Iowa Heritage Illustrated

Swaim, Ginalie

Ultang's Iowa

Soike, Lowell

Iowa's Antislavery Movement

Uncle Tom's Cabin in Iowa

Harvey, Andrew

English

Disciplined Freedom: The Life and Art of Father Edward M. Catich

Vogt, Michael W

Death Stalks Camp Cuba Libre: Iowa's 49th in the Spanish-American War

Crossing Iowa for Freedom: The Underground Railroad, Free State Settlers, and John Brown

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Douglas
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New
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G rinnell
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Carlisle
S tuart Des Moines
Sigourney
© A c k w o rth
IndianolaLewis
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Pleasant
Plain
FairfieldA fto n  •
Corning
Hopeville •  M oravia Birm ingham
U nionv ill
Cincinnati •
Tracking Down
the Underground Railroad
T h e  u n d e rg ro u n d  ra ilro a d  w as spread  across s o u th e rn  Io w a . T h e  la rg e  w h ite  a rro w s  suggest 
th e  g e n e ra l d ire c tio n . Fug itives  usually tr ie d  to  reach  C h icago; fro m  th e re , so m e w e n t on to  
C a n a d a . Red dots  in d ic a te  “ s ta tio n s .”  T h e  system  w as loosely o rg a n ize d  and o fte n  fu n c tio n ed  
based on co n n ectio n s  b e tw e e n  ind iv iduals  in a lo ca le . M o s t local co n d u c to rs  p ro b ab ly  kn ew  of 
th e  n e x t tw o  o r  th re e  s tations; few  w o u ld  have know n  th e  s ta tio n s  in all p a rts  o f th e  s ta te .
64 Iowa Heritage Illustrated


Tracking Down the Underground Railroad

Horton, Loren N

With surprising candor, a son looks back 
at his parents and the social dynamics 
of their neighborhood.
BOTH PHOTOS COURTESY THE AUTHOR
Horton
by Loren N. Horton
M
y family never fit easily 
into the rural Iowa neigh­
borhood in which we lived, 
because neither of my parents were 
bom in the area, and we were not re­
lated to most of the other people in 
the area, as was common among the 
neighbors. We always were respect­
ed, but almost like an exotic, foreign 
family.
Nevertheless, my father, John 
Samuel Horton, regularly served on 
various boards—the district school 
board, the county school board, 
the telephone company board, the 
4-H board, the Farm Bureau board, 
and so on. Also, he ran for elective 
office (he always lost), he worked 
at the election polls as clerk and 
judge, he worked for the Agricul­
tural Adjustment Act during the 
New Deal, measuring "set-aside” 
land. He learned how to do elec­
trical wiring, and he and my older 
brothers wired manv of the houses
J
in the neighborhood when the Ru­
ral Electrification Administration 
put up lines in the area. In other 
words, he saw such positions and 
work as part of his civic duties.
My mother, Iva Verona Brooks 
Horton (left), always was known 
by everyone in the neighborhood 
as "Mrs. Horton," while all of the
38 Iowa Heritage Illustrated
other women were known by their 
first names. She refused to join 
the neighborhood women's club, 
which my father called the "Sew 
and Blow Club/' but which I think 
actually was named the "Stitch and 
Chatter Club." I do know that there 
was much more chattering than 
stitching at club meetings.
She was active in the Farm 
Bureau Women's Group, attended 
many meetings in which lessons 
of various kinds were given, and 
she took classes, too. She learned 
to play the piano that way, and 
she learned to identify classical
J
musical periods that way. But she 
refused to be a leader or an officer. 
She referred to such leadership po­
sitions as "getting us talked about 
by the neighbors." Calling attention 
to oneself was a bad thing, to her 
Victorian way of thinking.
However, as an anomaly to her 
attitude about calling attention to 
oneself, my mother regularly wrote 
the neighborhood news column for 
the Murray Journal, the Osceola Tri­
bune, and the Osceola Sentinel. From 
about 1936 through 1950, she was 
one of the guest columnists for the 
Des Moines Tribune, for a column 
called "A Farm Woman Speaks 
Up." The supposed columnist of 
record was Inez Faber, under the 
pen name Elizabeth Beresford, but 
she got together a circle of women 
from central and southern Iowa, 
and they wrote most of the col­
umns for her.
My mother enjoyed reading 
and creative writing. Whenever 
there was an occasion for some 
tribute to be written, such as in 
honor of a 50th anniversary or a 
wedding, people always came to 
her to do the writing of it. I remem­
ber them well, coming to the house 
and asking her to write something 
that will sound pretty." She al­
ways did.
My mother cooperated with
some neighbors, and virtually 
shunned others. When the thresh­
ing ring came to our farm, there 
were only three women she would 
allow to come and help her cook: 
Blanche Coon, Blanche Gill, and 
very occasionally another woman. 
No one really liked this last wom­
an, mainly because she thought she 
was better than other people. For 
instance, at 4-H club meetings all 
of the other women either fixed or 
brought food. This woman usually 
wore a wine-colored velvet dress 
and sat in the living room, making 
no effort to help in the kitchen. The 
most insulting remarks made about 
her were that "she never brings her 
apron so she can help out." This re­
ally was an insulting thing to say 
about another woman.
There were several events at 
which all of the neighbors gathered 
and brought food, such as the last 
day of school, a box supper, a pie 
supper, a cake walk, or a program 
at school. One of the famous dishes 
always brought to these gather­
ings was Loura Kane's "Bavarian 
cream." It was red jello beaten up 
with whipped cream. It was my 
favorite food as a child, and we 
never had it at home. Another fa­
mous dish, which no one liked, 
was another neighbor's chocolate 
cake with white frosting. The cake 
was monumentally dry and crum­
bly, and the frosting was very thick 
and so solid that whenever a knife 
or fork was inserted, the frosting 
shattered into dozens of pieces. 
Everybody avoided this cake, just 
as everyone fought to get at the Ba­
varian cream from Loura Kane.
M
y mother enjoyed only 
a few things among the 
many that, as a farm wife, 
she had to do. She most assuredly 
did not enjoy cooking, gardening, 
washing and ironing clothes, can­
ning, housecleaning, and other 
such tasks. She gardened a lot and 
enjoyed flowers, but not vegetables 
or fruits. The washing, ironing, and 
housecleaning were done on what 
could charitably be called an irreg­
ular basis.
She sewed shirts for my three 
brothers and me, she made dress­
es, nightgowns, and aprons for 
herself, and nightshirts for every­
body in the family. When I was 
quite young, she made for me what 
was called "rompers," a one-piece 
garment. She was very skillful at 
patching overalls, especially at 
the knees. Although she was quite 
good at utilitarian sewing, she 
much preferred to do sewing that 
offered a more creative outlet.
One of her favorite things to do 
was to quilt. She never made crazy 
quilts or patchwork quilts. Often 
she designed her own quilt pat­
terns, but more often she took exist­
ing patterns from newspapers and 
magazines and from Farm Bureau 
meetings, and adapted them to her 
own ideas. After my folks moved 
from the farm into town, they 
burned or discarded hundreds of 
patterns before I could rescue them 
for their historical value.
She used all sorts of fabrics 
when she cut out quilt pieces. 
Usually the pieces were from old 
dresses and shirts, quite often from 
flowered or patterned feed and 
flour sacks, and sometimes from 
remnants given to her by other 
people. There was always a box or 
basket sitting by her chair, in which 
she kept the remnants, scissors, 
and whatever quilt piece pattern 
she happened to be working on at 
the moment. When we were sitting 
around the stove on fall and winter 
evenings, she would cut out quilt 
pieces while my father cracked 
walnuts and picked out the meats.
Some fabric remnants were 
large enough that Mom cut carpet
Spring 2009 39
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