Pioneer Was Smoker More Than Century

March 1920

NEWTON, Kan. — James Owens, a pioneer of Newton, has received news of the death of his grandfather, John Owens, of Mississippi, said to have been the oldest man in that state. He was 114 years old, Mr. Owens said.

"My grandfather was a habitual user of tobacco for more than 100 years," said Mr. Owens. "He used to take pride in declaring that he never had taken a dose of medicine in his life. Although stout and healthy, he was small and weighed not more than 130 pounds."

Gone To Rest — Dr. John P. Finley, Iowa, 1883

Leon, Iowa area, 1883

Gone To Rest

Dr. John P. Finley died at his home in this city, Sunday evening, March 11, 1883, at 9 o'clock. He had been in feeble health for several years, but was able most of the time to attend his patients. He made two trips to the country during the blustery weather of last week, which it is thought hastened his death. His death was unexpected to most of our citizens, very few of whom knew he was sick, until they received the sad intelligence of his death.

Dr. Finley was one of the pioneers of the State. He came to Iowa long before it was made a State, when the Indian and buffalo held undisputed sway over the greater part of its territory. He participated in and contributed to its rapid growth and development. The greater part of his life was spent as a practicing physician. He was careful, laborious and unremitting in his attention to the arduous and responsible duties of the profession he loved, and for which be was eminently fitted, both by natural disposition as well as by careful training and study.

In politics Dr. Finley was an earnest Republican — we may say, a decided partisan — but with no bitterness of feeling. Always courteous, kind and respectful to those who differed from him, he won, as he deserved, friends from all sorts and classes of people. He held but few public trusts, but his ability and integrity were marked in every position he assumed. During the war he accepted a position as a member of the State Board of Enrollment and served until the close of the war. In this important position he endeared himself to thousands of volunteers by his active care for their welfare, while his energy, fairness and scrupulous honesty marked his fitness for the trying position. An exalted public spirit ever animated him, and soldiers in every part of the State remember him kindly for his faithfulness and promptness in responding to every demand made upon him. His kindness of heart was unbounded. Thoughtful of the happiness of others, he endeared himself to all with whom he was intimately associated, and was a marked favorite of all with whom he came in contact. He had ability of no mean order, but it was used less for his own advancement than for the service of others. With all his toil and trials, his life was a happy one, for he consciously contributed to the happiness of others.

Dr. Finley was a man of a high sense of honor, of irreproachable integrity, fine abilities and professional acquirements. He possessed a heart of as tender susceptibilities as a woman. He fully appreciated the responsibilities of life, and met them in a right manly way. There was nothing sordid or mean in his nature; nothing low, base or groveling. In the fullest, widest meaning of the term, he was a gentleman. Now that his life is finished, the testimony is cheerfully borne that he has left to his family and friends the precious heritage of a good name.

This brief tribute we would pay to our loved friend, for he was our friend, sincere, earnest and true. Rest and sleep, sleep and rest! There are many who mourn you — eyes that are dimmed with tears as they remember with grateful hearts your many generous acts of kindness. There are many who feel that your place can never be filled. "The best portions of a good man's life are the little acts of tenderness and love;" and with these Dr. Finley's life was made redolent and glorious. Such men must die, but the world is the better that they have lived.

Dr. John P. Finley was born in Augusta, Kentucky, on the 29th day of August, 1813. After the death of his father, which occurred when he was quite young, he moved to Piqua, Ohio, with his mother and brothers. Here he clerked in a store for some time, and studied medicine. He afterwards engaged in business at Lima, Ohio, and in 1836 was married at Piqua, Ohio, to Maria L. Cheever, who died in Des Moines, Iowa, in January 1865. He came to Iowa in 1839, and settled on a farm near New London, Henry county, where he lived a few years. From New London be moved to Burlington, and from there to Galena, Illinois, where he engaged in the drug business. In 1845 he returned to Iowa, and lived at Bloomfield until 1853, when he moved to Leon, where has been his home ever since, with the exception of two years spent in Des Moines during the war.

Dr. Finley was an active and honored member of the Independent Order of Odd Fellows. He was a charter member of Bloomfield lodge, No. 23, and the first charter member of Leon lodge, No. 84, also a member of Decatur Encampment, No. 38.

For many years he was a member of the Methodist church, and Rev. A. Brown conducted a short funeral service at the residence, after which the Odd Fellows took charge of the services. The Decatur County Medical Society, of which the deceased was an active member, attended the funeral in a body. The Odd Fellows turned out in full force, and most of the lodges in the county were represented. A large number of citizens were present, and the deep feeling manifested showed unmistakably the strong hold the deceased had on the affections of the people among whom he had lived and toiled so many years.

The services at the grave were the beautiful ritual of the Odd Fellows, with solemn dirge and impressive obsequies. So was a noble man laid to rest on a beautiful hill, near a large evergreen, in the early spring time, when the springing grass and swelling buds are nature's assurances of the life to come. His good name, his kind disposition, his great ability, and his social qualities, will be remembered long after his body molders to "mother dust."

——

The following resolutions were unanimously adopted by the Leon Lodge, No. 84, I. O. O. F.:

WHEREAS, It has pleased Almighty God to remove from among us our beloved brother Past Grand John P. Finley, senior, it is therefore, by Leon Lodge, No. 84, I. O. O. F., of Iowa, at their lodge room assembled,

Resolved, That in the death of Brother Past Grand Finley, the community has lost an upright, honest man; society at large a genial and true gentleman; the family a kind and affectionate father, and this lodge one of its most honored and faithful members, whose name is inscribed the first upon the Charter of the lodge, and who has lived for the last two years as the only remaining charter member.

Resolved, That since the 7th day of February, 1856, Brother Past Grand John P. Finley, sr., has been a true and faithful worker in this lodge, and his genial presence in times of despondency, his energy and ability as a worker, and his high appreciation of the tenets of our order, to a great extent has kept alive the fire upon the altar of this lodge, for more than twenty seven years.

Resolved, That while Brother Past Grand Finley will never again sit with us in this lodge, we will ever cherish his manly qualities, emulate his many virtues, and in token of our high esteem for him, we have draped the lodge in mourning, and will wear the fraternal badge for thirty days.

Resolved, That to the family and friends we pledge our heartfelt sympathy in their bereavement, reminding them and ourselves, however, that what has been our great loss has proven his eternal gain.

Resolved, That these resolutions be spread upon the records of this lodge; that they be published in the Decatur and Davis County Iowa, papers, and that a copy of these be presented to our deceased brother's family.
JOHN L. YOUNG,
C. W. BECK,
C. M. MURRY.

——-

John C. Stockton:

The news of the death of Dr. John P. Finley fell with sadness upon my ears. In December, 1849, I met him at his home in Bloomfield, Iowa. He was then vigorous, brilliant, and versatile. Gentle as a child in his manners, kind as a woman in his devotion to his friend and brave as a lion in defense of his conviction of right. Dr. Finley was of a noble stock of Scotch Irish Presbyterians. My father listened to the ministration of his grandfather, Robert Finley, in western Pennsylvania. Robert Finley was a strong man among strong men. Two of his sons, John P. Finley, the father of our friend Dr. Finley and James B. Finley, were Methodist Ministers.

Rev. John P. Finley was a finished classical scholar and died while he was president of Augusta college, Kentucky. To his widow was left the care of his children, which she raised with honor. The two brothers Dr. William McKendree Finley passed away only a few years ago, his only remaining brother now follows him. Each of these brothers were pioneers in the civilization of Iowa, as their father and brothers had been in Ohio, and their grandfather had been in Western Pennsylvania. With his generation. Dr. Finley has passed away. A nobler heart never beat in the bosom of a man.

I owe this tribute to the memory of these good people that I knew and loved so long.

Yours, HENRY CLAY DEAN,
Leon, Iowa, March 12.

Father, Son Reunited After Fifty Years

1913

FINDS SON AFTER FIFTY YEARS SEARCHING

Centralia, Ill., Nov. 11 — John Waters of Summit, N. J., was to-day reunited to his son, for whom he had been searching for fifty years.

After the Civil War broke out Waters entered the navy under Admiral Farragut, serving five years. He placed his year-old son in the care of a Mrs. Fitzpatrick, his wife having died. The boy later was placed in an orphanage in Orange county, N. Y., and at the age of three was brought West in a carload of orphans to be distributed among pioneer families.

The child was adopted under the name of James Fitzpatrick into the home of Charles Jennings. He is today a well-to-do farmer. He had placed frequent advertisements in Eastern newspapers, seeking to get some trace of his relatives. Last week his father saw one of these advertisements in a New York paper. He came to Centralia and visited the house of Fitzpatrick.

"James, put your hat back from your forehead so I can see your face," he said. Fitzpatrick obeyed. Then the father threw his arms around the son's neck. The father is 76 and the son 54.

—Orange County Times-Press, Middletown, New York, November 14, 1913, page 3.

George Washington Meets Fast-Talking Modern Man

Anaconda, Montana, 1914--

Some Observations by the Wanderer

What would the immortal George Washington say if he came to Butte for a day?

The dapper young swell would greet him, of course, with a few remarks, and into his speech inject enough of the present day lingo to make the father of his country wonder what the world is coming to.

"Lo, old top; you look like the ready-cash gazabo come to pipe the gang. Now, for a starter, suppose you shoot your lamps at that across the pike -- isn't she a pippin?"

"Old top, lamps, pippin? I do not understand your language, sir."

"Now, what do you know about that? Wouldn't it crimp you? Forget it, bo, get wise, take my hunch and polish your peepers. I'll put you next to yourself. You sailed in to see dear old Butte, didn't you? Then take my wing and we'll trek over to the swellest cabaret you ever bumped into. Some doings over there, believe me."

"Believe you? Why, my good man, I cannot believe my ears, or" -- his gaze riveted on a wisp of modern femininity, garbed up to the minute -- "my eyes, either."

"Ah, what's the gag; hereto pipe the procesh, ain't you? You're handing me something but don't you do it, see? You need a gin ricky; or how would a flapdoodle kerplunk dingbat at the Dutchman's strike you? Your pipes hot? Come on over to the glassy mahogany and we'll look at Reuben. No? How'd a trolley down to the place where they give a correct imitation of the hesitation and the bunny hug hit you? Can you fall for the dance? Looking for a joy ride? Name your choice and I'll dig; let's paint the old burg a lurid carinine, eh? Get me?"

"How strange it all seems. Would that my sleep had not been disturbed by the Mexican silence at Washington."

"Come out of it, old scout; you haven't sized up this dump yet. There's peaches and cream all over town. Take my steer and don't let any good thing get by."

"Farewell, my country; again, farewell my countrymen. This is not my counter -- these are not my countrymen. By heck, where am I at?"
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The old-fashioned man who established a checken ranch that his heir might enjoy the fruits thereof has a son who is doing his best to keep tab on the chickens.
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The average man who comes to see the sights of the town usually obtains his first impressions in the big mirror behind the mahogany.
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A new suit of clothes, a shine, a shave, a hat with the bow behind and a $10 bill have made millionaires out of many hard-working men.
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The apple of mother's eye sometimes develops into a pippin; often is regarded as a winesap; sometimes as a wealthy, but more than ever, as the summer approaches, she swings into the early transparent species.
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Father used to black his boots with soot from the stove lid and mother, on Sundays put a little corn starch on her ruddy chin. Both used charcoal on their teeth and read the Bible and preferred each other's company on all occasions. This day brings forth sons and daughters who never open the family Bible, never both about father only when money is needed and never mention mother's name in society and prefer any other company to that of their parents.
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Sometimes it is a fact that the man who picks his teeth with his fork and wipes off his whiskers with his knife and uses his fingers to lift the flapjacks to his mouth and passes up the finger bowl can write a check for thousands and live in his own house.
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It has been written that he who hesitates loses. That's all at variance with fact today -- the one who can hesitation best wins the prettiest girl.
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The good fellow invites half a dozen up to the bar and throws up two of the biggest silver dollars he can find. He accompanies his wife to church and fishes around in his pocket for the smallest nickel to throw into the plate.
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The majority of residents of Anaconda are not aware of the fact that a railroad used to run from a point near Washoe park diagonally across lots to Sheep gulch, up to a great quarry from which many hundreds of carloads of building rock had been taken. Lime rock also was mined in that part of the gulch and there were lime kilns there, too. Only traces remain of that once important industry.
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A man who says he is a pioneer of Anaconda, having come here about 17 years ago, accompanied a real old-timer up Park avenue the other day. Passing the brick building across the alley west of the Montana hotel the old-timer said to his young old-time friend:

"That building was the first brick church in Anaconda, one of the very first churches built here, if not the first."

The 17-year old-timer looked up and down the sides of the brick house and then at the old-timer. "That right? That a church once?"

"Sure it was, built by the Rev. Mr. Stanley, a pioneer South Methodist minister."

"Well, I'll be -- I didn't know that."
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And John L. Sullivan visited Anaconda in the early '80s, in the heyday of his importance as a fistic expert. He drew an enormous crowd to the old skating rink down in First street, since named Commercial avenue.
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One sees a very large number of things in one day in Butte if one be inclined to observe things in passing. One can almost say that one sees some things that are not in sight, so much is there before one's eyes. So much may be seen now that could not be seen a month ago. Butte is a remarkable town in many remarkable respects. It grows, it keeps apace, as they say in suffragist meetings, it is in some respects ahead of itself, and it never looks back to see if the rest of the procession is coming.
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The observer notes a wonderful change in everything, including fashions, since last fall. Now they wear high hats and flat hats, whereas last fall they wore flat hats and high hats, only they were built on different lines last fall.
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The observing visitor also notes a radical change in man's apparel. Looking back 25 years ago the observer beholds a kindly old gentleman in the act of shooting a man wearing a thing called a coat that looks more like something that someone had thrown out of a window and which fell on something alive. Nowadays that thing is called a top coat and the man wears it without molestation -- for it is vogue.
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The whiskey is the same, the people are the same, the atmosphere is the same, the cigars are the same, the hotels are the same -- only some visitors imagine that because they are away form home they can stand more abuse than they can at home.

--The Anaconda Standard, Anaconda, Montana, March 22, 1914, page 4.