This book contains a fictional story based on facts from the history of the Influenza of 1918. It is written from the perspective of one man and his inability to save his family and town from the deadly Influenza of 1918.
Excerpt
PROLOGUE
Lemmon, South Dakota
December 18, 1918
What’s that? I hear someone calling my name. It sounds like Mary Helen. I open my eyes and blink to adjust them to the dim light. My head has fallen to one side and my neck has cramped.
The windows reveal the darkness outside. A flickering candle beside me is the only light in the parlor. Snow pellets clattering against the windowpanes when I fell asleep have stopped. I step over to a window and pull the sheer curtains to one side. The bright moonlight is glistening off the snowdrifts piled up against trees in the front yard.
No light, except mine, is visible in the neighborhood. I glance at the clock on the bookshelf, 1:00 a.m. I had been asleep only a few hours. I hear Mary Helen call me again.
I slip into her room carrying a dim candle for light. I go over and sit beside her small body. I can feel the heat radiate from her as I slip my hand onto her forehead. She’s burning up with fever. I brush the hair from her wet face and ask her what she needs.
“Daddy, I am so thirsty. I need some water or juice. I saw the light in the parlor. Is everything all right?” she wonders.
“Everything is fine, peanut,” I lied. “Everything is fine except for your fever. I have some water here for you to drink.”
I had aspirin to help with the fever. Other than that, I could do little more for my Mary Helen. Never in my life have I felt so helpless, so desperate. I dampen a rag in the cool water basin beside her bed and wash the perspiration from her face. I cool off the rag once more and lay it on her head.
“That’s better, Daddy.” She tries to smile. “How are Eddie and Mommy?”
“They are resting now, honey.” I close my eyes as I lie to her. “Now you need your rest. Let the aspirin work. Hopefully it will take down your temperature. Keep fighting my little Helen””keep fighting. “I’ll be out in the parlor. If you need anything, just let me know.”
I bend down and kiss her cheek. She is so very hot. It’s like touching a hot-water bottle. I leave the door open so I will be able to hear the slightest noise from her room. I check the others and grab a quilt from the hall storage closet. I return to my chair and wrap the blanket around me. I thought I couldn’t possibly get back to sleep, but as I let out a sigh and relax my shoulders, under the weight of the quilt, I begin to doze once more, dreaming of how my life has changed forever.
CHAPTER ONE
St. Paul, Minnesota
October 1907
First-time events are often memorable because they alter our lives forever. Today was a first for me in many ways. This was my first train ride, a ride that would eventually uproot my family and move them halfway across the country. This train ride would also be the first time I would be away from my family for an extended period of time. And this first train ride would be the first time I would meet my new best friend.
“Excuse me,” a voice sounded somewhere beside me. “Is this seat taken?”
Lost in my thoughts, I wiped off a small round in the middle of condensation forming over the train window. I peered out the wet glass straining to see Katherine and my two beautiful daughters waving from the depot platform. As the engine’s steam swirled around their feet, an ache penetrated my heart.
The girls, Mary Rose, age 7 and Mary Anne, age 5, clung with one hand on their mother’s skirt while waving high above their heads with the other. Katherine slowly touched her eye, moved down and circled her heart, and pointed at me. I returned the silent gesture of our love for each other.
“Is this seat taken?” I heard someone beside me speaking a little louder, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Katherine.
The excitement that propelled me to be on the train today was dampened with the loneliness now surrounding me as I heard the engine whistle its final warning. The rail car was packed with hundreds of prospective landowners making a special run to the Lemmon area of South Dakota. All on board were going to a special land sale that was pending. It was falling prey to my wanderlust that put me on this train bound for a small tent-town somewhere down the line with credit papers swelling in my coat pocket. That wanderlust would dislodge my family from their home in St. Paul with the hope of a better life away from the big city.
Seats were filling fast as the train lurched forward. All men, all dressed in suits and ties, except for me, I never wore a tie””couldn’t stand the thing around my neck, talked excitedly about the hopes of being at the dawn of a new town.
After the train lurched forward again, I strained to get a better view of my family, as their silhouettes grew smaller.
“Excuse me, sir. Is this seat taken?” This voice was now peppered with impatience.
After waving a final goodbye on this cool October morning, I realized the voice I heard was talking to me. I looked up to see a tall, gangly young man with a wide grin on his face.
“This seat,” he said. “Is this seat taken? Can I sit down?
“Oh, of course,” I said. “Please, sit. Sorry. I wasn’t paying any attention.”
The gentleman put his bag and hat on the carrier above the window. “Obviously,” he answered as he flopped into the seat next to mine and neatly folded his coat over his knees. “That your family?” he asked, nodding toward the platform.
“Yes,” I answered, painfully aware that it would be many days before I would see Katherine and the girls again.
“Nice looking family.” The stranger stuck out his hand. “My name is Ichabod Crane.”
Still preoccupied with thoughts of my family, I took his hand and said, “Oh, yes. Hello. My name is Walter Kelley.”
This stranger sitting next to me was shaking my hand and grinning. I woke from my stupor to say, “Excuse me, Ichabod Crane?”
“Well, not really,” he laughed. “My name is Earnest Collier, but everyone thinks I look like Ichabod Crane, you know, from the Legend of Sleepy Hollow. So sometimes I just introduce myself that way for a good laugh. But, you don’t seem to be in a laughing mood.”
I chuckled. He really did look like the character from the legend, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings by telling him that. “Sorry, Earnest, but I miss my family already and we haven’t even rolled a half a mile. Do you have family?”
“My mother and father have passed on. I inherited the family business, a mortuary, from my father. I can’t seem to find a girl who wants to marry a mortician, especially one that looks like Ichabod Crane. So I am pretty much alone in the world. And by the way,” he continued. “Please call me Ernie.”
“Okay, Ernie,” I said. “You can call me Walt.”
I settled back in my seat as the train’s rhythmic wheels glided along their rails gently rocking my head from side to side. The train picked up steam and soon was rolling along at a faster pace. I felt every inch of distance between my family and myself. I had just left, yet I couldn’t wait to get back.
I rolled my head toward Ernie. “Do you know much about this Lemmon City we are going to?”
Ernie was reading papers he had brought aboard. “No, not much other than it’s just one of many small towns that are blossoming up along the railroad line. Land is available in places where people have never lived before. Pretty exciting, isn’t it?”
“Yes it is,” I agreed. “I want to start a new life with my family away from St. Paul. Katherine’s Mother was killed in a tragic horse cart accident before we married. Her father is a prominent banker in town. He recently remarried to a good friend of the family.
“I’m a carpenter from lower town and not part of the St. Paul social class. Katherine and I would like to take our family somewhere we can start over and be our own people. Does that make any sense to you?”
“Absolutely,” he answered. “I inherited a business but also a legacy. I have longed to become my own man. That’s why I want to start over in Lemmon. I want to build my own business, not just continue my father’s legacy.”
“Well, Ernie, I’m glad you decided to sit beside me on the trip. We seem to have a lot in common,” I said.
“Your wife,” Ernie asked. “Is she a Maloney from the financial district?”
“Yes,” I answered. “Michael Maloney is her father. Do you know him?”
He stuck some credit papers under my nose. There, Michael Maloney’s name graced the signature line. “Sure do,” he said. “Mr. Maloney gave me all the credit I need to get started in Lemmon. He is one nice person.
“I can see what you mean, though, about coming from different social circles,” he continued. “The Maloney name is quite well-known. I remember the newspaper stories on the accident that killed his wife. How did you ever meet his daughter?”
“Also, quite by accident, literally,” I answered. “We met while I was taking a picture of a house I had recently constructed. Se saved me from stepping into a freshly poured concrete sidewalk as I was trying to get the whole house in the lens frame. It was one of those new portable box cameras. I had never taken a picture before and wasn’t paying much attention to where I was stepping.
“She was looking for me at the site. Her family wanted me to build a house for them in the country. Their home in the city, more like a mansion, was right across the street from the new capitol building. I started courting Mary Katherine during the construction of their new home much to the consternation of her mother. In fact, if her mother had not been run over by that team of horses carrying marble to the new capitol building site, we probably wouldn’t be married today. Mrs. Maloney couldn’t get over the fact I was not from a prominent family. She never thought I was good enough for Katherine.”
“Funny how events in our life mold our future,” Ernie added. “If my mother and father were still alive today, I probably wouldn’t be on this train heading for some unknown future.
“Did you say you were a carpenter, a house builder?” Ernie asked.
“Yes, one of the area’s best. That is why I am so confident I can make a new life in a new town.”
Ernie thought for a moment and said, “I am going to need a good carpenter to help with my building. Would you be interested?”
“Sure,” I answered. “I would love to build you a shop. What did you have in mind?”
“Well,” he pondered. “A funeral parlor would be the base building. It’s really all I know, but I have always wanted to have a furniture store. I know it sounds crazy, but would there be a way to combine the two functions in one building?”
“Anything is possible, Ernie,” I answered. “If we both get land in this sale, we can figure something that works.”
We spent the rest of the trip talking about my family, politics, Ernie’s hopes and dreams, and how our life would change dramatically if we were to move to South Dakota. It was that first train trip that welded our life-long friendship.
CHAPTER TWO
Lemmon, South Dakota
October 1907
We talked for hours then were rocked to sleep by the train. We woke with a start as the whistle blasted our arrival to all of Lemmon. The excitement was at a fever pitch as the engine slowed to a halt. Everyone on board grabbed their bags and hurried to the exits anxious to look at the lay of the land.
Ernie and I stepped off the train and looked around. We didn’t say too much. More shocked at what we didn’t see than what we did see. Except for a few tents hastily thrown up in the dirt, the remainder of South Dakota seemed to be an endless sea of flat land covered by waves of grass.
Born out of necessity, there were a few businesses in the new town; a blacksmith shop and livery stable; a bank; a hotel; a law office; and a mercantile shop. The town was just inside the South Dakota border as North Dakota honored liquor prohibition and South Dakota did not. Thus, one of the first businesses to be established in Lemmon was the saloon.
A swarm of bargain hunters had swooped down upon the town. The hotel, a makeshift tent with straw beds, was quickly filled to capacity. Some prospective buyers were forced to find refuge wherever they could. Many of them found refuge in the livery stable in the hay next to horses. It was quite refreshing to see these well-dressed city folk lying down next to the horses and mules.
Ernie and I quickly found cots in the tent hotel before it was filled to capacity. Ernie felt comfortable enough to change into a shirt and pants. This was definitely a casual occasion in a very casual setting. On the other hand, I always wore just a shirt and pants so the surroundings were very comfortable for me.
On special occasions such as going to church, I would put on a suit jacket and sweater vest, but I never donned a tie. That was the extent of my “dressing up.” Katherine knew that from the first time I met her and down deep in her heart she knew I would never change.
One Christmas, Mary Katherine bought me a tie. She wanted me to wear it to church. I politely hung it in my closet, but never put it on.
After touring the land for sale, I became excited about the new town of Lemmon and the potential of what that town could be. With our good credit papers from the First National Bank, Ernie and I secured four lots, two on Main Street of this brand new little town for Ernie’s building and two lots just off Main Street for the new home I was dreaming about building for Katherine.
With promissory notes in hand, I boarded the train back to Katherine and the girls. I would start building as soon as my schedule would permit it. First to be built will be a large house for my family, then houses for others and, of course, the new funeral parlor for Ernie.
I returned to St. Paul to make arrangements for my family to move to Lemmon. Katherine and the girls were living with her father so I could save money for the journey westward. I made arrangements to return to Lemmon before June. The winters in Lemmon were long and hard so we would wait until the thaw to start construction. Katherine and I dreamed and planned our new home all winter. When spring came, I was gathering supplies to return to South Dakota.
I sent the lumber and supplies ahead on rail cars. I looked up Ernie Collier and hitched a ride in his hearse from St. Paul to our new town of Lemmon. Ernie’s hearse was quite fancy. The Model T version had bucket-type seats in front. Behind the seat it was open to the back door like some of the larger vans. Large flaps of material hung down on the sides and back.
When a funeral procession called for it, a casket would sit in back and the flaps would be rolled up for viewing as the hearse slowly paraded to the cemetery.
For our cross-country event, however, we had the flaps securely tied down. We had the hearse filled with possessions we would need to start building my house and Ernie’s business.
We brought along a large wall tent and wood-stove for cooking. Our clothes and tools were crammed into the remaining space. Mary Katherine packed us a lunch basket filled with delicious goodies to eat on the road. A large water jug was near the back.
There were no trees in northern South Dakota, not even a stick. We strapped wood wherever we could on the truck and took off on our new adventure. We were both happy to have found each other and, as we started on our journey, we vowed to remain life-long friends. And we did.
CHAPTER THREE
Lemmon, South Dakota
Winter 1908
Ernie and I spent the entire summer and most of the fall living in our wall tent in the lot next to my new house. We had gone home to St. Paul twice during that time because I was getting homesick to see Katherine and the girls. The days were getting shorter and the weather was getting cooler each night. It was getting harder and harder to remain enthusiastic about staying in Lemmon.
My house was almost complete, thanks to Ernie and another carpenter, Lyle Gusset. With our plans for a large family in mind, I built a huge three-story house with 12 bedrooms. It was the largest house I had ever built, and it seemed as though we would never finish before the first snow fell, but with hard work and long hours, we did.
We completed and painted the outside, shingled the roof, and even planted a few trees out front for landscaping. We had this all done by early September. We spent the next three months inside the house completing the basement and installing a coal furnace. We moved upstairs to finish walls and flooring before the weather took a turn for the worse.
In November, we stepped back and declared the house finished. All the house needed was some furnishings, the delicious smell of Katherine’s cooking, and the laughter of my beautiful girls to make the house a home.
I left Lemmon just before Christmas to return to Minnesota. I arranged for Ernie to stay in the house while I gathered up my family to return. Ernie slept on cots brought in from our construction tent. He kept the house warm and completed some of the inside finish work while I was gone. I promised when I returned we would start his building. But, for now, winter had its way and completely dominated the area with snowstorm after snowstorm.
Katherine, the girls, and I stayed at Dad Maloney’s until February. As telephone and electrical lines quickly followed the railroad tracks across the country, I had anticipated telephone service to be completed to our new house in February. On February 15, 1909, I called the operator and was put through to Lemmon.
Our telephone was on a party line. Our personal ring was two longs and four shorts. I was excited when the two long and four short rings played in my ear. Ernie answered, just as I had imagined, and said, “Ah, hello?”
“Hi, Ernie,” I shouted. “It’s Walt. Walt Kelley. Hey, buddy, are you talking on my new telephone?”
“Wow,” Ernie yelled back. “I wasn’t sure if I should answer it. The last time it rang, I picked it up and broke in on two ladies having a conversation on the line. Boy, they told me to hang up and not too politely.”
“How is the weather in Lemmon? I “˜m getting anxious to get the family moved out there,” I asked excitedly.
“Well, the ground is still frozen solid. The wind blows every day. The sun shines every day, except for the days the blizzards pile up the snow, but the drifts haven’t been higher than the basement wall and I keep the porch swept off.” He continued. “Walt, that coal-burning furnace you have in here is great. I keep the hopper full and the house has been toasty warm all winter. I would say that if you could get here with little trouble, the house is ready for its new family.”
Two weeks later, on March 6, 1909, I moved my family by rail to our new home in Lemmon, South Dakota, after assuring mail and newspapers were forwarded to our new address.
When we were safely on the train, my beautiful Mary Katherine told me she was carrying our third child. She was afraid to tell me before we left for fear I would change my plans. She was anxious to move to her new home and didn’t want anything to interrupt. She was right, if we could have turned around right there, I would have.
“Things in Lemmon are really primitive right now, Katherine. There is one doctor in town, Dr. Anderson, but his experience has been taking care of a few hundred men. I don’t think he has much practice with woman things. Maybe you could go back to St. Paul just before you are due and have the baby in the hospital. The nearest hospital to Lemmon is 150 miles, in Aberdeen.”
“Don’t be silly, Frederick Walter Kelley,” she laughed. “This is our new home. I intend to have many other children to fill those 12 bedrooms you made. If Dr. Anderson isn’t up to speed with woman things, as you call it, we will give him lots of practice.”
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Copyright 2008 Dawn Meier. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
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