Village of Barnum

By Ella (Goldie) Barnum

The village of Barnum is on the Kickapoo, which is said to be the most crooked river in the United States. The railroad, which was a branch of Milwaukee ran between Wauzeka and Soldiers Grove, followed the river, and the Kickapoo Chief, the Valley Paper, published the story that the conductor could light his pipe at the engine, when the train went around the curve.

My grandfather Barnum and a number of other settlers came down from Maine. They called themselves Yankees. They were looking for a good land and water. They found what they wanted in the Kickapoo Valley. My grandfather settled where the village of Barnum now stands, and the village was named for him. He was a land man and bought a number of acres around the country.

Grandfather Barnum's House

The village grew rapidly and many people settled there. When we were children, going to the little one-room school on the other side of Barnum, the village was thriving. It boasted of three stores, one of which belonged to my father, a hotel, a town hall, a pickle factory, a telephone central, a blacksmith shop, a saloon and a stockyard. We had a depot and four trains a day. The village began to go down when the railroad was taken out.

Marion Barnum family Farm

The Barnum family lived on a nine hundred acre farm half a mile from the village. We had to go through the village on our way to school and often stopped at my father's store. If he was there we would ask for a tablet or other school supplies, but if the clerk was alone we would help ourselves. The clerk never told my father.

Marion Richard Barnum

My greatest delight was to wait on customers. I cut tobacco, weighed sugar, tea and rice and sold overalls all at the same counter. There was the famous cracker and cookie barrel and big bunches of bananas hanging in the window.

Some of the village boys called my father "Penny". They said he was stingy. I treated all of them to gum and candy but my father caught up with me and put me out of the store.

The clerk was a very stout man with a big stomach. The same boys called him "Pod". One evening my father was sitting in his big chair reading the daily paper. I was upstairs looking down through the register, a ventilator, in the floor. It was the same day my father had put me out of the store and I was very angry. A wicked thought came into my mind and I acted on it. I drew a large tree with a big red apples hanging on the branches. Under the tree I drew a bench with a small thin man sitting on it and a fat man on his knee. Under the picture I wrote:

"In the shade of the old apple tree, sat Penny with Pod on his knee."

I folded the picture carefully and dropped it through the register on my father's paper. He came upstairs. Need I say more? I ate my supper standing because sitting was uncomfortable.

Panthea Haskins Barnum

My mother's name was Panthea Haskins Barnum. Her father owned the farm in Haney Valley, which joined ours. The soil there was rich and black.

We liked to go to Grandpa Haskins' farm. He was a man who looked very stern but had a jolly laugh, and could tell a humorous story. He raised bees and we were always treated to honey and biscuits.

Grandpa Haskins Farm

My grandfather also raised horses and he had several saddle ponies. There was a schoolhouse on one corner of his farm and we often raced our ponies from the schoolhouse to the farmhouse. My grandfather held his watch to see who won.

"We were Seven" That's why my sister Bessie always said, but she couldn't have counted our sister Esther, who died at the age of two months or our sister Hazel, who also died young.

"Come upstairs and see the little red head," my father said one morning. We all made a dash for the stairs but my father closed the door and stood against it. "You will have to come quietly or not at all," he said. So we crept up the stairs on tip toe. Sure enough, the new baby had red hair. Where she got it no one knew because there wasn't any red hair in either family. We didn't have long to watch her, however, because in two months she died.

Ella (Goldie) Barnum

The "we" of whom I speak was my sister Bessie, then myself, "Goldie," I was named "Ella" for my Grandmother Barnum, but Bessie insisted on calling me Goldie. and then Lavern or Vern as we called him. Vern was nicknamed "Babe when he was very little, but my Grandmother Barnum cured us of that. "Once I knew a man six feet tall who was called "Babe", she said. "Do you want that to happen to your brother?" We agreed that we didn't so "Babe" was dropped for "Vern."

Vern and I were close in age and very alike in disposition. He was just enough younger that I could get him do whatever I wanted. He would put up boards and make a playhouse, go to the pump house and take cream when no one was looking and many other things like that. We would put the cream in a jar, for which Vern had made a dasher, a stick with cross pieces on one end, and churn butter for the playhouse.

Haney Valley on the Kickapoo River

My sister, Bessie, who had no use for dolls or the playhouse, would curl up in the hammock and read. She was two years older than I and much brainier. She had a knack for many things, cooking, sewing, and especially for picking out clothes and wearing them. She looked well in plain tailored suits and I didn't. I tried not to let her know it, but I was jealous of her most of the time.

Around Easter time each year we were allowed to hide eggs. We could hide as many as we wished but in case Mamma was short of eggs she would call for some and we had to get them. No one was allowed to watch us or follow us. If we found anyone's eggs, we could take them.

Easter Sunday morning Mamma called for all eggs. We ran and brought our eggs and she paid us a small amount per dozen. Vern came in looking very downcast, on the verge of tears and no eggs. Someone had found his eggs the last day and took all of them. He had hidden them in the firebox of the old threshing machine. I offered him half of my money but he would not take it.

Marion Barnum Store

Just before Hazel was born we were sent to Aunt Dede's on the ridge. Aunt Dede was my mother's only sister and entirely different in disposition. My mother made everyone toe the mark. Aunt Dede would allow us to make candy in the middle of the night, make a playhouse in the bedroom, dress up in any of her clothes and upset the kitchen and leave it, so we liked to go to Aunt Dede's.

The day after Hazel was born we went home. We didn't want to go home but we had to. My Uncle took us to the store in Barnum and we were to go home with my father in the evening. It had been raining for several days and the clay roads were terrible. My father walked, so we walked. We took off our shoes and stockings. I lost one of my shoes on the way. I never found it.

The new baby didn't look very pretty because we were tired. In a few days she began to grow and we decided she was the prettiest baby we ever saw, we named her Hazel.

Ella (baby) and Bessie

Wilma was born the last day in August. It was a very hot day and we were canning peaches. I heard a long wail and knew the new baby had arrived. We were not anxious to have a new baby but his one was pretty so we decided to keep her. She had the sweetest little angel face you ever saw but she wailed all night and kept everyone awake so we came nearly sending her back. As a child, and even when she was older, Wilma liked to cook. One day Mamma went away and Wilma thought she would surprise her by making a pumpkin pie. When Mamma returned and saw the pie she praised Wilma and told her the pie looked good enough to eat. "How many eggs did you use." Mamma said to Wilma. "Eggs!" exclaimed Wilma, was I suppose to use eggs?" "Why certainly." said Mamma, "but if you use enough milk and sugar----" "Milk and Sugar! Wilma Wailed, "I hope you didn't put in too much spice." "Spice," said Wilma, "I didn't put in any spice." Wilma made many pumpkin pies and other pies after that, but she often talked of the time she made pumpkin pie using nothing but pumpkin.

Mildred and Wilma

"Papa's got a birthday present!" "Papa's got a birthday present!" we all sang on the morning of March 22, two years after Wilma was born. There was the cutest little brown-eyed girl you ever saw. She was named Mildred right away and she grew rapidly. She was a little mischief-maker and with Wilma, who was two years older, they were impossible to keep track of. Bessie and I were old enough to get the job of taking care of them. They were no more than taken out of one mishap before they were into another. Mildred was only six when she was nearly burned to death by hot grease. Then she continued from the grease to the doughnuts. She and Wilma were alone in the kitchen. Mamma was out on the porch talking to a neighbor. Wilma was amusing herself some place when Mildred pulled Mamma's pan of doughnuts on the floor. She stacked them in rows on a chair, took a big butcher knife and sliced them up and down carefully. Then she poured sorghum on all of them.

When Mamma came in, there were her doughnuts on the chair, sliced in many small pieces with sorghum oozing out. Mildred was spanked but Mamma rightly blamed Bessie and me, who should have been looking after two naughty girls.

Frank

The next one to come into the picture was my brother Frank. As a small boy he was rather thin but wiry. He could run faster and climb higher than any other member of the family. He was very bright and could solve a problem while the rest of the class was getting started. He loved animals and was very devoted to a pet weasel he had found. When my brother Ed was born, Frank was seven years old. The teacher had heard about the new baby at our house and hoped she could get Frank to talk about him, but he was shy. She tired different methods. Finally she said, "Who has something new at home? No one said anything. Then the teacher said, "Frank, do you have anything new at home?" Frank brightened up at this and said, "Yes." The teacher continued, "Can you tell us about it?" "What is it?" Frank shouted, "A weasel!" The class didn't know about the new baby, so the teacher, to cover up, went on to question Frank about the weasel and gradually brought in the new baby. We have teased Frank for years about the weasel. Of course, if he didn't take it so good naturedly, we wouldn't do it.

Ed and Mildred

"Little Ed", as we used to call him, was a darling baby but spoiled to death. He was born on January 25. Bessie was teaching school and I was a senior in high school. By no means did we want another baby in the house. We received word on Friday that the new baby had arrived and we were to come home. Bessie wanted to go but I didn't. As soon as we reached home I went upstairs to see my mother and she showed me the new baby. "He's awfully homely," I said. My mother said she thought that he was cute. Finally Bessie came up and my mother wanted to know what she thought about the baby. "He's really pretty," said Bessie, hardly looking at him. Ed, the little rascal, grew like a weed and in spite of the fact that he was spoiled, he was cute and I think he forgave us for not wanting him. By the time he was two years old we wouldn't have parted with him for anything.

He was never satisfied with us, however. He always wanted Mamma. One night my mother was down to my Grandmothers. She had put Ed to sleep before she left. Bessie and I were reading and keeping watch, when Ed awoke. Nothing would quiet him. We shook him, spanked him, gave him candy, and rocked him. Nothing helped. Finally one of us thought of the mirror that hung behind the door. We put the mirror on the floor and sat him on it. That did it. He looked at his face in the glass, patted the glass and talked to himself. Finally he got sleepy and we put him in his crib.

Panthea Haskins Barnum

5 Generations of Barnum's

Left: Grandmother Haskins(Ann E. Taylor)- Grandmother Mills(Bette Urmson)-Bessie Barnum(Kreutz) -Grandmother Taylor(Panetha Mills)-Grandmother Barnum(Panthea Haskins)

Marion Richard Barnum

If Mamma was out of his sight he would cry. He really didn't cry. He just bawled. There wasn't a sign of a tear. As soon as Mamma appeared, he was alright again. He was good in school and was the last one at home. My mother hung on to him as long as she could, but finally he, too, left the nest. Then my mother and father began to live their life all over again in their grandchildren.

If you have never been a member of a large family; never a child living on a farm; never gone fishing, swimming, and rowing with your brothers and sisters; never been chased by a cross cow; never played hide-and-seek in the evening when it gets dark; never had fights with your brothers and sisters but ready to fight any one else who attacked them; then you have missed much more than you realize. A large family is a blessing from God. My father once said of a man who was fussing around entertaining his only child. "Some people spend their whole lives bringing up one child."

Ella, Mildred, Bessie, Panthea, Hazel

Wilma, Ed, Mildred, Vern, Bessie