Iuka--a Marketing Town for Isaac

An early store in Iuka, Kansas

Iuka...the name itself tells a great deal of history.  Union soldiers who fought to preserve the nation during the Civil War were given credit for their years of service toward meeting the five years required to mature a homestead claim, one year subtracted for each year served.  As a result, many Union veterans came to Kansas to stake their claims.  When the town of Iuka was formed, a former soldier who had fought in the Battle of Iuka suggested the name, which came from a Chickasaw Indian Chief.

Isaac B. Werner mentioned traveling to Iuka regularly, both to purchase supplies and to market his potatoes.  He also had friends in the town, specifically the Eggleston brothers.  Bob Eggleston ran a stable and Arthur Eggleston had a real estate business.

Pratt County was organized in 1878, and more than a few people have suggested that anything that walked--on two legs or four--must have been counted to meet the minimum population of 600 required to establish a county, most probably being of the 4-legged variety!  Two towns vied for the county seat, Iuka and Saratoga, and continuing the chicanery involved in organizing the county, citizens of both towns employed all sorts of rascality to gain the advantage.  (See "Cemetery on the Hill," 2-7-2013 in the blog archives.)

The story is told that when the governor came to investigate the legitimacy of the county, Iuka showed him such a good time that he never made it to Saratoga.  Instead, he named Iuka the temporary county seat while improprieties in the county's organization were investigated.  Having the temporary designation proved to be a great advantage, for each time there were voting and petitioning irregularities in the selection of the permanent county seat, Iuka retained the status quo.  As the roguery continued, another town joined the contest.

Early Iuka Methodist Church

Part of Iuka's advantage rested upon its claim to be the center of the county, but during the contest for the county seat, the boundaries of the county changed.  Seizing upon that change, the new town called itself Pratt Center and claimed the central location.  The investors living elsewhere who organized Pratt Center dressed their trickery in a more sophisticated veneer than the chicanery that had been employed by Iuka and Saratoga, but none of the three contenders could claim entirely 'clean hands' in the battle for the county seat.  (See "How Investor's Created Pratt," 9-27-2013 in the blog archives.)  The advantages of being by the Ninnescah River and especially the first rail lines passing through the other towns, ultimately resulted in Pratt gaining the prize from Iuka.

A few businesses and residences were moved into Pratt Center, but Iuka did not disappear, as many Kansas prairie towns did.  Instead, they built their reputation on service to the rural communities surrounding the town, especially as the place where farmers brought their grain for shipment.

It is an interesting conclusion to this bit of Iuka's history that in the 1940s the town named after a Civil War battle gained as a close neighbor the Army Air Base, which is now the Pratt Municipal Airport.  A stroll through the cemetery on the north side of Iuka is the best way to remember some of the early settlers who established this town on the prairie.


(Photo credits go to CardCow.com, where many interesting vintage postcards can be viewed.  Thank you, Eric Larson.)

A Guest Post by Misty Beck

After posting the blog remembering Memorial Days from the past, I asked my cousin, Misty Beck, if she would share as a comment an amusing story about how my Uncle Arthur taught her the tradition of decorating graves.  I fear that some of you aren't taking time to read the comments that visitors post, which are certainly worth reading.  In case you missed reading Misty's, I asked her if I could share her story for Memorial Weekend.  I've added this picture of me with my parents, decorating my grandparents' grave when I was about the age that Misty describes in her Guest Post.

Misty's Comment:
My grandparents (Arthur and Wilma, in Lyn's photograph posted May 10, 2012, 4th man from left and 4th woman from left) were adamant that when I was a child in the late 70s and early 80s, that I learn about the meaning of Memorial Day.  But, more importantly, my granddad insisted that I know where all of the family graves were located.  I remember every year as a child loading up the boxes of flowers (replaced with the ease of reusable plastic flowers in their later years) and heading to the cemeteries.

Our route included Farmington at Macksville, Byers (Naron), and Iuka.  At the cemetery, I would sit in the back of the pickup, or if we were in the car on the trunk--they didn't worry so much about safety back then. My granddad would drive, and when I found a family grave, I had to knock on the back glass.  He would stop, and then I had to show him where the grave was and tell him who was buried there.  This probably started when I was 3 years old.  My granddad died when I was 8, but I have very vivid memories of our trips to the cemeteries and how important it was to him that I know where those graves were.

While locations were important to my granddad, my grandmother found other things important.  Every year as we finished at the last cemetery (Iuka), she would remind me that we had one more set of flowers to put out.  See, my dad was adopted by my grandparents, because his biological mother died when he was born and his biological father couldn't take care of him.  Her grave was our last stop every year, because my grandmother always said we needed to thank his birth mother because she gave my dad to my grandparents.  And, if she hadn't, they wouldn't have me.  Of course, that was my grandmother's way of making it important to me.

I could probably still find all of the graves but must admit my Memorial Weekend pilgrimage is much shorter.  I just visit one cemetery to decorate our family graves there, but I am thankful that my grandparents took the time and energy to educate me on these great family traditions.  And, as I leave the Iuka cemetery every year, I put a small bunch of flowers on my dad's biological mom's grave...just like Gram always insisted.