Family history, Ross

The Rev. William Frederick Price biography and Alice Carey Price Ross autobiography

[excerpted and adapted from a manuscript written by Alice Carey Price Ross; dated Tuesday, March 4, 1941, included in a Ross history book]

            For several years, Bessie [Ann Elizabeth Ross] has been anxious for me to write everything I know about my family and, at this late day, I will make a beginning.

            Am sorry that I was not more inquisitive about my ancestors, but believe it was because there was a house full of sisters and brothers in our family and we were great company for each other and had little time to think of such things.

            I remember hearing my father say that there were three Price families and each had a son named William,  nicknamed “Bill.” To distinguish them, he said, one was called “Black Bill,” one “White Bill,” and the other, “Grammar Bill,” the latter being himself. Do not know if they lived near each other or not. Think grandfather Price was twice married, as my father had two half sisters, Nellie and “Teenie,” and a half brother, Asbury.

            As cousins, they were separated by the slavery questions, my father’s family being abolitionists and the others strong for slavery. And there was almost no intimacy between them after the Civil War.

            My father, William Frederick Price, was born in Moundsville, West Virginia, February 18, 1827. Was left an orphan at an early age with no record of his ancestors.

            He was married to Lydia Anne Smith (b. April 6, 1834) at Moundsville on February 17, 1853. Three years later, they came to Iowa and remained there the rest of their lives. They were the parents of nine children: seven girls and two boys.

            It was a long and tedious trip from West Virginia to Iowa, made on a boat sailing down the Ohio River then up the Mississippi River to St. Louis, Mo., and, finally, to Burlington, Iowa. They remained there until 1858, when they moved to New London, a new town 18 miles west of there.

            Father was a carpenter and a cooper. Will explain here that a cooper is one who makes wooden barrels, buckets and pails of all kinds. Before he left West Virginia, he had bought land near Creston, Iowa, but after a slow trip there to look the land over, he returned to Burlington. He saw how level, treeless and rockless everything was -- contrasted with his West Virginia home -- considered it worthless and never claimed it in any way.

            He had never seen Iowa prairie before, and it was many years before he realized its worth. He had a fair education for those days but continued his reading and studies during his spare time and, as he was very religious, began preaching, holding services in homes and the few small school houses near, and finally gave up his shop work and began traveling from place to place.

            These trips were made for several years on horseback, and he was called a “Circuit Rider.” After awhile, he had a buggy and, later, a team. Our family lived in New London until I was 11 years old, when my father was sent to Newton, where we remained for three years.

            He was determined that his family, then consisting of nine children, should have an education, and we were kept in school. He lived to see seven of them become school teachers, and he officiated at the marriages of five of them.

            In the fall of 1873, he left Newton and located near Red Oak, in a parsonage 6 miles south of that town. His work lay entirely in the country, and he made many long drives, preaching three times on some of the Sundays. We remained near there several years. School teachers were scarce and, during those years, six of his children became Country School teachers. They were considered very desirable ones.

            He finally bought a little farm in the northwest corner of Page County and claimed he had retired, but of course he could not stop preaching. He died, after a long illness, on March 25, 1895. His descendants hold a reunion every year, usually near that locality, and last year there were 101 of them registered. He had many friends and was a good country minister, preaching in an interesting way.

            Think I might as well write a little about myself right here. I was born November 5 [1858], shortly after the family located in New London, in a brick house, which I never saw as it had been torn down before I began to ramble through the little grove where it had been located.

            Father moved closer in [to town], bought a house, built a shop and worked at his trade. He was always busy: houses to build and plenty of shop work.

            I remember that in making his barrels, kegs, pails and other such things, he chopped down trees with another man, sawed them to the lengths he needed, split them into staves, had them hauled to his shop and was ready to begin his work.

            He must have brought his tools from West Virginia. He had draw knives, saws, planes and many others. As a small child, I loved to watch him. I do not suppose any, or at least not many, people ever saw a barrel such as he made, although, if taken care of, some of them may still be in existence.

            The hoops for them were made out of split hickory poles. He never wasted any time, and I remember that he had a contract for making flour barrels for a mill in Burlington. This was steady work.

            I started to school when 5 years old and, being a strong, healthy child, seldom missed a day of the public school and hardly needed to put away my books until we were started to a private school, taught by another person, which would last at least two months.

            The teaching in them was good, but we did nothing but study. Had the idea in our heads that was why we went to school. We had the same recreation periods then that the schools have now, and played Black Man, Drop the Handkerchief and, if anyone could manage to bring a ball from home, we had a little ball playing.

            I remember the first time that I saw the railroad track and the depot. They were very new, and young folks were supposed to stay away from that part of town. I had my first ride on the train when I was 11 years old.

            Father’s circuit was large, and one church was in a village called Richwoods, 5 miles west of Mt. Pleasant. There lived the Allenders, Jays, Steeles and many more friends who were pleased if he would bring one of his young girls with him and let her visit until he came again. But he thought that might be longer than I could stay, and he gave me the money to pay my fare on the train when I wanted to come home.

            I visited with the Allenders nearly a week, felt a little homesick, and Sarah Jane Allender, the eldest girl in the family, saddled a horse and took me into town, riding behind her. I went to the Depot, had not long to wait for the train, do not remember that I bought a ticket, think I just gave the Conductor my money, and my ride began.

            There were only two seats in the car, one on each side, and not many passengers. I think I enjoyed the ride and, although that was more than 70 years ago, it is still a pleasant memory. I astonished a man not long by telling him that they burned wood in the engine at that time. He excused my saying it (evidently thought I was losing my senses) and I have wondered if they really did, or what the pile of wood in the first car was for, if not for that.

            I had never seen any coal in my life and did not see any for some time after that. Father was sent to the Newton circuit in 1870 and there I first saw coal and we of course used it as there was a coal mine there and coal was cheap.

            Newton was a nice town with a fine public school and a small private academy. Father’s work lay in the surrounding country, at Hixson Grove, Lynn Grove and other places.

            There I entered high school with my next older sister. The oldest sister went to the academy. After six months there, she passed the teacher’s examination and began teaching country school and taught in them the rest of the three years that we remained there.

            Part of our last year, we moved out by the Hixson Grove church, and that was our first experience living in the country, and we all enjoyed it.

            When we moved into the parsonage 6 miles south of Red Oak, the country was very new but was filling up fast. There were no country churches, and my father preached in school houses, but there were enough members at [now-defunct] Climax (12 miles from the parsonage) that he talked them into building a church and a schoolhouse one mile from where we lived.

            There, we had regular services, organized a Sunday school and had Wednesday night prayer meetings. There were one or two other places where he preached.

            Many years have passed, but I can almost hear and feel the everlasting wind that struck the parsonage and the desolate look of our surroundings. The Methodist of that day was friendly but sort of helpless.

            Of course, I started to the fall term of school there, which started soon after we had relocated. I had grown nicely, was now 15 years old and larger than my next-eldest sister, who was 19 and had been teaching for two years. She was a thourough [sic] student and a successful teacher.

            After I had been going to school a few weeks, she went to Red Oak to meet the county superintendent, saw the examination questions and found that she would not begin teaching before the next spring.

            When she came home, she told me that if I would quit school, we could study together, and she felt sure that I could pass the examination and teach the next spring. I followed her advice and got a second-class teaching certificate and began a three months’ school term in April.

            I had a nice little bunch of children and enjoyed the work. I boarded with the school director, paying $2.50 per week for that. When the school term came to an end, the treasury was low, and they could only give me $50 of that and, after I paid my board bill, I had but $20 left but thought that quite a pile.

            In those times, ministers were not supposed to need much money, and their families merely “subsisted.” Providence was expected to look after them if they did their best. I got the rest of my money in September and began teaching a four months’ term at Lonestar, receiving $40 a month, but I would be expected to pay someone to build my fires.

            Shortly after the first of November, the term began. I celebrated, quietly, my 16th birthday, and began to feel quite grown up. I hired one of the older boys to build the fires, paying him 10 cents per day, secured a good boarding place not far from school, and felt ready to begin my winter’s work.

            I was about 5 miles from home and would get home Friday nights. Looking back, I wonder how I ever lived through that winter. I had about 30 pupils, liked them all, and had no trouble at all. We organized a literary society, meeting to have an entertainment every two weeks on Fridays. We had some very good crowds, and they liked our programs and appreciated the work we were doing.

            Generally, some friends from near my home drove down in a big wagon and took me home and saw that I got back to school for Monday morning. I could have drawn my salary each month but did not do so and had a nice little pile of money at the end of the four months’ term.

            This school was in Page County and, as they paid their teachers more than our own county did, I secured a summer term in the same county, not far from the first, in a Swedish district. I boarded with a country doctor who was living on a farm. His wife was a college graduate and a long-time school teacher. She was a great help to me. Could tell me many things she went through. She taught her first term of school for $7 per month and “boarded around,” so of course had all her money when her term ended. She gave me helpful advice and encouraged me in many ways.

            This school also was about five miles from home and, on Friday afternoons, my younger brother rode our horse two and a half miles toward my school, tied it to the fence, and walked back home, leaving it for me to ride. Once school was out, we were really compelled to attend County Normal School for a summer term of one month, so I only had a brief rest before I left for that in Clarinda. Had a pleasant time and went home with a first-class teaching certificate. I think I have it yet among my old papers. I felt quite proud of it.

            Father had to attend his conference in Hixson Grove and, feeling rather homesick to see some of our old friends, I went with him. Had a fine time. His work was to be in and around Decatur City the next year, and there would be a change of home in September. Sister Lizzie had married and was not going with us, and I was persuaded to remain with her for a few weeks, so I did not teach a fall term that year.

            This was in September 1875, and I met the main I was to marry but did not reallize [sic] it at the time. Sister Jennie was to be married about Thanksgiving and her husband-to-be brought a cousin who was visiting him to call on us. He was very nice looking and quite pleasant, from Pennsylvania and “going west,” a vague term at that time.

            Our family moved to Decatur City and I remained with Lizzie until near the holidays then followed them. The primary school in that city was too crowded for their one teacher to handle properly, and the school board asked me to assist her. I think they offered me $25 a month, and I was pleased to accept their offer. When sister Jennie was married, her husband-to-be brought his cousin with him and he acted as Best Man while I was Maid of Honor. We all enjoyed the ceremony, performed by my father, and parted.

            I felt all “broken up” after they left, and early the next year my new brother-in-law, who had been elected school director, invited me to come and visit them and teach their school. I began a term in April. They liked me as a teacher, and I taught the fall and winter terms, too. Father was very tired of circuit riding and had bought a 40-acre farm near Climax, and they wanted me to come home. I secured a position as teacher in a school one mile from home at the “Windy Summit” and taught a four months’ term, receiving $40 per month and living at home.

            I spent a very pleasant summer and, as sister Jennie had had a baby and was overloaded with work, she persuaded me to quit teaching for awhile and help her.

            Her husband had land two miles north of Essex, a new farm which made hard work and more men. He rented part of the land to his cousin soon after he bought it, and he was still with him.

            His name was George M. Ross, and he and I had been going with each other for some time. One of the neighbors, an old bachelor, came over to see him one day, saying he had bought a 320-acre farm in Audubon County for $5.50 per acre and, after thinking it over, did not want it at all and would let George have it for the same price. George had a little money and bought the land sight unseen.

            He and my brother-in-law, George Moore, came up to see it. There were 40 acres broken, a one-room shanty, and no railroad nearer than Atlantic or Carroll (but the Rock Island Rail Road intended to build a branch up in time to take away the next crop, as they owned every other section in connection with their government grant).

            The men enjoyed the drive, thought the land looked all right, and George began to plan for the future. He was 27 and tired of running around. His brother Sam came out from Pennsylvania and stopped to see him. He was on the way to Kansas to buy some land, and George offered to sell him part of his. I do not know what bargain they made, but it ended Sam’s trip to Kansas. He bought horses and went up to Audubon and “back set” the breaking for next year’s crop and came back feeling like they had some nice land.

            They both went up the next March, in 1878, equipped for farming, put in their wheat and corn, had a house built, also a small barn, and “broke out” some more land. I had enough of idleness through the winter and was offered the spring term of school where I had taught before and, thinking that a little money might be a good thing to have in case I had to go up and look after things in Audubon County, I began my last term.

            George wrote that crops were coming on nicely and he was coming down as soon as the house was finished. Two weeks before my term ended, he drove down with his farm team and wagon. I still had two weeks of school but hired a substitute teacher and made a hurried effort to get a little stuff ready for housekeeping.

            One of the neighbors came in and helped us make sheets, pillowcases, tablecloths and towels, and I did some gathering up of my belongings. Bought a large trunk, which was quickly filled, and then began filling boxes.

            This was May and, after a minute’s thought, I threw my new furs, large cap and muff to one of my sisters, saying she was welcome to them, that Mrs. George M. Ross would have much nicer ones for the next winter. Alas, it was many years later that the “Mrs.” got any as nice as those.

            Mother had a hen with 15 little chicks, which she begged me to put in a box and take with us, but I absolutely balked right there, so we were chickenless for some time. Someone gave us knives, forks and spoons, and sister Jennie was determined that we should take a jar of lard. I balked again, but had not been housekeeping a week until I wished for both.

            We were married at noon, Thursday, May 23, 1878, had a very nice dinner, visited awhile, then the men loaded our stuff in the wagon and we started on our wedding trip. We had a 15-mile drive with a tired team, as we planned to stay all night in Red Oak.

            I wondered where but did not ask, and when we drove up to the largest and best hotel in town and two men came out to unload and carry in our trunk, I was surely glad the hen and chickens were not with us. One of the men took charge of the team and wagon, driving just across the street to a livery barn, and the other one conducted us to the office. They gave us a good room and good supper. The next morning they brought our team, loaded our stuff and saw us off with more ceremony than they would have shown the president.

            We drove about 15 miles, saw a house with a sign out, “Meals Served,” went in and had a nice dinner and drove on to Atlantic and stopped at a good hotel for the night, where they again unloaded our stuff and entertained us as nicely as the Red Oak hotel had done the night before.

            Drove to Exira, then our [Audubon] county seat, stopped at the Walker House for our dinner and drove on to our house in the afternoon. Saw that we were going to meet a man on horseback, who proved to be George’s brother, Sam. He was going after a cow that he had heard of and wanted to buy. He got the cow, a snow white one, and we had her for years.

            We reached home before night. I looked around, saw the house and barn, and looked around some more. There was one house in sight, a mile away. No road in sight anywhere, and it did not look as if anyone needed a road as there seemed to be no place to go.

            After I got inside the house, I promptly sat down and began to cry. I have always been ashamed of that, but things looked rather hopeless and I felt very helpless.

            My husband comforted me by saying things would look different after awhile. I hardly believed him, but braced up and got a little supper.