This week in the 52 Ancestors challenge did not go quite as planned. Hot on the trail of John G. Barker, grandfather to my adopted great-grandmother, Minnie, I zeroed in on a John G. Barker in New York City in the latter half of the 19th century. He was a rather prominent member of the local and national Lodges of the Masonic Order. In City Directories, he was variously a librarian, publisher and purveyor of Masonic goods, and he wrote the definitive history of the Early History of Masonry in New York. There is an absolutely marvelous character description -- it's not a biography, the author just *really* wanted to tell you about how complicated and contradictory the recently deceased John G. Barker was -- in a 1902 Masonic history. He was even part of a delegation that went from New York to Sacramento, CA, in the 1880s to help establish a lodge there, something that I thought could speak to how "my" Barkers ended up on the west coast.
But still it must be admitted that Barker himself was behind the age.
His place of business was in a street that was once a Masonic center,
but had long ago lost its pre-eminence in that and in every other respect,
except for manufacturing industries. He had a large stock, but it was
never displayed properly. When you wanted anything you had to ask
for it, and Barker generally had it, no matter how rare a bibliographical
treasure it might be... The establishment was not an inviting one. It was not at all tidy; the furnishings were “the remains of former grandeur,’ and the presence of half a dozen cats did not add to the neatness of things.--Miscellany of the Masonic Historical Society of the State of New York, 1902 by Peter Ross
Sadly, this John G. Barker appears to have no connection whatsoever to "my" Barkers. It doesn't appear to me that he has any living descendants -- or I would have made certain they saw that book! He sounds like an truly interesting person and I learned a lot while researching him, but we're not related. Genealogy is like that... but is it ever really a bad thing to learn something new?
One of the things I learned was that, in 1900, 40% of all Americans belonged to some sort of fraternal organization. Surprisingly, the Freemasons, like the aforementioned John G. Barker, were only the 2nd largest club, slightly behind the powerhouse of the International Order of Odd Fellows (IOOF). In 1900, the Odd Fellows boasted over a million members, a number that we smugly note was possible because they had created a women's auxiliary (the Rebekahs) in 1851, while the Masons didn't add their women's branch (The Eastern Star) until the 1870s. There's some 'discussion' about the origin of the Odd Fellows' choice of name. While it's often claimed that it arose from the 'odd' and unusual idea that people should bestir themselves to care about the welfare of others, a contrasting opinion is that the group was open to those of any occupation, unlike the Masons, whose members were initially required to be current or former workers in stone and brick. The Masons didn't allow Catholics to join (which earned them a big thumbs up from the British Crown), while the Odd Fellows was actually originally a Catholic organization, although it quickly became nondenominational, especially once it migrated outside of England.
I vaguely remembered that my great-grandfather, George Calder Thomas Jr., was a member of the Odd Fellows, and had the impression that the organization had some importance in his life, and so thought I'd explore that connection this week. George died when my grandfather was 14, and my grandfather died when my mother was 17, so the "memories" our family had of him were very second hand. In the end, I think it was possible to get a real sense of the man from what evidence does remain of him, and especially from his involvement in the Odd Fellows. You'll have to let me know what you think.
George was born in Brantford, Ontario, in 1850, but his parents brought the family to Fort Atkinson in the brand new state of Iowa six years later. Apparently, that wasn't frontier-ish enough for them, and they traveled further west to Colorado in early 1861. His eldest brother, Harvey, enlisted in the 2nd Colorado Cavalry and served throughout the Civil War as Union forces struggled against Native Americans in the west and southwest. (Harvey's obituary noted that he suffered for the rest of his life with an intestinal disorder he'd picked up while roughing it in the Army. Do you think it giardia? I think it was giardia.) Brother Richard decided to pursue mining and prospecting, moving to a small land claim in Montana where he lived out his days, but the rest of the family returned to Iowa after the war, to farm near the settlement of Xenia, about 30 miles northwest of the capitol of Des Moines. George's mother, Matilda, died in 1873 and is buried in the tiny Xenia cemetery. Sixty-seven year old George Sr. apparently found this all too settled and staid; he moved on to Kansas, staking out a new land claim and building sod houses.
The following year, 23-year-old George married 27-year-old Mary Jane Rhoads. I love their wedding portrait, here colorized and repaired courtesy of MyHeritage. They look so resolute yet faintly terrified. George's younger brother, John, also married that year and he and his new bride opted to join his father in Kansas. George and Mary Jane had two children, Sophia and Maude, although Sophia died before her fourth birthday. I think not having more children was a sadness for them; in the 1880 census they are caring for a little girl whose parents lived nearby.
It seems as though, following a rather nomadic childhood that featured more wilderness than culture, the young husband and father was rather eager to experience "town" life. In 1880, when the railroad bypassed Xenia for a route a few miles to the west, a new settlement sprouted up beside the tracks. Many Xenia residents moved to this new town of Woodward, and George was one of the petitioners for incorporation on August 29, 1883.
George rented and then purchased a building on Main Street, operating a restaurant and general store. He eventually become a confectioner, and serviced sewing machines and (!) pipe organs, too. He taught Sunday School at the Methodist Church and served as Postmaster. He was on the School Board.
In 1886, Mary Jane died. George remarried in 1890, to one of his former Sunday School pupils, Eldora Nance. Their only child, George Wayne Thomas, was born in 1892. In 1901, most of the Main Street businesses were destroyed in a catastrophic fire, but George was one of the first merchants to vow to rebuild, which he did. Early in the morning of October 29, 1905, George's appendix burst, and he quickly died of septicemia. He was 55 years old.
George's cemetery marker features the three links symbolic of the International Order of Odd Fellows: "friendship, love and truth." His obituary mentions his membership, too. His biography in the 1914 "History of Boone County, Iowa" notes that he was a member of "the famous I.O.O.F. drill team of Woodward which attended the Baltimore conclave of that lodge and won the championship not only of Iowa and the nation, but of the world."
The world? Do tell!
Woodward IOOF Lodge #460 was chartered in 1882, and George was one of the 20 founding members. Quickly outgrowing borrowed meeting space, they constructed a two-story meeting hall in 1892, whose ground floor was offered out as an auditorium -- "Opera Hall" -- when not in use. The Woodward Lodge had meetings every Saturday evening, but also served as a bit of a men's social club the rest of the time. Members kept their own coffee cups at the hall for convenience. I expect this place was a real respite and comfort for single-parent George following Mary Jane's death, as well as a place for convivial time with fellow businessmen, planning the growth and development of the little town they'd created.
Drill teams were quasi-military in nature, featuring colorful costumes and formation marching, accompanied by drums and sometimes bugles. Why a Drill Team? I suspect the short answer is for marketing purposes, both to encourage new members and to respond to wives who spoke disparagingly about Saturday nights at the Hall (We're practicing! Really!). And everyone was doing it... the Grand Army of the Republic members had kept the fife and drum discipline of the militia alive following the end of the war, celebrating veterans with parades and pomp, and the other fraternal organizations wanted to represent, also. On September 16, 1902, the "Sovereign Grand Lodge" session of the IOOF was held in Des Moines and "drill teams" from across the country joined together for a parade that included an estimated 25,000 men, and 30 bands; "if the weather had been fine, there might have been 5000 more."
However, the real skill of these teams lay not in their parade marching but in their execution of "degree work," the scripted and choreographed ceremonies required to progress upward within the fraternal organization. Appropriately, not much is written about these ceremonies which are intended to be secret. You can find "scripts" on the internet, as well as accounts of current-day tests in which applicants (ack!) watch a video of the ceremony. Back in the day, however, the choice of things like music, movement and especially costuming to incorporate into the required elements created drama and mystery. So another reason for the public marching -- to show off those fancy costumes!
It seems the Woodward Lodge was extraordinarily accomplished in their Degree Work. At the Des Moines convocation, they were chosen to "exemplify" two different degree ceremonies, the only team so honored. (All that practicing!)
In September of 1903, the York, PA, paper reports that the "famous degree staff of Woodward lodge, No. 460" had passed through town on their way to the Sovereign Grand lodge competition in Baltimore. As someone who came from this same small town, I can only imagine how gratifying this sort of notice must have been for George and his friends... something they had created "from scratch" -- the lodge and even the town, itself -- was being showcased at a national level, all the way across the country, in head-to-head competition with lodges formed in large, established and wealthy metropolitan centers. George likely hadn't traveled much since his family settled back in Woodward. How must he have felt, riding to the east coast in the comfort of the train, after having traversed much of the west on (when he was lucky) horseback?
At the 1903 Sovereign Grand Lodge, the Woodward team succeeded beyond their wildest dreams. Amongst dozens of competing teams at each level, they took second place in the First Degree and Third Degree work, and they were awarded a silver cup for winning first place in the Second Degree work competition.
The Grand Lodge was held in San Francisco in 1904, but it doesn't seem that many representatives from outside of California attended and there was no competition. I cannot find results for the prize drill competition in Philadelphia in 1905. Reportedly, the Woodward team took first place honors again in Toronto in 1906, but George was dead by then. The next year, the Woodward IOOF built a new 3-story brick Opera House and meeting hall; it was demolished my freshman year of high school and the space devoted to a small plaza that celebrates the town's history.
While all I can do is speculate, George's story, to me, is one of a boy who had his fill of nomadic life, who wanted to settle down and build something of his own, and celebrate a bit of civilization and culture along the way, gosh darn it. Finding a bunch of like-minded folk, he did that, teaching himself all kinds of new skills along the way. I think the death of his daughter and then his wife just knocked the stuffing right out of him. He no doubt had strong regard for his second wife, Eldora, and she likely respected him, but theirs was not a love match. Although his brother, Harvey, remained nearby and the families were close to one another, I'm not sure either knew very much about being a father, their own father having demonstrated more adventuring than parenting. Their children were all quite literate, however, as their grandma Elizabeth Calder would have demanded. I think George tried hard to be a good man, to leave he world a better place than he found it, and I think that he succeeded in that. His time with his IOOF Lodge brothers was likely enjoyable and diverting, his only real "fun," and it's wonderful to know that he and his colleagues took their hobby and passion to the very highest level.
When you grow up in the same little town in which your ancestors lived, the way my brother and I did, you're often referenced that way. I was introduced as "Shug Thomas' granddaughter" many times, but George had been gone too long for any association with me. Mom said that she was "George Thomas's granddaughter" to some, though. Life in a small town can be challenging, especially if conformity isn't your jam. However, there is a certain comfort in being from a place where everybody not only knows your name, but that of your great-grandfather, as well. It's a good name to have.
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