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Letter: 3

Zelia Evans Spencer Howard

BY GENE Howard

      Zelia Evans Howard, my mother, was born in Adams County near Payson, Illinois, on April 19,1882. She was born in the home of Samuel Moses and Jane Elliot Spencer. Her parents were William Henry Spencer and Jane Evans Spencer.

      Both her parents were of British descent, the Spencer ancestors (Tom) having come to America in 1632 and the Evans ancestors having come to America in 1811.

      She, a babe in arms, was brought to Rockport in Hanson County near Mitchell, Dakota Territory, on July 13,1882. The family lived there for two years and then moved to Potter County from whence they moved to Fairbank Township on the Missouri River in Sully County. That was in 1895, and in 1900 Mr. Spencer bought out a Mrs. Agnes Nickol Johnson who had the building known as Fairbank House. It was a hotel (with 12 bedrooms upstairs), a general store, a post office and was the family home for many years.

      The store drew a large Indian trade from whom she learned some Sioux Language. She remembered an Indian "scare" in 1890 at which time she was taken to Gettysburg for safety. They had been alerted by neighbors, but it turned out to be a false alarm.

      As a young girl, enduring the hardships and hazards of South Dakota's intemperate climate, she shepherded sheep, was an excellent horsewoman and a fine hand with livestock.

      She learned to read when she was four years old. A visiting cousin, having sensed her eagerness to learn, taught her. The family was highly literate and had books and periodicals of the day but inasmuch as there was not an endless supply of reading material, she read Dickens' A Child's History of England seven times as a young girl. She attended country school in Potter County and finished common school under Leon French. She took the teachers' exam when she was 17 and earned her certificate. She taught the Marston school for three months, which was the term, after which she attended Redfield College and Academy for six months and then taught the Harris school one year.

      In 1901 she married Leon DeWitt Howard who, with his brother, owned and operated a hardware store and blacksmith-machine shop in Blunt. They became the parents of four sons and four daughters: Leona, Elaine, James, DeWitt, Harlow, Enid, Irma and Eugene.

      In Blunt she became the pillar of the community. She was a charter member of the Federated Study Club and was active in the Ladies' Aid, the Legion Auxiliary, the Good Neighbor Club and she enjoyed bridge and other pastimes when the duties of home and family allowed. Her home became a central meeting place for social and community occasions, there being not only her warm hospitality but 40 chairs in the big white house on the corner across from the school. At one time, in an epidemic, the house became an infirmary for 14 children sick with measles and complications — for she was a practical nurse as well as a good neighbor and a kind and loyal friend.

      Zelia Howard died on the 29th of February, 1972 and was buried in the Blunt Cemetery which lies to the North of the ancient landmark, Medicine Knoll, that overlooks the village where she made her home for 70 years.

      FAIRBANK RANCH

      Fairbank at one time was the start of a bustling small city. A bridge across the Missouri River was intended but when it was decided that the bridge would not be built there, the town faded and disappeared until there were only the few ranches. Grandpa Spencer rightly named his ranch Fairbank Ranch.

      William H. and Jane Spencer raised their two daughters, Zelia and Fern, on the ranch. My mom, Zelia, did not like ranching but Aunt Fern loved it. I remember visiting the ranch in the summer when Aunt Fern was there, and Grandpa bringing a saddled horse to the house so that she could go riding.

      Our Pa, Leon Howard, would drive the family there for Sunday visits, and we kids loved it. The remoteness of the ranch was part of the adventure. Our brother, Harlow, named after Mom's Uncle Harlow, spent summers on the ranch, and he loved it so much that he was homesick for the ranch when he came home to Blunt to go to school. I suspect Grandma doted on him. She told me once that she would sometimes want Harlow to help her in the garden and find that he had gone swimming with the Day boys. Grandpa had a black family working for him on the ranch. Lew Wallace Day was Harlow's age and was his very good friend. Lew Wallace Day was named after the Civil War general who was the author of Ben Hur. The Days were about the best help Grandpa had on the ranch.

      The remoteness of the ranch made it advisable to be as nearly self sustaining as possible. So of course they had chickens and eggs, and their own milk, cream and butter. They would slaughter a hog and I imagine cure ham and bacon. I remember Harlow telling me of Grandma's sausages that were cooked and then put in a large urn and then melted lard filled the urn. They could be dug out of the lard and warmed up. She had precooked sausages 50 years before they were sold in the markets. Harlow thought her sausages were the best he had ever eaten. It was said of Grandma, "Mrs. Spencer sets a fine table." When I was visiting there I noticed that ranchers who had business with Grandpa liked to come before lunch just so that they would be invited to eat. Of course the noon meal was called dinner in those days.

      One time, John Johnson, who was called Swede John, came to see Grandpa about something and of course he was invited to eat with us. He had been caught out in the rain and it seemed he didn't wash his clothes or bathe very often. He sat on my side of the table but it didn't bother my appetite. Grandma who had a very keen sense of smell never indicated that she had noticed Swede John's odor but I bet she did. I thought he smelled like a wet dog.

      Grandma had a very good vegetable garden and canned and preserved a variety of foods . . . which leads to my next anecdote.

      JUST BLOW THE WHISTLE AT FAIRBANK

      The Federal government considered the Missouri a navigable stream and one of Congress' boondoggles was to have a pilot boat travel up and down the river to keep the stream open for navigation and clear out the snags. The fact was that the only navigation on the river was fisherman boats and Indians coming across the river to trade at the store Grandpa had at the time.

      As I pointed out previously, the ranch was a lonely place. There were times that Grandma Spencer went six months without seeing another white woman. It was quite a novelty to watch the Mandan, the pilot boat, travel past because it was the only powered vessel. It was required that they keep a log of their progress up and down the river to prove that they were working at the job of clearing the channel, etc.

      One time in late summer when the Mandan was on its downward trip, it got stuck on a sandbar for several days. The crew were very hungry for fresh vegetables and one of them came up to the house and asked Grandma if they could buy some. Grandma gathered a generous quantity of everything she had in the garden and the man asked, "'What do I owe you?"

      Grandma said, "Oh that's nothing. We have a surplus of vegetables. Just blow the whistle when you come to Fairbank.”

      It was peculiar that she put it that way, because a garden was a lot of work. It first had to be plowed in the spring, hoed, weeded, and watered and then harvested. But they were generous with what they had in those days — it was nothing.

      Some years later a South Dakota Congressman was reading the Mandan's log and he puzzled over the fact that entries were made on each trip going up the river and coming back down: "Blew whistle at Fairbank." But there were no entries showing the whistle had been blown at Chamberlain, Mobridge, Mandan and other places on the river.

      SWEDE JOHN'S LITTLE BULL

      The Day family had moved away, but later George Day, Lew Day's brother, came back to work for Grandpa.

      I was a very small boy visiting, and George came up to the house to discuss something with Grandpa. He immediately went down to a fenced yard near old big house. Grandpa said to George, "You're right we don't want any livestock like that."

      Swede John owned a little scrubby bull that was trying to breed some of Grandpa's cows, and luckily failing because he was not big enough to reach the cow. "We have to take care of that right now. I'll tell Swede John about it."

      George proceeded to catch the bull and he and Grandpa threw him down on the ground. Grandpa said, "I don't know why Swede John didn't get rid of that critter or at least castrate him.”

      They then proceeded with the operation that changes a bull into a steer. I noticed that some of the nearby cows were looking at the operation with some interest and I said, "The cows are feeling sorry for their little bull."

      George thought that was very humorous but what does a five-year-old kid know.

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