THE RAPE OF
HOWELL AND HAMBURG, MISSOURI
(An American Tragedy)
by
Donald
K. Muschany
COPYRIGHT © 1978 BY DONALD K. MUSCHANY. ALL
RIGHTS RESERVED.
[Letter 12, undated]
Dear Cousin:
I think it’s high time that I talk a
little about Howell Institute as it obviously embodied the thinking of the
people of that area—that education was not a luxury but a downright necessity.
You and I, among others, can thank our lucky stars for that attitude.
Howell Institute was founded in 1881 on
what was known as Lots 32-33 in Mechanicsville. These lots were owned in
sequence by:
Fortunatas B. Castlio to Peter
Mades, 1874
Mades to Jeanette Muschany, 1878
Jeanette Muschany to Nannie
Muschany, 1880
Nannie Muschany to R. E. Gamble,
1882
R. E. Gamble to the school, 1882
While it is not my intention to have
voluminous names and dates in these reports, I do want to show that the
Muschany family was thoroughly involved with the concept of higher education.
This is a heritage no one can take away
from us, Norm, and one in which I place a great deal of justifiable pride. I am
very much involved with Central Methodist College, my alma mater, as you know.
Beyond being a duty, it is a pleasure and a rewarding experience for me to
offer something of historical value to the college and to our descendants. I
know that you share this same feeling.
Like his brother Lewis Howell, Francis
Howell, Jr. was interested in promoting the educational opportunities of the
community, though he had no progeny of his own. He died in 1874, leaving a provision
in his will for the financing for just such a “seminary” as evolved with Howell
Institute.
The school was a three-story frame
building where many teachers of the area were educated. Classes were held on
the first floor, with the second and third floors being used as living quarters
for the teacher and his family, or paying tenants. (Schools always needed
money.)
Literary societies met in the classroom
where heated debates were heard. Entertainments, box and pie suppers were held
here, thereby incorporating the educational system into that of social
functions, a laudable way of guaranteeing total participation. Often, when the
second floor was unoccupied, the Ladies Aid or the Missionary Society quilted
in one of the rooms. Ice cream socials were held on the lawn every two weeks
during the summer months. How I wish this efficiency were the rule, not the
exception, today!
Howell Institute was the recipient of
further endowments, among which was from the estate of Hiram Castlio.
Incidentally, in the last letter or so, I
mentioned the “quilt custom,” and I’d like to share my thoughts on an extension
of that custom. As I gather these bits of information about our family, I see a
general pattern taking form. It is as if the whole populace of Hamburg and
Howell comes together as a large quilt with each family doing its own section
of the total endeavor.
In my undergraduate days, I studied a
little Emerson and I remember being fascinated with the “cloak” concept of the
Transcendentalists. Each person helped make up the whole “cloth” and there was
one “oversoul.” Now, I don’t hold with their religious tenets but from a
community standpoint, I think the idea applies very well. Most assuredly, the
families of Hamburg and Howell passed this “cloth” on, one to the other. We
have to do this the hard way, mentally and in absentia. But we do the same
thing with Valley Forge, The Alamo, and Pearl Harbor. I mean the incidents, not
the geographical locations.
Memories are marvelous! Mary Jayne and I
have traveled a great deal in these last twenty years, and all we have to do to
relive these trips is to bring out the photos, memorabilia, and anything else
we brought back with us. The same thing is true of memories of our children,
Donna and Keith’s early days. I am forever beholden to Kodak for the old
Brownie camera; I don’t recall a bad picture.
I hope and pray that my humble offerings
on these pages will stir up pleasant memories for you and anyone else who may
read them. Norm, I can truthfully say that I think I am a better man for having
indulged in this flight of fancy.
If you recall, I started out by insisting
that I know who I am . . . that I had no identity crisis. Well, if this was
true at the start of these exercises, it is now confirmed, signed, sealed, and
delivered. I now really know who Don Muschany is and what should be expected of
him by his family: To be as close to a composite of the men in my ancestry as
is humanly possible. I intend to try, believe me.
On to more Howell personalities.
Regards,
[signed:
Don]
Don
(Who?)
