Week 35  - Disaster

 

I grew up in Tornado Alley. It’s a swath of ground that covers most of Nebraska, Kansas and Oklahoma, then swoops down to claim the panhandle and the majority of north central Texas. I’m familiar with tornados. Fortunately, the science for determining when and where they might strike has developed into a remarkable alert system. Although they still cause catastrophic damage, at least we know where they’re likely to form and have some notion of how to get out of their way.  So, you’re probably thinking by this time that I’m going to tell you a story about tornadoes. The answer is no, but something just as destructive. 

The Rocky Mountain Locust was a specific type of grasshopper. I say “was” because it is now extinct. The last live specimen was in recorded in Canada, in 1902. While they were alive, however, they were given the distinction of the greatest concentration of animals ever by the Guiness Book of World Records.  During 1874 & 1876, the “Locust Plague” ravaged much of the same ground that Tornado Alley claims as its own.

In 1861, Jason William Hollingsworth married Hannah Sturgeon in Platte County, Missouri. He was 23, she was 19. Jason’s parents, Levi and Mary (Boshers) Hollingsworth had come from South Carolina to Hardin County Tennessee before 1830.  Jason had been born there into a family which eventually counted fourteen children. He fell fourth from the oldest and third of eight sons, the first seven all which had a given name that started with a “J” – Joseph, James, Jason, John, Jehu, Jordan, Jesse, - followed by Henry.  With little opportunity for inheriting any property, or anything else for that matter, he headed to western Missouri.   Hannah’s parents were from Kentucky but had moved around between Kentucky and Indiana for several years after their marriage. By 1860, they, too, had settled their family in Missouri near the town of Green, in Platte County.

Platte County, Missouri, sits on the bank of the Missouri River just north of Kansas City. Directly across the river is Atchison County, Kansas, which is where Jason and Hannah decided to make their home, in Walnut township. By 1870, the couple had two sons, James and John, and a daughter, Elizabeth. Within just a few years, they would add Alexander (known as Babe), and Amanda (who would become my great-grandmother). The 1875 Kansas census tells us their property was assessed at $800.00 which put them well below the median value for those living in their near vicinity.

Farming is probably all that Jason knew, as he never had any formal education, that I can document. From the census records, however, we do know he could read and write.  Both his father, and Hannah’s father were farmers. It was in their blood.  Being able to make a living at farming, and sustaining a family, was another story. Drought or floods; boll weevils; rising costs and low prices all made it quite difficult. During this time in our nation’s history, approximately one third of all American’s worked in agriculture in one way or another.  I thought I’d pause here for a second to put in a little plug for a lineage society to which I belong - the National Society Descendants of American Farmers. Just about everyone I know is eligible to belong to this outstanding group whose main objective is providing Agricultural Scholarships, while honoring our Farmer Ancestors. Check them out at nsdoaf.com.

Back to the story…

The Rocky Mountain Locusts had been causing damage from as early as 1743 in New England. As the Great Migration began and farming moved west, these grasshoppers moved with them. Beginning in 1873, their numbers grew exponentially, and by 1875, their swarm had grown to massive proportions. From the territories of Dakota, Montana, Wyoming, and Colorado, including the states of Iowa, Minnesota, Missouri, Nebraska, also Indian Territory, Texas and Kansas, an area of 2,000,000 (yes, you read that right, two million) square miles were covered with what is estimated to be 12.5 TRILLION insects. Combined they weighed roughly 27.5 million tons, and their mass covered an area the size of Connecticut, Delaware, Maine, Maryland, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New York, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, and Vermont…combined! The swarm was so heavy that it wasn’t unusual for the sun to be covered for up to six hours at a time and they caused extensive crop damage.  It was so bad that trains were unable to move because of the “slippery, gooey mess” made by the dead locusts, which caused the trains to lose traction.  “They looked like a great, white glistening cloud, for their wings caught the sunshine on them and made them look like a cloud of white vapor,” one Kansas pioneer reported.  Destroying as many of the creatures was paramount in the minds of everyone. Using fire and exploding gunpowder were a common method, but in at least one case, the insects smothered the flames. A “Hopperdozer” was an implement that had a scraper attached and when on level ground, the device would scrape young locusts into a pan containing tar or oil, killing them. Apparently, nothing was off limits to the swarm. It was reported that they ate, not only grass and crops, but also leather, wood, and sheep’s wool. In some extreme cases, it was said they even ate the clothes off peoples’ backs. Eventually, the grasshopper’s dispersed, and within just a few years became extinct, but the havoc wrought during the years of 1874 and 1875, will go down as one of the worst infestations in history.

The life of a farmer, especially during this most difficult time, must have been horrendous. Living on the prairie, and attempting to fight off this invasion almost single-handedly, must have seemed like an endless battle.  Based solely on their location, it can be assumed that the Hollingsworth’s were affected, but a newspaper article from the Atchison Daily Patriot gives us insight to just how bad it really was – “The locust plague is upon this valley for the first time in the memory of anybody. They came yesterday in myriad swarms and are devouring every green thing. In J. Miller’s fine vegetable garden yesterday they could be gathered by the bucketful. This and other poor men’s labors for the year are being eat up. The lookout is bad for the farmers, as, on account of the continued rains no grain has been harvested yet. The storm of hail and rain yesterday destroyed thousands of the winged-devils, but there is no lack of them this morning.”  Other newspapers reported the devastation was of Biblical proportions. The toll it must have taken on Jason and the rest of the Hollingsworth family is untold, but we know that shortly thereafter, Jason died.  Hannah, left alone to raise her six children, did the best she could with the help of two of her brothers. Just a few short years later, the Missouri River saw a devastating flood, which would eventually force Hannah and her family off their land. After 1882, Hannah is no longer found in records. It is likely she died as my great-grandmother was raised by her older sister, Elizabeth.

I think we’ve all had tragedy and hardships in our lives, but the trials and tribulations that our ancestors came to bear can hardly compare.  Under drought conditions now, we can still run to the store and get a bottle of water. If it’s 110⁰ outside, we go inside to the air conditioning. Recently here in north Texas, we had a cricket issue.  They were everywhere, but they didn’t darken the sky.  I often say that I would have liked to have lived a hundred years ago or more, and I think I probably would, but I am thankful every day for the roof over my head, the food I have to eat, the books I have to read, and at this time of year, for Willis Carrier, the inventor of the air conditioner.