Five

My grandmother Jennie Stark
Her grandfather James K. Stark
Flag of Ireland Whence JK Stark's 
Father Came in the 1820s

The next day, Jennie arose before anyone else. She lit her lantern to descend the steps and wondered if her grandparents were going to get their house electrified once the wiring was strung in the farming neighborhood. They were not far from the towns of Laclede and Linneus, which in turn were close to Brookfield and Chillicothe. It did not take long from those to travel to Kansas City, either if you had a Ford Model T like her cousin Ada and her husband. In Kansas City, she knew there was electricity at least to a few. So it should not take long, she thought.

Jennie, 3rd from left
Date Unknown

Though it was January 2, it was not as bitterly cold as she expected. Still, she resembled a giant ball of yarn with her three sweaters over her blouse. She lit the kitchen stove and put a kettle on so she could have tea. There already was some coal in it, but Jennie knew she would have to soon fill it with more. But the big furnace in the cellar would wait until her brothers or grandfather arose. Shoveling coal was not a job for which she volunteered, though she often took up the cause of women being able to do anything a man could.

One thing her grandfather was marvelously progressive about was his use of cast-iron radiators throughout the house, heated by coal. Grandfather had the house built with some used radiators retrieved from a burned house, which helped with the expense.

Using coal seemed almost patriotic.

Linn County had several operating coal mines and several members of Jennie’s extended family worked in or for the mines one time or another. But escaping the dangers and drudgery of the mines motivated many—including both of her grandfathers—to earn their living by farming. Their fathers before them were no strangers to mines, though it was not their primary occupation. Her great-grandfather Frank Gardner escaped the mines of England and Wales to become a farmer first in Pennsylvania and then in Iowa. But he supplemented his income with mining for a while.

Frank Gardner’s son Thomas—Jennie’s grandfather—became a full-fledged farmer and never looked back. But his wife’s father—Jennie’s grandfather Denning—was an English miner who stayed with the mines after he immigrated to Pennsylvania about 1840. He “retired” on his farm, however, by the time he was sixty-six. Before that, he owned his farm but hired young men to work it.

Jennie’s brother John said he was going to work in the

Jennie's Grandfather
Thomas Gardner
1840 Wales-1909 Missouri.  

mines as soon as he graduated high school. What a waste of education, she thought. But it was a job, he was inexperienced, and the pay was better than farm labor. He wanted the money so he could have as much fun as he could.

Shaking her head at this, Jennie found herself smiling. John always could get her to grin, if not laugh out loud, and she admitted he often kept their family life from seeming overly tragic with his humor.

“Up early, I see.” Aunt Ella limped through the doorway, rubbing her hands. “I am glad you got the stove going. Pa should be up soon to get the boiler roaring. Or one of your brothers. Then we can relax in the luxury of feeling like we are wrapped with bearskins!”

Ella said the last bit ironically, since she never rested easy nor allowed herself much in the way of luxury. She did, however, own a hat made of a black bear skin, the silkiest imaginable for bear. She had cared for an elderly woman of her church, and upon her death, was given the hat by the grateful widower. She never left the house without that hat except in hot weather.

The women heard boots descending the steps on down into the cellar and it was not long until they heard the clanging and hissing of the steam rising through the pipes into the radiators. The kitchen got heat first, being directly above the boiler. Oh, it felt good!

The other luxury Grandfather Stark provided for his family in their new home in 1869 was installing a water pump just outside the kitchen door. The kitchen itself was also modern for the times. But Grandpa was unlikely to ever buy a horseless carriage.

“Why should I?” he asked whenever the subject came up. “I’ve got fine horses that will outlive me, and

Some of Jennie's
High School Chums
1909 with a "Fine Horse"
Possibly at Stark Farm

we have a very serviceable buggy. Trains can take us all over the country, should we desire. And I do not, though your grandmother might wish to go back East like her sister did once.”

Jennie had eggs and bacon cooking, and Aunt Ella decided to make pancake batter. “Oh no you don’t.” The women looked over at the doorway at Grandmother Stark. “We have plenty of bread left over from yesterday. You can take the biscuits and put them in the bacon fat, spread them with raspberry jam, and you have a breakfast Queen Victoria would appreciate.”

“You mean King Edward, Ma. The queen died several years ago.”

“I forget. Not that I keep up with the Royal Family. I hardly know who the president is.”

“William Taft, Grandmother. But not for long. Woodrow Wilson will be inaugurated in March.”

“Thank you, Jennie. Now, what are we going to do today? I was treated like a queen or even a king the past two days, and I have a mind to enjoy my granddaughter today. The washing can wait, and we can prepare dinner together, but meanwhile, I would love it if you read some of the many cards and letters to me, sweetheart. My eyes are getting poorly.”

Though she could read, it was a laborious task when she did not know some of the words. She had memorized most of the Bible, so she could navigate it just fine. However, correspondence more than a few lines was uncomfortable.

Aunt Ella volunteered to wash the dishes after breakfast so Jennie could devote herself to the task.

“Jennie, dear, why not begin right now? Here at the breakfast table?”

“Ma, decorum! Jennie needs to eat and since when do we read at the table?”

“Ella, I have reached the age where I feel I can take some liberties in my own house, at my own table, with my beautiful granddaughter. If,” she winked at her daughter, “you agree, of course. Since you live here, too.”

The answer was a “hmmmmph” which was also delivered with a wink.

Once the baskets of cards and letters were retrieved from the parlor, Jennie began opening the envelopes with a mother-of-pearl handled letter opener which was the gift Jennie brought for her grandparents.

“I knew,” she said, “this would come in handy.”

“But this must have cost you far too much!” Grandma Stark was very shrewd with money, something she learned from her mother and stepfather. The latter once paid for a piece of property with a shotgun barrel full of gold coins.

To those who did not know him well, Gabriel Bowser appeared to be poor. But his wife’s children soon learned, after he married their mother, that he was in fact very frugal. And much as Sevilla Bittinger Stark resented this fact when growing up, she now was very grateful. She often kept her more fanciful husband in check through the years, and now they had the large, productive farm to show for it.

“Grandmother, you will appreciate that I bought this at a small estate sale I attended near home. There were other delightful things, but I figured this would be the most useful. Now, let’s see. I want to start with this one. Professor Elwood gave this to me to deliver to you. He says, ‘I estimate only one in two hundred couples are so fortunate to celebrate their golden wedding.’”

Jennie set the note down and added, “I would bet it is far fewer than that! Professor Elwood told me the average life expectancy for men is 51.5, and for women, 55.9. Now, you and Grandpa are the same age of 73, so already you have far beaten those statistics. Figure further that men on average are aged 25 and women 21 when they first marry. So, the two of you meet that statistic squarely since you married when both were 23. Wait…” Jennie stopped, took off her thick spectacles and rubbed her eyes. She had a hard time reading because her glasses were used for distance, and to see up close she either wore her glasses and held the object at arm’s length, or she took off her glasses and held the object inches from her eyes. But the pause in her calculations were not because of her eyes. “My brain hurts. I have lost of my train of thought.”

“And such an enormous brain it is!” Jennie’s brother Jay had just come through the door with their grandfather. He cupped Jennie’s head between his calloused hands.

“Yes, you can think for all of us!” J.K. grinned.

“Ma, Pa, I’m putting these notes away for later. But you should look at all the photographs my sister—your Aunt Jennie Bailey for who you were named, Jennie—sent from Kansas. Her many children—some with new spouses—and grandbabies, too!”

Of all of J.K.’s and Sevilla’s children, it was Orville about whom they most worried when it came to financial success. The others were either managing very well, or they were doing an excellent job of keeping their woes private. And yet, it was Orville’s children who demonstrated to all the value of perseverance when it came to education. J.K. discounted the role he and his wife played in their grandchildren’s success, but Sevilla did not. And genetics must have been a factor, too.

“Seriously, though,” Jay continued from earlier. “Jennie’s head is in truth larger than most. Remember the trouble she had finding a good hat to wear for her senior class photograph? Do not forget Grandpa Gardner had a similarly large head. You, too, Grandma and Grandpa. Jennie and I are the product of big-headed farmers who can outthink them all!”

“Pig-headed, perhaps,” Aunt Ella mumbled.

J.K.’s eyes twinkled at the repartee. The best part about all of the festivities of the past several days was that so many of his children and grandchildren had come to visit. For such an occasion, he did not mind donning a suitcoat and vest three days in a row. He rubbed his chin as he pondered whether he should bring up a matter weighing upon him.

“Now, family, I have a serious matter to discuss. It will not take long, and it is quite simple. But shall we all repair to the parlor and have a seat there?”

Once reconstituted in the nearby room, J.K. stood, waving the others to remain seated.

“When I was of the ripe old age of 57, I thought it a good idea to have a will. It is simple, and the effect is the same as though I had no will at all. But I wanted to prevent any nonsense such as we have sometimes witnessed with friends—where family comes to blows or tear up a house looking for a will which does not exist. Nor did I wish to wait until I had one foot in the grave to draw it up.”

After clearing his throat, he continued.

“So I went to the lawyer, and of course I am leaving everything to your mother. But if she dies first, then everything will be divided equally among my children. Now, Jennie and Jay, this was just before your

Jennie's Mother
Hester Ann Gardner
(1871-1897)

blessed mother passed away. And before your father became irresponsible. I have thought it over and discussed it with my wife and I am keeping the will intact with no changes. I shall trust your father to not be foolish. I pray that he does.”

With that, J.K. asked if either of the two had any questions.

“Grandfather, I appreciate you putting your business in order long before it is needed. Thank you. About my father, I leave this to your judgment as I consider it to be business between the two of you. Agreed, Jay?”

Jay rubbed the back of his neck and grabbed a cup of water on the nearby table.

“I do have a request, Grandpa, now that you kind of brought it up.”

“What is it, Jay?”

“I was wondering if maybe you can help me buy a farm. I have money saved up and most of it already has been pledged to a place I have an eye on in Grantsville…” Jay, realizing he had perhaps spoken too brashly, grew red in the face. “I am sorry, Grandpa. Grandma. I just got so excited walking the farm with Grandpa this morning, talking about my future, that it seemed like a natural extension of that conversation. But I realize I am ahead of myself.”

“Way ahead of yourself,” muttered Aunt Ella.

“Son, your grandmother and I take pride in the man you are becoming. You work hard. Very hard. And have such a great ambition! I do not wish to discourage that. But,” he added, “it is much too early to consider buying property.”

J.K. strode over to the parlor window and gazed out over his land. “You know, I was thirty when I bought this farm with your grandmother. We worked hard, saving our money, and managing your grandmother’s inheritance as well. Before I turned the age of thirty, I had worked over nearly sixteen years for other people. I also spent years studying about the best places to buy. That, son, is a lot of planning.”

“Grandpa, of course. I apologize. You are right. There is much for me to learn! Especially since I will have no inheritance…”

“Oh, I see. Maybe that is perhaps why you brought this up at this time.”

Jennie’s head turned from brother to grandfather as each spoke up. The course of the conversation took her unawares. Aunt Ella’s mouth was twisted in a smirk, and Grandma Stark reached over to her knitting basket to retrieve some navy blue yarn and her knitting needles. She was not going to sway the conversation one way or the other.

“No, Grandpa, I didn’t mean…”

“It is understandable, Jay. You should have such questions on your mind, and I appreciate your boldness in bringing this up. If I might,” J.K. strode to a side table where the family Bible lay, “there is much to learn from the Good Book. You might remember the tale of the Prodigal Son?”

How could Jay not know the tale. He once formally debated the story with Sunday school classmates, taking the position of the dutiful son who stayed at home and worked hard while the other son wandered, got drunk, got into all sorts of trouble, lost his money and only then returned home. He never quite understood or agreed with the outcome of the parable, except to admit sometimes people are granted grace for seemingly unforgiveable acts. Such was done with the kind of love he did not yet fathom, but perhaps someday he would.

Jay nodded but remained silent. Enough had been said.

Front Cover
Illustrated Hymn
Given to Jennie on Her Fourth
Christmas Without Her
Mother