DECATUR COUNTY IN THE EARLY DAYS OF PIONEERS

MRS. LELA KIRK PARKER
COMPILING HISTORICAL AND ROMANTIC SKETCHES
 
 MRS. LELA KIRK PARKER, who is undertaking to compile stories of history and romance of pioneer days in Decatur County, is a native herself, of pioneer stock. She taught in the public schools of the county for several years and attended the University of Missouri where she studied journalism, specializing in fiction and feature writing. The Journal Reporter is cooperating with her in getting in touch with those who can be of assistance.

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To the pioneers, or the relatives and friends of the pioneers of Decatur County, this appeal is made:

The year 1932 saw the passing of a few more of the already scant number who can recall the early life of Decatur County as it was lived in our pioneer days. Soon the last of them will go and with them the thrilling tales of adventure, heroism and romance that formed the warp and woof of a life fabric fully as colorful as any recorded in history.

For in the early days our position on the border, as it is, made of our territory a sort of grand highway over which the people of many nations traveled. Bands of Sac and Pottawattamie Indians made their winter camps along the Grand River bottoms and swung the hammocks of their sick in the branches of the famous "Great Medicine Tree". The Mormon pilgrims founded a "Stake of Zion" at Garden Grove. And the Hungarian refugees under the leadership of UJHAZY, former civil governor of Komorn, a fortified island in the Danube, were directed by President Fillmore to select as their future home the new state of Iowa.

The little band of weary travelers headed into the west and pressed on until it came to the spot most reminiscent of the homeland. Many of them were army officers or noblemen who had taken part with Louis Kossuth in the ill-fated attempt to throw off the Austrian yoke and, after the bitter defeat at Komorn were forced to escape as best they could and begin life anew in a strange land. The names RADNICH, VARGA and DOBOZY are still with us, but the proud little city of New Buda, platted so carefully with its Kossuth Platz and its University Square, is now only a brown cornfield on the west bank of Grand River a mile or so south of Davis City. A lost city of lost hopes. It is such stories as these and countless others that are getting away from us. Isn't it up to us; therefore, as the descendants of those pioneers, to be concerned that they shall not pass completely from mind? And concerned then to such an extent that we are willing to do everything in our power to preserve these stories for all times?

But how to get them? Since these tales are now only memories in the minds of those who first heard them told it is for us to induce them to recall again the things they once thrilled to hear.

As I write this I sit within a stone's throw of the grave of the first white child born in Decatur County. Most of us remember old UNCLE ASA BURRELL well. A tall, gaunt old man who always wore a wide, soft hat. I often fancied there was much of the Indian about him. They were the first playmates he could recall. We cannot go to him for the tales he could tell, but we can go to those to whom he told them.

Most all of the older established families of the county have valuable stories tucked away, like priceless antiques, in the memories of their oldest members. We want those tales - want them badly. They may be of direct historical value, though they need not be confined to that alone. They may be of high adventure or wild, sweet romance - just so it concerned Decatur County folk in "the good old days" is all we ask.

Now let's get going and write it down -- anyway -- it makes no difference how you tell it. If you wish to use the characters' real names so much the better, but in case you should prefer to shield them behind fictitious names, that is alright too. The essential is the story.

These stories will be sorted and edited. Some of them will be fictionized and dramatized in order to capture the atmosphere of the times. Nothing, however, will be done to offend anyone.

A few years ago, PROF. JOHN HOWELL and some associates published a History of Decatur County, a large and very splendid volume which confined itself quite closely to important statistics and biography.

However, this time we wish to reach beneath the dry husk of reality and bring to light the throbbing, pulsing life that was of those times. Much of it will be amusing, some of it sad, but we hope to make it all real and moving as it once was.

Let us organize the Decatur County Pioneer Club with the purpose of preserving the history and romance of Decatur County. Then anyone becomes a member who can contribute story material.

Perhaps it is a tale your grandfather told of the old "Indian days" or the schemes grandma had to resort to, to raise a pioneer family. It might concern the "log rollings", the "husking bees", the "literaries", or the "spelling schools". We had them all.

Now let us go after them. This is a game where nobody has the advantage, anyone can do it. We all start abreast.

When you have finished you will be rewarded with a real "scoutish" feeling that you have done your good deed. Then direct your letter to LELA KIRK PARKER at Davis City and watch for your name and that of your contribution in the next week's paper. Unless, of course, you choose to have your name withheld.

From time to time articles will appear telling what progress is being made in this concerted effort to put on record our Decatur County's past.
 
 In the early days a large grove of sugar maples stood on the old WESLEY NORMAN place at Terre Haute. MR. NORMAN, who was very friendly to the Indians, allowed them to camp there and make sugar. So here they came each spring, bringing with them their copper kettles. These had been obtained from traders and were of different sizes, varying so that one could be put within another for convenience in moving.

Since the Indians returned to this camp each spring they frequently buried some of their kettles, supposedly marking the spot where they could be found again on the return trip.

Three or four years ago, MART SMITH, who happened to be plowing in this vicinity, uncovered several old copper kettles, one within another, which had undoubtedly been buried there by the Indians long ago.

These same Indians, the Pottawattamies, used to camp across the river from the little town of Davis City in which would now be CREIGHTON MILLER's place, between the river and the park. Of course, in those days there was no bridge over the river, which at this point was known as the "Falls of Grand River". It was a good fishing place for then the channel was wider and much deeper than it is today.

LEE CRAIG, who at that time was a little boy about six or seven years old, says he can well remember watching the Indians in their camps across the river. He didn't think much of the older ones who were thieving and greasy and dirty, but he has delightful memories of the little ones.

He says it seemed to be the custom for the older bucks and squaws to come on a day ahead of the children and have the camp all pitched and ready. Then the next day along would come a fat old squaw, laughing and grunting, surrounded by fifty or more little Indians, who came jabbering and skipping like a covey of little quail. And when they came to the ford, such a splashing and squealing as they took to the water.

MR. CRAIG, too, kindly gave us more information concerning the Hungarian Colony. Instead of their being but the one town of New Buda, there were others. He tells us the one we mentioned before was the third and last of the attempts made by the refugees to found a city in Decatur County.

The first was laid out north of where the Davis City Park now is and on the east bank of the river. But sickness due to an unhealthful water supply caused so many deaths that the colonists became alarmed and moved to another location west of the river and a little farther north. This proved to be not much better than the first, so they moved once again a few miles to the south and laid out what we have previously described as the lost city of New Buda.

The barely distinguishable mounds of graves still mark the site of the first city.

MR. CRAIG also related one of the tragedies of that time as he had heard it:

The Hungarian settlers, since they were of the cultured and educated classes, were ill prepared to cope with the hardships of a wild, new country. They had no idea how to make a living under such disadvantages, and their continued diet of fruits and nuts weakened them so they sickened easily.

One young man brought his bride to this new land, but before she would set out on the long journey she had his promise that, should she die in the far away country, he would bring her body back to her homeland to be laid at rest. She was among those who died.

The heart-broken husband, then with an ox team, started out to fulfill his sad promise. He made his way to St. Louis but the authorities would allow him to go no further and forced him to bury her there.

At this same first settlement, according to MR. CRAIG, the first court in Decatur County was held. Old Judge, ASA BURRELL, father of ASA BURRELL, the first white child born in the county, presided. It was held in the open under the great cottonwood tree.

Judge BURRELL could neither read nor write and when asked what he was going to do about keeping records of the proceedings, he replied, "For the sake of all concerned, the fewer records kept, the better."
 
OTHER BITS OF INTERESTING HISTORY
OF THE EARLY DAYS OF DECATUR COUNTY.

By MRS. LELA KIRK PARKER

For some time we have been collecting fragments of history concerning the little rural churches of Decatur County. The records of their foundings are very obscure indeed, in fact all, but forgotten. It is even difficult to determine just which one of these isolated little churches was established first. But so far as we have been able to determine yet, Bethel, near the "Hatfield Settlement", is the oldest.

Of those in the southern and western parts of the county, Riverview, New Salem, Holden, Bethel and Fairview, the majority, if not all, it seems were Baptist associations. Is this true, and was it the same the county over?

We hope there are those among our readers who can give us facts concerning the early histories of these passing institutions for today, they even more than the little schoolhouses, are but "ragged beggars sunning".

This week we will mention a few of the curious things associated with our pioneer days and give an anecdote or two concerning some of the earliest settlers.

Are there any yet living who can remember goose yokes, turkey bells, "bustles" and "rats"? We recall hearing HORACE L. MCCLARAN, a business man of Davis City, say that once they were part of the pioneer merchant's stock in trade. Think of it--long rows of smooth, shiny goose yokes; strings of tinkline turkey bells; piles of great, springy "bustles", and heaps and heaps of big fluffy "rats", and they tell us those things were useful pioneer commodities.

Imagine the consternation if one were to make inquiry today for one of these forgotten objects in a modern department store--say GRAHAM's, for instance. The politely bewildered clerk would probably refer you to the striped paint department.

And in the drygoods section who would recognize such terms as plastron, quipure insertion and passementerie? Yet a pattern of no earlier than 1898 features each of these terms, and calls for ten yards of material besides "garnitures".

But to go back to the goose yoke which really seems to have been a contrivance of much value to the pioneer of Decatur County and his contemporaries.

In those days geese, it is to be assumed, were as clumsily helpless as they are now. And since fences, for the most part rail, were practically few and far between, it behooved the pioneer farmer if he wished to see his geese live to the adult stage to restrain them from wandering afar. For a possible wolf lurked behind every bush and a fox behind each stone.

Most families, however, managed to raise large flocks of geese and very few were the pioneer homes that were not well supplied with fat feather ticks and pillows. Thus the advent of the goose yoke. Years later we surmise it was pushed on into oblivion by the introduction of the modern woven wire.

So it seems that the early settler, with only his froe to split clapboards, his mattock to grub hazel brush, and his flintlock to afford himself meat and protection, had no delicate job in this pioneering.

Now according to some who remember it was also the custom in the early days to drive the live stock across the country to Osceola, as it was then the nearest market. In those days turkeys, because of their ability to shift for themselves, were a very profitable source of income to the pioneer. It was not uncommon then when traveling along the wagon trails in the fall of the year to meet a drove of several hundred turkeys going to market. The farmer and his boys did most likely vie with old Job for the title to patience, but at length they usually arrived safely. Obviously it was a matter where haste would not only make waste but disaster. For when the old bell gobbler or lead turkey became frightened or saw fit to rest for the night--pouff! and the whole flock settled in the surrounding trees.

Turkeys, like cows, were belled to be more easily found in the underbrush. Then, too, the tinkling of the bell might have afforded some protection from wild animals.

And speaking of wild animals -- here is a news item appearing in the county paper, July 30, 1868: W.C. AKERS, living three miles east of Leon killed a lynx.

And quoting from another published in a later day recalling pioneer incidents: "I have seen as many as 30 deer in a drove. One winter in time of deep snow, a deer was chased into our horse lot and killed with an ax."

"Wolves were very numerous. I have seen them passing among our cattle hunting for calves as they wouldn't attack large cattle."

In those days corn was yet more or less a stranger to our Iowa soil, but the early settlers managed to raise hogs after a fashion, and at that it wasn't so bad for the animals fatted readily on the mast under the trees. Wild fruits, hickory nuts, hazel nuts, black walnuts and chicka-pins (acorns) were very plentiful. And 'tis claimed that the meat of hogs so fatted was far superior to any we get today.

And 'tis said, too, in those early days there were no cockleburs in the county. Great Shades! but that is hard to believe when one has traversed some of the thin pasture lands and baked clay hills of--say Eden Township, for instance. One were more apt to conclude that they had been seeded during the reign of Noah.

The scattered settlements and adverse conditions of the early days tended to develop outstanding qualities in the people. The most noticeable, perhaps, was extreme friendliness and an over desire to be sociable. In those days there was small chance of becoming sated with human companionship. And in order to dispel the hunger that arose from the lack of human intercourse we find the pioneer families gathering for "log rollings", "husking bees", "quiltings", and in communities where too strict religious beliefs did not ban them, dances.

These last presented a difficult problem indeed to the pioneer hostess. But she, when called upon to entertain the countryside at a social dance in the home, which more likely than not consisted of a single room l8 feet by 20 feet, showed her resourcefulness by adopting the only means humanly possible, that of first emptying the room of all furniture, even the stove.

What matter if it were the dead of winter? She knew full well that with the first whine of the fiddle her guests would gladly forget the cold and soon the heat from the laboring bodies would make the small room quite warm.

Just space for a word about one pioneer who was known all over the county.

GEORGE ACTON was a gigantic fellow who lived in the hills north of Pleasanton. He was everybody's friend and was known far and near for his amazing endurance in walking. His shoes were number elevens and probably came the nearest thing to the "seven league boots" this county has ever seen.

In his frequent cross country pilgrimages, he always carried a long staff that reached a foot or so above his head and this besides assisting him in his gigantic strides, also enabled him to cross dry shod most of the smaller streams he encountered. It is more than possible that he was Decatur County's first pole vaulter. He was noted also for his chivalry.

Once he walked to Osceola on business and planned on taking the stage back to Leon. But at the last minute before the stage left, a woman came hurriedly and seemed much distressed when told that the stage was already overcrowded.

MR. ACTON, stepping forward gallantly, bowed his long frame and kindly assured her she would oblige him by taking his place.

"But, sir," she exclaimed, "what about yourself? The next stage doesn't leave for so long."

"That is quite alright, madam, "he assured her. "I shall be waiting at the station to meet you when you arrive in Leon."

The astonished lady could only gasp, for she did not know GEORGE ACTON.

And true to his promise, he was there. His speed in walking plus the short cuts he was able to take advantage of, put him in Leon some time ahead of the stage.
 
PIONEER TALES OF COUNTY

by MRS. LELAH K. PARKER
First of a Series of Anecdotes and Reminiscences of Early Days

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The stories appearing from time to time in this column are anecdotes and reminiscences concerning the early days in Decatur County. There is no attempt to list them chronologically; each is told as a separate incident apart from the others.

The first is an account of the "Big Medicine Tree" of early Indian days as mentioned in Prof. John Howell's History of Decatur County.

One legend of the early days is that about three miles southeast of Davis City on Section 13, township 67, range 26, stood a lone oak tree, nearly ten feet in circumference at the ground and not more than thirty feet to the topmost limbs, and spreading out fully twenty-five feet each way. The great limbs were so placed that a person could step from the ground up-them like stair-steps. This tree stood out alone, a few hundred yards from the river, with no forest or brush around it. The Indians, so the legend says, claimed this as a sacred tree, the abode of good spirits, and attributed to it great healing powers. They brought their sick for many miles hanging them in hammocks at the top of the tree, claiming that while there they would not die. Some of the oldest settlers are said to have often visited the sick in the tree."

In the winter of 1851-52 Chief John Kish Kosh of the Pottawattamies and some two hundred of his tribe, camped on a creek not far away. Doubtless old Chief Waubonsie also knew the tree since his tribe had a favorite camping grounds on "Injun Creek" a few miles off to the southwest.

Many years have passed and the country is greatly changed -- the river has a new course, the hills no more are wooded, and the Indians have long since gone. But the old tree still stands.

Today few passersby realize that the low-spreading branches of the great oak tree, that overshadows the little white farmhouse on the FRANK FLORA farm, once served as the first hospital in Decatur County.

Another Interesting Article:

PIONEER WOMEN WERE GOOD HOUSEKEEPERS.

The log cabins of pioneer Iowa were rough structures at best. Furniture was scarce and usually of the rudest sort. Windows were often uncurtained although later paper shades or blinds were common. There were no electrical washing machines, dishwashers, or vacuum cleaners. Most of the pioneer homes were carpetless, so no one felt "out of fashion" with the bare floor scrubbed clean. A description of pioneer homes is given by SUSIN I. DUBELL in the December, 1931, number of the Palifpsest.:

Once a week at least, windows were washed and all woodwork and furniture rubbed or washed clean of every speck and finger print. The floors were scrubbed with homemade soft soap and sand and one of the most prized tributes to a pioneer wife was to make the comment, "Her floors are clean enough to eat off of."

After lime was available, the walls were whitewashed every spring and sometimes in the fall also, giving the rooms a sweet clean smell. On a bright morning the bedding, table, chairs, and other furniture were carried out doors. During breakfast, or perhaps the day before, the lime had been slacked. This was done by putting the dark colored kiln burn lime stone into an iron pot or some such vessel and pouring water on it. Hot water would start the process quicker than cold but either would soon make the contents boil and bubble.

An old broom or a special whitewash brush was used on log walls. An expert did not splash the floor and woodwork very badly, but when the whitewashing was done the windows had to be washed, the floor scrubbed, and the furniture carried in again. By night everything was neat and a steaming supper was on the table. Housecleaning had been begun and finished on the same day.
ANOTHER INTERESTING STORY
OF THE EARLY DAYS OF DECATUR COUNTY.

By MRS. LELA KIRK PARKER

In the early days a large grove of sugar maples stood on the old WESLEY NORMAN place at Terre Haute. MR. NORMAN, who was very friendly to the Indians, allowed them to camp there and make sugar. So here they came each spring, bringing with them their copper kettles. These had been obtained from traders and were of different sizes, varying so that one could be put within another for convenience in moving.

Since the Indians returned to this camp each spring they frequently buried some of their kettles, supposedly marking the spot where they could be found again on the return trip.

Three or four years ago, MART SMITH, who happened to be plowing in this vicinity, uncovered several old copper kettles, one within another, which had undoubtedly been buried there by the Indians long ago.

These same Indians, the Pottawattamies, used to camp across the river from the little town of Davis City in which would now be CREIGHTON MILLER's place, between the river and the park. Of course, in those days there was no bridge over the river, which at this point was known as the "Falls of Grand River". It was a good fishing place for then the channel was wider and much deeper than it is today.

LEE CRAIG, who at that time was a little boy about six or seven years old, says he can well remember watching the Indians in their camps across the river. He didn't think much of the older ones who were thieving and greasy and dirty, but he has delightful memories of the little ones.

He says it seemed to be the custom for the older bucks and squaws to come on a day ahead of the children and have the camp all pitched and ready. Then the next day along would come a fat old squaw, laughing and grunting, surrounded by fifty or more little Indians, who came jabbering and skipping like a covey of little quail. And when they came to the ford, such a splashing and squealing as they took to the water.

MR. CRAIG, too, kindly gave us more information concerning the Hungarian Colony. Instead of their being but the one town of New Buda, there were others. He tells us the one we mentioned before was the third and last of the attempts made by the refugees to found a city in Decatur County.

The first was laid out north of where the Davis City Park now is and on the east bank of the river. But sickness due to an unhealthful water supply caused so many deaths that the colonists became alarmed and moved to another location west of the river and a little farther north. This proved to be not much better than the first, so they moved once again a few miles to the south and laid out what we have previously described as the lost city of New Buda.

The barely distinguishable mounds of graves still mark the site of the first city.

MR. CRAIG also related one of the tragedies of that time as he had heard it:

The Hungarian settlers, since they were of the cultured and educated classes, were ill prepared to cope with the hardships of a wild, new country. They had no idea how to make a living under such disadvantages, and their continued diet of fruits and nuts weakened them so they sickened easily.

One young man brought his bride to this new land, but before she would set out on the long journey she had his promise that, should she die in the far away country, he would bring her body back to her homeland to be laid at rest. She was among those who died.

The heart-broken husband, then with an ox team, started out to fulfill his sad promise. He made his way to St. Louis but the authorities would allow him to go no further and forced him to bury her there.

At this same first settlement, according to MR. CRAIG, the first court in Decatur County was held. Old Judge, ASA BURRELL, father of ASA BURRELL, the first white child born in the county, presided. It was held in the open under the great cottonwood tree.

Judge BURRELL could neither read nor write and when asked what he was going to do about keeping records of the proceedings, he replied, "For the sake of all concerned, the fewer records kept, the better."
 
INTERESTING CHARACTERS OF PIONEER DAYS IN COUNTY:
Hermit of Dickerson Branch - JONATHAN STANLEY - COL. POMUTZ
By MRS. LELA KIRK PARKER.

As there have been some requests by the younger folk for more Indian stories of the early days, it seems a timely coincidence that this week two letters should arrive offering to relate just such tales for us. So in an early issue MR. B.E. AKERS of Denver, Colo., and MR. F.A. GARBER of Leon will tell us some thrilling tales of Indian days in Decatur County.

To continue this week with stories concerning early Decatur County pioneers, we will begin by telling you of the hermit of Dickerson Branch.

Many years ago, back in Kensington, Conn., there lived a young man whose name was WYLLYS DICKERSON. He came of a wealthy family and had been given exceptional educational advantages. He was a cousin of the poet Percival and a nephew of Mrs. Willard, the same who kept a seminary for girls in New York City and who was hostess to Lafayette when he visited the United States. She later, so it is said, returned his visit in his home in France.

As he grew to manhood, WYLLYS DICKERSON had every promise of a useful, happy life. Then he fell in love. But for some reason the girl of his choice chose another and it so embittered him that he lost all interest in life and wanted only to get far away from everything he ever knew.

His family tried in every way to shake his determination. His father offered to invest thousands in his interests, but he would have none of it, and ended by coming out to the frontier, as far from civilization as he could get. He arrived in the territory of what is now Decatur County in 1839, eight years before Iowa was admitted as a state. He pitched his camp on a wooded creek (which runs between Davis City and Lamoni) and finally decided to build a cabin and make his home there.

He hewed the logs and erected the walls, but because he hated darkness of the average pioneer home, he decided not to roof his, but to stretch a covering of muslin instead. And this way he lived for several years.

As time passed and the muslin became dark and weathered, he could not see so well to read so he loosened some of the mud "chinking" from between the logs in the walls, thus admitting the light. Then at last near the chimney corner where his bookshelf was built, he inserted a single pane of glass. Besides his beloved books, this was the sole luxury his cabin ever afforded.

He tended small patches of ground along the creek bottom, raising enough to supply his simple wants. And by hiving swarms of wild bees he soon had a great colony of a hundred or more stands. Then from the honey he learned to make methelgin, a strong, spirituous liquor, and the beeswax he used for money. For many years, so it is said, beeswax was the accepted medium of exchange throughout the territory, being valued at twenty-five cents per pound.

As time went by, other settlers came and built homes nearby. DICKERSON was friendly if sought and very generous, but his quiet aloofness discouraged advances from his less cultured neighbors. It could be seen he preferred no close friendships.

He was intensely patriotic and when the Civil War broke out, he offered a neighbor's son forty acres of land if he would enlist in the army for the preservation of the union. It seems his own physical condition was such that he was unable to go.

As he grew older, he became more and more of a recluse, seldom going where people congregated. He loved nature and was often seen roaming over the hills and along the river bottoms alone. It is said he never killed anything himself nor would ever permit any hunting on his land.

His business, such as required attention, was taken care of by A.G. SCOTT. MR. SCOTT was perhaps the only person who really knew him in those last years.

On the Afternoon of January 28, 1892, MR. SCOTT knocked on the door of the cabin and, receiving no answer, opened it and looked in. WYLLYS DICKERSON lay dead on the floor. So passed the Hermit of Dickerson Branch, whose monument today is the winding creek that still bears his name.

Another hermit of the pioneer days was JONATHAN STANLEY, who, like DANIEL BOONE, dressed in buckskin and lived by hunting and trapping. It is said he was a great friend of the Indians and knew every bend and crook in all the streams for miles around.

Perhaps someone who sees this can tell us more about him.

Still another of the picturesque figures of early days, according to Professor JOHN HOWELL'S History of Decatur County, was COLONEL GEORGE POMUTZ, a Hungarian, who came with the exiles from Hungary after the ill-fated rebellion led by Louis Kossuth.

He was said to be an unusually handsome man, very tall and blonde with full beard and mustachios. He had a splendidly shaped head and beautiful wavy hair, and was decidedly military in bearing. It is said he rode a spirited white thoroughbred he called Highland Mary. He was exceptionally well educated and was an ardent admirer of Byron, whom he often quoted.

It was he who planned the Greater New Buda, third and last of the lost cities of New Buda. He platted the town after the manner of Budapest in Hungary, with University Square, Boehm Street and a Kossuth Platz. He journeyed to Kansas City advertising the prospective town and sold lots.

For a time things went well. Congress passed a law allowing each Hungarian a quarter section of land and industries flourished and developed. Among the outstanding ones were the distillery and shoe shops.

The distillery was well equipped and had its bonded warehouse a dozen yards or so north of where JOHN HAGEN'S farmhouse now stands. (The JOHN HAGEN farm is south of Davis City.)

EMORY DOBOZY was the master expert shoemaker of New Buda, and he and his workmen were very busy, for the exquisite work they turned out was vastly superior to the crude footwear the pioneers were able to get elsewhere.

But to go back to COL. POMUTZ, he was young, unused to the hardships of the frontier and the rigors of a climate far colder than the one he had always known. Then, too, he was restless out of his element. He longed for the atmosphere and spirit of army life. So at length he sought and was appointed consul to Russia, and died while on duty in Petrograd.

He was another of that pitiful band forbidden by a stern edict to see again the yellow houses and red-tiled roofs of Old Buda. But to the last we fancy he was homesick and still said "Varok (I love) Hungary"!
Source: Leon Journal-Reporter, 1933; contributed by Larry McElwee
 
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