by Ivan Hadley 11/8/1975
My father, William Joshua Hadley was born at Danville, Indiana in the year 1859 and moved to the Earlham, Iowa area when he was nine years old. My mother, Artilla Ann Pickett was born at Thorntown, Indiana in 1864 and moved to the Earlham, Iowa area when she was twenty one years of age. They were married at the Pickett home in the Bear Creek Community between Earlham and Dexter in 1886 and lived and farmed in that area. My brother Olin was born on that farm in a cabin in 1888. Due to health causes the family moved to Salem, Oregon about the year 1890 and soon after they moved to Marion in the year 1891.
My father built a store building at the intersection of Stayton road and Turner road and he and his partner Harvey White operated a general store at that site for several years. I remember of seeing the sign, “Hadley and white” on the upper part of the front of the store for several years before it faded out. My father was also postmaster of Marion for several years. The post office was located at the front of the store to the right as one entered. One of my earliest memories of digging in the waste paper box in teh post office and saving anything that looked good to me. Other store memories were sitting on the counter while my father weighted out bulk pepper for a customer. The pepper got in my nostrils and started me sneezing. I’ve been sneezing off and on ever since. By the way, that scales stayed in the family until September 27, 1975 when it was sold at our garage sale. Another store memory is of the Japanese section hands who came to the store to buy supplies. They all wore pants with suspenders. I remember of slipping up behind one of them and grabbing his suspenders and letting them slap against his back. All I got was a big smile — no war with Japan.
My father brought out his partner Harvey White, soon after starting the business. I believe they bought the large red warehouse just south of the depot along the railroad siding before dissolving the partnership, but it may have been afterward. Here they bought grain from the local farmers and sold and shipped it. Years later after the Marion businesses were sold we tore the warehouse down and sold some of the lumber and moved the scales and the rest of the lumber to our farm south-west of Turner. While we still had the store, Al Patton, the local blacksmith came by with his team and wood wagon and asked me if I would like to ride with him and get a load of cord wood. I ran into the store and asked my father. He said, “No.” I rand out and said, “Yes” to Al and we drove out to the Stevens place east of Marion, better known as the Hall Russell place and loaded the wood. There were large angle worms on the ground underneath the wood and I thought they were snakes. Al laughed at me. He brought me back to the store and I won’t tell you what happened to me because of my disobedience.
My brother, Clifford was born in 1893 in the house a block south of the Cap Smith store where the locust trees now stand and the ground is covered with blue myrtle. This house stood for many years vacant and well furnished. About 1895 my folks built a home just east of the present fire station which still stands and is well preserved. I was born there in 1897 and we lived there until 1907 when we moved to the farm four miles south-west of Turner. My father ahd sold the store in 1903 to George Word and his brother-in-law Jim Lyle and for about three years or more we moved to the farm for the summer and back to the MArion home for the school year. My mother had a sewing room in the north-east corner of the house which had glass on two sides and she kept it filled with house plants. some old timers will remember them. I remember swinging on the front gate and watching droves of sheep come by driven by men on foot or horseback with dogs to help. I never got over my interest in sheep until I had a flock of my own and had to go through several lambing seasons and lost several fine lambs by turning them on the field of rape. They died suddenly by bloating.
When I was four years old my cousin Verle Barnett lost her parents and came to live with us until she was fourteen. We started to school in the old school a block south of the Friends Church. That would be 1903 when I was six years old. Fannie Nichols was my teacher and like a second mother to me. She stayed with us another year. As I remember my first year was known as the Primer class. While we were in teh old building we had a school program in which my cousin sang a solo and some of the words were, “Hello, Central, give me heaven for my mamma’s there.” It made the tears flow. About this time a new school house was built about 100 feet south of the old one. We now had two rooms and two teachers and I believe the ninth and tenth grades were added. Some of the early teachers were Homer Sweet, Ziggler, Jennie Gunning and U.S. Dotson.
A big part of our Marion Memories was the Friends Church. My parents had come from a long line of Quakers and it was a natural for us to attend there. My mother said I started to Sunday School when I was six weeks old and I have been going ever since. B. F. Hinshaw was the first pastor I can remember. He had long white whiskers and I can see him yet as he stood in the pulpit. His wife Eline was my first Sunday School teacher. WE sat on the front seat at the left side and sung our feet because our legs weren’t long enought to reach the floor. She was a fine teacher, but all I can remember is that “Jesus Loves Me” and I’ve never forgotten that. My first prayer was “Jesus keep me” and it has been answered many times. Christmas was a big time at the church. We had a big tree and all decorated with bright colors and candles with candy for everybody and even gifts for the kids, and wonder of wonders, we had Santa Claus. At the fortieth Anniversary of the church, I told the congregation about my Christmas experience. George Hinshaw was there and after I spoke he said, “I was that Santa Claus, I came in that window on the east side and walked over in front of Ivan and asked ‘what do you want?’ Ivan said ‘I want my Mama.’ In later years we had a Junior Christian Endeavor. Cora Webb Smith was our leader. She mad a real contribution to our young lives. One of my memories is of John Ruan [?] who used to stand and pray at length, all the while looking at some object about forty-five degrees up. If the Lord hears by much speaking, he surely heard those prayers. In 1920, I stayed overnight at the Ruan [?] home in the Rosedale area and at the breakfast table John prayed for me and the horse which was to haul a load of hay that day…