THE ODEBOLT NEWS, VOLUME XIV,
NO. 34, November 17, 1927
FRANK KELLY
Pioneer Odebolt Editor
A goodly number of our pioneers will remember Frank Kelley, pioneer editor of the Odebolt Reporter, who has kindly sent us the paragraphs as a contribution to this issue of The Odebolt News, all of which are spicy, interesting and most readable, and we were very pleased to receive them.
It is coincidental that we made his acquaintance, not personal, but by letter. Mr. and Mrs. Kelley are located on a ranch in Wyoming, near Keeline, where Mr. And Mrs. Kelley live and where Mr. Kelley still writes considerable [sic] during spare time, sending considerable copy to a number of publications.
While in Odebolt he was married to a girl from eastern Iowa. They have two sons and three daughters, which however are not at home, and Mr. and Mrs. Kelley live alone on the farm.
Let us hear more from you, your writings, with the good will you show, will always be welcome by this scribe, and, we assure you, eagerly read.
SHORT AND SNAPPY SKETCHES
By Frank Kelley, Pioneer Editor of Odebolt Fifty Years Ago
CHAPTER I
Wherein The Author Becomes Editor
In the fall of 1877, probably about December, my former partner at Sac City, W. W. Yarham, moved the material of the Sac County Reporter to Odebolt and changed the name of the publication to the Odebolt Reporter, a 7-column folio with patent insides.
The paper was very creditable editorially and mechanically, but Mr. Yarham lacked business ability. It was his boast that he had never asked a man for an ad nor to subscribe for any paper published by him. Consequently when I came up from Willow Dale, now Battle Creek, to visit him I found him sleeping on some boards under the case rack and subsisting on cheese and crackers. He was blue and said he couldn't pay the notes coming due to me and begged me to take over that plant. I entreated him to remain; offered to extend the time of payment indefinitely, but to no avail. You know how it is with an old printer--when he makes up his mind to travel all hades can't stop him, so when my school closed at Willow Dale I moved to Odebolt and waded into the job.
In this connection due credit must be given to a young man who was my printer, Johnny Mann, a boy then about 18, who came from Marion. Old-timers will remember him as a fine young man. Johnny was very particular about his dress, especially about his linen. Where to get our white shirts washed we didn't know, but the second week a fellow came in and asked for the washing for his wife as they were very much in need. We gladly handed him the laundry but the lady was not used to ironing "biled shirts" and they came back in hard shape. Instead of getting the starch on the bosoms of the shirts, she starched them all over so that they stuck together--that is the fronts and backs, so that we had a job to separate them and crawl inside. Johnny had a clean collar or two left and by wearing a very large necktie he succeeded in hiding the shirt front.
I discontinued Mr. Yarham's plan of not asking for business and soon had the paper full of ads and on a basis where I could pay my printer and subsist on the fat of the land instead of cheese and crackers. "Ask and ye shall receive, seek and ye shall find", knock dun himself, saying the very first money he got he would pay me. My habit was when asked for loans by dead beats--and the town had a number--to say I hadn't got it. That settled the matter. One night this caller stayed later than usual, and when he went declared he would surely get that money for me at the first opportunity. I had just settled to work when upstairs he came in a rush. Throwing open the door he strode up to the desk his hand pulling his purse from his pocket, and said: "Say, Kelley, have you got two dollars and a half in change?" Of course I thought he had a five dollar bill, and wanted to pay me my two-fifty. Specie payment had just been resumed and my pocket was fairly loaded with silver dollars halves and quarters and I cheerfully drew out a handful of coins.
Now is really the "joke on Schneider." Instead of producing the five dollar bill he just said, "just lend me $2.50 until morning, for my wife is away and has taken the pocket book. I'll return it the first thing in the morning." My old story wouldn't work with a handful of money in my fist, so I handed it over. Needless to remark, my visitor never came back.
CHAPTER II
A Night at Bender's
Over fifty years ago, before Odebolt was on the map, the papers were full of the horrible murders committed in Kansas by a family named Bender. They were located on a public road in an isolated part of the state and strangers, often hunting for land, stopped there for meals. The strangers were seated at a long table where a blanket hung just behind them as a partition. One of the Benders would be just behind his partition and when the guest leaned his head back against the blanket he was struck by an ax, murdered and robbed and the body buried in the cellar or elsewhere on the premises. They had murdered a score or more before they were discovered. So the name Bender was enough to make the hair raise.
One cold day in January I came to Odebolt to visit the editor. As his
sleeping accommodations were quite inadequate for two persons, I went down
street to the hotel. This was a two-story structure, recently erected and
unpainted. A large sign reached out across the board walk on which in great
Gothic letters was the word
BENDERS
There was no other hotel so I passed into the office which was crowded and dark with tobacco smoke. The proprietor gave assurance that I could get supper, a night's lodging and breakfast. In fact he was quite cordial. Supper was soon announced by the ringing of a bell and we passed into the dining rooms. Here was a long table with benches on each side, and at the right was stretched a long blanket which served as a partition between dining room and kitchen. Being one of the first to enter I took a seat facing the blanket.
Things were rough and ready, but the food was excellent and I made a hearty meal. A mighty pretty girl waited on the table. She had long black hair which hung in curls, and I distinctly remember that as she leaned over me to [help] with the beefsteak platter, one of those curls tickled my cheek. I began to think maybe the Benders were not so bad after all, still I kept a watch on the blanket as the man opposite me leaned his head back, but nothing happened.
Back in the office again, smoking and story telling was in full blast. Two brothers from Erin's isle, stalwart section men, told how they had twice crossed the American continent and were half way back again. A foppishly dressed little fellow who would pass for a tin-horn gambler, got the floor. "Gentlemen," he said, "You may believe me or not, but ten years ago this day I was in the city of Omaha with a thousand dollars in gold."
Then one of the section men spoke and in a very sneering tone and manner remarked, "It will do to tell that to the likes of us." His brother now turned on him with assumed anger, saying "You have the least manners of any man I ever saw. Sure I've seen men get the whole top of their heads knocked off for less than that, and in this state too. When in strange company never misdoubt a man's word; you don't have to believe it, but keep your doubts to yourself. This gentlemen was not saying that for us to believe."
Just then Dave, the liveryman, he with the typical bad-man's mustache, came in. "Boys," he said, "just listen. There must be a devil of a row at Hempe's."
All rushed to the door, and sure enough from a block up street came loud shouts as of some one in mortal agony. There were yells of "Lord, Lord, Lord," accompanied by what sounded like "Hit-'im-again," but which must have been "amen," for the uproar came not from Hempe's saloon, but from across the street where a revivalist was holding forth. The advance guard returned, reporting all quiet at Hempe's.
The hour growing late, I was shown to my room in the second story. There rooms were lathed, but not plastered and had no doors. The bedsteads had not arrived and ticks filled with straw were laid on the floor and a solitary blanket constituted the covering. I lay down and soon fell asleep, but awoke about midnight shivering like a pig under a pile of straw on a cold day.
Then came a sound of stealthy footsteps approaching. Ha, Bender, perhaps with his ax. He stands in the doorway, a lean six-footer. Before I could move he made a dive for my bed and seized not myself but the one lone blanket and started for the door.
Then my frozen form came to life. I hung on to the blanket like a drowning man to a straw. Besides, I spoke plainly, calling him a son of Belial or words to that effect. He let go, and being so mad, I was quite warmed by the exercise, and again fell asleep.
About 2 o'clock I was again awakened by some one in the room. My first thought was of Bender and his bloody ax dripping blood from Kansas, but no, there were two persons, and Lord help me, this time they were ladies just returned from a dance and they were giggling and proceeding to disrobe. Then I made up a pretty speech, and rose to say, "Ladies, this room is occupied, but if you will kindly retire to the hall I will dress and vacate this downy couch, which shall be at your service," but before this speech was concluded, both visitors fairly flew out of the room, leaving not so much as a handkerchief as a souvenir of their morning call.
Next morning the sun shone brightly, the breakfast was fine, and I rejoiced to repeat the slogan of Hempe, the pioneer saloon keeper, "All times good times in Odebolt."
PUNGENT PARAGRAPHS
These Benders were fine people and no relatives of the Kansas Benders.
Dr. A. Groman is the only one who was in business there when I published the Odebolt Reporter who today has a card in this newspaper.
Before Odebolt was two years old it had four lawyers--Hatch, Helsell, Zane and Allen. Hatch was shot and killed by his partner in a Sioux City gambling house. He was charged with playing against the house, and shot down like a dog.
Times were pretty hard the first winter I published the Reporter and I taught a school a [the continuation page isn't on microfilm; I'll try to copy it from the original - B. Ekse]
NOTES
By Frank Kelley
Pioneer Editor of Odebolt
Fifty Years Ago
How a little circumstance may change the life of a man. Nearly 50 years ago Mr. Martin, who was the first station agent at Odebolt, was called to Ida Grove to attend the funeral of a friend. A young fellow named J. H. Gable was digging post holes for a fence nearby. He knew a little of telegraphy and had helped the agent at odd jobs around the depot, so Mr. Martin put him in charge for the day.
Relating the circumstance, Mr. Gable said: "From that day to this I have
never left the employ of the Chicago and Northwestern railway."
At the time I met him he was visiting Wyoming in his special car, being the
traveling freight agent of the company, with headquarters at Omaha.
_______________
First residents of the little towns that sprang up along the C. & N. W.
were very loyal to each other. A fellow came to Wall Lake and set up for a
doctor. He failed to pay his bill at the Odebolt Reporter office and the editor
advertised the account for sale or to "trade for cats." Shortly after
the editor was notified that there was an express package at the depot for him.
When the box was opened the contents proved to be--not a bomb--but an old black
cat with a litter of kittens. The editor printed a card of thanks in the next
issue, sent the doctor a receipt in full, and pussy became the famed office cat
frequently referred to in the local columns thereafter. These were the days of
personal journalism.
________________
Ed. L. Hatch, the first Odebolt lawyer, was a noted character. At Grant City
on Fourth of July, the pioneer Odebolt editor and Mr. Hatch with a row of other
notables were the orators. A young man with a red sash introduced the speakers
and before the name of each one he prefixed the title Honorable. Before he got
down the line to where Hatch sat that individual leaned over and whispered
"When it is my turn to be introduced for God's sake, don't call me
Honorable."
________________
At Mapleton once Mr. Hatch was addressing a greenback meeting. He was getting
along finely but came near to shipwreck when with sweeping gestures and a loud
voice he cried, "And my friends, do you realise [sic] that the debt of the
United States has now reached the enormous sum of _______________." Here he
stopped for he had run against a snag. He had no idea what the figures were,
whether millions, billions or trillions. Then, sparring for time, but apparently
for emphasis, he again repeated the query, but stopped again at "the
enormous sum of ______________." He charged up again for the third time,
but just before he stated what the enormous sum was he was seized with a
fainting spell, threw up his arms, staggered, and was caught in the arms of the
chairman who sprang to his assistance, saving him from falling. The speaker was
excused for the time, but was sufficiently restored to make a good speech that
night to a large crowd. The enormous debt, however, was not given.
____________________
John Wright first went into business a dealer in furniture, selling out in a
short time to a man named Schmitz. John then owned a good house and a lot for
two and had $500 in money. This he loaned to business men on short-time notes at
5 per cent a month. The demand exceeded the supply of funds and he borrowed of
different individuals, giving his note at 10 per cent, but actually going 50-50,
paying 2-½ per cent. This went on until he started a bank when he notified his
capitalists that hereafter he would only pay them 10 per cent on their deposits.
____________________
The first harvesting machine that had a self binder attachment was brought
into the county by a Mr. Field who had opened a large farm southeast of Odebolt.
The machine bound with fine wire instead of twine, which was adopted later. The
wire, broken into small pieces in the threshing machine, killed cattle fed on
the straw.
____________________
The Mr. Field, referred to above, once invited me to share his berth in a Pullman from Maple River Junction [in Carroll County] to Cedar Rapids. It was my first look inside a Pullman and I was awed by its magnificence. Mr. Field remarked that for the night I could enjoy all the comforts of home. The night before I slept in a bunk in the office, heated by a soft coal stove. In the night a high wind blew the chimney down and the room filled with soot, smoke and ashes from the stove which I had to carry out, and was myself covered with soot. The contrast of the Pullman sleeper to the previous nights' lodging is apparent, so I'll never forget Mr. Field's remark, "all the comforts of home."
-transcribed by B. Ekse, Sept. 2002