The Doyle house succumbs to 'progress'

The Doyle house, facing east, was at the southwest corner of Broadway and Lorimier Street. (Kassel Studio ~ Southeast Missourian archive)

"Progress" has been the excuse given for the destruction of numerous Cape Girardeau landmarks over the years. The Ellis-Wathen-Ranney house on Main Street and the Hartzell mansion on Morgan Oak were both demolished in the name of "progress". And don't EVEN get me started about the razing of the handball court on the River Campus.

Another structure that came down in the name of progress was one few of us have probably heard of, because its demolition happened 100 years ago. The Doyle house at the southwest corner of Broadway and Lorimier Street was razed to make way for a new Southeast Missourian building.

The newspaper, owned by Fred and George Naeter, had been housed in a building they constructed at 225 Broadway since 1908. But by 1924, the quarters had become too cramped to meet the needs of the growing company. The Naeters decided to construct a new home for the operation at the city's "most desirable commercial location."

They announced their plans in a front-page article in the July 1, 1924, edition:

WORK STARTED ON NEW HOME FOR MISSOURIAN

The Cape Girardeau Southeast Missourian is to have a new home as soon as it can be erected, work having started on it today.

Being the foremost daily newspaper published in a city of its size, The Missourian is entitled to a home in keeping with the importance of the newspaper, and that the new building will measure up to this standard there will be no question.

Naeter Brothers purchased from Roberta O'Brien in Kansas City the property at the corner of Broadway and Lorimier streets, known for many years as the Doyle property, it being considered the most desirable commercial location in Cape Girardeau. The property faces 125.6 feet on Broadway by 173 feet on Lorimier Street.

It is planned to erect a two-story fire-proof building covering the width of the property on Broadway and being 113 feet deep. The Missourian will occupy the entire building with the exception of the second floor facing Broadway and two shops facing Broadway.

Start work today

Frank Hamar, a local contractor, started the work of removing the present brick building today and hopes to finish within 10 days. By that time a contract for the excavation will have been awarded. It is planned to cut the surface of the entire lot down to a level with Lorimier Street and then a basement will be excavated. By the time this work is finished the architects will have completed the plans and the contract for the building will have been let so construction work can start early in August. It is believed the building can be erected in six months.

The new Missourian building will be one of the largest in Cape Girardeau. It will be modern in every respect and of the Spanish type of architecture which will make it distinctive.

The present Missourian building, 40 by 115 feet, two stories, is recognized as one of the most beautiful and substantial buildings in Cape Girardeau and is the best newspaper building in Missouri outside of the three largest cities. But it is not large enough to meet the needs of The Missourian's constantly growing business.

The new Missourian building will typify the ambitions and faith of this newspaper.

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This formal announcement almost immediately prompted a number of letters to the editor and articles providing the history of the Doyle house.

Published July 8, 1924, in the Southeast Missourian:

STATELY LANDMARK GOES AT CALL OF MISSOURIAN

The old Doyle house, at the corner of Broadway and Lorimier Street, faded from sight Monday afternoon, and thus another landmark vanished. The property is being cleared for The Missourian's new home and within another day or so Frank Hamar will start the excavation work. The lot, which faces 125.5 (feet) on Broadway and 173.25 on Lorimier Street, will be cut down level with the sidewalk on Lorimier Street. Then a basement approximately 110 by 75 feet will be dug.

The brick house that stood on the northeast corner of the lot was erected longer ago than any living person can remember. Mrs. A. List, who has lived across the street for 35 years, told The Missourian that she remembers when an addition was built to the house and when the stone wall along the Lorimier Street side was built, but the house was there many years before the improvements were made.

Mrs. List does not remember much of the early history of the Doyle house. Mrs. Doyle, Miss Jane Broderick and Mr. J.G. Gale were living in it when she and her late husband moved to their fine new home diagonally across the street. That was 35 years ago and the List house was then the finest in Cape Girardeau, being the replica of a castle in Switzerland.

Mrs. List says she remembers very well when the late Thomas Fagan built the stone wall on the Lorimier Street side. The wall on the Broadway side was erected several years previously by the late William Regenhardt. To this day those walls are works of art.

The Missourian would like to know more of the history of the old Doyle house and will appreciate hearing from anyone who might give some information on the subject.

Two great trees

The two great trees that stand on the property and that now attract so much attention because they can be seen so well, are doubtless more than 100 years old. It is believed that the black walnut tree is the oldest. The trunk measures fully 36 inches in diameter and a more graceful tree never raised its face to heaven. The elm, which stands close to the corner of Broadway and Lorimier streets, is the most wonderful tree. Its trunk is not large but its boughs spread out like the ribs of an umbrella, shading both sidewalks. For many years pedestrians have stopped during the hot days to get a fresh breath of air under it and they marveled at the beauty of the hospitable elm.

Mrs. List says she often spoke with Mrs. Doyle and Miss Broderick about these trees. Mrs. Doyle fairly worshiped the elm, she said. She was a woman who took life easy and in the summer she spent much of her time under it. It will be recalled that the Doyle place was one of the attractions of Cape Girardeau, the display of flowers, shrubs and trees being unusually beautiful.

Tried to move one

The Missourian endeavored to have the great elm moved to the rear of the lot but found it impossible. Tree specialists say it would probably be impossible to move such a great tree even during the winter months and that there would be no chance of success whatever during the summer. So the grand old elm and the majestic walnut will have to give way to the trend of higher civilization. In this instance the space occupied by these trees in serving humanity will be used by a modern building in which will work scores of men and women trying to serve humanity along a different line.

The destruction of these two masterpieces of the Divine Power impresses The Missourian anew with its responsibilities. It must build well and beautifully if it is to make up for the loss it will incur and it must serve as it has never served before.

To this end The Missourian will strive with all its might.

The Doyle house had been removed from the lot at the southwest corner of Broadway and Lorimier Street when this photograph was made, but the two trees referred to in the above article remained. (Southeast Missourian archive)

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Letter to the editor published July 15, 1924, in the Southeast Missourian:

That old home

Editor The Missourian:

The writer came to this city in February 1889, having left home and friends to make a new home and find other friends to take the place of the old. Naturally, I was homesick and felt myself a stranger until I met the inmates of that dear old home, now, like its inmates, gone forever from our sight. It was early my privilege to meet the kind old lady who was then its mistress, who generously gave me her friendship and made me feel at home. The family at the time consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Doyle, her uncle and aunt, beloved by everybody who knew them, and the place was known as the old Gale home. Those old people had taken the place of Mrs. Doyle's parents, who had died young and left their children to their care.

"Aunt Biddy," as people affectionately called her, died soon after I came here. The number of her good deeds is still remembered by a few. "Uncle Billy" was equally well beloved and survived her several years, cared for by his devoted niece and husband, who died before Uncle Billy was called away.

Many sorrowful things that old house has witnessed, but it never was gloomy while its last mistress was there to welcome her friends with her kind hand and pleasant smile. Old people loved her, little children loved her, and the birds and dumb animals loved her. Her friends miss her and never pass her home without a sigh or perhaps a prayer for her. She sleeps out there in the old Gale lot with her loved ones and the town is poorer for the loss of this excellent old family of which she was the last to go.

Norman Gale, who lived at Gale, Illinois, was also reared to manhood by Aunt Biddy and her brothers and came back to live in this city to help care for the old, feeble Uncle Billy, remaining here permanently after his death.

But I am not writing a family history, so will close by saying that the east wall was built for Mrs. Doyle by Matthew J. Fagan, who was a friend of many years. They are all gone and could I write their epitaphs it would be, in part, that noble one by Burns to a good man:

"If there's another world, they
live in bliss.
If there is none, they made the
best of this."

An Old Friend

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Published July 19, 1924, in the Southeast Missourian:

HISTORIC OLD BUILDING GOES TO MAKE WAY FOR MISSOURIAN'S NEW PLANT

By ALLAN H. HINCHEY

One more link to Old Cape Girardeau is being taken away, as the removal of the old Gale home on the corner of Lorimier and Broadway to make room for the new home of the Southeast Missourian destroys a building of the past generation and gives to Cape Girardeau another structure to emphasize the fact that while Cape Girardeau is an old town it is a new city.

The steady march of progress turns not aside for sentiment, nor do the traditions of our forebears prevent the removal of buildings once looked (upon) as massive and magnificent, or the digging away of eminences that once stood proudly above their surroundings and upon which were held councils of Indian chiefs and Spanish dignitaries.

Whether or not Naeter Brothers have ever heard the old Spanish proverb: "Out from Spain, but back to Spain," that was used the days of the glories of Spain, especially on the return of Columbus from his voyage of discovery in the New Word, they have, centuries later, carried out the spirit of the old adage by deciding to build their structure along lines of Spanish architecture, having in mind the fact that the spot was once the center of activities during the Spanish regime in Cape Girardeau, and that on the spot once owned by Don Louis Lorimier, Spanish commandant, it is fitting there shall stand a structure recalling the days of Spanish occupation.

Home of four races

If this spot that has been claimed by aboriginal Indians, by French, Spanish and American peoples, could tell its own story it could a tale unfold of charm, of romance, of tragedy, of the love of men, of the hatreds of men, of the hopes and the despair that come into the lot of mortal man.

In the year of our lord 1795 Don Louis Lorimier, French Canadian by birth, but a Spanish subject by choice, petitioned for 80,000 arpens of land from the Spanish governor at New Orleans. Part of these lands were given him, about half the acreage petitioned for. Then, in 1798, Baron Carondelet granted a second 40,000 arpens of land to Lorimier and the spot we now know as Lot No. 6 in Range "D" of the city of Cape Girardeau began making local history.

Don Louis Lorimier kept this land until 1807, and it is said that his Shawnee friends when visiting him from their village along La Riviere de la Pomme, would encamp there.

First American owner

In 1807 he sold it to John Randol, who, with Samuel Randol as surety made a note with mortgage on the property. Randol paid off the mortgage and kept it until 1828 when he and his wife Margaret deeded it to Edward F. Evans, who left the property by will to his wife, Eliza Jane Evans, with full authority to dispose of it as she saw fit. She later saw fit to marry Christopher B. Houts. In 1849 Eliza and her husband sold the land to Constantine T. Gale and William H. Gale for $1,000.

Christopher Houts was one of the most prominent men of the district. He was one of the members of a convention held in St. Louis June 12, 1820, to frame the constitution for the new state of Missouri.

It was a rough piece of ground in those days. That is the surroundings were rough, with ravines running near by, although Harmony Street (Broadway) passed along the north side and Lorimier Street was its eastern border.

David Shaw was the neighbor to the south and Alfred G. Ellis owned the property just west, until his death a few years prior to the time of the Gale purchase of the property, it being still called the Ellis property.

When Constantine Gale died, he willed his half of the property to his brother, William H., and to his sisters, Alcinda and Catherine.

Constantine Gale was in the mercantile business, in partnership with Eugene Garaghty and was anxious that the business Garaghty & Gale should be carried on, so authorized his brother, William, as executor of the will, to continue the partnership for five years, all profits to go back to his estate.

William H. Gale must have become financially embarrassed as in 1868 he mortgaged his half of the land to Andrew J. Renfroe. In 1876 he assigned the land to Robert L. Wilson as trustee, whereupon William E. Alexander, pubic administrator in charge of the estate of Andrew J. Renfroe, deceased, brought suit to collect $1,800 owed by William H. Gale and covered by the mortgage.

Sold by sheriff

By order of the circuit court the sheriff sold William H. Gale's interest in the land to George S. Hammett of West Virginia.

Catherine Gale, Alcinda Gale and William H. Gale still owned the half interest in the property willed to them by Constantine Gale. Catherine wanted it all so bought out Williams' and Alcinda's interest. Then she bought from George S. Hammett the other half of the property and married Leo Doyle.

It is difficult to tell just the periods of the various buildings erected, or just when the old structure just removed was built, but from conversation with old residents it is believed that at first there was a large log structure erected by John Randol, which was later veneered with brick by Evans when he purchased the property, and that later when Evans' widow had married Christopher Houts the larger brick building was erected and the large brick smoke house in the rear was built.

It is said that the brick structure was erected by two brothers named Alton and that afterwards they went to St. Louis, thence to Illinois where they started a new town that is now the city of Alton.

It is not hard to picture that spot of ground as the camping place of Indians during the Spanish regime, nor is it difficult to see the neighbors of John Randol gathering there at his pioneer home to tell of news from the old homes back in Georgia, the Carolinas or Virginia.

Probably of an evening would come the Ellises, the Ramseys, Giboneys and others.

A social center

The killing of Capt. William Ogle by Joseph McFerron had just occurred. Ogle was keeper of Cape Girardeau's first licensed tavern, which opened for the accommodation of man and beast in December 1806, the fatal duel with McFerron occurring in April of 1807. Without doubt this unhappy tragedy was discussed at the home of John Randol, where, in the future The Missourian, occupying the same ground, will tell of other tragedies in its columns.

And the Ellis family probably gathered there -- good people from Georgia, the husband a doctor, the wife a pioneer housekeeper. Mrs. Ellis wrote to her father that she could attend church at two places about 10 miles out in the country -- referring to Bethel Baptist Church and the Methodist McKendree Chapel.

No doubt those matters were discussed at the Randol home, with no prophetic vision to tell them that right across the ravine there would be built a church a century or so later and that it would be next to a public park where the music of a municipal band would be heard under trees where then owls hooted at night and wild animals searched for prey.

And later on, when the handsome brick residence had been erected and neighbors gathered to discuss the latest news from St. Louis and New Orleans as brought by boats from those points; when the latest Pittsburgh fashions, as shown by some fortunate woman who had returned from that center of culture and fashion, were discussed, this corner was a place of interest.

And among those who came to it Alfred G. Ellis probably was one -- a respectable member of society, although his mother had been worried during his boyhood because he horse-raced and gambled with Indians and boatmen.

And so on down through the years of more than a century this corner lot has played an important part in the history of Cape Girardeau. May it, at the end of another century, have as interesting a story to tell.

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Published July 25, 1924, in the Southeast Missourian:

MRS. CLARA RIDER HAYDEN WRITES OF THE OLD DOYLE HOME

Mrs. Clara Rider Hayden, daughter of one of the pioneer families of Cape Girardeau, who spent her childhood days in the home across the street from the old Doyle property on Broadway, which is to hold The Missourian's new home, writes most interestingly of her childhood experiences. Mrs. Hayden is now a teacher in a state college at Tallahassee, Florida, and has her mother with her. Her father was Dr. Rider, one of the leading physicians of his day and a practitioner who called to all parts of this district in the early days. This letter will be appreciated by many citizens who will recall the incidents related and it will interest the newer comers who are anxious to learn of the yesteryear:

Tallahassee, Florida.
July 11, 1924

Editor, The Missourian:

Your articles concerning the old Gale home aroused memories in our family, both pleasant and sad. They carried with them pictures of the old home that may be interesting to you, and will give me an opportunity to pay a tribute to the dear people who lived within its walls so many years.

As far back as I can remember, Aunt Biddie, Uncle Billie, Aunt Kate and Winnie, the old Black cook -- once a slave and brought from their old home in West Virginia with her mother -- lived in the red brick house on the corner of Broadway and Lorimier. But my mother says there was a time, before the Civil War, that the Gale family, then consisting of two brothers, Con and William, and two sisters, Catherine and Biddie, owned and managed the St. Charles Hotel. It was not until later, after they had moved to the new home on the hill, that their nieces, Kate and Sadie, came to live with them. Kate afterwards became Mrs. Doyle, and always remained in the old home; Sadie married a Mr. O'Brien, and went to Kansas City to live. For a while two nephews, Lawrence and Norman, also made their home with the aunts and uncles.

Where children reveled

I cannot give you dates or historical data, although I was told by Mrs. Doyle, when we took an old chest of drawers from the home to add to a loan collection the Wednesday Club was exhibiting at the time of the Cape's centennial (1906), that this particular piece of furniture came with several others down the Ohio River to Cairo on a flatboat and from there up the west banks of the Mississippi in wagons. But my childhood memories are crowded with pictures of the home without children of their own, yet so tender with any child that came into it. If we were ever unwelcome we never knew it, and children are pretty shrewd about such things.

My mother tells me that Mr. Con Gale died shortly after they had moved from the St. Charles to the new home. Catherine, the older sister, met with a tragic death. She was collecting the bees when the veil she wore over her face caught fire and she was fatally burned.

My recollections of Aunt Biddie are rather vague, but, child though I was, she always gave me the impression of gentleness and calmness. I can see her now, bending over her flowers; a slender figure in a full skirted black dress, a white kerchief around her shoulders and a white muslin cap drawn tightly over her head. I cannot remember of ever seeing her without the cap. She loved flowers, I am sure, for she was always working with them. The only rebuke we children ever received from her was when we were boisterous among her plants.

Aunt Winnie's kitchen

Aunt Kate and Winnie were the ones that held us in bounds. Aunt Kate was young and bustling -- things fairly hummed under her nimble fingers. There was no deceiving her. If she sent us out to sweep the bricks, we knew if we did it well a reward of a big slice of cake, only such as Winnie knew how to bake, awaited us. But whether it was work or play at Aunt Kate's, we felt it a privilege and treated it accordingly.

There was only one place denied us, Winnie's kitchen. Years after the old (Black's) death, I never entered her kitchen without feeling her disapproval. In imagination I could see the short, stout figure, leaning heavily on her stick, for she was a cripple, dressed in a neat calico, and a red bandanna wound around her head. Up to the day of her death Winnie was the one person in the neighborhood that the children held in wholesome fear. A reputation, which I am sure she thoroughly enjoyed. She could make more queer contortions with her face than anyone I have ever known. I believe that was the reason we were afraid of her. The older children constantly held the threat of Aunt Winnie over the younger brothers and sisters. I have seen a kicking, howling little piece of humanity become gentle and docile when Winnie would suddenly appear at her kitchen door, or peep over her window-sill down onto Broadway below.

Some wonderful stories

Now I come to the one whom we children felt was our very own -- Uncle Billie. I feel that our lives have been fuller and richer for having known him. At the time I thought of him only as a companion, a playmate, a weaver of the most thrilling fairy stories ever listened to, a friend to take us on long and jolly tramps -- upon the Fort -- across the hills to the old cemetery, where we would sit in the tall grass on the hill overlooking the river, talking and laughing in subdued voices, for Uncle Billie always reminded us we were among the sleeping. But today I have come to think of him as one possessing the same rare spirit as Froebel, the great lover of children. I do not know that Uncle Billie had any of the qualities of a teacher other than patience and an instinctive knowledge, if I may call it that, of the mind of a child. But, like Froebel, he lived with the children, and at the time I knew him they were the source of his greatest pleasure.

That Uncle Billie was old, or not well, never occurred to us, though I remember now that his hands trembled as with palsy. We were never so happy as when, on a bad, rainy day we would gather around Uncle Billie's couch in the living room and listen to one wonderful fairy story after another. Whether he had read them or invented them as he went along I cannot say, but we never forgot them, and would call again and again for an especial favorite like, "Why the sea became salty" or "The white horse that went straight into the side of the hill, carrying the beautiful princess with it."

He rarely declined an invitation to take us for a tramp, but sometimes when we found him lying back on the pillows of his couch, his face whiter than usual, his white hand weekly stroking the white beard flowing onto his chest, he would smile mysteriously, and say:

"I'm sorry I can't go today, but I have a bone in my foot."

The old stone wall

Immediately we were thrown into the greatest consternation, and would insist upon calling a doctor, or him going to a hospital.

We were so used to seeing Uncle Billie in his home or garden that when, on rare occasions, we met him on the street, dressed in a formal-looking dark suit and a broad-brimmed hat, we were shy with him, and he had to coax us to feel in his pocket for the bag of candy he carried for us.

And the old wall is gone, too! Many Broadway pageants have been witnessed from that wall. It was a favorite seat for the children. We would line up there in the dusk of a summer's evening as naturally as we played hide-and-seek in the old barn earlier in the day. Sometimes there was a band concert or a show at the opera house, sometimes the Salvation Army held an outdoor meeting on our corner, but more often we simply sat with our feet hanging over the wall, watching the people stroll down and back again.

The most vivid thing to me just now in connection with the wall, was an old citizen of East Cape, who had been an ardent supporter of James G. Blaine for president, and how he never ceased to give that support, though Blaine had gone down in defeat years before. Every time this particular citizen came over to the Cape he seemed to think if he failed to patronize a bar in the town he would commit an unpardonable omission. By the time he reached Broadway everybody along the route knew he was in town. He would come staggering up the Broadway hill, yelling at the top of his voice, "Hurrah for Jim Blaine! Hurrah for Jim Blaine!" We children were terribly afraid of him, yet we would stand on that wall and yell back at him until he reached the Presbyterian Church corner, "Hurrah for Cleveland! Hurrah for Cleveland!" Then we would run wildly into the house, throw ourselves on Uncle Billie's couch and beg him not to let "Jim Blaine" get us. Uncle Billie would gather us up tightly, but look down upon us reprovingly, and say in his sternest voice:

"He'll not get you this time, but if you keep it up, some day he certainly will get you."

But our faith in Uncle Billie was perfect; we knew no harm could reach us while his arms were about us.

An inspiration

And now, Missourian, if you want to perpetuate the spirit of the old place you have acquired, you must make little children love you, and when they, in turn old and grey, they will want to pay you a tribute out of the fullness of their hearts, as I have wanted to pay Aunt Biddie, and Aunt Kate, and Uncle Billie, and yes, to Winnie, the old Black cook.

Most sincerely,

CLARA RIDER HAYDEN.
Tallahassee, Florida.

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This is an earlier view of the Gale-Doyle house that shows the beautiful plantings maintained by the family. (Southeast Missourian archive)

Published Aug. 22, 1924, in the Southeast Missourian:

MORE OF THE HISTORY OF THE DOYLE HOUSE

The Missourian is in receipt of a letter from Mrs. Jessie Bonney Van Amburgh of Pullman, Washington, regarding the old Doyle home which was removed to make room for the new home for this newspaper. Mrs. Van Amburgh had read the letter from Mrs. Clara Rider Hayden, which was published some time ago, and having been so closely allied with the Doyles and others who occupied the old house, she could not resist writing her memories, which will be read with pleasure by many citizens.

Mrs. Van Amburgh was Miss Jessie Bonney, daughter of William Bonney, a druggist who was widely known in this country half a century ago. He and the late Dr. Wilson had a drug store in the downtown district. The Bonneys lived in the house that was removed to make room for the Vedder building that is being erected on the lot to the west of The Missourian property. There were three daughters and two sons. Misses Jessie, Anna and Ethel were all school teachers. Miss Jessie married D.L. Van Ambburgh in Cape Girardeau and now lives in Washington. She and her husband have not been back to this city for about three years, according to C.P. Van Amburgh, a brother who lives here. D.L. Van Amburgh is still a school teacher. Anna Bonney married a Mr. Asbery and they also live in Washington state.

The letter

Pullman, Washington
Aug. 7, 1924.

Dear friends of a half century ago, and readers of The Missourian:

In response to the paragraph like the heading of this "item," I gladly offer my contribution of memories of the stately landmark which vanished to make room for progress.

Fifty-one years ago this spring a little girl, with father, mother and little brother moved into a new house just west of the Doyle residence, but it was the Gale home then. Between the two places was a very high, tight board fence, built to protect from intruders, as was the style then. One board was off. We had not become settled in our new home when, one afternoon, a dear, sweet face appeared in the gap and a plate of fragrant new honey was passed through to the new neighbors. That was the beginning of a lifelong friendship. Everything that ever was borrowed or loaned was here and never a new toy or possession or present but the first thing was to run over and show it off to Uncle Billy and Aunt Biddy and all. The house was weather-beaten then -- a long, large two-story brick house, with a frame kitchen and a low room adjoining which was occupied by the two (Black) women who had been slaves, but who refused to leave "Old Marse" when freed.

A remarkable family

The large hall and wide staircase, with its roomy landing, were always a source of wonder to me. The front veranda, with its easy chairs and the dear old stone dog, which poised as an alert watch dog, was a charming place to rest. I believe this same dog now "watches" over and "protects" Mr. I. Ben Miller's residence. The rooms on the south side of the hall were very large, with plenty of windows. The sitting room on the north side was smaller, but always large enough to hold a welcome for the little Bonneys and other children who ran in and out just as they did at their own home.

The inmates of this dear old house then were Aunt Biddy Gale, aged 70 years; Aunt Caddy, aged 60 years; Uncle Billy, aged 50, and the young ladies, Miss Fannie Linen (Babe Gale) and Miss Kate Gale, both of whom became Mrs. Leo Doyle in turn, and the two (Black) women, dear old Aunt Winnie and her mother. There had been another bachelor brother, Conn Gale, who died before we moved up there.

This family of bachelor and maiden brothers and sisters took in and reared not less than 11 orphaned children -- some nieces like Kate, some not related. After Fannie was married to Leo Doyle, they moved down near his store, but when her health failed they came back to the old home and she died there. A few years after that, he married "Miss Kate," as we called her. We lived there 25 years and saw Aunt Biddy and Aunt Caddy laid to rest in the large family lot in Lorimier Cemetery. Aunt Biddy lived to be 92 or 94, I have forgotten which, and her funeral was held at the Catholic church on the 4th of July, 1888. Dr. Doyle died later. This left dear old Uncle Billy and Aunt Kate and the faithful old servant, Aunt Winnie, in the big house. After the death of the (Black) women, Aunt Kate improved the house, but before that it was left for them to enjoy their familiar quarters as long as they lived.

Trees not so old

A word about the dear old trees. The old, old locust tree which stood in the extreme northeast corner of the front yard then was cut down to make room for the elm tree which you mention, and a lawn seat was made from the great heart of the locust tree. The elm tree is not over 35 years old. The walnut tree was a vigorous young giant when we moved up there. They told us it was planted by a pet squirrel that belonged to the old Rodney house, a block west and across the street on Broadway, where the Trust building (H.-H. Building) stands. Some one of the Gale family saw the squirrel dig the hole, drop a walnut in and cover it up. The place was marked and guarded. How often have I crushed the leaves to enjoy the fragrant tang, and thresh the hulls off the nuts to dry them for winter. In the southwest corner of the place grew a large June apple tree, the delight of the neighbor children and their "visitors," Jennie and Sam Green, Robert Barrett, Jessie, Wilson, Eddie, Ann Gale, and Ethel Bonney, Maple, John, Manning and George Wilson, Clara and Tom Rider, Robert Bruihl, Jim Cheney, Lula Warren, Dode Rodney, Florence O'Donahugh, and others. Some of the favored ones feel that their children have missed something out of their childhood which WE enjoyed. What is it? O! It was the Gale home and its warm hospitality!

A high mission

Never a day passed, as a rule, that some of each family ran into the other house. If sometimes our little mother did try to keep us at home lest we might intrude upon their patience -- just so surely did Aunt Biddy, Uncle Billy or Aunt Kate come over to see what was the matter. Were we sick or what COULD be the matter? They used to have me stay all night with Aunt Biddy when the rest went to church. She would have me read her the 51st Psalm, her favorite.

One series of incidents lingers. We used to love to sit on the kitchen doorstep and listen to Aunt Winnie..., who used to watch out her little window and comment on the people on the street and in the saloon across the street, boys who made a start downward by slipping in and playing pool behind the screen -- hidden from the street passers but in plain view of our... "Lady of Challott's window." She talked incessantly -- if she had no audience, she talked to herself.

Yes, Missourian, you will have a high and holy mission if you perpetuate the spirit of kindness and hospitality and the love of little children which abounded in the old Gale place on the hill.

MRS JESSIE BONNEY
VAN AMBURGH.