Thursday, December 14, 2017

Illegitimacy and Abortion in 1920s-1930s Grinnell

In the United States today, about forty percent of all births belong to unmarried mothers. Whether you think this a good or bad thing, it's hard to deny that the number reflects a substantial change from the recent past. According to available data, in Iowa of the 1920s and 1930s, for example, single parents accounted for less than three percent of all births. Consequently, if today a single woman in the United States can give birth without incurring a lot of social criticism, single women in early twentieth-century Iowa likely faced a much more censorious world. "Illegitimacy" was a brand that made life onerous for both child and parent.
Sally C. Curtin et al., "Recent Declines in Non-Marital Child-bearing in the United States," National Center for Health Statistics, Data Brief No. 162, August, 2014 (
Determining exactly how common was illegitimacy and how it affected Grinnell in the past is not easy. Largely because of the negative valence illegitimacy carried, people kept quiet about their situations, and did what they could to hide pregnancies outside marriage. Nevertheless, given the public's concern about illegitimacy, the issue did occasionally surface in the press. In 1925, for example, the Des Moines Tribune published a report based on the findings of the Iowa State Health Commissioner, who announced that the previous year (1924) illegitimate births in Iowa were three times as common as they had been in 1915.
Des Moines Tribune, September 28, 1925

But what about Grinnell? Newspapers here featured no stories announcing a wave of illegitimacy. However, a new source on this question has recently emerged: a complete register of all admissions to Grinnell's St. Francis Hospital between the years 1919 (when the hospital opened its doors) and July, 1935. Identifying more than 4400 hospital admissions, the register provides singular evidence on morbidity and hospital mortality in Grinnell in the 1920s and 1930s. Moreover, the register identifies every baby born at St. Francis, and, where officials deemed it appropriate, the register signified who was "illegitimate."

Of course, St. Francis—a Catholic institution—was one of two hospitals in Grinnell, and births continued to occur at Grinnell Community Hospital as well as at home and at other hospitals. So, it is impossible to know how representative are the data from St. Francis. All the same, the St. Francis register provides vivid insight into "illegitimate births" in Grinnell, and also, surprisingly, a peek at the incidence of abortion, both issues that law and popular morality helped keep out of the published record.
Register of all admissions to St. Francis Hospital, Grinnell, 1919-1935 (Grinnell Historical Museum)
For obvious reasons, babies deemed illegitimate when born at St. Francis hospital usually—but not always, interestingly—had unmarried mothers. Most of these mothers came from elsewhere, presumably seeking in Grinnell some privacy from the criticism they might have encountered in their home towns.  So it was that Miss Eleanor Cassilly (the hospital register regularly identified female patients as "Miss" or "Mrs.") of Le Claire, Iowa checked into St. Francis hospital in October, 1923. Just nineteen years old at the time, Eleanor was the younger, unmarried sister of Merle Cassilly—ten years her senior—, who with his wife, lived with their parents in their Le Claire home. Within a day of arriving in Grinnell, Eleanor gave birth to a baby girl whom the register called "illegitimate." Likewise, Ivy Singleton, the oldest child of five in the household of H. A. and Nora Singleton in Chalmers, Illinois, arrived in Grinnell in the last days of December, 1922. Then either nineteen or twenty years of age and pregnant, Ivy soon gave birth to an illegitimate son. More than a decade later, Amelia Reha, a very pregnant and unmarried eighteen-year-old from Iowa City, came to Grinnell for similar reasons. The third child of six born to Frank (a farmer) and Amanda Reha, Amelia delivered a baby boy at St. Francis hospital September 5, 1934. Just two months earlier Margaret Madesen had found her way from McFarland, Wisconsin to Grinnell, where she also gave birth to an illegitimate son.

It is easy to imagine how the staff cosseted these innocent babes, but the hospital register rarely offers any indication of the fates of these children, instead merely attaching the damning adjective "illegitimate" to their arrival. However, the hospital register reports that at least one unwanted child did find adoptive parents. Amanda Reha's little boy, who was born in early September, 1934, became something of a Christmas present to Mr. and Mrs. Eugene Koett of Marshalltown. A cramped note in the margin of the hospital register reports that the Koetts adopted the boy—whom they named William—December 14, 1934, three months after his birth. How the Koetts came to know of the child, and exactly how the adoption was arranged are matters presently-available evidence does not address. One wonders, for example, who kept the baby those few months between his birth and his adoption? Hospital records show that Amanda was discharged shortly after the child's birth, but whether she took the baby home the register does not say. That the hospital reported on the adoption offers reason to think that Amanda left the child in the hospital's care, and that officials undertook to find adoptive parents. Marshalltown newspapers confirm that Veronica Koett was very active in local Catholic organizations, and the Koetts also made sure that William attended Catholic schools, so it seems likely that the adoption took place through Catholic contacts.
Gravestone of Eugene, Veronica, and William Koett, Riverside Cemetery, Marshalltown, Iowa
Perhaps other children born at St. Francis and judged "illegitimate" were also given up to be adopted, although the register mentions no others. Alternatively, unwanted little ones might have found their way to a nearby orphanage, such as the one in Toledo (which later became the State Juvenile Home/State Training School for Girls). Another alternative saw the mother keep her baby, and records make clear that at least occasionally this is exactly what happened, despite the opprobrium these births brought their mothers. Take, for instance, Miss Hazel Mintle, born in Malcom township in 1898, the fourth of five children welcomed by Laura Mintle and her farmer husband, Frank. The family soon moved to Grinnell, living at 702 Broad. Hazel told the 1915 Iowa census taker that she had completed two years of high school, but her absence from the high school yearbook suggests that she did not stay in school long enough to graduate. After Frank Mintle died in 1916, Laura remarried in 1919, taking as her husband John Creamer, a Grinnell auctioneer who lived at 423 West Street. Hazel moved with her mother, and by 1920 was employed as a clerk in a department store.

October 17, 1921, however, Hazel Mintle entered St. Francis hospital where she promptly gave birth to a little boy whom the hospital register judged "illegitimate." I found no evidence of how Hazel's delivery was received locally, but it is hard to imagine that she and her newborn were received enthusiastically, either within the Mintle clan—whose numerous branches were well-known and well-regarded in Grinnell—or more broadly. Nevertheless, as additional documentation proves, Hazel did indeed keep her baby, naming him Keith Lavelle Mintle. For reasons not spelled out in hospital records, Hazel and her newborn were not released until after Halloween. But soon she and her baby took up residence with Mr. and Mrs. William Sears at 1122 Ann Street.
1921 Death Certificate of Keith Lavelle Mintle (1921-1921)
Sadly, misfortune soon followed this brave course: little Keith grew very ill (perhaps he was already under treatment when born, helping explain the delayed release from hospital), and before he was two months old the child died. The death certificate identified the cause of death as syphilis, which indicates that the baby had contracted the disease from his mother while still in her womb. And this fact, in turn, indicates that Hazel had had at least one sex partner—either the child's father or someone else—who himself was infected; Hazel then transmitted the disease to her fetus.  Whatever people may have thought of this short-lived little boy, Hazel herself must have endured a double dose of criticism, having not only violated accepted morality in conceiving a child outside marriage but also having gained a sexually transmitted disease that she visited upon her unborn son. So far as the baby's grave can contribute to the story, Hazel's family (or some part of it) at some point absorbed the child into the family—at least that is what is implied by Keith's burial in Hazelwood, adjacent to his grandparents and other members of the Mintle family (although the misspelling of the boy's middle name indicates some distance from the child and his mother).
Gravestone for Keith Lavelle Mintle, Hazelwood Cemetery (West Hazelwood 976) (2017 photo)
Hazel herself, however, soon left Grinnell behind, never to return. Des Moines city directories from the early 1920s find her living in Des Moines and working at the new Hotel Savery, opened there in 1919. Also living in Des Moines at this time was Paul Seeburger, identified as a "battery expert" at Iowa Storage Battery Company. How and when the two met I could not learn, but I wondered whether Paul might not have been the baby's father. In any case, in 1926 or 1927 Hazel and Paul Seeburger married and moved to California. The 1930 census found them in Los Angeles; Paul was a clerk in a drug store whereas Hazel was employed in sales at a department store. Evidently the pair never generated any children, as the 1940 census found them still childless in Los Angeles where Paul worked as apartment manager in the building in which they lived. Hazel died in Los Angeles in July, 1963, and was buried half a continent away from her only child; Paul survived Hazel for some years, dying in March, 1971.
A happier, if more confusing, narrative came to the baby born to Mrs. William A. Flanagan at St. Francis Hospital June 14, 1935. Helena A. Jones had married William Flanagan September 15, 1930, and they soon set up house in Grinnell. April, 1932 saw the couple welcome their first child, Joanne, and in May 1933 a second child, William, joined the family. Then in June 1935, Helena was admitted to St. Francis where on the 14th she give birth to a little girl. For reasons that I can only guess about, the hospital register clearly labeled the baby "illegitimate." None of the persons whose admission notice is near Helena's gave birth to a child, so the entry cannot be an obvious, clerical mistake, transferring to Mrs. Flanagan the birth of a single woman admitted with her. But how can a married woman have given birth to an "illegitimate" child? Had Helena confessed a sin to one of the nuns who worked there, and she felt obliged to record this failing? Had Helena perhaps earlier decided to unburden herself of a secret to her husband, who then reported this news to his wife's doctor? Neither course seems especially likely, if not impossible. But answers to these questions cannot be expected ever to appear, since matters like this are communicated orally and in privacy—if indeed they were communicated at all.

Once Helena delivered the baby, the Flanagans faced some hard choices. If resentment and regret accompanied the new arrival, should the Flanagans perhaps give the child up for adoption, removing from their household the living evidence of Helena's extra-marital adventure? Or, whether Helena's misstep was forgiven or not, should Helena and William welcome the baby into their home like any other offspring, since there was no reason for anyone to suspect anything in the arrival of a third child to a married woman? The hospital register cannot answer these questions, but other documents about the family reveal that the Flanagans did take the baby home, and raised her as their own. The 1940 US Census identified four Flanagan children, including their third child, Marguerite, who was said to have been 4 in 1940, which would point to a birth in 1936. In fact, however, as Social Security records and other documents confirm, Marguerite Flanagan was born June 14, 1935, the exact date entered in the St. Francis Hospital register when Helena Flanagan gave birth to an illegitimate girl. Marguerite was that "illegitimate" child.
Marguerite Flanagan (1935-2006), 1952 Grinnell High School Yearbook
So far as I could learn, Marguerite enjoyed a normal childhood, passing through the Grinnell schools and graduating from Grinnell High School in 1952. She married Richard Owens, moved to Omaha, and there gave birth to two children of her own. When she died in 2006, she had already been widowed for several years, but there is no evidence that the one damning word attached to her 1935 birth ever brought her any unwanted consequences.
So far we have been discussing mothers who, however reluctantly, brought their children full-term, and delivered babies. At least some women, however, must have considered how they might avoid the scorn that an illegitimate birth would bring. Despite its Catholic commitment, St. Francis Hospital offers some evidence on these cases, too, periodically noting in the hospital register that a patient had had an abortion.

When I first encountered this term in the hospital records, I doubted that the word denoted the termination of pregnancy, as we understand that term now. But as I saw the term repeated, along with other expressions ("miscarriage," "uterine hemorrhage," etc.) which might have hidden abortions, had the physicians wished to do so, I became convinced that Grinnell doctors had indeed performed abortions in St. Francis hospital.
But wasn't abortion illegal? Indeed it was, as James C. Mohr convincingly argues ("Iowa's Abortion Battles of the late 1960s and Early 1970s: Long-term Perspective and Short-Term Analysis," The Annals of Iowa 50[1989]:63-89). In the last years of the nineteenth century, Mohr points out, the Iowa legislature and courts gradually tightened laws aimed at abortionists, so that by 1886 the death of a woman as a result of an abortion could be prosecuted as second-degree murder. Nevertheless, Mohr contends, "substantial evidence suggests that abortion remained a reasonably wide-spread practice in Iowa, just as it did in other states...." Mohr read decisions of Iowa's Supreme Court as admitting "that the death or even the presumed death of an unborn fetus was considered a threat to the life of the woman carrying it and therefore justified an abortion; that anyone could attempt an abortion as long as the life of the woman appeared to be at stake; and, most importantly, that the state had the burden of proof to demonstrate that the abortion was not necessary." The result, Mohr argues, was that performing an abortion, especially if done by a physician, rarely attracted prosecution. Survey data collected in 1931 from more than eighty rural Iowa physicians seems to support his contention: inquiry of more than eighty rural Iowa physicians revealed more than 6600 abortions alongside some 51,000 deliveries.

Accepting this argument does nothing to undermine the Catholic church's own opposition to abortion, a force of considerable power within a Catholic hospital like Grinnell's St. Francis. And yet the hospital register identifies at least seven abortions, all carried out in the 1920s (for unknown reasons, not a single abortion can be found in the register's records from the 1930s). Who were the women at St. Francis who underwent abortions?
St. Francis Hospital, Grinnell, Iowa (1920?) (Digital Grinnell)
Only once does the hospital register report that the abortion was self-induced, and that description was attached to Mrs. Philip Thomas, who was admitted to St. Francis February 3, 1924. Philip Thomas and Mildred Halstead had married in Newton in December, 1920. The Grinnell city directory of that year reported that the couple lived at 1507 Summer, and that Phillip was a "meat cutter." Later evidence indicates that Phillip took up farming, as his death certificate confirmed that he had died unexpectedly in 1928: he suffered a lightning strike as he planted corn on their farm. Available records indicate that Phillip and Mildred Thomas had no other children after the 1924 abortion. Although a self-induced abortion might have damaged Mildred's reproductive organs, she gave birth to a son in 1930 after Phillip's death and her remarriage, so the failure to add children was not a biological consequence of her abortion. But why did she try to abort her 1924 pregnancy? And did that abortion somehow interfere with her relation to her husband?

Other abortions identified in the hospital register seem to have originated with the women's doctors. For example, in April 1928, Miss Kathleen Clifford came to Grinnell from West Branch—at least that's what the hospital record says. However, I could find no Cliffords in West Branch, Iowa; the closest family of that name lived in Stevens Point, Wisconsin, and their daughter Kathleen would have been about 25 years old in 1928. It could be, therefore, that, like other unmarried pregnant women who wanted to escape the censure of their hometowns, Kathleen made the trip to Grinnell, but, instead of giving birth to an illegitimate child, she underwent an abortion.

Another single woman said to have had an abortion at St. Francis was Wilma Wentzel, whose name readers of this blog might recognize: in a highly-publicized 1923 case, she had run away from home with a married Grinnell man whom newspapers dubbed "Iceman Romeo." Unlike other young women who had journeyed from distant points to Grinnell to resolve their pregnancies, Wilma was a local girl, her family residing at 1016 Center Street. She had been admitted to St. Francis once before—in June, 1921—to be treated for gonorrhea, a sexually-transmitted disease not often met in the St. Francis register. Just fifteen years old at the time, Wilma was evidently sexually active, which may explain how she returned to the hospital in mid-July, 1922 where, according to the register, Dr. Talbott performed an abortion. Medical authorities explain that a pregnant woman infected with gonorrhea is more likely to experience miscarriage or a pre-term birth, and it may be, therefore, that when Wilma Wentzel returned to St. Francis hospital in 1922, she exhibited some signs of these problems, encouraging her doctor to terminate the pregnancy. Evidently there were no complications, and Wilma was promptly released.
Luella Walker Holstrom (1901-1984)
1925 yearbook of Mankato State Teachers College
The case of Mrs. Harry Holstrom was quite different. Luella (Nellie) Rosalina Walker was born in 1901 in Princeton, Iowa. By 1920, her father was dead, and she and a younger brother were living with their widowed mother in Davenport. Nellie decided to pursue an education, focusing upon teacher training. In 1924 she accepted a position at Mankato State Teachers College (today's Minnesota State University, Mankato). At about the same time, she met Harry Kay Holstrom, and in November, 1926 they married and settled in Brooklyn, Iowa. Apparently Nellie promptly conceived, but she entered St. Francis March 13, 1927, her doctor reporting that he had performed an abortion.

What does this mean? Was the conception somehow defective, perhaps putting Nellie's own life at risk? Had there been some other trouble that necessitated terminating the pregnancy? The hospital register has nothing to say about these questions, remarking only that Nellie was dismissed four days later. Whether related to the abortion or not, something did go wrong with Nellie's marriage, even though the next year she gave birth to a daughter, because by the time federal census agents appeared at her door in 1940, she was no longer living in Brooklyn with Harry, but had returned to Davenport where she lived with her daughter, the census describing her as divorced.
Gravestone for Grastina Marchellino, Hazelwood Cemetery (2017 photo)
A similar scenario played out for Mrs. "Geo." Marchellino. Giuseppe ("Joe") Marchellino had immigrated to the United States in 1909, and established a shoemaker's business in Grinnell. By 1920 Joe was living and working in Ottumwa, where in 1922 he married eighteen-year-old Grace Weeks; they both reported that this was their second marriage. Soon thereafter the newlyweds settled in Grinnell. Grace entered St. Francis Hospital May 10, 1923 where Dr. Talbott again reported having performed an abortion. Apparently there were no complications, as Grace was dismissed two  days later. She conceived again very soon, because their son, James, is reported (on a delayed birth record), as having been born November 6, 1923. This date, recalled years later for the substitute birth certificate, seems very unlikely, and St. Francis records do not remember James's birth at all. Nevertheless, November 6, 1923 is what was recorded in numerous later documents, including the report of James's World War II death in New Guinea in 1942. A second child, Grastina, was born in September, 1925, but died the following spring. Francis came in 1927, and LaVena in 1928. For reasons unknown, by 1930 the couple divorced, and in 1931 Grace remarried and left Iowa. Joe remained in Grinnell until 1962 when he returned to Italy, where he died in 1966.

The other abortions listed in the St. Francis register occurred to married women who already had other children. Mrs. Dow Mehaffey, for instance, entered hospital October 16, 1921, and Dr. Talbott reported having performed an abortion. Dow Mehaffey (1879-1950) and Maude Carson (1890-1955) had married December 20, 1909 in Washington, Iowa. Their first child, Lyle, was born in 1910, but died the following year. Lauretta followed in 1914, and Frances in 1916. So, when Maude was admitted to St. Francis in 1921, she had already given birth three times, and two children awaited her at home. It seems likely, therefore, that her abortion had something to do with the child, and that her doctor determined that an abortion was necessary to preserve Maude's own life, especially inasmuch as Maude went on to have two more children: Metta and Martina.

Mrs. Eugene Dewey of Newburg also had an abortion, hers done by Dr. Parish in late April, 1924. In his later years Eugene Dewey (1895-1960) drove a truck for Richardson-Phelps Lumber Company in Grinnell, but he had begun his working life as a farmer in Hamilton, Missouri. In 1915 he married Cora Jane Innis (1899-1943) in Caldwell, Missouri, and they soon moved to Iowa, first living in Newburg, then later in Grinnell. Cora Dewey gave birth to son Walter in 1917, to daughter Francis in 1918, and to a second daughter, Thelma, in 1923. It seems likely, therefore, that the 1924 abortion reported in hospital records, like Maude Mehaffey's, was the result of some irregularity in the pregnancy that threatened Cora's health.
The cases pulled from Grinnell's St. Francis Hospital records highlight experience that weighed especially heavily on women: childbirth outside marriage. Still a rarity in the 1920s and 1930s, extra-marital childbirth in Iowa proved resistant to cultural acceptance, so that young women who conceived a child before having married often had to resort to desperate solutions. For many, it meant finding a hospital far from home where they could give birth, and then return home, hoping that neighbors and friends were none the wiser. Occasionally these single mothers elected to keep their children, but this was difficult and, as happened with Hazel Mintle, these women ultimately chose to leave Grinnell—and their babies—behind.

Other unmarried women appear to have elected abortion. The records tell us nothing about how advanced the pregnancies were or whether there might have been medical problems that made abortion necessary. No doubt each case was complicated. Perhaps for some, who even at a young age were accustomed to serial sexual encounters, abortion was no big thing; in and out of the hospital promptly, as Wilma Wentzel was, for example, these women could not allow pregnancy to complicate their lives. Most of the abortions at St. Francis, however, seem to have been performed on married women who already had children. Consequently, their treatment at St. Francis seems to have had nothing to do with avoiding pregnancy and childbirth.

The brief reports of these women's encounters with illegitimacy and abortion, therefore, preserve for us only the dimmest outlines of lives in which pregnancy brought not only medical but also important social consequences that helped define their biographies. These stories were not written into the master narrative of Grinnell's past, and even within the walls of their own homes may not have been much discussed. Yet these stories, too, belong to Grinnell's past.

Sunday, November 26, 2017

When the "Spanish" Flu Hit Grinnell...

As the centennial of the 1918 flu pandemic approaches, a growing number of publications are reporting on this most deadly epidemic, estimated to have afflicted some 500 million worldwide, killing somewhere between 50 and 100 million people. Despite the passage of time and the development of scientific epidemiology, much remains unknown about the 1918 flu. Even its place of origin—Spain according to the name attached to the disease at the time—remains unsure; the latest research indicates that the flu may well have begun in Kansas...or any of several other places around the world. Moreover, the rather sudden ebbing of the disease in late 1918 was not the result of any medical cure; the best theory is that the H1N1 virus at the root of the epidemic itself mutated to a less virulent strain, leading to a break in the deadly march of the illness. Welcome as the disappearance of the disease was, the fact that medicine did not solve the illness raises the unhappy prospect of the virus reappearing some day with even more deadly consequences than prevailed in 1918.

Most writing about the 1918 epidemic embraces a  broad perspective. In this post, however, we will focus upon the flu as it presented itself here in Grinnell. When did it reach Grinnell, and with what consequences? At a time when Grinnell was in the process of building two modern hospitals, how did Grinnell and its citizens respond to the flu outbreak? And what impacts did the epidemic leave behind in Grinnell?
A 1910 postcard of Grinnell's city hospital (6th and Elm), the only hospital when the 1918 flu hit town
(Digital Grinnell)

Although news of the "Spanish" flu had been around for months, Grinnell entered autumn, 1918 without much evident concern about the illness. Several locals had died during the summer months, but there was nothing irregular in their deaths, and none of them seemed linked to the dreaded flu. The first inkling of impending trouble came with an October 1st editorial in the Grinnell Herald that reprinted an article from the Journal of the American Medical Association. Although the writer encouraged readers to practice careful isolation of victims of the flu so as to prevent transmission, in other respects the editorial preached calm. The illness now named "Spanish influenza," the writer allowed, 
should not cause any greater importance to be attached to it, nor arouse any greater fear than influenza without the new name...It has already practically disappeared from the Allied troops. The course of the disease is similar to the condition which has always been called influenza, except that it seems in some cases more severe, that it shows an extraordinary degree of contagiousness, and that it is complicated or followed, in perhaps as many as 5 per cent of cases, by bronchophenuomia [sic].
Folks need not be overly concerned, the editorial continued, because "Medical authorities of the Army, the Navy and the Public Health service are thoroughly alive to the condition, and are taking active measures to control it."

John M. Barry, writing about the 1918 epidemic in a recent Smithsonian Magazine, blames public officials for downplaying the seriousness of the disease until the epidemic had gotten out of hand. Certainly there was little in the brief Grinnell Herald editorial to prepare the town for the viral storm that was about to blow through Poweshiek County.
Since the flu virus was not identified by microbiologists until 1933, diagnosis in 1918 depended mainly upon symptoms, especially, perhaps, upon the prompt lethality of the disease. Complications often gave victims pneumonia, so that it is difficult to say with certainty who was Grinnell's first fatality from the 1918 epidemic as many deaths were attributed to pneumonia. It seems likely, therefore, given the fact that the disease appeared in epidemic form among American troops long before it reached Grinnell, that Grinnellians first came face to face with Spanish influenza through the young men who contracted the disease in military barracks far from central Iowa.

Already in late September, for example, the Grinnell Herald reported the death of Fred Leroy, 23 years of age. Having enlisted in the army in 1917, Leroy fell ill at Camp Dix, New Jersey where his unit was headquartered; he was dead within a week, a victim, the newspaper reported, of "pneumonia following attack of Spanish influenza." There soon followed numerous obituaries of other Grinnellians in uniform, most having been felled by the flu and its complications rather than by enemy action.
Photograph of Fred Leroy (1895-1918) (Grinnell Herald, October 1, 1918)
The newspaper so often reported these fatalities that at the end of yet another October obituary of a Grinnell soldier the writer concluded with this somber reflection:
The dread influenza seems more to be feared than the bullets and shells of the Hun, and is making sad havoc in the ranks of the Poweshiek soldiery. We shudder when we think, who will be next.
News of civilian flu victims also began to appear on the pages of the town's newspapers. For example, the same Grinnell Herald issue that reported on the death of Fred Leroy also carried a brief article about Lorna Palmer, no soldier but a teacher at the Iowa School for the Blind in Vinton: "Brilliant College Graduate Passes to the Great Beyond." The Herald soberly acknowledged that "Miss Palmer had been sick but a week and was a victim of the prevailing influenza." Although the paper did not say it directly, Palmer's death proved that the dreaded flu was killing not only soldiers far away but also civilians in rural Iowa. It seemed inevitable that the flu would soon take up residence in Grinnell.

That autumn numerous Grinnellians died from illnesses like pneumonia that might well have followed an attack of influenza, but the first Grinnell citizen whose death the obituary directly blamed on the flu virus was Hallie Denlow Raymond (1897-1918).  Like Fred Leroy and Lorna Palmer, Hallie Raymond was young—as many of that year's fatalities were—and her death (October 14) came quickly, within a week of infection. Although the casket of Fred Leroy had been open for the funeral in his wife's parents' home in Grinnell, by the time Hallie Raymond was buried in Hazelwood Cemetery October 16, the quarantine had come into effect. Consequently, Raymond's "funeral service [was] held only at the grave on account of the character of the disease" (Grinnell Herald, October 18, 1918). The death certificate, however, specified not influenza but pneumonia as the cause of death, influenza being mentioned only as contributory, indirect confirmation of the difficulty that medical professionals encountered when diagnosing the disease.
Death Certificate for Hallie Raymond (1883-1918)
Regrettably, Hallie Raymond's death was not an isolated event, but rather the harbinger of more death. Three days later James Creamer, Deodoro Lucis and Carrie May Taylor died; on the 18th Samuel Anderson, and on the 19th Alfred McNabb and Chris Watson. On the 23rd, one-year-old Lus Abila died, and on the 24th another one-year-old, Pearl Rucker. The following day three-year-old Ione Garver died. Altogether in October ten Grinnell residents died from infection with influenza.

Public officials, perhaps sensing the wave of illness coming their way, imposed a quarantine on Monday, October 14: schools were closed, movies shut down, and no meetings—not even public funerals—were permitted. Grinnell College was allowed to continue, but only under the condition that the campus itself be quarantined from the town. The Herald, reporting on this development, nevertheless urged calm: "While there are quite a number of cases of influenza in the city and vicinity, and some of the people are very sick, there have so far been but few complications with pneumonia or other diseases. Many of the afflicted persons have recovered or are convalescing" (October 15, 1918, p. 1). According to the newspaper, altogether "only about 50 cases" had been reported in town, and another 50 in the surrounding countryside. In other words, a quarantine was prudent but not urgent.
Grinnell Herald October 18, 1918
If Grinnell officials were tempted to abandon the quarantine, the Iowa State Board of Health short-circuited any attempt at lessening the quarantine. On the 17th the Board issued an order demanding that all Iowa municipalities observe a strict quarantine, even if locals thought the situation not too threatening. Grinnell's mayor posted the Board's order in the newspapers, merely acknowledging the state's action.

The quarantine made sure to exempt business from any restrictions, and newspapers continued to huckster the usual array of goods and services, rarely alluding to the sickness that was becoming increasingly evident. Even before the quarantine was instituted, an advertisement in the October 11th issue of the Grinnell Herald attempted to take advantage of the epidemic. A small ad headlined by the all-capital letters ("SPANISH INFLUENZA") alleged that the "sneezing, the racking cough and the inflammation in chest and throat of Spanish Influenza is swiftly relieved by the old-fashioned cold remedy of goose-grease and turpentine." With the addition of menthol, wintergreen and "other healing oils" a Fort Dodge company produced something called "Men-Tho-Eze." "As Spanish Influenza is still spreading," the advertisement acknowledged, "there should certainly be a 30-cent jar of Men-Tho-Eze ready at hand in your home—preparedness pays." At the height of the epidemic, Men-Tho-Eze published additional advertisements in the Grinnell Herald. In early January, 1919 the local Marinello hair salon in the Spaulding Block published a small advertisement in the Scarlet and Black, urging readers to purchase the firm's "scalp treatments for falling hair caused by Spanish Flu."
Image taken from (
The steady drum beat of illness overwhelmed Grinnell's inadequate hospital facilities. The city's lone hospital, opened in 1908 at 6th and Elm, could not meet the demand for beds, which led the Red Cross to establish an auxiliary hospital for non-infectious cases in the home of Dora Pottle at 1405 Park Street. Even this addition proved insufficient, with the result that many victims remained in their homes, nursed by family members who not infrequently themselves soon fell ill. The Red Cross, therefore, begged for volunteers—especially any women who had been trained as nurses—to visit and help treat victims in their homes.

Headlines from articles in the Grinnell Herald, October 18 and October 22, 1918
Within a week of having imposed the quarantine, city officials were feeling optimistic. An article in the October 22 Grinnell Herald bore the headline "Flu On the Decline." Acknowledging that "the health situation in this community is not the best," the writer nevertheless asserted that "there is at least grounds for hope that the Spanish influenza has reached its zenith and has begun to decline." According to the report, over the preceding two days fewer cases had been reported, and "most of these are in a light form."

On the down side, cases of typhoid fever seemed to be multiplying. "Physicians are at a loss to know the cause of the typhoid which has broken out," the newspaper reported. Sixteen cases, several of which were deemed "serious," were known in town, but the origin and transmission of the disease remained a mystery.
Grinnell Herald November 22, 1918
The outbreak of typhoid fever was unexpected, and complicated efforts of health officials to deal with the blizzard of flu-related cases. An October 1st article in the Grinnell Herald was headlined "Typhoid Cases Numerous," and proceeded to identify six persons hospitalized with typhoid. The article concluded by advising residents to boil all their drinking water, to pasteurize all milk, to get vaccinated against typhoid, and to "Swat the everlasting fly." Typhoid continued to spread, however, and three October death certificates assigned cause of death to typhoid: 23-year-old Morgan Lee; 4-year-old Effie Sergeant; and 8-year-old Edward Waters.

The persistence of typhoid fever cases led the city council in November to invite to town Dr. John Hamilton to investigate. Hamilton's report, summarized orally for the city council in late November and delivered in full to the city in mid-December, counted a total of about thirty cases reliably identified as typhoid. Because the bacillus is often transmitted by water or milk, Hamilton carefully examined both supplies, and gave high marks to the city's water supply. Although he found no specific evidence to confirm his suspicion, Hamilton thought it likely that the milk supply had become contaminated, perhaps by having individuals who either had typhoid or who were nursing typhoid victims handling milk bottles. For this reason, he recommended that bottles remain in the hands of the suppliers who could regularly sanitize them. The most difficult to control—human waste—was also the most likely source of the problem: transmission of the bacillus through the feces of those infected. With a complete sanitary sewer system in place in Grinnell, Hamilton wrote, the city ought to eliminate all outdoor privies and bring all sewage into a central system for complete treatment. Efforts should be especially arduous in fly season, since flies were easy and frequent vehicles of typhoid infection.

Local dairies were quick to pick up on Hamilton's point about milk, adjusting their advertising to point out that their products were pasteurized or that their bottles were not subject to infection from being left with customers.
Grinnell Herald November 29, 1918

Grinnell Herald December 10, 1918
For those citizens who were worried about the water, regardless of the expert's opinion, Colfax's Fry Bottling Company had a solution—bottled mineral water, "Safe against the Typhoid Germ," as the company's advertisements noted.

Concerning though they were, typhoid cases shrank in importance when compared to the inroads made by flu. All the same, officials were anxious to lift the quarantine and, encouraged by the hope that the disease had passed its peak, announced the end of the quarantine, effective October 28.
Grinnell Herald October 25, 1918
Alas, the optimism was short-lived. At an emergency meeting of the city's Board of Health on the very day that the quarantine was to be lifted, the Board rescinded the earlier order and reimposed the quarantine. According to the newspaper report, "quite a number of new cases of the disease [flu] were reported by the physicians of the city, so many in fact that the board considered the better policy to be on the safe side" (Grinnell Herald October 29, 1918).
Grinnell Register October 28, 1918
In an effort to get a better handle on the dimensions of the illness and apparently at the instigation of the Grinnell schools leadership, on Monday, October 28 the town's teachers, exiled from their classrooms by the quarantine, proceeded to canvas all quarters of the city in search of hard numbers on the extent of the epidemic. The results of the survey were published in the next day's Grinnell Herald. Not counting the 15 households that did not respond, the survey found 70 cases of "active" flu in town, and 159 "convalescing" cases. Another 21 individuals were reported to be suffering from typhoid. Teachers figured that 105 Grinnell families—which must have represented about 10% of the town's approximately 5000 residents—were dealing with at least one case of flu.

Within a couple of days, teachers were back on the streets to count the city's ill another time. On November 1st, the Herald published results of a survey undertaken the preceding day. The latest canvas reported 19 "new cases," and a total of 42 "active cases" along with 54 cases of people who were convalescing from the flu. According to this tabulation, 32 Grinnell families were struggling with at least one case of flu. Rephrasing the numbers, the second survey found that 73 fewer Grinnell families had a flu victim to care for. There were still 16 persons suffering from typhoid fever.
Grinnell Herald November 5, 1918
Authorities decided to lift the quarantine on November 4th, but the disease's hold on Grinnell proved tenacious, the plague continuing unabated through the Thanksgiving season. John Crosby, a thirty-year-old painter died November 4th, and on the 9th and 10th two more children passed. In the days before Thanksgiving (November 28 that year), a whole string of deaths were registered: one on the 19th, one on the 20th, one on the 22nd, one on the 23rd, three on the 24th, two on the 25th, two on the 27th, one on the 29th and one on the 30th.

Although most death certificates identified pneumonia as the cause of death, often with flu as a contributing factor, newspaper obituaries were more willing to assign primary responsibility for death to influenza. When Fred Plum died November 22, for example, his death certificate cited pneumonia as cause of death, with flu as a complication. The Herald obituary, however, blamed influenza, pointing out that 22-year-old Fred was not the only one suffering from the contagious disease; his wife and child were so ill with the flu that they could not attend Fred's funeral. Within a week, the flu pulled down Fred's sister, Hazel. "When the flu broke out in the Plum family," the newspaper reported, "Mrs. J. W. Plum, Charlie Plum, and Myron Plum were all stricken at the same time. Hazel was a wonderful help to her father in caring for the sick ones until she herself was taken..." (Grinnell Herald November 26, 1918).

Something similar happened in numerous other families. The same issue of the Herald that reported on Hazel Plum's death published a brief report on the Ernest Lawrence family, all of whose members were reported to be suffering through the illness. "Both Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence have been hardly able to move around and the four children have also been afflicted...." Only the volunteer help of a neighbor kept the ill family members hydrated and alive.

Some families found themselves not only without a hospital room but also without a doctor, so that their illnesses passed largely unseen by the public. For the few Mexicans then living in Grinnell, this must have been the usual experience. When in early November little one-year-old Aurora Baldingro fell ill, for example, her family cared for her without a doctor, as the child's death certificate proved. E. B. Wiley, the local health officer who signed the certificate, attributed death to influenza, adding "probably [my emphasis-DK], from what we get from the parents." In other words, Wiley had not seen the child before her death, and had to depend upon the parents' report to assign cause of death. The same thing had happened with Deodoro Lucis, who died October 17, pneumonia being cited as cause of death. But Dr. E. E. Harris could not say how long the illness had lasted, since he only saw Lucis the day before he died.
Death Certificate for Aurora Baldingro (1917-1918)
Consequently, when December arrived, Grinnell was still struggling with influenza, and some citizens expressed dissatisfaction with the way that authorities were handling the crisis. In a statement published in the Grinnell Herald December 10, Mayor White attempted to calm the waters. He said that, as of that morning, doctors reported a total of 65 influenza cases, new and old, and urged Grinnellians to avoid giving expression to wild rumors about the disease. "We may have the presence of this unwelcome visitor for a year," the mayor said, no doubt surprising and frightening his critics. Continuing on to his main point, the mayor allowed that Grinnell would "not be able to control [the flu] except by the cooperation of citizens." Urging people not to visit neighbors or friends afflicted with the flu until the victims were pronounced well, White hinted that, in the absence of voluntary cooperation, he might re-impose the quarantine. In the meantime, the mayor promised to post in city offices up-to-date counts of flu cases at least once a week.
Grinnell Herald December 27, 1918
Deaths from pneumonia and influenza continued, but apparently without significantly depressing local business. As an article in the December 27th Herald pointed out, the quarantine had interfered with the delivery of goods to local merchants, and the health scare had kept some people out of the business district. But merchants had managed to overcome these difficulties. Neither the unusually warm autumn weather nor the snow just prior to Christmas did much to undermine Christmas shopping, which most businessmen thought as good as, or even better than, 1917's holiday trade.
As residents of Grinnell hung new calendars in their homes, savoring the beginning of 1919, influenza crept quietly away. Although a spate of new cases emerged in late winter, the flu seemed less potent, and the fear of deadly illness dissipated. No one knew why the flu abandoned Grinnell; it certainly wasn't because physicians had figured out how to cure or prevent it. An early attempt at vaccination had been made on the college campus when in mid-October men in the Students Army Training Corps were inoculated, but the results of this effort were less than startling: after the mass vaccination SATC men continued to fall ill and die, leaving others to wonder at the effectiveness of the proposed remedy.

Easier to appreciate was the opening of Grinnell's two new hospitals—St. Francis Hospital on the east side of town in February and Grinnell Community Hospital on the west side in August. The new facilities provided more beds and much better conditions with which to fight epidemics. Consequently, when in winter 1920 another wave of flu—although not the same virus that had overwhelmed the town in 1918—appeared, Grinnell's hospitals coped well with the demand for beds and care.
Undated photo of Grinnell Community Hospital, a 45-bed facility that opened in August, 1919
(Digital Grinnell)
The 1918 uptick in typhoid also left a mark upon Grinnell. Pasteurized milk products gained a new foothold among Grinnell consumers, and helped drive the dairy industry toward 100% pasteurization. Similarly, largely because of the report of Dr. Hamilton, the city moved forward in requiring all city residences to abandon outdoor privies and connect to the city sewer system, changing forever the appearance of residential Grinnell and raising the expectations and responsibilities of city government.

All the same, the deadly course of the 1918 epidemic left its most somber imprint in Hazelwood Cemetery, many of whose gravestones bear witness to the lethal legacy of the 1918 epidemic. Some families lost several members as the virus hop-scotched from one victim to another, their grouped grave markers confirming in stone their common fate. As elsewhere, the 1918 flu preferred not the youngest and not the oldest, stealing away instead many of Grinnell's healthiest, prime-age population. These sturdy young people endured the brief rage of the virus, their lives cut short before they could understand what had deprived them of the future they intended to live.

Wednesday, November 8, 2017

Grinnell's First African Americans

Earlier posts on this blog have profiled some of the African Americans who lived and worked in Grinnell early in the twentieth century. Lee Renfrow, for example, cooked for hotels in Grinnell and Jim Tibbs shined shoes. These jobs did not enjoy much prestige and brought only modest incomes, but at least these black men occupied visible places in modernizing Grinnell.

The situation was different for the first African Americans to appear in pioneer Grinnell, decades before Lee Renfrow and Jim Tibbs.  The heroic narrative of sod-busting, abolitionist white men who settled the prairie and founded Grinnell made little room for the black men and women who, on the heels of the American Civil War, made their way out of the former kingdom of slavery to this tiny town on the prairie. But these refugees from slavery worked and lived here, too. Absorbed by a town that made much of its opposition to slavery and the implied equality of all people, the black men and women of early Grinnell nevertheless found themselves on the margins of society once again. Like the white men and women who sought in the frontier prosperity and a new beginning, the former slaves who discovered J. B. Grinnell's town hoped to celebrate lives free from white overlords and to exercise their abilities in return for fair wages. These hopes proved difficult to realize, and this post will focus upon the African Americans who first joined themselves to J. B. Grinnell's nineteenth-century experiment.
Anna Katherine Craig (1867-?); Theodora (Dora) Craig (1864-1949); and Eva Pearl Craig (1875-1962) (ca. 1900) . Anna married William Goode; Dora married John Brown Lucas; and Eva married Lee Renfrow.
(Digital Grinnell)
The records that document these lives are spare: none of Grinnell's earliest black settlers bequeathed us a diary or trove of letters; few photographs survive; and none of these early African American Grinnellians gained prominence through elective office or successful commerce, so the public record barely mentions them. Historians are obliged, therefore, to work from the terse records of federal and state censuses, and the occasional reference by white citizens. Moreover, because most of this first generation of African Americans did not remain in Grinnell, but soon sought new homes elsewhere, the Grinnell chapters of their life stories are inevitably truncated. In one post we cannot tell all their stories, but here we will try to recover the overall outlines of nineteenth-century black Grinnell, and also tell a few of the stories that these men and women lived out in white Grinnell.
The settlement founded on the plains in the mid-1850s had grown to almost 400 persons by 1860, and almost every one of them was white. The single exception recorded in the 1860 census was Edward Delaney, then 80 years old (according to the census; his gravestone listed him as 75) and serving in the household of Deborah (1803-1887) and Mary Jane Hays. Edward was born a slave in Maryland, and, when still a boy late in the eighteenth century, had been purchased by Joseph Hays as a playmate for the planter's son. Later "Ned," as they called him, was sold to the son, but when the family fell onto hard times in Maryland, the Hays family went west in search of good land. Delaney, when emancipated and asked about his future, announced his desire to remain with Deborah Hays, who, with Ned, had cared for old man Hays in his last years. So Ned Delaney came to Iowa with the Hays household in the 1850s. Then already an old man, Ned died in 1861 and was buried in Hazelwood cemetery adjacent to the plot where Deborah Hays was later interred.
Gravestone of Edward Delaney, Hazelwood Cemetery
By 1870, however, Grinnell's population had more than tripled, and among the 1482 residents counted in the census there were forty blacks living in Grinnell (Stuart Yeager's 1984 study counted 42, but I could not verify that number)—almost 3% of the total population.  Mostly men and mostly single, this early cadre of former slaves deserted homes in Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Kentucky, Missouri, Louisiana, Tennessee, Virginia and the Carolinas to reach the still young settlement in central Iowa. Bringing few special skills, the new arrivals occupied the lowest rungs on the labor ladder, the great majority of them working as day laborers. A few filled other jobs open to blacks—as cooks and barbers, for instance—while women took positions as domestic servants or washer women.

Without families, many of these men, despite having come from different places and not having known one another previously, lived with one another, rather than among any of the majority white population. According to the census sheet, Z. Hubbard was a 33-year-old black man who was born in Alabama, but in Grinnell was "cook in a club." Living with him were four other African Americans, all described as "day laborers": Redic Roberts, 36, born in Georgia; Robert Baker, 31 from Alabama; Doc Granville, 27 from Missouri; James Jenkins, 23, also from Missouri; and John Cooper, 29 from Mississippi. Next door lived Willis Reagen, a 22-year-old from Tennessee; Lawson Butler, 40, from Mississippi; Frank Sprull, 28, from North Carolina; and John Bone, 24, from Kentucky. The census described all these men as day laborers, but provides nothing more definitive about their work. Most of these men were soon gone from Grinnell, their lives here too ephemeral to have left much trace.

A few of the newly-arrived blacks resided with and served in white households. Jane Austin, for example, was a 25-year-old domestic servant in the household of Rev. and Mrs. J. B. Hardy. Robert Redrick, 30 years old and born in Georgia, and Julia Barker, a 29-year-old washer woman, had rooms from and worked for George Christian in his hotel. Willis Rogers, 21 years old and a farm laborer, boarded with John and June Black (along with two white stone masons and a female domestic servant). Ellen Slaughter was one of the few black women to appear in the 1870 census. Only 22 years old, Slaughter served in the household of an African American family new to Grinnell: Clark Thompson was a 40-year-old farmer from Kentucky who reported owning property worth more than $3000. How Thompson accumulated his wealth we don't know; if he was the runaway slave who worked for James Fordyce Bailey (1815-1888), he may have gained title to land from his former employer. In any case, the fact that his two teenage daughters had been born in Arkansas indicates that the Thompsons had once been property themselves.
Extract from 1870US Census, Town of Grinnell in the County of Poweshiek of Iowa, 4th Day of August, 1870, p. 23: Clark Thompson Household
In 1870 Grinnell there were also some single, young black men who came to town for an education, attending Iowa College. How they learned of Grinnell the record does not reveal. Living with a cluster of young whites who were also college students were J. Jenkins, 21 years old from Louisiana, and W. Rogers, 22 years old from Tennessee. Neither one seems to have graduated, as Hannibal Kershaw, who finished Grinnell in 1879, and therefore missed both the 1870 and 1880 censuses, was the first African American to graduate from what later became known as Grinnell College. What happened to Jenkins and Rogers is unclear.

Hannibal Kershaw (1856-1883), the First African American Graduate of Iowa College
(photograph courtesy of Grinnell College Special Collections)
In addition to these singles, there were also a few African American families in 1870s Grinnell. The largest belonged to Joseph and Patsy Blackwell, who brought their eight children to town. Joseph Blackwell was a 60-year-old black man who had been born in Kentucky, which is to say that he had been born a slave. His wife, Patsy, was said to be forty years old; she, too, had been born into slavery—in her case in Missouri. The "peculiar institution" brought them together in Kentucky (probably Patsy had been sold to a Kentucky planter), where Charles, their first child, was born. No later than 1850 they settled in Missouri (again, presumably through the economics of slavery), where all their children but the youngest were born. Sometime after the end of the Civil War and no later than 1867, the newly-freed family came to Iowa where Helen, their youngest child, was born. 
Extract from 1870 US Census, Town of Grinnell in the County of Poweshiek of Iowa, 4th Day of August, 1870, p. 12: Joseph Blackwell Household
In 1870 Joseph was working as a day laborer, as were sons Charles (then 24 years old), Lewis (just 12), and Joseph (11). The fact that Joseph felt the need to bring into the work force two boys not yet teenagers points to the financial limits under which the family was living. Nevertheless, somehow Blackwell had accumulated some resources, telling the 1870 census people that his real estate was worth $500 and that his personal property was worth $300. Neither Joseph nor Patsy admitted to being able to read or write, another regrettable legacy of slavery. Although Charles and his sister Malinda were both able to read, neither could write. All the other children, except little Helen, were attending school that year.

Although life under these conditions could hardly have been easy, the Blackwells had traveled to Grinnell to escape the culture where slavery had so recently prevailed, but also to improve their economic status. With slavery officially behind them, the Blackwells nevertheless had a difficult road to travel, and life in Grinnell did not suddenly overcome all the barriers the family confronted. Things only grew worse when both Joseph and Patsy Blackwell died in the 1870s. The details of their deaths are obscure: none of the conventional sources remembers the dates or causes of their demise, and their Hazelwood cemetery gravestone is too worn to permit reading.
Gravestone for Joseph and Patsy Blackwell, Hazelwood Cemetery (Hazelwood 013) (2017 photo)
No published obituaries of either one survive, but the manuscript records of Hazelwood Cemetery, recently transferred to the local history archive at Drake Community Library and expertly mined by Ms. Dorrie Lalonde, allow us to confirm the dates of their deaths (or perhaps their burials): Patsy died in June, 1872 and Joseph almost exactly one year later, as the index to the Hazelwood Plat Book plainly reports. What the cemetery records do not remark upon is why they died: although Joseph would have been about 63, Patsy was only 42, too young to die, even in this era. The deaths of their parents seem to have hastened the breakup of the family, which is missing from the 1880 census.
Index to Plat Book of Hazelwood Cemetery, Local History Room, Drake Community Library
Less financially secure was William Pearno, a 26-year-old barber from South  Carolina who owned no real estate and claimed only $100 of personal property. His wife Frances hailed from Alabama, but the couple's three children had all been born in Iowa, and therefore were all born free.
Ten years later the town's population continued to grow: instead of the 1482 people counted in 1870, the 1880 census identified 2415 residents. The number of African Americans, however, declined from 40 to 22 (Yeager counted 31). As before, men outnumbered women, and most of the black arrivals had begun their lives in slavery. Families of black settlers remained rare, a function perhaps of the harsh conditions on the frontier and also a consequence of slavery's impact upon family composition. Nevertheless, among Grinnell's African Americans in 1880 one finds Braxton Dimmit, a 48-year-old laborer from Missouri, his wife, Rachel, 38 and born in Kentucky, and the couple's seven children, all living on Elm Street.
Extract from 1880 US Census, Town of Grinnell in County of Poweshiek, 5 June 1880: Dimmit Household
As before, some of the single black men lived together. For example, the 1878 city directory noted that Charles Blackwell, John Cooper, Robert Redrick, and A. H. Willis all lived above Reece's barber shop on Commercial Street.
Extract from 1880 US Census, Town of Grinnell in County of Poweshiek, 5 June, 1880:  J. B. Grinnell household, including groom, Lewis Blackwell
Although Joseph and Patsy Blackwell were gone by 1880, Lewis Blackwell, the couple's third oldest child, born about 1858, was included in the new census, recalled as a groom in J. B. Grinnell's household. Within two years Lewis married, taking as his bride 18-year-old Lizzie Lewis. By 1885, Lewis and Lizzie had their own household in town, and also had two children—Harry and Blanche. No longer in the employ of J. B. Grinnell, Lewis was now, as his father before him had been, a "laborer," although doing what the record does not reveal.

Emma, the sixth child born to Joseph and Patsy Blackwell, was only 9 in 1870; by the time the 1878 city directory was published, however, Emma, then about 17 years old, is described as a "laundress" whose residence was on Pearl Street (this before house numbers). Emma does not appear in Grinnell's 1880 census because by then she was living and working in Marshalltown. According to the census record, Emma was boarding with the African American family of Henry and Alice James and their little girl, Mary, on North Fifth Avenue, Marshalltown. Emma was working as a domestic, as was another black woman living with the James family, Jenny Steward (described as "mu[latto]"). Also boarding there was a three-year-old, Geneva Blackwell, who must have been either Emma's own child or a niece. In August, 1880 Emma married in Cedar Rapids, taking as her husband Cato Aberson, a 25-year-old cook who, like Emma, described himself as "African." The 1885 census found the newlyweds in Grinnell, living on Main Street. No later than 1890, Cato and Emma moved to Omaha, Nebraska where Cato found work as a cook in the Occidental Hotel.
Record of 1880 marriage of Emma Blackwell to Cato Aberson
(Return of Marriages for the County of Linn For the Year ending October 1st, 1880)
Emma's brother Charles, however, was still residing on Commercial Street in Grinnell when the 1880 census was taken. Described as single and thirty years of age, Charles was living next to John Posten (1852?-1924), another black man. Charles continued to work as a laborer, although for whom he worked and where he went after 1880 are questions not yet answered.

The 1880 census also found African American men who were attending college: J. D. Posten seems to have been living by himself, adjacent to Charles Blackwell. Whitefield McKinlay, however, was boarding with a white family—Fisk and Julia Barber, their six children and their 17-year-old white servant. Both Posten and McKinlay had previously been students of Brewer's at the University of South Carolina, and when Brewer accepted appointment at Grinnell, both students came to Grinnell with him. (Yeager also connects the enrollment of Hannibal Kershaw to Brewer, but I could not corroborate that assertion.)
Undated Photograph of Fisk P. Brewer (1832-1890)
J. D. Posten initially enrolled in the college's Academy, but went on to complete the college degree, graduating in 1885. Among the first African Americans to attend Grinnell, Posten enjoyed an outstanding career as a lawyer. Born in Missouri, where he was first admitted to the bar, Posten later moved to Libby, Montana where he practiced law (and was apparently the only African American in town). According to J. Clay Smith (Emancipation: The Making of the Black Lawyer, 1844-1944 [Philadelphia, 1993], p. 502), in 1893 Posten was appointed United States commissioner to the District Court, making "him the first black lawyer in the Pacific region to hold a position of trust in the federal judicial system." Still in his 70s, Posten died in Davenport, Iowa, November, 1927.
Advertisement from Boyd's Directory of the District of Columbia (1926)
Whitefield McKinlay did not complete Grinnell, but went on to a successful career as a realtor. In 1888 he married Catherine Wheeler, and settled in the District of Columbia where the couple raised two daughters. For a time he enjoyed federal appointment as collector of customs for Georgetown, but he devoted most of his career to real estate. He died in the District, December, 1941 at age 89.

Other single, black men were also living in 1880 Grinnell. Augustus Gatrell, for instance, just 16 years old and born in Missouri, lived in the home of Henry and Fidelia Lyman whom he served. John Cooper, who in 1870 had been living in the company of fellow African Americans, was now living with Ephraim (1834-1902) and Hannah Palmer (1836-1928) and their children on Fifth Avenue. Palmer was a veteran of the Civil War, and had arrived in Grinnell only in 1863.  According to his obituary, Palmer operated a successful blacksmith's business in town for about twenty years. When Palmer left Grinnell in the early 1880s, Cooper boarded with another white couple,  William (d. 1916) and Elisabeth A. Fierbaugh (1857-1924), members of the small community of Adventists then present in Grinnell. Having been a groom for the Palmers, Cooper in 1885 was listed as a "laborer" in the Fierbaugh household, sharing lodging with four white men, one of whom was James Totten, famous later as the "Poor Man Who Died Rich."  But then Cooper, too, was gone from Grinnell to points unknown.
Extract from 1880 Census of Grinnell: Household of Alexander Fowler
Other black men took shelter with a black family. For instance, Walter Morse, 25 years old from Missouri, and Charles Robinson, 21 years old from Kentucky, were boarding with Alexander Fowler, a 30-year-old barber from Mississippi. Fowler and his wife, Mary, had moved to Grinnell from Indiana, where both their daughters, Eva and Lulu, were born.
Petition to Appoint Administrator of Intestate Estate of Lawson Butler, November 27, 1899
The 1878 city directory recalls Lawson Butler, a white-washer who was then living on Pearl Street. By the time the 1880 census was taken, however, Butler and his wife Belle were living on West Street, apparently the only black family within blocks. Born around 1845 in Missouri, Butler, like other blacks in Grinnell, knew first-hand the meaning of slavery, and was perhaps drawn to Grinnell because of its connection with abolitionism and the underground railroad. But Butler's life was not long: the records of Poweshiek County report that he died intestate in October, 1899. Lawson Butler died free, but not rich—probate documents indicate that his estate was worth only about $50. His bodily remains, therefore, were consigned to the ground in Hazelwood Cemetery's potter's field, November 3, 1899.
Extract from the list of those buried in potter's field, Hazelwood Cemetery
(Plats, Hazelwood Cemetery, Drake Community Library, Local History Room, Box #6)
First remembered in the 1878 Grinnell directory where he is identified as a "cook" who lived on Pearl Street, James Spencer is another African American whom the 1880 US Census found in Grinnell.  Living on Pearl Street with his wife, Frances (described as "mu[latto]"), Spencer—just 32 years of age in 1880—was said to be "out of health, living with kidney disease." Born in North Carolina (his wife was born in New York), Spencer presumably grew up in the slaveholders' world, but somehow made the journey to small-town Iowa. He is remembered as having volunteered for Company D of the US Colored Heavy Artillery, and served during the Civil War, an experience that might well explain his later poor health. Despite James's illness, the Spencers appear again in the 1885 Iowa census, James being described as "laborer."  But he died at age 36 on March 21, 1887 in Grinnell.
The 1885 Iowa census reported a slight increase in the number of blacks living in Grinnell, although still far fewer than were reported in 1870; in 1885 26 African Americans resided in Grinnell (Yeager counted 33). As a proportion of the total population, however, African Americans constituted an ever smaller share of the total population, since the town continued to attract many more white settlers: 1885 Grinnell was home to 3320 residents, so blacks accounted for less than 1% of the total population. However, by 1885 more of the town's African Americans belonged to families that had settled here. For example, Cato Aberson, a cook, lived on Main Street with his wife, the former Emma Blackwell, and with their baby daughter, Jessie May. John Barquette, who cooked for George Christian's hotel, had his wife, Sophia, and their baby, John, the family making its home on West Street. James Abryan, a 36-year-old laborer from Tennessee, lived with his wife, Louisa, and their four children: Hattie, James and Claude (twins), and Elijah. Overall, therefore, white Grinnell saw fewer African Americans, but more of them anchored to families than had been the case in the earliest days of settlement. This changing demographic meant that black boys and girls began to populate the town's schools, bringing to the classroom distinctly different backgrounds than their white fellow students had.
Mumford Holland (photo ca. 1890s) (Digital Grinnell)
Of course, there were still single African Americans in Grinnell. Mary Branch, for instance, was a 20-year-old servant to Steven Herrick and Edward Goode was a 35-year-old barber living in George Manatt's household on High Street. J. D. Posten, the college student mentioned above, was now boarding with a white family, Mr. and Mrs. Frederick Kepcke who lived on Main Street. On the other hand, as before, some black men boarded together, as Robert Redrick and Mumford Holland did on Fourth Avenue.
The 1895 Iowa census counted 24 African Americans (Yeager reported 25), almost all of whom belonged to families settled in town. Robert Redrick, last known to be sharing quarters with Mumford Holland, had by this time married and started a family. His wife Mary attended to their five children while Robert worked as a carpenter. Another African American family was known to the 1895 Iowa Census—the household of Mitchell Monsley, a 36-year-old piano tuner from Missouri. His wife Gertrude had been born in Mount Pleasant, and it was here that their daughter Fay had been born around 1882. They had a 19-year-old barber from Mount Pleasant (Charles McCracken) living with them, but, for reasons unknown, the Monsleys did not find Grinnell a suitable place to prosper, and they were soon gone.
Extract from 1885 Iowa Census for Grinnell: Household of William P. Bird
Just up Pearl street from the Spencers lived William Bird, a black man born in Missouri, and first recalled in Grinnell's 1885 census. Like James Spencer, Bird was cook in an unnamed local hotel. In 1871 he had married Mattie Vincl in Boone, Missouri. According to the 1885 census, the couple had just two children: Harry (4 years old) and Hattie May (2). No later than 1898 the Birds were living in Knoxville; and it was in Knoxville that William volunteered for service in the Spanish-American War. Why William enlisted is a mystery; African American participation in the Spanish-American War was very controversial, many believing that blacks—suffering numerous civic disabilities despite emancipation and the abolition of slavery—should not support American arms against Cubans. Apparently Bird did not buy into this view. Records of soldiers in that war confirm that William served for about a year and a half, cooking for soldiers as he had earlier cooked for hotel guests.
Roster and Record of Iowa Soldiers in...the Spanish-American and Philippine Wars, 6 vols. (Des Moines, 1911), 6:518
In late 1899 William returned to Knoxville where US census officials found him and his family in 1900. William was again working as a hotel cook, and Mattie evidently stayed home. Harry was no longer part of the household, but a third child, Roy, was 12 years old, which means that he might have been born in Grinnell. By 1910 the Birds had moved again, this time moving out of state; census officials found them in Augusta, South Dakota where William resumed his occupation as a hotel cook. No children were living with the Birds then.
Undated photo postcard of Old Soldiers' Home, Marshalltown, Iowa
We lose sight of the Birds for a while, but they apparently moved back to Iowa. Because of his veteran status, William was able to move into the Old Soldiers' Home in Marshalltown where he died in June, 1938; by that time Mattie was already dead, William being identified in his death certificate as a widower. Having passed his 84th birthday, William died of chronic endocarditis and "age debility," his body buried in the cemetery adjacent to the Soldiers' Home.
Gravestone of William P. Bird (1854-1938), Cemetery of Iowa Soldiers' Home, Marshalltown, Iowa
In contrast to the earliest Grinnell censuses, in 1900 families dominated the African American population in Grinnell. The absolute number of blacks in town rose to 35 (Yeager found 32), the most since 1870. But, because total population continued to grow—to more than 3800 in 1900—African Americans occupied an even smaller proportion of the whole. George Craig, a 62-year-old barber who had been born in Kentucky but had been living in Oskaloosa with his wife, Eliza, now settled in Grinnell at 515 2nd Avenue with their youngest daughter, Eva. Two older daughters had already married in Iowa: Theodora (Dora) married John Lucas in 1883 and in 1887 Anna Katherine married Ed Goode, a 40-year-old barber born in Ohio.
George and Eliza Craig Family (ca. 1902) (Digital Grinnell)
2nd row, Left to Right: Violet Lucas; Anna Craig Goode; Eva Craig Renfrow: Theodora Craig Lucas; Bruce Lucas
1st row, Left to Right: Aaron Lucas; George Craig; Martha Lucas; Eliza Jane Craig; unidentified child; Will Goode; John Henry Lucas

Lucas Triplets (Rebekah, Mary, Martha) born to Dora and John Lucas in 1895 (Digital Grinnell)
By 1900 both couples had children and both families were living in Grinnell. Dora had given birth to seven children, including the triplets born to her in 1895; husband John, his mother Lottie, Dora, and the couple's seven children occupied the house at 1517 West Street. Anna and Ed Goode, who were living at 715 Spring Street, had just one child, young William Edward, who had been born in 1898 (although the 1895 census recalled 7-year-old Franklin, who was not named in the 1900 inventory). When father Ed died at age 41 the next year, Anna was left to raise their son herself. The Craigs' third daughter, Eva, married soon after the 1900 census, taking as her husband Lee Renfrow in a 1901 ceremony. Lee and Eva generated six children who were younger than their Lucas and Goode cousins.
Anna Craig Goode and  son William (undated photo, but ca. 1910)
(Digital Grinnell)
Some of Grinnell's black population in 1900 had by this time accumulated considerable history in town. For example, Robert Redrick, who had been in Grinnell since at least 1870, was living with his family at 721 Center Street.  Frances Spencer, widow of James, who was known in Grinnell since at least 1878, lived just a block away at 715 Pearl, and Mumford Holland, first recalled in the 1870 census, lived at 815 Pearl. Some others had briefer histories in Grinnell. William Davies, for instance, was living at 615 Park, just as he had been when the 1894 city directory first listed him.
Altogether, then, more than 100 African Americans are named in the several Grinnell censuses and directories compiled in the second half of the nineteenth century. Especially in the 1870s and 1880s almost all these arrivals had been born into slavery, and came to Grinnell with hopes of building new lives that were both free and prosperous. Mostly male and mostly single, this first wave of black settlers took jobs at the bottom of the wage scale; practically all these men were day laborers and the women domestics. The exceptions were cooks and barbers, occupations that show up with surprising frequency in the population inventories. A handful of blacks enrolled at Iowa College, some of them beginning remarkable careers.

As Grinnell's African American population swelled and shrank over the next couple of decades, many of the single arrivals left Grinnell for other destinations. Were they dissatisfied with Grinnell? Had the reception and work available proved less liberating than initial impressions had suggested? Or had their ambition discovered new possibilities elsewhere? We have little evidence with which to answer these questions, although the "riot" of 1858, attributed to white settlers resentful of the Negroes being admitted to school, confirms that racial antagonism was not far from the surface in early Grinnell.

Toward century's end the black population in Grinnell once again expanded, even if the African American proportion of the total did not grow. This second wave of arrivals came largely in the company of families. Jobs open to the parents seem not to have changed much from the 1870s, but the presence of numbers of African American children meant that school classrooms changed. All-white classes gradually gained color, as children from the families of John Lucas, Robert Redrick, and John Barquette, among others, entered school. We know little about these encounters, but it is easy to imagine that school classrooms provided more opportunities for racial mixing than most anywhere else in early Grinnell, which remained decidedly white.

As the slim evidence available confirms, the first African American arrivals in Grinnell did not radically alter the social and political orientation of the growing town. Black men and women, newly freed from the bonds of slavery, discovered in Grinnell jobs that differed little from the work they had done for their southern masters. None of these men and women were able to break through the economic and social barriers that race defined, and this fact may well have helped spur the decision to leave Grinnell for other locations. However, as more African American families took root in Grinnell, a new generation of black Grinnellians came of age, and set out to overcome the obstacles that their parents and grandparents had confronted.