Thomas M. Geddes, my father, was born January 2, 1847, a son of Colonel Thomas Geddes and Susan Rebecca Walker, who came from Path Valley, Pennsylvania in 1836.  They had ten children, two girls died in infancy, four of the older boys John, Walker, Cyrus, and Robert were in the Civil War on the Union side.  Walker was killed at Champion Hills, May 16, 1863.  Both Cyrus and Walker were Captains.

Grandfather helped organize the Presbyterian Church in Fountain Green and in Carthage.  He was commissioned Colonel of the 87th Regiment Illinois Militia in the Mormon trouble, was a delegate to the Illinois State Constitutional Convention of 1847 where he worked with and became acquainted with Abraham Lincoln and later in 1858 introduced him when he spoke in Carthage.

Though Grandfather was anti-Mormon, he helped them build wagons and collected a large supply of medicine for their trip to Utah.  He was appointed U.S. Marshall for Hancock during the Civil War.

Father was born in the home now owned and occupied by Mrs. Roy Rich (1970) in Fountain Green Township, Hancock County, Illinois.  The house was built in 1842 and was the first frame house built in this township.  Its siding is made of walnut.  It stands today having been well cared for and several times improved, but the original walnut siding is still on the main part of the building.

I have an old school schedule taught by Susan Alton that lists the names of fifty pupils attending the term beginning May 12, 1851 and ending August 13.  Father attended twenty days; I suppose this was his first term.  He was only four years and four months old when it began.  He had over two miles to walk.

This teacher was the first teacher in the township.  She had taught a private school starting in 1837. In about 1840 a public school was built on the main east-west road on the corner south of the Edith Latherow home.  This was the school he attended.  On her schedule she stated the school was taught in the English language.  She earned $50.00 for the three months.  The director only had $41.80, so they owed her $8.20 at the end of the term.

Father was never a strong boy or man; he was about five feet six inches tall and never weighed over 140 pounds.  But he was a hard worker.  I have read several letters written to his mother, urging them to see that Tom got an education because, they said, he would never be able to farm on account of crippling rheumatism.

Aunt Laura and Aunt Julia, his sisters, said he ran off to Quincy when he was sixteen years old and tried to enlist in the army.  He had four brothers in it and wanted to go so badly, but was turned down for physical reasons.  He was a member of the home guard during the Civil War.

He finished the schools in Fountain Green and graduated from Howe's Academy (now Iowa Wesleyan) in Mt. Pleasant, Iowa.  I have a picture of that graduation class.

For years after his return, he thought of teaching, law, and business but never got farming out of his system.  His health improved and I never would have known he had ever been crippled with rheumatism, had I not read of it in old letters and been told by Aunt Laura and Julia.

He bought the first set of encyclopedias ever brought into the community.  They were published in 1874.  They were the American Encyclopedia, consisting of large, leather-backed volumes.

Lillie Latherow Geddes

He and mother, Lillie Latherow, were married December 31, 1879.  On page 25 of Foote's Almanac of 1940, he stated, the reception given this couple at the home of the groom's parents Colonel and Mrs. Thomas Geddes was the best attended event of its kind ever held in this neighborhood. Mother had taught school several years.  They lived about two years with his parents then bought the farm south of his father's from Colonel John Fonda, where he lived until his death Friday, August 6, 1926.  He was a member of the Presbyterian Church and for years the Sunday School Superintendant.

I remember being in the men's class with about twelve others including Father.  Reverend Stewart was the pastor and also the teacher of the class.  The question came up, "Is there such a thing as luck?"

I was young and father made no comment but all the others voiced their opinion and it was summed up by the minister.  There was no such thing as luck, only through hard work and planning would good fortune come.  I thought of two candidates for coroner who tied for notes who tossed a coin to break the tie.  One was lucky.  Why?  Hard work?  No.  Planning?  No.

The preacher then said, "Mr. Geddes, I didn't hear your express your opinion, what do you
think? "

Father said, "I would like two questions answered before I express my opinion."  The minister said alright.

One question was, "Is luck the product of chance?"  They all agreed it was.  "We are going to accept the Bible, are we not?"  "Yes we must," they said.  Then he said, without hesitation or reading from the Bible, "In Ecclesiastes, it says:

The grace is not to the swift
Nor the battle to the strong
Neither yet bread to the wise
Nor yet riches to the men of understanding
Nor yet favor to men of skill
But time and chance happeneth to them all."

Reverend Stewart looked surprised and said, "I don't remember reading that," with no expression, however, of doubt or of disbelief.  Father told them to turn to Ecclesiastes 9th chapter and 11th verse without looking himself.  His two questions had cut off any argument.

Father could quote verse after verse of the Bible, name the book, where each was found and the chapter and verse.  Few could equal him in the knowledge of the scriptures.

At another time, a fellow at our table made the assertion that he had been around and traveled much and was certain he knew people and was convinced that there is no such thing as "an honest man." We were all surprised and father came back with the question, "Do you think there is such a thing as an honorable man?" The stranger said, "Yes, yes I certainly do."  Father's reply was a question that proved his guest's ignorance.  "How could a man be honorable and not be honest?"

When Mr. Chas. C. Tyler retired from the post office and general store business about 1897 in Fountain Green, he asked father to help him organize a library.  He would gladly be the librarian. There were about five or six families including Uncle Bob Geddes and Uncle George Brandon; each donated about $15.00 to buy new books.  This was the only library the public ever had in the township and lasted until Mr. Tyler's death.

Those long winter evenings with no television or radio were made very enjoyable to us.  Father and Mother, both excellent readers, took turns reading.  We kids had something to look forward to each evening, something to hurry home from school to enjoy.  It was easier to do the milking, gather the eggs, bring in the wood and water, and the girls hurried to get supper over and the dishes washed while Dad read his daily paper, The Chicago Tribune, then all of us sat down to listen to a few more chapters from: The Hoosier School Master, The Virginian, Uncle David Harem, Black Beauty, Alice of Old Vincennes, By Pike and Dike, Blenner Hassett or The Crisis to name a few we read.  When we children were ready to help with the reading we were given the chance to improve our reading.

When Bertha, my older sister was only 13 or 14 years old she could play the piano, and many, many evenings we spent around the piano father had bought for us, Bertha playing, Julia and I singing Red Wing, Arra Wanna, Seminole, Rip Van Winkle, Slide Bill Slide and dozens of others.  Arthur, our older brother never seemed to care for music. When I came home from College about 1912, I had studied considerable English literature.  I had memorized parts of many poems and I would begin a poem and father would finish it.  He at age 65 could quote so many poets I marveled at his memory.

Arthur W. Geddes

About 1915 a book entitled, "The Perfect Tribute," written by Mary R. Shipman Andrews, was given to me to read.  The story tells of Lincoln boarding the train on November 18, 1863 at Washington to dedicate the Gettysburg Cemetery the next day.  With him was Edward Everett, the speaker of the day; Secretary Seward; and many other high government dignitaries.  On the train according to the story Lincoln picked a piece of paper in the aisle and with a broken stub of pencil wrote the speech he was to deliver the next day.

I thought this little book was marvelous.  I knew father would enjoy it so I gave it to him to read.  I did not see him for several days and when I did I asked him how he liked the book.  He said, "It is a fascinating story to read but the author completely missed the facts.  Someday a Lincoln historian will show evidence that Lincoln had worked on that speech for months.  Masterpieces in stone, canvas, or paper, Allen, are not made in an hour or day, it's on its maker's mind for weeks before it is finished.  Lincoln knew it was a great speech."  And now Carl Sandburg, Lincoln's most thorough historian, has proven father to be right.  He had worked on it for weeks; he knew it would someday be appreciated.

About 1912 we had Uncle Andy Bullock of Le Platta, Missouri as an overnight guest.  This was one of the best remembered evenings I ever experienced.  Uncle Andy had a knee injury that kept him from being in the Union Army.  Father was too young.  Uncle had two brothers and dad four in the war.  Uncle said to Dad, "Tom, I told them I would walk as far or box any man they had taken into the army this morning to prove to them I was fit to go, but they wouldn't take me."  It showed his deep disappointment at not being able to go.

They both belonged to the Home Guard and told of times they were called to Blandinsville, Joe Duncan, and north of Carthage.  They told of shootings, fights, and neighbor quarrels caused by the war and their weekly drills, I would never have known any of those stories of trouble right here at home had I not listened to them that evening.

During the last several years of father's life I farmed the home place.  I could not help but notice that about two afternoons each summer a nicely dressed man stopped by and would visit with father for several hours each time he came.  I never happened to meet him there.  This man was Professor Newcomer of Carthage College, former professor of foreign languages, who had retired and taken up life insurance.  I knew he was not there to sell insurance; what interest could they have in common?  This was not a worry, just a passing thought.

Allen G. Geddes

The autumn after father's death I was teaching in Fountain Green and was eating at the restaurant when a man came in and sat down beside me.  We engaged in common talk; he said he worked insurance and had car trouble this A.M. and was knocking off this P.M.  He asked me if I knew a Mr. Geddes that lives out here, pointing northwest.  I told I did, that he was my father and told him of his death about two months before.  He seemed surprised; he had not learned of his death and said he had intended to go out and spend the afternoon with him.

I had suspected when he spoke of selling insurance that it was Newcomer.  When he asked about father I knew.  I asked how he, a college professor, and father, a farmer, could find so much to talk about; that I knew of them spending several afternoons together.  His answer was convincing.  "Your father," he said, "had good use of the English language.  He got more from his reading than most people.  He was an excellent student of history, geography, current events, and the Bible.  He had a fine sense of humor and was awake to the problems of our time as few men I have met." Well, I had his answer.

How many times older people, who knew him best, would ask, "What did your father say about that," about something of interest.

He made a trip to Kansas in the early 70's to buy land but didn't stay long.  He attended the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia in 1876, the Columbian World's Fair at Chicago in 1892 and the Louisiana Exposition in 1904 in St. Louis.

I was always proud that my family on both sides were free of the hundreds of signs, omens, and superstitions believed by many around us.

I saw a neighbor whose horse was bleeding from a cut, run a half mile to a telephone so he could call a woman who lived about four miles away to get her to say some words that would stop the bleeding.  It had stopped before he got to the house.  How ignorant I thought.

Or, the father who insisted an emergency operation should not be made when the sign was in the heart; to him it was sure death.  Or the woman who counted her guests at the table and found 13. She knew one of them would die within a year.  Our nation began with 13 states and it hasn't died yet.  Nor did we ever sow seed by the moon.  We were always taught to never be afraid of the dark.  How lucky we kids were.

I never heard father tell a ghost story for the truth, nor a dirty story, nor a lie.  He never used liquor or tobacco in any form.  He never was arrested nor paid one cent of fine.  His credit was always good; all promises written or verbal were always kept.  Who could do more?

In 1918 he installed a carbide light plant and a coal or wood furnace.  He was one of the earliest Farm Bureau members and one of the first to vaccinate hogs to prevent cholera when any of the neighbors fought it.  He believed in testing cattle to eradicate tuberculosis that so many fought.

If he went to a doctor, dentist, or veterinary for advice, he followed it and insisted we kids should. He was too smart to believe that if the directions on a box of pills said take one every four hours that he could get well faster by taking six or ten every two hours as some neighbors did.  He never patronized a quack doctor of any kind.  A doctor must be a graduate of a recognized medical college.  He believed in Osteopathy in many instances.

"A merciful man is merciful to his beast," he said, if he thought someone was rough with an animal. He was not however, by any means a religious fanatic.  I have known men to go miles over deep, muddy roads to attend protracted meetings staying out to 11 P. M. while their cattle were dying of hunger or left their hogs without water for three days to find them all dead, so he could bail hay. Father never left home or went to bed until his livestock had sufficient water, food, and shelter.

He used 1970 thinking in the 1920's when every new idea seemed to be opposed.

One of his worst faults, was having too much faith in people.  A man who lived in Fountain Green came to him and said he couldn't put in his crop.  He needed corn to feed his work horses, he had no money, but promised to pay him later and agreed to let a friend of both of them weigh and put down each load of corn.  He got a load about every two weeks; he didn't weigh any of it.  He let several around the Green fleece him out of considerable.  He was trying to follow the Golden Rule.

For several months after his death I would be studying some problem and it would flash over me, "I'll ask Dad," but the book was closed.

Several of the nicer things told me about father were:

He was the best Sunday School Superintendant we ever had - John McConnell.

I never met him that I didn't learn something - Ed Huston.

He got more from his reading than anyone I ever knew - Aunt Emma Newland.

Her marriage to Thomas M. Geddes was solemnized in the Presbyterian church of Fountain Green on the evening of Dec. 31, 1879.  The home thus founded was one where mutual love and trust had an abiding place.  Mr. Geddes passed to his reward on Aug. 6, 1926.  Surviving to mourn this beloved mother are the two sons and two daughters born to them: Arthur and Allen of this community; Mrs. Bertha Lord, of Newton, Mass., and Mrs. Julia Yetter, of Chicago.  There are also five grandchildren.  These formed a group around which this dear woman's affections most strongly centered, and for whose welfare she was ever ready to to sacrifice her own.  They in turn enriched her life by their devotion to her comfort.  There is a large circle of nieces and ~~ [The balance of this paragraph actually appeared later, misplaced in the middle of the names of the honorary pallbearers; placement indicated by ~~~~, below.] nephews who gave and received most kindly regards.  She was one upon whom the families of her kindred could safely depend when in need of her skilled and kindly ministry, which was extended at any time when the generous impulses of her heart could be shown in sympathy or active aid.~~

Mrs. Geddes possessed rare and worthy traits of mind and heart which endeared her to all, whose confidence and esteem she merited and received.  She was faithful to her obligations in the family and social life, and in the church with which she was long identified.  She looked well to the ways of her household with efficiency and courage meeting its daily duties.  Over their lovely country home she graciously presided for many years, and dispensed most generous hospitality.  The residence later established in Fountain Green was a center from which radiated good cheer and good will. Mrs. Geddes was converted in early girlhood and united with the Presbyterian church.  She was steadfast in her adherence to the faith and has passed on to receive the reward of one who "did justly, loved mercy, and walked humbly with her God."

Funeral services were held at her home at 1:00 p. m. Sunday, Rev. Wm. Harberts of Carthage condcting [sic] the services.  She was laid to rest in the McConnell cemetery west of town.

The pallbearers were George Latherow, Carl Latherow, Ray Mesick, Ivan Latherow, Lester Mesick, and Harold Latherow.  Honorary pallbearers were: E. S. Latherow, Melvin ~~~~ Latherow, Wm. Hunter, Frank Wright, Myron Mull and Arthur Hayes.

Mrs. Grace Mosley, of Carthage, a niece of Mrs. Geddes, sang "It Is Well With My Soul," which deserves special mention.  Other selections were sung by a quartette composed of Mrs. Maggie Sibert, Mrs. Kate Miller, J. A. Duffy and Arthur Spangler.