SCHOOL CONSOLIDATION

Steamboat Rock still had a blacksmith, and his name was William Hartman. Bill or Billy as he was called was one of the more colorful characters in the town’s history. He was a talented man and liked by all who knew him.

 Mildred Dunn Lepper remembered Bill Hartman in her book, “Tell Me About the Old Days, Grandma” 

“Across the street west of the school ground was Bill Hartman’s blacksmith shop. How we loved watching him shoe horses, getting the horseshoes red hot at his fiery forge, then bending the horse’s leg up so he held the hoof against his leather apron, then holding the shoe next to the hoof, trimming off the hard material around the edge. The shoe had to be reheated and tried several times to get it to fit just right. Then he plunged the red hot shoe into water to “temper” it. The steam hissed and rolled; finally it was ready to nail on. He held the nails between his teeth, taking them Out one at a time, pounding them in at an angle so thy came through the side of the hoof. At last he clinched the end of the nail over, using an iron pincher so it would hold, and reached for another nail. We used to think it surely must hurt the horse, but he assured us it was no worse for the horse than cutting our toe nails was for us.” 

William Hartman had one of the first automobiles in Steamboat Rock. It was a Detamoble, a two seat box shaped, shiny black with brass headlights and trim. It had no top, no doors and was built high off the ground. The tire were narrow, solid hard rubber, completely devoid of resiliency. Hardin county roads at that time were not only narrow, hard and devoid of resiliency, but pitted with chuck holes and ruts. You know what happens when one resisting force collides with another. Mr. Hartman often told his riders laughing heartily each time, that the Detamoble was a lot like Teddy Roosevelt, a real Rough Rider! 

Almost every Sunday afternoon weather permitting, Bill took his wife and a couple of her friends for a joy ride in the Detamoble. Angie Gellhorn, Meta Mae (Gellhorn) Havens and Verna (Gellhorn) Karsjens’ mother was invited quite often. All watched their reflections in the store windows as Bill drove slowly up one side of main street and down the other. 

The only road from Steamboat Rock to Eldora was what is now referred to as the “river road” winding it’s way along the Iowa River. It was then even more a succession of curves and bends with Bill driving at a snails pace, knowing that speeding might hurl his passengers off into August Finger’s pasture. Bill thought on the problem and came up with a solution for taking those curves at 30 miles per. Whenever they approached a curve he would sing out, “Lean in folks, we’re going ‘round a curve” and all passengers, in unison, would lean toward the inside of the curve. It must have worked as none of his passengers was ever hurled into space. 

One day, when Bill was driving along a county road in his auto, the car bogged down in a mud hole and had to be pulled out. This is the incident that started him thinking and he came up with the answer road drag. 

Eventually there came a day when the blacksmith shop, which was located across the street west of the school became obsolete.