GALESBURGS MIGHTY HORSE MARKET i UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS ^.BRARY AT URBANA CHAMPAIGN \ ilLlNOlS HISTORICAL SURVEY '^"^ ^ l"^ -^Mr \^^ Gaksburgs Mighty Horse Market Leroy Marsh Sales Barn 1877-1920 by Cornelia Thompson and Memories of A Horseman by Fred Dunbar Leroy Marsh 1843 — 1929 Charlie Plank and Emil Main Street in 1880 Lcroy Marsli atid His Sales Barn It yuu walk down Mam Strcol and slo}) any man who was a boy in Galesburg at tlie turn of the century and say to liim "Do you remember the Horse and Mule barn?" his eyes will li^ht up and lie will say. "I should say so. 1 used to \A'Ay hookey from school to watch them ex- ercise those horses." Or "I used to loiter around the barn watching Mr. Marsh, waitinii' for him to take a dime out of the ear of one of the boys hanjiiuii around, oi- ])eihaps if it was hot weather throw a handful of climes in fhe street for the barefooted, overalled boys to scramble for. Sometimes in the hot dusty weather he would pick up the hose and squirt th(> boys when they scrambled. He always sat in front of the barn with his cane which he used to point wdth or to poke a small boy with." Or perhaps the answer would be. "I'll say I do." Mr. Marsh took me ilown- town and bought me a pair of shoes because he said he was tired of seeing me run around barefooted." "It is a fine day for the race," Mr. Marsh would say. The new- boy asked properly and excitedly. "What race?" "Why the human race." And the admiring laugh burst out. It was understood by all his friends and acciuaintances that this joke was always funny. Or perhaps he might greet you with "Better keep your eyes open today." "Why?" "Why, so that you can see." Or perhaps the talk will turn to Cliarlie Plank, the great auction- eer, and his generosity to his friends. One boy remembers how because he was an orphan Charlie w^ould give him oOc or $1.00 and he would spend part of it for dinner at Mrs. Swanson's restaurant next to the barn, feeling his 9 year old importance to be mingling with the other horsemen. Charlie Plank had come to Galesburg from Gloversville, N.Y., with a load of horses to sell in VMl. On auction day he found Mr. Marsh worried — no auctioneer. Charlie said, "I don't know too much about it. Imt I think I could sell for you." Mr. Marsh said, "Go ahead," and when Chailie left town that day he went with a promise to come back the next week to take the job of auctioneei-. His services as an auctioneer were so much in demand that he traveled a circuit between Galesburg. Chicago and St. Louis selling on a set day of the week at each place. ^Ir. Plank was never married but he too was fond of small boys and very good to them. In 1918 he adopted Emil, a 15 year old Swedish lad who had come to this country alone, and was a devoted father to him. SoPHRONiA Alden Marsh — 1812 - 1858 Leroy's Mother Alta Marsh Phillips Alden Maush — 1870 - 1S96 Philena Bell ]\Iarsh Leroy Marsh Lcruy Marsh was born in 1843 on a farm just south of tlie phice where Lake Bracken now is, the farm his father had settled on in 1834. There he was born and there he brought his bride, Philena Bell, and there their two children, Alden and Alta, later Mrs. Fred Phillips, were born. When he moved to Galesburg about 1880, he kept the farm, until the jianic of 1S9() forced him to dispose of it as well as his other assets. Leroy could remember a time, when, as a small bo3\ he saw a great camp of Indians within a quarter mile of the Marsh home, seven hund- rerl of tliem being moved west by the govornmont. He coulfl remember. as a boy of fifteen, coming to Galesburg foi' the great political meeting. He remembered the great crowd, mostly coming by ]unil)er wagon or horseback, a few in wagons drawn by the farm oxen, oxen which the farmers used for breaking the prairie and for plowing. He remembered \hv debaters, the short, proud, fiery Douglas, the lanky, (juiet Lincoln, wlio took time to talk fo little boys along the pa- rade route. When he shook hands witli Leroy. he gave him a quarter. "1 wish I had kept it," said Leroy, fifty years later. rH As a young man lie was interested in horses and he.tian tradinji as a boy. By 1861 he had a small market tor the local trade on the home place. A good farm horse could be bought for $2o.(K) to $5(3.00 per head. Hut with the outbreak of the Civil War. the govermnent sent men out to buy horses for the cavalry and for th(> artillery and the prices began to go up imtil they were better than $100. ()(J pvr head. The war depleted the stock of draft horses to such an extent that after the w'ar prices skyrocketed to $200.00 per head and more. Since Mr. Marsh was a good judge of horses and a shrewd l)uyer. his business kept ex- panding imtil he decided to leave the farm and move to a more cent- ral location where the transportation was good and there were plenty of accomodations for tlu l)uyers. In 1877 he moved to (lalesburg where his Galesburg sales barn was located at Cherry and Waters Streets. It was a wooden structure which he had moved from the old fair grounds where it had been used as a floral hall. At this time all rhe horses which were not ridden or let] in from the country were shipped by the Burlington Kailroad and led from the stockyards in strings of 8 or more to the sales barn where they were stabled, shod and cared for until the sales day. They were walked and trotted up and down on Waters Street daily to keep them in top sha])e for the sale. The men who led the horses from the yards rode lead ponies. Each one would lead several head, tied tail to halter, one behind the other. That is one of the sights that the small boys, now old m(Mi. remember. In 1887 the Santa Fe railroad came through C lalesburg and many of the horses were shipped by Santa Fe thereafter. They were run up the steep loading chute into the cars, until finally a special loading platform was built. After that, it was easier to handle them. In the early days of the sale barn, the horses were sold on Waters Street. ,Tim O'Connor was the auctioneer, Ed Lynch the ringmaster. An old lumber wagon was used for a platform and everyone passing by would pause to see how the bidding was going. After the big fire of 1912 the same platform w^as used in the street again until the new^ barn was built. The greatest market was in good sturdy work horses. Every farm- er wanted the best he could afford, and was apt to spend more money decorating his horse than his wife. One woman at 7"> l)ought herself the set of dishes she had always wanted but never had because dishes were an extravagance though the best harness and the best horses were none too good for the men in the family. Poor old worn out plugs were sold for slaughter. In those days dogs had table scraps and some farmers fed horse meat to their hogs. So for $5.00 or $10.00 the farmer acquired the poor old horse, had him slaugh- tered, sold the hide and put the carcass in the hog lot where it was eaten, bones and all. Many remeniber the old barn. First, next to Waters Street was the office, then the stables, then the sales ring, the blacksmith's shop, the restaurant. Ahnost always buyers or sellers wouifl be loitering around the office discussing- last Saturday's sale or speculating on next Satur- day's sale. Sometimes an unsuspecting buyer would join the group sit- ting around gossiping with their chairs tipped back anrl their feet on any handy table or desk, and get the trick chair, which had rollers on the back legs so that when that man tipped back he was in for a surprise. They remember the high board fence which enclosed the land l^ack of the barn to Broad Street. They remember that there were often west- ern horses there, familiarly known as coyotes. Sometimes some of the men would put on a show on Suiulays. kind of a rcdeo, with roping and trick riding. On a trip West a few years ago seme Galesburg ])eople ran into a couple of old cowboys who used to bring those "coyotes" to Gales- burg. In the same enclosure Bill Corn, a tall, powerfully built negro, could be seen breaking horses, perhaps a pair that William Coffman had raised on his farm in Maquon Township, and sold to the Galesburg fire department. Chester Little and his son, Edgar, went to work for the barn about 1913. Mrs. Little remembers how kind the men at the barn were to them after her husband's death a few years later. They took uj) a purse as was customary in cases like this. One shipper who had always wanted Chester to take care of his horses insisted that he owed him money and sent her a generous check. Edgar remembers Joe Hayes, Jed Pratt, Tom Hilton, Ed Reed. Glen Sharp and John Broderick. foreman while he was working at the barn. Looking North From The Square Kv Pamiokst Glex Sharp Lots of people reincinlKM- old John, tlic tiy-hoi-sc. wlio used to be hitched with a horse about to be tried out. Often a seller had a hoi'se who needed an old hand to steady him down, and many a spirited young- animal was sold hitched in doul)le harness with John. There liad been an earlier John, a leatl horse, who knew his way from the stable to the stock yards so well that he hardly needed a rider and couldn't be kept tied because he could untie any knot. One day lie untied himself and iiot into some green corn and foundered in spite of tiie frantic ef- forts of All'. -Marsh and the stable men to save him. For over 30 years Ernest l^mhorst 1(m1 t!i(> horses in the sales ring, but if you go down in the stock yards to look for him don't ask for Ernest, ask for Ky, because that is how he has always been known, (".leu Sharp also works there. Many a horse he led IVoni the stock yards to the barn and many a brass check he received, a check which would be redeemed for 50c on ])ayday. After the Santa Fe came througli in 1^^7 the ])icture changed somewhat and many of llu^ horses wei'e lun up loading chutes to the cars in tiie shipping sheds between CluMiy and Prairie Streets on Waters Street. There was a tall, colored man named Sherrard Barber who dnn-e the horses to the exercise cart, testing their wind. Up and down Waters Street Barl)er would trot and gallop them, little boys watching athniring- ly. xVcross the street, at a safe distance, the girls watched, too. knowing that over there it was a man's world. For a while Mr. Marsh owned a farm on Xoith Seminary Street, just opposite the place where the Reseai-ch Hospital is now. Some of the men remember going out there to help put uj) hay which was al- ways hauled to the barn. The hayracks were driven out in front of the barn on Cherry Street, the hay loader lifted t'he hay uj) to the great loft above the stables and there it was ready to throw down into the mangers. In the old barn the planks had shrunk so that there were wide cracks between the boards. Mr. Marsh and Mr. Gatton. the drujijiist, used to match coins by throwin<>; dollars up high in the air and catch- ing them. Once in a while one of the dollars they threw would go up be- tween the cracks so naturally the loft was the favorite hiding place for small boys. With the new barn that sport was over. George Leroy Once tw^o Galesburg buyers. Sprin- ger and Willard. went to France to buy a load of Percherons and Bel- gians. When they I'eturned from Le- Havre they brought George Leroy with them to help them with the horses. George had a hard time learn- ing the English language and many tricks were played on him. When he \vent to work at Marsh's barn, if he wanted to know how to say "Good Morning", one of the jokers would probably teach him to say ''Go To Hell". However, he had a natural charm and dignity and became very popular with his fellow workers and the visiting horsemen. "He was a brilliant young man with a lot of personality. You might say he was dynamic", says Fred Dunbar. Every- one called him Frenchy. In 1907 J.R. Justice went on a buying tri]) to France and took Frenchy with hhn to help him so he had a good visit wiih his family. Frenchy made more money in tips than wages. He loved to dress the horses up with rosettes and specially braided bi'idles of different colors, and to curry their tails and manes so that they were shining. The sellers realized that this helped their sales and they w(Me generous in their tipping. Frenchy 's boy, Oscar, used to sell j^opcorn. chewing gum and cigars to the horsemen, and made quite a good thing of it. Ben Swanson, the foreman of the barn, lived in the first house south and Mrs. Swanson decided to open a restaurant. She was a won- derful cook and it became a popular place to eat. So popidar that the men took to dropping in and buying their cigars in there so Oscai's bus- iness declined. Oscar L(M'()y was wtji-kiiiii in tlie Ijotfliiiji ])laiil next lo the haiii when one tlay lie noticed smoke coiniiij>; from ihe liijih lol't. His first thoiijiht was of his father. "Pa! Pa!" he called. "Fiie! Fire!" Frenchy came rumiiii^ and tried to ii:et in and save as many horses as he could. Some of them he hrouuht out and tied to telegraph j)()les. hut many of t'hem broke away and piisIkmI hack into ilie fire as jjanickcd liorses will do. One Oalesburti woman. wIkmi askeil what she remembered about the barn, said "T will ncxcr foruct the screaminji' of these horses till my dyin,ii; day." Oscar was on the roof of the bottlinji; buildinj;- tryinii to wet if down with the hosc^ to keep fhe fii'e from spreadinji when Dr. Wil- liam O'Keilly Bi'adley (the mayor and the family doctor) cam(> i)y. "Oscar" he yelled. "Get down. C^uit wastinii; water. We need all our water pressure for the fire''. ZM- After the fire the barn was rebuilt and made as nearly firei)r()of as possible. The new buildiuiis were sanitary brick structures. The hard- wood double stables were whitewashed every week and contimiously dis- infected to avoid disease. The busmess continued to expand. The war in lunope increased the demand for horses to such an extent that l)usiness boomed, liven after the war it held up amazin waiioii was always parked by the side of the house or in the orchard. Mrs. i)uiil)ar sup- ported her four little children by family washino to school, so I talked her out of it until I was \'.]. I stai'tcd in the first readei'. Six wcM'ks lalei-. l)ack into the covered wa.non and iiit'o the State of Kansas. wIumh^ ni\' nu)ther had relatives. I never finished the first reader". In ISO'J tlu>y came back to Galesburg and a few years later Fred went to wovk for .Mr. JNlarsh for 50c per day. Fred has been described by those who workelh or giindcis, as they are ofl(Mi called. When ihc horse is 2 years old hv still has tlie 1() baby teeth. S above and 8 below. A short tiin(> before his third birthday, he will shcMJ 2 teeth above and 2 below, and 4 horse teeth a])i)eai-. Tiien the buyer knows he is 3 years old. .lust before his 4lli binliday. he sheds 4 more baby teeth. 2 above and 2 below, and then the bu\-ei- knows he is 4 years old. .Ills! b(4"ore his n\h })irthday hv sheds 4 iwovc baby lecnli, 2 above and 2 below. Then the buycn- knows he is ') y(>ai's old. And from then on all teeth have what is called a little cuj), which is a black streak in \hv loj) of the tooth. At (i years old, all cups are jierfect. At 7 years old the cup leaves the 2 cenlcr Icctti above and 2 center teeth below. At S years old all cups begin 1o fade away. At i) years old ho onl\- has a cup in each corner tooth. Ai 10 years old he has no cups left, and is called smooth mouthed. Then aftei- that h(^ isn't worth so inuch as the average horse only lives lO hv 12 years old. Now this ai)i)lies io woik horses only. Saddle hoi'ses, show horses and i)oiiies live lonj2;er because they are l^etter fed and have better care and don't work so much. Now this does not apply to horses raised in Montana, Wyoniinji, Nebraska. Kansas, Colorado or Oklahoma wIumv there is sand in the e;rass which deteriorates their teeth. The mouth of those horses always shows that' they are 1 to 2 years older than they really are. It seems as if this way of knowing was worked out by the older horsemen and was handed down to the younger buyers which kept on handing it down. If is something that you don't learn too fast. The word ''horse-trader" was always offensive to the iiorsemen. In other words, they considered it a phony. To give you an idea of what a horse-trader is, they originated in England and moved to the United States. The Egyptians followed it for awhile then it spread into a big- ger business. Before the roads were concrete, byroads were gravel, there was plenty of grazing. The horse-traders lived in their covered wagons and they started out with 4 or 5 phony horses. We often callerl them counterfeits. They camped along the road, always near a farm house. ►Sometimes a farmer has a no-good horse that he can't sell, even to a horse buyer. So he looks at the horse-trader's horses and decides that one of them is surely better then the one that he has got. So he says to the horse-trader "How will you trade?" Well, the real horse-trader lives on boot money. So he says, 'T will take $10.00 to boot." So the farmer wants to get rid of his no-good horse so he trades and gives $10.00 to boot. And the horse-trader moves on. Sooner or later the farmer will find out that the horse he got was not as good as the one he traded. So really that is w^hat a horse-trader consists of. I have been introduced to some very fine people and when they learned my business, they said, "Oh, you are a horse-trader." Then you have to explain the difference. I am sometimes asked how one becomes a horse })uyer. It is some- thnes simple. I started without money with the backing of Leroy Marsh. My first experience was — one day he signed a blank check and took me to the T) o'clock train and told me to get off at Rio. Illinois, to see a Mr. iMooney Almgreen — he had a horse for sale. He told me that Mr. Aim- green wanted .l!;l25.00 for his horse, and for me to stay all night with him, get off as much as I could and ride the horse back the next day. The Ahngreen family were outstanding people — very nice in every way. So I watched him milk his cows, his wife had a wonderful dinner and he put nje in a big feather bed for the night. He. knowing that I did not have any money, asked me how I was going to pay for the horse. Then I made the mistake of my life — I showed him ]\Ir. Marsh's check already signed. Then I told him I could not give him more than $115.00 and he said, "No, no." Then I offered him $120.00 and he said. "No". Then he said, "All you got to do is fill r)ut the check, it is already signed." So fill it out I did, and that is where I met my Waterloo. It was Friday morning and I took the entire day leading the horse 12 miles. I watered him every 20 minutes that night and curried him often. The next day was the sale — I led him in — I held up his head — and it is ringing in my ears yet today — I heard the auctioneer say "$117.50. Sold to Ed Lynch." Then I knew I would have to go back to work in the barn for $8.00 per week. The next day Air. Marsh said. "Your horse lost $7.50, plus $2.00 feed, $1.50 for shoes and $.40 for a new halter. Half of that is your loss." And I said. "Well. I will work it out." So he let me work one week. The next week Mr. Alarsh signed five checks and sent me to Ma- comb, Illinois. I wont down on a Sunday evening. He gave me the jiame of a man down there who would help me. I contacted the man on a Monday morning. And after riding with him all day Alonday I found out that he was a disreputable, phony horse trader, who had been cheating the farmers around that community with counterfeit horses for many years. But I noticed that we were not welcome, even in the farmers' barn yard. He had something mean to say about e\'ery farmer as we were leaving. When night came I didn't owe him anything because I was to give him $1.00 per horse and I hadn't bought any. I told him I didn't need him the next day. In those days livery staljles were like garages are today. Some good^ — some bad. But as I walked around the town that evening. I walked into the Lee Rexroat livery barn. I could see that Air. Rexroat was a distinguished citizen. I spoke to him about going to the country the next day. and he said hc' could go. So on Tuesday morning we started out. The atmosphere was different. Every farmer seemed happy to meet him. And when he introduced me, then I knew I was in good company. We bought three horses that day and filled out three checks. The next day being Wednesday, we bought two horses and that consumed all my checks. I ordered each horse de- livered Thursday morning to Air. Rexroat 's barn in Alacomb. The next morning early I went to the Burlington Railroad freight house to see what it was going to cost to get my five horses to Galesburg. I was sur- prised to know the price would be $35.00. I just coul(hrt see where I could get that much money above what I gave. So the horses were all in by noon, then I made the decision that I would lead them to Galesburg. They were all nice big fat horses, none of (Ikmu broke to ride. So I jiifked out a gentleman, tied one to his tail, another one lo the otiier's tail, an- othei- one to the other's tail and the fourtli one to iiis tail. I borrowed a bridle from Air. Rexroat. I had no saddle. Now you nnist remember it takes a fa.st horse to walk four miles per hour. And wiicn 1 mounted my horse, well, he did nothing vicious, he just didn't care to walk fast with me on his back. So I leaped to the ground and by leading he came right along. This was the year 1902 and I was 27 years old. didn't mind a little walk. It is 15 miles from Alacomb to Bushnell. 1 got there just at dark. I had taken thoiii to Mr. .loliii Roach's livery burn. He was an outstaiidiiisi citizen and came np every Saturday to the Clalesbur^ sale and l)()u,iiiit small mules and small horses for the St. Louis market. I asked him if I could keep my horses all night and he said "Yes". So I ])ul them in his barn, watered them, bedded them down and he helped me feed them. Then I went across to a little restaurant and f2;ot a lunch. About 8 o'clock that' evenin took the bids here, there and everywhere and no one could tell whetlier he really had them or not. And when my first horse arrived for sale, nnd I de- cribed him ns being sound, Mr.' Plank said $150.00— -SKiO.OO— $ 165.00— $175.00— $185.00— $190.00" and then looked down to me and said "do you want him sold". I was shocked — I said "Yes". And he was sold for $190.00. That gave me as much courage as anything that had ever iiap- pened up t'o tliis time in the horse bu.siness corncerning me. And the next four he just took them the same way and run away witli the l)idding, confused the buyers and sold them. That night late. Mr. George Dimmit, the head bookkeeper at that time, said he had my bill figured up and after deducting the commission, feed, shoeing, new halters, he said "Your horses made $81.00". Just then IMr. Marsh stepped in the office and he said "Fred, you know I am your partner. T furnish the money". Mr. Charlie Plank Fred Dunbar Marsh said. "We will split the profit aiul no doubt some day you will have a loss and 1 will lose one-half of it". I said "I don't intend to have any losses". And he said "That is the way it will be". That continued for a couple of years. Finally, I had saved about $700.00 of my own profit and I had it deposited in the Second National Bank of Galesburg. where the First National Bank is today. Mr. Pete Brown was the President. He was the fathor of the late Curtis Brown of Galesburg. And he always seemed to be interested in what T was doing. So at this time I sat down and told him that my horses sometimes were making as much as $100.00 or 8200.00 per week and T didn't think the use of Mr. Marsh's money was worth t'hat nnich. And he agreed witli me. \\v said "How much have you got here on deposit?" and I told him about $700.00. And he said "Fred, just check direct on us and we will take care of your checks until after your horses are sold". And from tlicn on I dithi't have to tell Mr. Mar.sh or anyone else what my horses cost, il was then none of their business. And very soon I got to buying carload lots, which is IZO head. And the Good Loiidd(>r U.v it was more than 10 years before I had a load ihal lost more than $')0.00. And I might say from that t'imc on. no competitor, no commission man, ever pushed me around or slowetl me down. Neak Wataga — 1885 iir -^IF- TiiE JIav AIakket ("edak am) >i.\i.mo.\> The Free Kindergarten stands here now Til rejiard to mules, they were once said to be the cheapest power on earth. They were used to descend into the Grand Canyon. They never made a mistake with a inoimt on their back. If one foot shi)i)e(l off, they pulled it back. With a horse, if he lost his step, he would fall over. Mules seemed to have the instinct of nature. They would never drink too much when they were hungry. They took <>;ood care of themselves. Yes, the mother of a mide is a female horse. The father a mammoth jack, or- iginated from SjDain. I am not familiar with the ancestry of the Spanish jack. I have heard it said that they originated from the zebra and the mountain burro. However, the mule carried that instinct. The southern people fully depended on the mules and the negroes for raising their crops; cotton, tobacco, peanuts and rice. But in 1931. 1982 and 1933, during the depression, the southern people were in financially bad shape. Then in 1934, the Federal Government gave them a cash loan on their cotton and they needed mules and had the money to pay for them. I heard that the market was extremely good at Atlanta, Georgia. Not having too much experience in nmles, I went down to Stronghurst, Illinois, aud bought 20 head — a carload — and consigned them to Raggs- dale, Labor and Wheil. Mr. Raggsdale's father had succeeded himself as mayor of the City of Atlanta, which had a population then of 300,000. So you see the background was good. I shipped the mules and they made $500.00 to $600.00 more than I expected. And that set me going. The next week I went over to Aledo, Illinois, and bought a load and shipped them to the same people and they brought much more than I expected. Then I knew for sure that I was a good mule buyer. So I put every man in the middle West to buying mules for me. In a short time I had 200 head — that is 10 carloads. I shipped them to Atlanta, Georgia. I made arrangements with my banker in Galesburg and he was carrying me for about $15,000.00 of the money. I boarded a train at Galesburg for Chi- cago, got on the Dixie Flyer. This was in depression days, not many people traveling. The first two hours I sat in the observation car alone, with a big black cigar, and I imagined that I was surely a big shot. Later I proceeded to the dining car and there was another man besides my- self having dinner. All the time I was figuring what a big shot I would be when I arrived in Atlanta, Georgia. The next evening I did arrive and checked in at the Robert E. Fulton Hotel. There were the buyers standing around in the lobby, southern plantation buyers, they seemed to be sad. I edged around, introduced myself and they were telling me about the terrible (luarantine. I said "What (juarantine?" They said, "If you have any mules coming you will know about it." The state of Geor- gia had quarantined all the nmles in Atlanta and those that were com- ing in, because of a diphtheria which I had never heard al)out. I heard an Alabama man say, "I don't buy no nudes here, I'm going home." Everyone was talking about going home. The clerk at the desk said, "Yes, they stopped the sales last week," and all of this I don't know when I shipped my mules. Well. I must have been the man who started the eoffeebreak, because every 15 or 20 minutes I got a cup of cof- fee. I got a room and a bed and I couldn't stay in it. The next morning I said, "How do I get out to the stockyards?" The clerk said. "The street- car goes right by the door — it starts at 5 A.M." I said. "How far is it?" He .^aid. "About 6 miles." I was sure out there at 5 a.m. Here came a car with a big sign on the side. It said 'Niggers Only'. They don't let me on. I waited for the next car— another big sign said 'Niggers Only'. I don't get on. Third car saifi 'Whites Only' — and I did get on. I ar- rived at the stock yards. No one around but the night watchman. I told him who I was, how many mules I had and could he please tell me where they were. He said "Brother, your mules are down in the morgue." I said "What do you mean — 'down in the morgue'?" He said "Mules died here last week like flies. They had to stop the auction." I said. "Could you go with me and show me where my mules are?" He said, "In about 1") minutes." So down we went. Now they were feeding my mules cot- ton seed meal, which is just like flour and when those mules stuck their noses in it and that cotton seed meal went over their heads I really didn't recognize my own mules. They seemed to have gotten smaller. Eight or nine o'clock came, officials came out and said we couldn't do a thing until the State lifted the quarantine. So the feed was $1.00 per day per mule — $200.00 per day for me — 7 days, $1400.00 feed. Freight expenses ran $400.00 per car — $4000.00 freight. I sure did have a lot to overcome. But on the 8th day they held a conference, and the quarantine was lifted. Southern buyers were skeptical on bidding on mules that had been ex- posed. I really knew that I was ruined for life. They told me to go take some niggers and get 100 of my mules. I said "Open the gate and let them all go." I figured if they got down there they would have to sell them. But Mr. I. N. Raggsdale. the mayor of the city, came out at once and said he had a couple of nephews who he was financing on some planta- tions down in Virginia. One of them wanted 40 mules and the other want- ed 50 mules and he bought them all from me — which helped me out a great deal. Now it was the longest week I ever had away from home. I wired my wife that the mules were quarantined. That old Galesburg banker got nervous. His name was Merle Cline of the First National Bank and he called my wife to find out what was delaying me. She told him the mules were (luarantined, but he thought she said that I was quarantined. Se he continued to call for about three days to know about my li(>alth. But finally I got them sold and they only lost $300.00. I was completely worn out, must have looked terrible when I arrived home. In fact, it must have been bad — my own dog tried to ))it'e ]n(\ The next morning I take my little Whippet car. which my wife had been using, and start for the bank. I got about 6 blocks and ran out of gas. As you know, women driving other people's cars never buy gas. I walked 6 blocks and got a quart, it started and I finally reached the bank. Mi'. Cline was glad to see me and he thought my health had broke and I told him "No, it was the mules/' and I have never tried to be a big shot since then. It was on Wednesday about 10:00 A.M. The previous Saturday they had their usual run of horses. 450 to 500 head. They were all sold with the exception of 4 larjic horses, which were owned by Mr. Fred Oliver, who resided in Galesburg at that time. He bought the horses at Osceola, Iowa and shipped them here. He did not sell them because he figured they would bring more the next week. The fire started across the street from the Santa Fe passenger station, on the Northwest corner of Waters and Broad. To make matters worse, straw which was used to bed the horses was very scarce in Knox County and adjacent counties. The week before he had bought 3 carloads of baled pine shavings from a lumber yard in Chicago for that ])urpose. They made very good bedding but were very flannnable. They were stored on the second floor of that build- ing. Mr. George Leroy. one of the faithful help of Mr. Marsh, who had been with him for more than 30 years, was consigned to that part of the building. That morning as he passed through the building from Cherry Street, which is a block long, lie met a gentleman who tipped him $5.00 for his good service the week before. He put it in his jacket pocket, hung his jacket on a nail and proceeded to take care of those 4 horses. Immedi- ately he heard a crackhng upstairs. He saw smoke and he ran to the of- fice. which was on Chorry Street one block away, and told the bookkeep- er to turn in the alarm. Then he rushed back to where he had hung his jacket, but the flames had destroyed it. It seems as if when the fire got into those shavings it set up a heat draft which (juickly spread to the Cherry Street offices. The entire structure one block long on Waters Street was totally destroyed. On a Monday morning previous to the fire, I left for Aledo in ]\Iercer County, Illinois, to buy a carload of horses for the next sale. I was go- ing through the country by horse and buggy and about 12 o'clock on Wcchiesday I was 10 miles north of Aledo when a lady came out of a farm home and said. "Are you Mr. Dunbar?'! said. "Yes." She said. "We have just heard over the telephone that Mr. Marsh's barn has been destroyed by fire." I immediately turned around and headed for Aledo. It takes the average horse about 2 hours to go 10 miles. I had IS horses bought, needed 2 more for a load, but decided al thai time that I had enough. 'On reaching Aledo. I immediately went to the li()t(>l and i)ut in a call for Mr. Marsh, not knowing that I really could get him. Hut a small brick building to the south of the main structure facing on Cherry Street housing the restaurant and the blacksmith's sho]) did not burn. So they immediately transferred the telephone to the restaurant. In a few mo- ments Mr. Marsh was on the line. I said, "Is it so that the hain.s have })urned down?" He said, "Yes, Fred it's awful." I said. "I have IS large horses bought and was going to ship them tomorrow. What shall I do?" He said, "Go ahead and we will sell them out on Waters Street." So the next (lay I shippcMl the horses and came to Galesbur*^. It sure was not a very jiretty picture. Mr. Marsh had stopped all the horses that he knew were coming-. But about 100 head came anyway. We were all wor- ried as to who would buy them. But* some New England buyers had left a few days before and arrived in Galesburg not knowino- of the fire. And it was a very good sale. Not enough horses to fill the tlemand. As I re- call, my horses made money. Then here was the picture — 25 regular men, mostly family men, out of work; blacksmiths and bookkeepers out of work: shijipers in the Mid-West witli no ])lace to go. So Saturday evening after the sale, Mr. Joe Deets. who had moved here from North Henderson in 1910, who was a good judge of horses, and a gentleman, too, and later bought many carloads of horses here, said to me, "What are we going to do? Mr. Marsh only has $7000.00 in- surance and he cannot build with that." I said "Let's go up to the Union Hotel (which is the Broadview Hotel now) and see Mr. J. R. Justice, who was a buyer for Mr. Marsh for many years before he retired. Mr. Deets explained the situation to IVIr. Justice and Mr. Justice said. "Don't you think that we and the community could match the $7000.00 and may- be he would rebuild?" Mr. Deets said, "I will give $250.00 to start it." Mr. Justice said, "I will give $250.00." Then they said "How about you. Fred""' I was not very heavy at the time, but I said, "I will give $250.00." Within the week, the shippers into Galesburg, with the help of some Galesburg businessmen, they matched the $7000.00. I say "they" because about all I could do at that time was to raise my own $250.00. I went to the Sec- JoE Deets New Building ond Galesburg National Bank to Mr. P. F. Brown, the President, and borrowed the money. He said to me. "Fred, do you think that is a good invc.«tment?" I said. "Yes. A future investment." And it was, for me. for the next forty years. Mr. ]\Iarsh (Uscontinued the sales for 4 weeks. He first built the brick structure that the City of Galesburg tore down in 1937 for the city parking lot. I remember it cost §6200.00. Then he con- tinued the construction straight through to Broad along Waters Street. Most all men, women and children love horses and ponies, but they are not all judges, and in as much as it was a fascinating business most anyone might try his hand. How well I remember a certain character, his name was Willy Waters. He came from a little town called Cumberland, Iowa; it is at the end of a Burlington branch railroad. He arrived one day in the month of June with a load of large horses, which was unsuited to the market for that time of year. They were like buying a fur coat in the spring. But Mr. Waters was distinguished, he had a red vest, a derby hat on the side of his head, a watch chain as big as your thumb. He did not consider Mr. Marsli or the personnel of the horse market of much account. He checked in at the best hotel and wanted to meet the Eastern buyers. One by one he introduced himself. He called taxis when lie wanted to come to tlie market, he called taxis when he wanted to rcluni to the hotel. He dined them and lie wined them and they were ready foi- his reception. The night' before the sale he gave them a large baiKiuct. aiul tlic next morning he called 3 taxis at liis expense and brought tlicni all down to the mai'ket. They had all been around and they knew how to handle characters of this type. They patted him on the shoulder, lit his cigar, looked at his horses, but they told him they would see them in the ring. He i-e])resented ev(M-y- one at 5 years, 6 years, 7 years and sound. And he had a hot sale. At noon he said to me "I should have been in this business long ago. My load is making $400.00"'. Tiien he took them all to dinner. Then he brought them all back. Then they looked over his horses and told him that he had mis- represented them all. They rejected 18 head, and had a right to as he was a bad judge of soundness when he bought them. But when he opened his afternoon sale, he was an angry man. He changed from a gentleman to a western cowboy. I said, "Now wait just a minute. You sold this pair of horses as sound. This one has a spot in his eye. The other has side- bone." He jumped down, looked at the eye, and said, "It ain't very big." He felt of the sidebones and got back in the box and took the market price. Every horse brought $25.00 to $30.00 less than they did in the forenoon. In the evening he said to me, "This ain't much of a horse mar- ket. I think they're a lot of crooks." He had never identified himself and we assumed he was a big Iowa farmer. But to make matters worse, he wired his banker at noon that his horses made $400.00. Two months later, I was in Greenfield, Iowa, and I thought that I would go over to Cumberland and see Mr. Waters. Maybe he would help me. I was in- formed that he was down the road about half a mile. I went down there and he was working for the road commissioner. He said he could not help me and he didn't ever want to see a horse again. He said he was getting SI. 50 per day and had a good job and would be the rest of his life pay- ing the banker. I went uptown and bought 6 horses and went into the only bank they had and the banker said to me, "One of our local men here shij^ped a load of iiorses to your town not long ago and he never knew that a load of horses could lose so much." I said, "Well, it's possible that he bought iheni too high, or was not a good judge of soundness." So I could see that the banker had financed him and was still holding the sack. Two months later I was in Bridgewater. Iowa, buying a load of horses and over came Willy Waters. I said. "Are you still working for the road commissioner?" and he said. "No, he can go to hell, and that smart banker can wait for his money." So you see it don't take long to get into the horse business and it don't take long to get out. Having been ringmaster for Mr. Marsh for 25 years, it gave me a great opportunity to see different characters come and go. As I recall to my mind another character in the horse business. It was about 1910. one Saturday morning, sale day. when a young man came in the front door on Cherry Street. He was well-dressed, very po- lite and had a wonderful way of introducing himself. His name was Char- lie Watts. Immediately I assumed that he wanted to buy some horses so I started to walk and talk and show him different strings of horses. As we passed through the large barn, he asked me what different horses might bring. Then he would ask me what certain teams of horses might bring, and when we got through to Broad Street I said to him. "I have two carloads of horses over in the south barn, so let's go over there and I will show them to you." When we arrived, I said, "Now let me bring them out and show them to you and maybe I can sell you some." He said, "Oh. no. Mr. Dunbar. I just came over here to get acquainted with the market" and he asked me, "Is this a public market? Can anyone ship horses here that wants to?" I said, "Oh yes". Then I said, "You can go to the country, buy some horses, ship them here and we will give you a square deal and get you every dollar that we can for them." He said. "Xow, Mr. Dunbar, I am a married man. I have been working as a tenant farm- er around the country near Fort ^ladison, Iowa. My wife inherited $1800.00 and she wants me to go in business. So 1 thought I would get acquainted with the market and maybe do so." I said. "$1800.00 won't buy a carload." He then said, "I would just buy $1800.00 worth." I said, All right." So during the day, he was a busy man. He made actiuaintance witli the Eastern buyers. He got in contact with the men who had horses for sale. He was certainly dynamic. To look at him you would want to know him. He was very clever. W'hen time came for the auction at 9:00 o'clock, he was in the front line. When I had to stoj) a horse or a team of horses to speak of their blemishes so llie b()()kkeei)er could wi-ite it down, the buyers would rush into tlie liiig to see how bad the blemishes were. Mr. Watts was right there. When they ran into one another, he would ex- cuse himself and step back in the line. When noontime came, the I'liion Hotel, which is now the Broadview, had a hack — you might call it a l)us. It was drawn by a nice team of bay horses. The driver was a colored man with a Union Hotel uniform on. He (hove in front of the barn every day at 12 o'clock. It held 1(5 passengers. Free ride to the Union Hotel dining room where they served a 50c dinner. The dining room was notel Union Hotel — 1870 at the best between Chicago and Omaha. Only the Eastern buyers and the big shots could afford the price as g o o d restaurants uptown were serving a 25c meal. I noticed that Mr. Watts boarded the bus with the buyers. When the bus came back at 1 :00 o'clock. Mr. Watts was on the first line. He was doing his best to learn the business. In the evening I cHdn't see him when he left Galesburg. But I learned from him that he lived in Fort Madison, Iowa. The next day I left for the country. The next Friday when I came home. Mr. Ralph Sharp, a bookkeeper for many years, told me ^Ir. Watts was in with 15 head. He was over in the restaurant getting his dinner. I walked over, he remembered me with a friendly smile, and asked me to join him. I said. "No." I had been to dinner. He said. "Wait. I want to show you my horses." We went down and he started to tell me what they cost him. I said I wouldn't tell anyone what his horses cost. If he bought them cheap, the buyers would want them cheap. He said, "Well, you are the ringmaster and I think you coulri help me more if I did tell you." I said. "All right." So he led cut the first horse, a i)lack horse. He said, "Now he cost me $75.00". I said. "How did you buy that horse for $75.00?" He said. 'That is all the man asked me." And I said. "He will bring you $150.00." Boy. he was hap- py. Then he led out a dapple gray horse. I said. "What did you pay for this one?" He said "$85,00," I said. "How did you buy him for $85,00?" He said. "That is all the man asked me," I said. "He will bring you $185.- 00." I never saw a man so happy. The rest of his horses were not so good but these horses had not been hitched and ran up and down Waters Street' for their work and good wind, So in a couple of hours, the barn help hitched them and when they ran these two horses they were badly windbroken. Then I said to Mr, Watts, "How did you buy those horses?" He said "The farmers told me that they were sound as far as they knew." And I said. "That releases them of any guarantee, so you will have to take the loss," So the next day when he came into the sale, the black horse, badly windbroken. brought $50.00. the gray horse, badly wind- broken, brought $65.00, But being an outstanding young man. he stood in the auction box and he did not misuse anyone. And Mr, Plank, the Auctioneer, who was always a gentleman, put his arm on his shoulder and said. "I don't belive you are having a very good sale." And with a big lump in his throat he said. "No. I am not." We continued the sale and late that afternoon I found him in the west barn sitting on a bale of hay. And he said. "Mr, Dunbar. I have just about lost my shirt." And then I said to him. "How did you come to go into this horse business?" He said. "^ly grandfather had the best race horses in Iowa and we have his picture and my wife and I both love horses." He said. "Mr. Dunbar, how much do you think my horses will lose and how much expense will T have here?" I said. "You will have about $50.00 freight from Fort Madi- son, You will liave $45.00 commission. You ^ill have $22.50 shoes and about $30.00 feed." He said. "When will I know?" I said. "The book- keeper will make out the bill Monday, and you will get it and your check Tuesday," He had a beautiful wristwatch which I had admired during the day. He said. "My wife gave me that for Christmas, It cost $15,00." He said. "I have 10 minutes before my train." So I opened the gate on Broad Street and walked with him into the depot. He bought the ticket and then he said, "You have done much to lielj) me." and he want- ed to pay me. I said. "No, Mr. Marsh pays me." Now he had gotten liim- self on the mailing list and every week he would get a market i-ejiort. and instructions as to the kind of horses he shoukl buy. But a year or more passed and I never heard anything from Charlie Watts. A little later I had a layover of 4 hours in Fort Madison and I decided to look him up. My first inquiry from a man said. "Only 3 blocks down \hv street. little white house on the corner," The man said. "I think he is home as he works nights in the Santa Fe Shops." So down I went. He remember- ed me. was glad to see me, and introduced me to his wife. He had 3 little children. He said, "You know, Mr, Dunbar, when I came from CJales- burg I knew I would nevei- make a horseman and my wife said that I should trade that wrist watch thai you Yikvd foi- au ahuiu cluck and uct a job. And I did. I am with liie Santa Fe Raih'oad." That was my hist contact with Charhe Watts. I don't recall of only o of the big shippers that are living that once consigned their horses to this market. They are Frank Meeker of Alexis; Charlie Nelson of Rio; Sully Francis of Kewanee; Frank Huston of Wa- taga and Dean Bowen of Sheridan, Iowa. In speaking of Mr, Bowen. he was a young fellow, looked more like Hollywood than a horse buyer, South Kellog Street south of Bank of Galesbitro OF Orpheum Theatre now the site good naturcd aiul well liked, very choicy al)out his girl friends. A few- years after the markets closed, he caine through and stopped to see me. He said. "Fred. I am married and I got a boy 9 years old. My wife is 29 and I am 49 and we are getting along fine." Anfl on August 6, 1958, Mr. Dean Bowen and family, after touring Canada and the New England States and visiting Niagara Falls stopped here to see us and he had an- other boy 5 years old. His name is John Bowen, named after his brother Dean, who is President of the Bank of Sheridan, Iowa. Now I know that this is my farewell interview and can conscien- tiously say that if you would trace the history of I'ncle Tom and his cabin from the jungles of Africa to his cabin door, no where would you find anything in parallel to the grief, the troubles and the difficulties that the average horseman had. So I say good-night and God Bless the Horsemen. Frank Meeker Bill IMathers, Bookkeeper "■'-* 2 ^^^^ TT^j^^n^OY MARSH 1929 'S!^^*'^ * v« ■>! Jtae- :te«-^ »j ^- iiiJ!e»C- The idea of placing a stone marker at the site of the Marsh Sales Barn was conceived by Mr. J. Orton Finley of Oneida. With the help of Mr. J. K. Wasson and Mr. Fred Dunbar, this has been accomplished. ( ontril)utors to the Lcrov Marsh iiKMnoi-ial marker: J. Orton Finley Fred Dunbar J. K. Wasson Sam Coffman Jack Deets Charles Nelson L. F. Meeker Cornelia Thompson Islea F. Deets Kirk McDowell Walter Smith (in memory of James Barton) S. F. Francis Dr. J. W. Lucas V. B. Laswell In memory of M. W. Laswell Earnest Panhorst Oliver Panhorst Oscar LeRoy (in memory of George LeRoy) McCreery Motor Co. Glen Sharp Emil B. Plank (in memory of C. H. Plank) Claude Craver In memory of Chris Fredericks A. L. Doubet Sig B. Nelson Frank Houston In memory of William Houston John Derer Oscar Cushman Guy Routh Mrs. Max Montgomery (in memory of Fred Oliver) I want to thank the following people for their help in furnishing information and pictures: Charles Nelson Glen Sharp S. F. Francis L. F. Meeker Emil Plank Jack PhiUips Islea Deets John Derer M. M. Marsh Earnest Panhorst Joe Coe Leon Benson Oscar Leroy Edgar Little Perry Sargent Mrs. Max Montgomery I also want to express my gratitude to Paul Monson, Herman Pfisterer, Rosemary Berg, and Margaret Berggren, without whose cooperation this little book could not have been ready in time for the dedication of the Marsh Memorial, and especially to J. Orton Finley for his leadership in the move to perpetuate the memory of one of Galesburg's great industries. — Cornelia Thompson