the family thereafter settled in Illinois, but not in Logan County.

According to the same Web site, the next group of whites to pass through the territory were also involved in Native American affairs. In 1812, Illinois territorial governor Ninian Edwards (March 17, 1775 – July 20, 1833: a native of Maryland, and the only person to hold the office of territorial governor in Illinois) organized a militia unit to pursue a “band of hostile Indians” that he himself led up an Indian path, passing “east of Elkhart Grove, crossing Salt Creek not far from the present city of Lincoln, and thence in a northward direction.” One of the militiamen, John Reynolds, would later serve as governor of the state of Illinois, and would author a book called History of Illinois.

The militia pursued the natives to an Indian village near present-day Peoria. The place was essentially deserted, but they killed on Indian man whom they took to be making hostile gestures. At that point, the militia returned to Edwardsville. The most lasting contribution made by this militia company seems to have been that the route they followed would come to be known as the Edwards Trace.
Native Americans continued to work toward homeland security, but with diminishing results. Still, they seem for a time to have kept the pesky whites out of much of what is now Central Illinois. In 1918, the Central Illinois made a treaty with the whites and agreed to yield their territory in exchange for $2000 in silver yearly for the next 15 years. They agreed to give up “all that scope of country south of the Kankakee River, east of the Illinois River, and north of a line drawn from the mouth of the Illinois to the Wabash.”

That treaty opened the area to more settlement. By 1836, all Kickapoo Indians seem to have left the area in question. I haven’t discovered whether the whites kept their end of the bargain (the promised payment), which should have been ongoing through 1833, but as a consolation prize, the natives got lots of creeks, towns, parks, and roads named after their tribe.

The first permanent settlers in Logan County include husband and wife James and Betsey Chapman, Betsey’s brother Richard Latham, her dad James Latham, and one of Latham’s relatives, Ebenezer Bribers. Robert Latham, brother to Betsey and Richard, would later be a founder of Lincoln, Illinois.
This family came from Kentucky and settled at Elkhart Grove in the spring of 1819, while the area was still a part of a much larger Bond County. The family squatted until the federal land office opened in Springfield in 1823. Soon after, they entered claims for their tracts of land, and in 1824, James Latham entered more than 600 acres. Just a few years later, son Richard entered a large parcel of land on the south slope of Elkhart Hill, the only real hill in that part of Illinois.

James would go on to be the first probate justice of the peace in the new Sangamon County, formed out of Bond County. In 1825, President John Quincy Adams, for whom both Quincy, Illinois, and Adams County, Illinois are named, appointed James Indian agent at Fort Clark, which was a U.S. military establishment at the site of the future Peoria, Illinois.

Richard Latham, James’s son, had a very early inn in Logan County, popularly known as “Kentucky House.” It was on Richard’s property on Elkhart Hill. After Richard married Emily Hubbard in 1824, in what would be the first marriage in the future Logan County area, their inn served stagecoach travelers on their version of an early Interstate highway, the road from St. Louis to Springfield, Illinois, and on to Chicago. Such eventually famous people as Abe Lincoln and his friend Dr. John Logan, for whom the county is named, were frequent visitors, as was Illinois territorial governor Ninian Edwards.

So, to get back to a more general history of Logan County, if it’s not already too late, Robert Musick settled on Sugar Creek at a place that became known as “Musick’s on Sugar Creek.” He arrived with wife and 3 small kids in tow within a few months of the Chapman and Latham settlers. Musick’s was in the northeast corner of what would become Logan County’s West Lincoln Townshp. Soon others settled at Musick’s, and a community sprang up, so to speak.

Middletown
Banker Nancy Otto, of the New Holland Bank, encouraged me to visit her home town of Middletown, though it was off my route. I was feeling pretty good, and I considered biking there from New Holland, but better sense prevailed, and the bike and I traveled there by pickup. (It’s about 6 miles south of New Holland.) There’s not much in Middletown any more, and that’s a shame.
Middletown was laid out by Hiram S. Allen, a local land speculator, in 1832, while the area was still part of Sangamon County. It seemed that platting towns and selling lots was nearly a craze at that time, but of all the towns laid out during that early period, only Middletown, Postville (now a part of Lincoln, Illinois), and Mount Pulaski actually survived.

The first lot in Middletown was bought by Hawkins Taylor in 1833, with the deed witnessed by none other than A. Lincoln, who had just come home from his service in the Black Hawk War, during which he served as an elected captain.

Signs in Middletown state that it was on the stage coach road to New Salem and also on the Springfield-to-Galena stage coach road. Both passengers and mail rode the coaches.

Dr. John Deskins built the large Stagecoach Inn and Tavern, which still stands on the southeast side of the town park. The inn boasted 9 rooms, and it is an impressively large structure for such a small town, even today.

Dunlap Inn in Middletown

In June, 1834, Abraham Lincoln, deputy surveyor of Sangamon County (under John Calhoun), began a survey at Musick’s Ferry, 1 mile north of Middletown on Salt Creek. He and his crew surveyed straight south through Middletown, passing along one side of the public square, and continuing south to Jacksonville.

In June of 1837, Senator Daniel Webster arrived in Middletown on a tour of the Midwest. When the stage coach experienced mechanical trouble just before leaving Middletown, the famous Webster stepped out, but was recognized by townspeople, who soon thronged him. He gratified them by giving a speech. I’m sure that was equivalent to having a famous movie actor stop in a small town today.
Abe Lincoln and Daniel Webster would become personal friends and political allies during Lincoln’s time in Congress.

In 1838, George Dunlap was running the Middletown inn, when Lincoln traveled through from Springfield to the Tazewell Circuit Court, held in Tremont. He also passed by the inn and probably ate and stayed there at some time during his years following the Eighth Judicial Court sessions. It is known that he and his family stayed the night on their way to the River and Harbor Convention held in Chicago in 1848.

Colby Knapp arrived in Middletown in 1836, built and ran the first general store, served as postmaster, and then as township treasurer. Later still he served as a county commissioner and in the state legislature. He moved to Lincoln and served as its mayor beginning in 1869. He lived in Lincoln until his death in 1882.

Monument near Knapp Store

The Knapp Store and Post Office, Now a Museum

Postville
Postville would become the first county seat of Logan County. It was platted in 1835 by one Russell Post, a former East Coast ship's chandler and later Illinois land speculator. James Primm was the first postmaster. He deeded a lot in Lincoln to Abraham Lincoln as collateral for a $400 loan. Dr. John Deskins came to Postville in 1836, and became the town's first physician. He also opened Postville’s first inn. In 1865, Postville was absorbed by the much newer town of Lincoln, which had expanded from a mile to the west.

Burton View, founded in 1909
The last town I passed through before calling it a day was Burton View, whose biggest business is clearly agriculture. Though I stopped and asked some people who work there and some residents of Burton View where it got its name, no one seemed to know. I spoke with Mrs. Fink, whose husband is a U.S. Army veteran, and I asked her to convey my thanks to him for his service.

Blackhawk (Black Hawk), an Aside
The so-called “town lot craze” started in Illinois at about the time the so-called Black Hawk War ended in 1832. Some of that “war” took place near my home town of Mt. Carroll, Illinois, and there is an obscure soft limestone monument to the war in the hinterlands of JoDaviess County, just north of Carroll County, in a little park that is along a back road, and that always has a cable across the driveway into it.

Black Hawk is well-known throughout Northwestern Illinois and Southwestern Wisconsin. There’s a large statue of him along Illinois Route 2, near Byron, Illinois. When I farmed east of Carthage, Illinois, in West-Central Illinois, older local residents swore that Black Hawk had been born just a little south of where I lived, but I never could pin anyone down about precisely where that was.

Because Lincoln is my destination for tomorrow (Day 15, September 15), I walked to within a couple of miles of it, but then rode back to my pickup. I do have a schedule, and I’ve decided that there’s no particular virtue in getting a day ahead of it.

I might add that, though I carried a rain jacket on my luggage rack today, the predicted rain did not fall on me, and for that I am grateful.

Day 13, Part III of III

On many days of this walk, I have been done walking by noon or shortly  thereafter, and have had lots of time to poke around into the local history, or to walk or bike the streets of a little town in search of veterans. Often a veteran may have a veteran, reserve, or National Guard license plate, or may have an American Flag or service flag flying. On Monday, I saw some National Guard signs in yards, and where I saw them, I stopped and asked why the signs were there. The most common response was that a family member was in the Guard, so I asked the family member I met to convey my thanks for that person’s service, and I gave the person one of my walk flyers.

Larry Crossett had called the son of a member of the American Legion, which was meeting that evening, and I received an invitation to attend. I was asked to arrive at 6:30. Though I have been a member of the American Legion for quite a few years, my wife told me earlier this year that I hadn’t paid my dues, so, at the moment, I’m a lapsed Legionnaire. Nevertheless the members of Mason City’s Jackson  Keen Post 496 accepted me as a brother.

When a death flag (the flag that drapes the coffin of a veteran) is presented to the next-of-kin, that flag is often boxed in a display case to be hung on a wall, and to be passed down to the descendants of the departed veteran. In Mason City, though, the American Legion has always displayed hundreds of American Flags before, during, and immediately after national holidays. The park right next to the Legion hall, for instance, is absolutely bedecked with flags.

Families of departed veterans began donating their death flags to the Legion, asking that these flags be displayed on national holidays. Each death flag has the departed veteran’s name stenciled in black along the inner border of the flag (the end of the flag that attaches to the pole it’s displayed from). A recent holiday saw the usual display of flags, but a terrific wind blew through Mason City, destroying and damaging over 200 of the flags on display.

American Legion Post 497 Building in Mason City

The American Legion is working hard to replace those flags, and they are in the process of looking at samples and getting prices. Several members were in the field, working in the corn harvest, as one might expect here in the breadbasket of the world. The Post commander gave me an opportunity to present my walk, hand out flyers, and shake the hand of each man present, thanking each one personally for his service to our country.

As older veterans die, the numbers of some of the veterans’ organizations are diminishing. We veterans should remember that it was legislation introduced at the request of the American Legion that brought the original G.I. Bill into existence. That act of Congress resulted in the education of hundreds of thousands of returning World War II veterans and changed the face of our nation.

I salute the members of American Legion Post 496 for their unique mission and beautiful display of our flag, and I wish them success in replacing the lost and damaged flags. I also thank them for letting me address their meeting on Monday evening.

Just south of the Legion hall are a municipal swimming pool and a lovely park. The park has a unique statue of a Civil War–era Union Soldier, and the monument was erected by the Friends of the Federal Soldiers. The soldier is carved out of a tree.

Civil War Monument with Soldier in Background

Civil War–Era Union Soldier Carved from a Tree

Day 13, Part II of III

All the way from Quincy to Beardstown, and for some distance thereafter, people recognized me from the television, radio, and newspaper coverage from Quincy. Once I hit Havana, though, I had to explain myself if I wanted it to be known that I was walking across Illinois to support our troops.

Someone at the Mason City library asked whether I had talked to anyone at the local newspaper, the Mason City Banner Times. I had e-mailed them a news release several weeks before, but I had not made eye contact with anyone at that establishment. The librarian suggested that I go to the newspaper office and offer an interview. Good advice. What’s the point of walking across Illinois to support our troops if no one knows what I’m doing?

The receptionist at the newspaper suggested that I talk to Larry Crossett, a local writer, and she even called him for me. Larry suggested we meet at the Subway, so I headed that way. Not only did Larry buy my lunch, he also gave me an autographed copy of his book, Midwest Journey: Stumbling through the Heartland, which might have been an apt title for this blog (or maybe Stumbling across Illinois.) You can read about Larry’s book and read his latest column at http://themidwestjourney.com/book.php.

When I told Larry that I expected to break the 100-mile mark later in the day (100 miles from Quincy’s Bayview Bridge, as I reckon those miles), Larry asked me to call him when I got to that point so he could drive out and take a picture of me crossing the line in the cornfields, so to speak. I called. He came. Because the west wind was whipping the flag into my face, he had me turn around and face west for the picture. That should confuse someone, unless he Photoshops the image and turns it around to make it look as if I were on the other side of the road. If he doesn’t, I may get into trouble with the authorities for walking on the wrong side of the road, something I’ve assiduously avoided doing throughout this journey.

I’m grateful for this library (the Mason City Library) and their free Internet access. I’m grateful that Sandy Showalter told me about the library. I’m grateful for the incredibly beautiful weather I’m enjoying on this walk. And I’m grateful to the kind people of Mason City for their cheerful reception of an old man limping across the state.

In a couple of hours, I’m invited to the Mason City American Legion, to meet with the members before their meeting officially begins. That means yet another post for today’s adventures, though I may add that post with tomorrow’s, depending on how exciting things get throughout the rest of today.

God bless you, and God bless America.

Day 13—September 13, Teheran to east of Mason City

Today's walk takes me to the 100-mile mark (according to my Garmin GPS, reckoning the starting point as the junction of U.S. 24 and Quincy's Broadway Avenue). That point is east of Mason City. I think I will then have only 155 miles left to walk.

I planned to leave home in the early afternoon yesterday (Sunday) to drive back to Teheran and restart my walk on Sunday afternoon, but after church Mary and I went with some friends to eat at a Mexican Restaurant. I still had a few things to pack after that, so I didn’t get away until around 5:00 p.m., and it took longer to drive across Route 10 to Mason City than I had anticipated.

I decided to stay the night in Mason City, which I did. I got bedded down in the bed of the pickup at about 7:30 p.m. and got some really good sleep. At 12:30 a.m., the air mattress deflated. I blew it back up, but I was right down on the floor of the pickup bed again for the rest of the night.

Not to worry: I have a 3-year warranty on the air mattress. It’s just that it’s a long way from here to Farm and Fleet in Urbana, where I can exchange the air mattress or get a refund. This is my third air mattress for the trip. No, I don’t have spiked hair or anything else that would pierce the mattress, and I have both a bed liner and a deflated air mattress under the main air mattress. Unless there’s a weight limit, and I’m over it, I just don’t get it. At this rate, I’ll be sleeping on metal rather than on air for much of the rest of the route east.

I rode back west to Teheran, leaving Mason City at about 7:00 a.m. There was lots of traffic, with folks going to work, and with trucks getting ready to load corn at the field to take to the elevator. As I was walking back into Mason City, an eastbound pickup truck made a U-turn and came back. The driver stopped and asked whether I had had a blowout on one of my bicycle tires. I thanked him for coming back to check on me, told him all was well, explained my walk across Illinois to him, and gave him one of my walk brochures. Later, when I got into town, I saw the same pickup parked at the Illini Central High School parking lot, so I take it this well-dressed young gentleman is a school administrator or teacher.

I had a few waves and honks, but I can tell I’m well out of the reception area for the Quincy television and radio stations because I’m mostly incognito here. I should check in with the local paper, at least. I did sent them a press release, but that was weeks ago.

Mason City is at the intersection of Illinois Routes 10 and 29. In fact it’s midway between Peoria and Springfield (north to south on Route 29) and midway between Havana and Lincoln (west to east on route 10). It is evident from the abundant harvest of corn and soybeans that this is a highly productive agricultural area.

In the Upper Midwest, just about every little town has its annual festival or “days.” Mason City celebrates the Prairie Harvest Days Festival every fall. This year the celebration falls on the 18th, just 5 days away. So far I’ve been missing all of the local festivals and special celebrations by at least a day or so one way or the other.

They’re setting up the rides for the carnival near the park, several blocks south of Route 10. There’s a boulevard with one lane blocked off, and the carnival workers have a few campers and some tents pitched near the park. Of course I’ll miss this celebration too.

According to a Wikipedia article on Mason City, 3 notable local people have gone on to be very successful:

Gordon Buehrig (1904–1990) became an important automotive designer.

John Means, with the stage name “Dr. Gonzo,” became a stand-up comic, and toured with Huey Lewis and the News.

Vic Wunderle would earn an Olympic silver medal in archer in 2000.

Mason City is 153 years old this year (2010). Mason County was constituted from parts of Menard and Tazewell Counties in 1841. The Illinois Legislature passed an act on January 20, that gave this partial description of the new county: “All that portion of Territory lying between the Sangamon River and Salt Creek, on the south, to the north of the twentieth tier of Congressional township that belonged to Menard, and before that, to Sangamon County.

Prairie Creek Precinct was constituted in 1857, and in 1858, the name was changed to Mason City. The first settler in the area was William Hagan, who arrived in 1830 and settled in the bottomlands near Old Salt Creek Bridge. In 1850, Hagan sold out to Ephraim Wilcox and moved on to Missouri.

At that first site, called Hiawatha, there was a blacksmith shop, a shoe shop, and a collections of houses, but the village eventually disappeared when the railroad ran through nearby Mason City instead of Hiawatha.

Other nearby settlements included that at Swings Grove, later known as Melton’s Ferry, after Austin Melton, who lived there operating a ferry across Salt Creek, and who build a house of hewed logs. Michael and Abraham Swing bought land from Issac Engle, who moved on to Fulton County. Michael taught at the Big Grove School in 1851 and 1852, riding a horse the 12-mile round trip, and receiving a dollar a day for his teaching.

Wild game abounded in the area, and it supplemented the tables of the early settlers. Wild turkeys, wild geese, and sand-hill cranes were a nuisance to the farmers, consuming lots of their wheat and corn.

The first owner of the land where Mason City would be built was an Irishman named William Maloney, who filed his claim at the United States Land Office in Springfield in 1849. Maloney sold out to George Straut, who platted Mason City on 240 acres. The surveyors for laying out the town were E. Z. Hunt and John M. Sweeney, and the plat was filed in September 1857, the same month the survey was completed. Also in September, the first sale of lots was held, and about twenty thousand dollars’ worth of lots were sold.

Mason City is the county seat of Mason County, Illinois. Both are named in honor of George Mason, a Virginia legislator who was instrumental in the adoption of the United States Bill of Rights, now the first 10 amendments to the U.S. Constitution.

I was putting my bicycle back onto the front of the pickup, when a grain semi stopped next to me. The driver got out, came over, and thanked me for my walk. He said his 19-year-old son is serving a tour in Iraq right now. He’s really proud of his son, and so am I. He says the kid is growing up and maturing really fast, and I believe that.

Last week Sandy Showalter told me that Mason City has a really nice, new library. The building is now 10 years old, but it is a really nice facility, and the director is letting me post my blog using the library's wi-fi..

Day 7 (cont.), Day 8, and Day 9

Day 7 continued

Despite my graduate studies in geography and lots of reading about geology, I often don’t understand much about local drainage conditions in Illinois. Sandy Showalter had offered me a place to stay. After a session in the Havana Public Library, primarily to post my blog, but also to learn more about Havana, I called him to find out whether the offer of lodging was still on. He said it was, so I set out to find his place out in the country, southeast of Havana.

Some area roads are still completely under water from the excessively heavy rains of early August. On one side of the country road I was travelling was a corn field with lots of water standing. Directly across the road was a soybean field, with beans looking green and healthy, probably the tallest soybean plants I’ve ever seen, and the center-pivot irrigation system was watering full-blast.

Sandy had warned me that the usual road to his place was blocked by water, but he had told me to turn left at the Road Closed sign and drive around past a little cemetery to bypass the water. That worked just fine.

Sandy’s place is situation in a stand of hickory trees. It’s in a really lovely spot, When I got there he was out with his grandson, for whom he recently got an old Minneapolis-Moline model R tractor. It’s the little brother to the model Z tractor he already had. Sandy converted the electrical system of the R to 12 volts, redid the lights, and got everything working. The engine runs like a top. Sandy thinks it’s about a 1948 model.

Just a few months younger than I am, Sandy recently retired from a shop where he worked for years as a mechanic, and he’s looking forward to Social Security and Medicare. He has a big dog, Buddy, and a black and white cat, Pritchard. After his grandson left, we sat out in front of the house, enjoying a beautiful evening and watching the hummingbirds at a feeder Sandy keeps there.

One of Sandy’s hobbies is to make things out of wood. He’s made rocking horses, rocking chairs, lovely wall cutouts, picture frames, and some little sofa tables you can use as a flat surface when you’re sitting on a sofa. He built his house with his own hands (it took him 2 years), in addition to holding down a full-time job. He had just finished putting a laminate wood floor in his dine-in kitchen. It was really well done, and it had taken him two days.

I saw what looked like another house out back and asked about it. It was the woodworking shop he built, where he makes those creative and beautiful things out of wood.

Day 8, September 8—Destination Illinois Route 10

I had planned to go back north and walk along U.S. 136, but Sandy suggested a route along township and county roads that would lead me to Poplar City, Biggs, and Easton. It would have been 11 miles along U.S. 136, but instead I walked south and east. I did lose my way at one point, and I had to humble myself and ask directions. Just south of Sandy’s place, I saw a herd of spotted fallow deer in a field to my left, and I stopped to take a picture. Initially the deer crowded up to the fence in curiosity, but when I walked back to take a picture, they snorted and fled into another pasture.

I walked into Easton, which is on Illinois 10, then biked back to recover the pickup. I had talked to some people in Easton on my route survey 2 weeks earlier, and they had asked the town officials to leave up the beautiful American flags that had lined both sides of the highway when I drove through. Someone didn’t get the message, though, and a worker had taken down the flags just the day before.

Part way along the main street I met a veteran who has a shop where he fabricates the frames for race cars. He said he doesn’t really consider himself a veteran, though he served in the Army in the 1960s, because he didn’t see action, and he didn’t really retire from the military. He just served his time and got out. I thanked him for his service, nonetheless.

Teheran

Teheran, Illinois, is the home of the Mason County Animal Shelter, operated by a nonprofit group called Pets without Parents, of Mason and Logan Counties. Sandy Showalter’s son is active in that organization, and through it he got Sandy his wonderful dog Buddy. Locals pronounce the town’s name tā-HĀ-ren.

Back in the mid-80s I was in the Army Reserve, drilling in Decatur, Illinois. I used to take Route 10 from rural Carthage, Illinois, where I farmed, to attend my weekend drills. I was always intrigued by the name of Teheran.

One of my fellow reservists was from Teheran, where his family ran the grain elevator. During fall harvest, when the elevator was super busy, it was really hard for him to attend drills because the family business was unbelievably busy at that time of year. That elevator is being modernized, getting new driers and other updated equipment, just in time for this year’s corn harvest.

About a mile east of Easton, I encountered Randy Otterson and Adam Guffey, two red-blooded young American farmers, who were in the middle of corn harvest. Though they were in the corn field, they were near the roadway, and we talked a few minutes. Though they weren’t veterans, they thanked me for walking to support our troops. Corn picking is in full swing there in Mason County.

I biked back from Teheran to Easton and ate lunch at the local eatery. I was sure I would remember the name of that little café, but I just can’t come up with it. When I biked back to my pickup, an Easton police officer was pointing his hand-held radar gun down the road, but the farmers and truckers entering Easton were all doing well under the speed limit. I told him what I was doing, and he told me to “be careful out there.”

Sandy had told me that Mason City, my next destination, had a new library, so I was hoping to use the Internet there. I drove to Teheran and checked the mileage back to my starting point. I had averaged 11 miles per day for 8 days, and I was actually ahead of schedule. I’d had experienced a few difficulties (my ankles are still sore from mosquito bites), but I had been showered with blessings, and I had met some wonderful fellow Americans and learned a great deal about my own home state.

Mary had been telling me about some difficulties at home, the pickup was past due for an oil change, my air mattresses wouldn’t hold air, and the bed of the pickup was not very appealing for a night’s sleep. Given that I was so far ahead of schedule, I decided to drive home, recharge my personal batteries, help my wife Mary with some crucial chores around the house, and get the air mattress exchanged.

The plan now is to go back to Teheran on Sunday afternoon and walk into Mason City, then set out walking from Mason City toward New Holland on Monday morning. That will leave me 5 miles from Burton View and 10 miles from Lincoln, and walking either or both of those distances on Tuesday should be manageable and still leave me ahead of my original schedule.

Trying to schedule distances on this walk reminds me of trying to prepare class lesson plans weeks in advance as required by the public school administrations where I have taught school. You can never hold perfectly to such lesson plans, but they must be submitted nonetheless.

Day 9 (at home)

Today (Thursday) Mary and I were able to volunteer to help put together envelopes with the Great News Radio newsletters, and that let us see some old friends and make some new ones. It also led to an invitation to be on the Great News Radio Morning Program (a program that usually features Mark Burns and his lovely wife Carrie, but which will have to do without Carrie tomorrow morning because of her being in Israel). You can tune on Friday morning (7:32 a.m. CST) or evening (7:32 p.m. CST) at any of their 4 frequencies (89.3, 102.5, 103.9, or 97.1, if you live in the Champaign area), or you can go to http://www.greatnewsradio.org/ and click Streaming Audio. If you don’t hear it live, you can catch the archived version.

You might also like to see the video from the start of the walk at http://www.wgem.com/Global/story.asp?S=13081522

I apologize for leaving this item out. Unlike Enion, there is still a Sheldon's Grove

Sheldon’s Grove
Sheldon’s Grove is located between Browning and Bluff City, also on the Illinois River. It is home to the Riverview Hunting Club.

Day 7, Destination U.S. Highway 136, but I Made It to Havana

Anderson Lake Conservation Area

This morning I was to have an interview with the Morning Program from Quincy’s WGEM Radio at 8:45. I went forward to the Anderson Lake Conservation Area so I would have a reliable cell phone signal. I was glad I did, because I saw a spectacular sunrise.

Sunrise at Anderson Lake

I also saw a dense bank of mosquitos being gobbled down by hundreds of Purple Martins. (I initially thought some of them might live in the bird hotel on a high pole near the park entrance, but that turned out to be occupied by starlings.) I heard and saw fish jumping, and I heard the strange call of a bird, which I’d like to identify.

Al Capone

When I was in Browning, I took the advice of a man named Virgil Hamm and went to the River’s Edge bar and restaurant to eat lunch. The proprietor suggested that I buy a book by a man named Dale Hamm. The waitress at River’s Edge also told me about her grandfather, Farrel “Screwy” Lane, who had been a liquor runner for Al Capone. She said she had pictures of her grandfather and Capone together at her grandfather’s casino at Bath, over on the other side of the river.

A patron in the restaurant said in a load voice that Capone had never left Chicago to come to the Illinois River, and that that business was all made up. Yesterday I went to a tavern near Lake Anderson (hey, I’m a teetotaler, and I’ve never been to so many taverns in my life) and spoke to Sue Hamm Tarvin, who works there. She sold me a copy of her dad’s book, The Last of the Market Hunters, by Dale Hamm, cowritten with writer David Bakke.

Hamm writes about both Lane and Capone. Apparently about a third of Capone’s liquor runners came to an untimely end, but Lane made his fortune and got out while he was still alive. He must have left Capone’s employ on favorable terms, because he would be frequently seen with Capone in later years.

Capone stayed as far west as Quincy, where there is a (now) restored house he used to visit. Behind the house are hookups for trailers that some of Capone’s lieutenants pulled to Quincy from Chicago. Capone apparently traveled to the Illinois River primarily by train, at least according to what Lane told his granddaughter.

Federal agents never managed to convict Capone for any of his violent or prohibition-defying crimes, but they did finally get him convicted for income tax evasion. He didn’t finish out his term, though, because he was dying of syphilis. When I was completing an M.A. in history at Western Illinois University in the late 1980s, I took a course in Illinois history. Our professor told a personal story about Capone.

His college roommate and friend was a clean-cut young man named Capone. Of course everyone said he must be related to Al Capone, and he always just laughed. He invite the man who would become my professor to go home with him to Florida for Christmas break (that was still politically correct then).

He went, and one day he saw a man in a wheelchair on a balcony. He said, “That looks just like Al Capone.” His friend said, “Yes. That’s my father. He is Al Capone, and they’ve sent him home to die.”

Dale Hamm

The author of the book, The Last of the Market Hunters, was a notorious poacher in his youth, and the book primarily recounts his various adventures and misadventures. When I asked a fisherman about the fish in the Illinois River, he said I should try to ask a Hamm. He called them “Kings of the River” for many miles. Some members of the Hamm family manufacture boats that are designed for use in backwaters of the Illinois. Though much like johnboats, they have a prow in the front to permit them to glance off stumps in shallow water.

Dale Hamm’s book tells of peddling ducks in Chicago, and of some of Capone’s activities along the river. It’s also tells of Dale’s matching wits with many game wardens, both federal and state, and of his numerous arrests for the violation of game laws.

When I got back to Lake Anderson to rest after the first travel of the day, I just left the flag flying on the bicycle, though I secured the bike to front of the pickup so it wouldn’t tip over. I wanted to finish reading Dale Hamm’s book, so I sat down with a big bottle of water and a gallon can of mixed nuts at a picnic table near the lake. I had nearly finished reading the book, when a couple drove past pulling a nice camping trailer.

They drove a ways and then turned around and came back. They had seen my bicycle and flag, and the sign on the driver’s side door of the pickup, and they wanted to know what I was doing out on the road.

They were Greg Luke and Debbie Rummel. Greg said he wanted to stop and thank me for my service to our country, and to thank me for what I’m doing. Debbie’s son is about to leave home for U.S. Navy boot camp at the Great Lakes Naval Training Center, north of Chicago. They gave me a donation for my trip, and they also gave me some food they had left over from their camping trip.

I am grateful that I continue to meet such great folks on my journey across Illinois.

Before we leave Lake Anderson Conservation Area, I’d like to give a very brief and probably inadequate description. They have picnic areas, including a shelter house, and they have lots of camping sites, most on gravel and designed for camping other than tents. At a brief glance I saw tulip poplar, sweet gum, river birch, sycamore, black oak, ash, and sequoia redwood trees. I will never forget watching the sun come up over the lake.

I’ll probably damage my knee, but I’ve decided to go farther today.

Bluff City

Bluff City (not the one just east of Vandalia on U.S. 40, in Fayette County, Illinois, just west of Effingham) is the last town on our route along Illinois Route 100, just before we leave Schuyler County to go into Fulton County.

As I rode, walked, and drove among fields of corn with shattered leaves and hanging-down ears (in other words ready to pick when the farmer has time and equipment available; but maybe the farmer is waiting for the moisture to drop just a bit more), the wind made a sound in the dry corn stalks that varied from a quiet whisper to a loud, insistent rattle. Somehow that sound made me think of being a boy, being out on the farm with Dad.

From the time I was a kid until just a few years ago, my dad would say, “We’re proud of you, Son. And don’t forget, the farm’s behind you.”

When I walk or ride into small towns, nylon flag snapping in the breeze, I don’t always attract people, but I do always attract dogs. I imagine the sound must irritate them. At any rate they are alerted to the fact that something unusual is afoot. And in windy West-Central Illinois, the flag is usually snapping pretty loudly.

I have now set the dogs barking in perhaps more small Central Illinois towns than anyone else. I’m reminded of a little ditty from my childhood:

Hark hark the dogs do bark

The beggars are coming to town

Some in rags and some in jags

And one in a velvet gown.

If you have the time to read about what I find funny on my trip, here’s your chance.

One old lady to another, as I’m tipping my bicycle over to swing one of my 2 lame legs over it: “I believe the old fellow is a little crippled.”

Eighty-eight-year-old veteran in a restaurant where others were discussing my walk across Illinois: “What’s he trying to prove?”

Three young ladies who stopped their car when I was walking west toward Quincy back to my pickup in a very high wind: “How far are you going?”

“I’m walking to Danville.”

“Aren’t you going the wrong way?”

Bluff City’s main businesses seem to be farming, and the Kent Feed and Seed Store of Earl D. Briney. Just before I came into Bluff City, I saw Mr. Briney’s brother’s game bird farm. They have quite a few acres under netting. I can only imagine the frustration of the pair of redtail hawks soaring overhead.

I took a picture of the old general store, now defunct, but it’s still on the camera in the pickup, and I’m in the Havana Library typing this, so I’ll try to load the picture in the right place in the blog later on.

Bluff City General Store

At about mile 78 from Quincy’s Bayview Bridge, Illlinois Route 100 goes into Fulton County, named after river steamboat designer and builder Robert Fulton.

Marbletown

Marbletown is our first town in Fulton County. Charles Chapman’s 1879 History of Fulton County says, “It seems that three distinct races of people occupied this section of country in former ages. One was probably a race of giants, as we find skulls large enough to fit on the outside of the average head of to-day. One skull is of a reddish tinge, like the color of the bone, in which case the head was not well developed; another skull is white: head well developed, and the facial contour correspondingly indicating a higher intelligence. On the farm of Jacob Fisher in the southeastern portion of the township are many relics of the Mound-Builders, such as vessels and fragments of pottery with artistic designs, skulls, skeletons and fragments of skeletons in great abundance. Thousands of these have been carried away by visitors.”

No wonder some of our more important Illinois pre-Columbian archeological sites are listed without specifics or address. What a shame that we have lost so much through such vandalism. Until I read this history, I had never heard of giant skulls being found in Illinois. And where was the respect for the dead? I used to think the Dickson Mounds burial sites should not have been closed to the public, but I’m beginning to understand the thinking that led to that closing.

The same old history has this to say about the founding of Marbletown. “During the autumn of 1857, a saw-mill was erected by C. P. Richardson and Wm. H. Cogshall; of consequence tenement houses were erected; in 1868 Hiram Marble & Son bought the mill, and the people naturally called the collection of houses about the mill "Marbletown." In 1871 a post-office was established here (the first in the township), and Jacob Severns is the present postmaster. Mr. Severns built the first store-house in 1859, and for a year and a half he carried on the mercantile business in a small way. In 1865 he re-commenced the business and since then has had a fair run of custom. Mr. Marble was the second grocer and merchant. Wm. Patchen also began the business last year, but he sold to A. E. Ralston, who was in turn succeeded by S. W. Sloan. The mill was removed several years ago, and business in Marbletown has consequently been diminished.
“Mr. Marble lost a son, about of age, in the saw-mill. The main driving belt or shaft caught his clothing and stripped it from his body, crushing him and causing instant death.”
Marbletown is indeed diminished from that era of the late 1800s. There is now one house remaining, and it’s of modern enough construction that it wasn’t part of the original Marbletown by any means.

Enion  (pronounced Ī-nen)

Enion, Illinois, was about 3 miles north of Marbletown, farther up Illinois Route 100, about 10 miles south of Lewiston. It is interesting that, when I drove west to Quincy on my route survey a couple of weeks ago, I thought I had somehow missed Enion as I drove along, despite it’s being clearly marked on the Illinois roadmap published by the State of Illinois. There is a big curve in Illinois Route 100, and there is a sign for people going in either direction that announces that one has arrived at Enion. But there is nothing there. That is to say there are no buildings. There are fields of crops, but that is it. Enion is no more.

Havana

Havana, Illinois, located on U.S. 136 and on the Illinois River, is the county seat of Mason County. It was named Havana because the island in the Illinois River where Havana is established used to be shaped like the island of Cuba. The island was actually named Belrose Island, and it was the site of Native American encampments before the white settlers moved in.

Ossian Ross moved to the area in 1822 to claim his bounty land from his service as a major in the War of 1812. He travelled from upstate New York in 1819 with his wife Mary Winnens (related to the Virginia Less), his 6 children, and some of his former military aides. He went down the Ohio River and then up the Wabash. He first farmed for a time near present-day Cairo, not yet established, before coming to the Havana area.

The settlement was first called Ross’s Ferry. Ossian Ross acquired the first license to establish a ferry on the Illinoi River. Louistown, Illinois is named after his eldest son. A younger son, Harvey Lee Ross, wrote a series of newspaper articles about the early days. They were published in the 1880s and 1890s, and then republished in late 1800.

The Illinois Territory was initially set up with only 2 very large counties, Bond and Madison. These were eventually broken up into smaller counties. Residents of Chicago had to come to Havana to vote. For one sheriff’s election (1823), they brought along some residents of Pekin. It turned out they should not have voted on the east side of the Illinois River, and the election had to be repeated.

The earliest history of this area is the 1678 diary of Henri Jetel, who travelled through with Marquette and Joliet on their survey down the Mississippi and the Mississippi River Valley.

I am indebted for much of this information to Nancy Glick, Havana historian and director of the Havana Public Library. She recommended a history book to me: Life at Moscow Bay, by William Louis Fay.

It’s also near the Chautauqua National Wildlife Refuge, and the Nature Conservancy's Emiquon Project, a 7,000-acre wetland restoration project, is located across the Illinois River from Havana. Emiquon is one of the largest wetland restoration projects in the country. There are at least 150 important archeological sites close by, and historians estimate about 12,000 years of continuous human habitation. The objective of the project is to restore the incredible biodiversity of the region.

Many bald eagles are seen in the area, especially in March (bald eagles are great fishers, and this area abounds in fish). The Chatauqua National Wildlife Refuge is just 8-and-a-half miles up the Manito Road. The refuge boasts a wheelchair-accessible nature trail, which I may need after this walk. The Refuge is reputed to abound in morel mushrooms about the time of year when the lilacs are in bloom.

During prohibition, Havana was a wide-open river town. Such notorious criminals as Al Capone are said to have enjoyed the local hunting and fishing and to have gambled in local clubs. Also President Truman himself came to Havana to hunt with then Senate majority leader Scott Lucas.

About half a mile off Route 136, on Pearl Street, stands a historic water tower, built during the summer of 1889. The tower is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. This tower has been in continuous use since being built. Yes, it’s still used today as part of the Havana city water system.

 Historic Havana Water Tower

I drove across the Illinois River bridge into Havana. After a careful inspection of the U.S. 136 bridge, I decided that neither biking nor walking was appropriate along it’s shoulderless length. So sue me.

At Lake Anderson Greg and Debbie had given me some sun screen lotion, but I decided that I needed some aloe vera to put on the burned area. They told me about a CVS pharmacy, right next to MacDonalds. When I stopped there, I noticed there was a lunch being served in front of the auto parts store, and the men serving it invited me over. It was a customer appreciation lunch, featuring bratwurst and hamburgers. I had a hamburger with cheese, sans bun, and two glasses of lemonade.

I spoke to a World War II veteran, gave him one of my brochures, and thanked him for his service. Then I struck up a conversation with retired mechanic Sandy Showalter, whose pickup license number contains the word “Sandy.” When he heard what I was doing, he invited me to spend the night at his place, a ways out of town. I’ll probably do that. It was a very gracious offer. He also told me that, from his place, there is a shortcut I should take over to Illinois Route 10 that would take me on a country road and keep me off busy U.S. 136. We shall see.

I also met former Army Reservist Larry Mummert of rural Astoria. He told me about his younger brother, Dennis Lynn Mummert, a University of Illinois grad, who used to spend his summers while in college working with the agricultural agents. He later worked on irrigation projects in India, and then, when he was only 23, he took on an International Volunteer Service assignment in Laos, right during the Vietnam War. He developed an inexpensive pump that let farmers reflood their rice paddies so they could raise 2 crops in one year. Then he introduced “miracle wheat,” which yielded a much heavier crop. Finally he introduced modern fertilizers that also increased yields.

Unhappy with his successes, which apparently lessened their influence with the local peasants, the Pathet Lao killed this fine young volunteer and brilliant young American, who only wanted to help others. I honor his memory, though he served as a civilian and not as a military person.