��ֱ����

The year is 1862. The is born under the guiding hand of the Union government, granting any head-of-house, adult, or intended citizen who’s never borne arms against the United States the opportunity to claim 160 acres of public government land, provided they live on it for five years and pay the filing fee. Manifest destiny is more than just a political philosophy. It’s a way of life.

Fast forward to 1882. Joseph Hodges and John Schanck, spurred on by the dream of owning land in the West, travel from Illinois to the ��ֱ���� Territory, loaded up with lumber for a barn and claim shanty along with a team of mules and horses. The railroad takes Hodges and Schanck as far as De Smet, located in present-day Kingsbury County, South ��ֱ����. Established in 1880, De Smet greets the two men with nothing more than the bare accessories that come with the word town, including a general store, bank, hotel, saloon, newspaper, church and lumberyard.

Hodges and Schanck file adjoining claims for homesteads of 160 acres lying about 17 miles northeast of De Smet. If prospective homesteaders haven’t been to the land office to file their claim yet, many reserve their claims by laying four poles together to form the beginning of a building or by digging a hole two to three feet deep to indicate a well is being built. These methods serve as temporary claims until the land is filed on. Without immediate action claims are often lost to other land-hungry settlers within a few days.

Gaining a title to the homestead means building a dwelling on the claim as an improvement and proof of residence. With their Illinois lumber hauled out to the ��ֱ����s by train, Hodges and Schanck build a claim shanty on the line dividing their property. One building counts for both claims. While not technically legal, they add a partition in the shanty and an extra door to create separate “dwellings” in order to comply with the regulations.

With little to decorate, homesteaders often whitewash the inside of claim shanties or plaster the inner walls with newspapers. According to Hodges’ son Harry, “the claim shanty walls were papered with copies of De Smet papers and those of his old home at Wyoming, Illinois.” (Hodges Family Collection)

Excerpts from "The Schanck Family History" By Edna Florence Schanck Halligan 1986

Chapter II
How They Met
page 15

“About 1879 there were newspapers from Peoria, Illinois, with much general and United States news. There had been much advertising about ��ֱ���� Territory land for homesteads. This thought of owning land just by breaking ten acres and building a dwelling, then living on it for a year, was filling the minds of young men who wanted adventure. Also, to own land had been the desire and aim of generations for centuries. People thought their security and sustenance were insured by owning land, so to get land as a homestead was a beautiful dream come true.

John (Schanck), Jr., my father, was of age and he wanted to strike out on his own. He and a neighbor, Joe Hodges, made their plans to go seek their fortunes. Mother and Father had become sweethearts by this time and an understanding that when he came back again, they would marry. Grandmother Schanck was a little unhappy that her son wasn’t satisfied to stay there in Illinois and farm; however the men prepared to leave.

They engaged a railroad car for a team of Father’s horses and a team of Hodges’ mules. They packed their trunks, said good-bye to relatives and started on a journey, they knew not what would be ahead. Their train trip lasted four days. Not having much money, they did everything possible to stretch what they did have. They had some food in a lunch box, expecting to get more when the freight cars were changed to a different railroad. How many changes they made I do not know. From Wyoming, Illinois, to ��ֱ���� Territory was a long way. The railroad came to Egan and at this point a new branch was built west. When they got to De Smet that was the end of the line for them.

Father’s story of their trip portrays how frugal they were. The owner of livestock could ride in the stock car and care for the ��ֱ����s and the fare charged was only the freighting for the ��ֱ����s. After some discussion Joe was to ride in the stock car. Father rode in the caboose. If you have ever been inside a caboose you can understand what a dismal and dirty long ride that was. The coal burning engine belched out black smoke and soot all the way, no place to wash or shave. When the brakeman saw how weary Father was and learned where they were traveling to, he let him ride a short way in the chair car. On getting off the train, Father was feeling and looked pretty tousled, but Joe looked and smelled much worse after sleeping in the straw with the mules. They now were on ��ֱ���� Territory and it was time to look over their surroundings.

De Smet was a typical prairie settlement. In the spring of 1880 the ��ֱ���� Central railroad, a division of Chicago and North Western, had pushed westward from the winter terminus at Volga, to the town of Huron, on the James river. Little villages at irregular intervals had sprung up. Nordlund, later called Arlington; Lake Preston; De Smet; Manchester, once called Fairview; Iroquois; and Cavour were small settlements. Some of these were a couple of stores, a rooming house, livery stable and a claim shack or two close by. Settlers came in great numbers from eastern United States and Europe, many arriving aboard crude and creaky railroad cars pulled by woodburning, huffing and puffing locomotives. Others came by foot or by ox drawn covered wagons and horseback.

A number of pioneers made igloo-like houses in side hills or built sod houses if they had a way to plow up the sod.

De Smet now had two hotels, a feed store, livery stable, grocery, and a few professional people were there to make contracts with the new homesteaders.

The railroad had given quarter sections of land along the railroad line to people who would come and settle there, for if there was no freight to haul, there would be no business. That was how people got interested in coming to this vast prairie.

In the spring of 1880 Father and Joe Hodges arrived at De Smet. It was cold yet, and their stock had to be kept at the livery barn, and as soon as the land men could take them out to see different parts still available for the homesteading they would go take a look. When they left Illinois the spring was almost there, but not so in this climate; this delayed their starting to work.

This waiting was really trying on them, and several times they were about to try for tickets back home again. There was no problem, they could easily sell their horses and mules to raise money for their tickets. Finally, they were driven out in a buggy by a man from the homesteader’s office to choose a new home. It was seventeen miles across country before they came to unclaimed land. One quarter was square and the other was two eighties adjoining. They tossed a coin to see which land each would claim. They returned to De Smet and the next day loaded a wagon with lumber, plows, feed for the stock, their trunks and food.

It was certainly a new experience for them and the thought entered their minds, “Can we find our way back there again?”. No trees, no fences, just extremely tall grass, hills and hollows. Here and there in the distance a column of smoke could be seen coming from a settler’s home. These were the only signs that directed them and relieved the feeling that they weren’t entirely alone in the vast grasslands. The surveyors were accommodating, and would help newcomers. This area was surveyed, but not made into counties. People had so little, having a neighbor was really a good fortune.

At least they were ready to work, and work they did, from early mornings until dark. The livestock was picketed and they slept in the wagon. Each day their houses became more like a claim shack. It took several trips for lumber before they had a place to call shelter. This claim shack was taken to the state fair at Huron, South ��ֱ���� many years later, and is still preserved as Brookings, South ��ֱ���� as an historical object early settlement.

The requirements to get title for a homestead were: They must live on the land a year, break up ten acres, and build a dwelling. After the summer they complied with most all, except, to qualify for a separate dwelling they had to put a partition and an extra door in the house and this passed for a dwelling for each quarter.

Father did not like to cook very well, so he made a deal with Joe; if Joe would cook, he would plow so many days. Agreed, so, day by day they worked. We liked to ask our father what they had to eat, he said, “mainly potatoes, salt pork and flapjacks”. He would tell how they boiled a big kettle of potatoes and stored them under the bed, then when they came in from following that walking plow and gee and hawing the team through grass that was belly high on the horses, they were so tired and hungry they peeled the mold from their “stored under the bed potatoes” and fried them. Maybe they got some penicillin from this, ha!, at any rate, they didn’t get sick.

My father was a chubby boy, a robust young man, and fat by the time I was born. He had very dark wavy hair, blue eyes, rather small bones and got to weight 250 pounds. He was five feet eight and a half inches tall. He always had been sort of fat. Mother thought a fat man indicated he was amply fed, which wasn’t bad. She was not as small boned accordingly for a woman, as he was for a man. All the family had small feet except me, mine were average. As a child this bothered me. When I grew up, it seemed my feet went quite well with the rest of me.”

Chapter IV
A Pioneer Home
page 27

“I can remember quite a little from age five on, also so much our parents told us of their lives earlier. After our parents were married, they lived one year near Grandmother Schanck on a farm across the road. Then Father came back to his claim and built a 14×16 foot shack so they would have a house when Mother came.

While Father was in Illinois, Joe Hodges had moved their clam shack on to his quarter. He must have married almost at once, for when John got back, Joe had two children, Abbie and Ray.

This time Father brought a team and a cow, got this house built, and in February Mother arrived by train at De Smet, in the worst blizzard possible. She would tell us, “The good Lord was watching over me”. When the train stopped the conductor helped her off with her bags and signaled for the train to go on right away. The depot agent didn’t come out, and snow was blowing and whirling so bad she couldn’t see anything; except there had been a tiny light when she first got off. It was very frightening, such a storm she had never known of. She kept her direction where that tiny light had been and wallowed in the snow until she felt the side of a building, then finding the window where that tiny light had come from, she pounded with all her might. The agent heard the pounding and went to see what it was. He was astonished to find a woman out there. He got her in by the stove and again and again apologized for not coming out those few minutes the train had stopped. She could easily have frozen to death. The train had been in such trouble the year before by snow banks, that stopping long might mean being stalled for months.

The next day the agent helped her to the hotel. There were two; he suggested a certain one for ladies, drifters and rough travelers came to the other one. She had written Father when she would arrive, but the weather was so bad she stayed at the hotel three days before he came for her. That waiting was long. The second day she asked the hotel proprietor if she couldn’t help. He was more than happy. He put her into making beds, peeling potatoes and assisting with everything. She didn’t want any pay. He insisted on giving her a few dollars and said, “Any time, if you need work, we will hire you”. John Sturgeon and wife Zoe were the owners of the hotel.

To find the way back to claim amazed Mother, she kept asking Father how he knew that way. He assured her they would find their place. Her new home wasn’t anything to marvel at. It was 14×16 foot shack with a loft.

Winter was a hardship none of us can realize. They never were warm. When washing dishes, the spatters which went on the floor froze at once. Mother wore her overshoes all day long. When they were short of fuel they twisted hay for many weeks. Their mits wore out so fast from the roughness of this prairie hay and their hands became cracked. They kept kegs of nuts in the loft to crack; this helped pass time.

Even summer had its hardship; no shade from trees or streams near. The well held out so they had water for themselves and the ��ֱ����s.”

Staking your Claim

The average claim shanty isn’t much to look at. According to Laura Ingalls Wilder, “It was one tiny room, boarded up and down, one way sloped roof which looked like half a little house.” (Wilder, 1939)

Claim shanties aren’t always constructed out of wood. While wooden shanties are often preferred because they’re quick and easy to build, sod houses are also an option. Built straight from the earth, “soddies” are made from blocks of prairie sod.

While soddies make a solid and reliable shelter, wooden claim shanties aren’t known for being sturdy. Shanties are temporary living structures. Until enough resources can be pooled together to build a permanent home, a shanty is quickly thrown together as a shelter to fit the Homestead Act’s requirements.

Claim shanties can’t always be relied on to remain where they’re built. As Edith Eudora Kohl writes, “It was a typical homestead shack, about ten feet by twelve feet containing only one room and built of rough foot wide boards. It had obviously been put together with small concern for the fine points of carpentry and none whatever for appearance. It looked as though the first wind would pick it up and send it flying through the air.” (Kohl, 1938)

While that shanty looked like it couldn’t withstand a blustery wind gusting across the prairie, other shanties actually met that fate.

“A claim shack might disappear overnight in a high wind.” (Anderson, 1977)

And as found in the ��ֱ���� Farmer, “On this claim, at first, a small shanty had been built of boards, four sides and a roof without any floor other than Mother Earth provided, but this shelter which sat upon the prairie like an umbrella was soon blown down, flattened out and scattered by the wind.” (��ֱ���� Farmer, 1881–1979)

The wise homesteaders anchor down their shacks with wires running over the roof to stakes rammed into the ground. Especially with the howling winds of winter, claim shanties can be insulated and reinforced with a mixture of horse manure and straw.

“This was not as disagreeable as it sounds, resulting in a frozen impermeable protective mass, odorless so long as it remained frozen.” (Lewis, 1979)

Tar paper is also used to block out the wind, rain and snow. According to Richard Cropp, “what really held the tar paper on and kept the shanty from blowing away was the sod from the fire break plowed around the house. This was piled up neatly to the eaves. Next spring we found that the sod on the north side raised any amount of edible mushrooms.” (Cropp, 1981)

Hodges’ and Schanck’s shanty, standing just 12 by 16 feet, endured the testing of pioneer trials on the South ��ֱ���� prairie and still remains today, now on exhibit at the South ��ֱ���� Agricultural Heritage Museum. It remains as a testament to the settlers who had a vision and remained to build a new life despite the difficulties that came their way.