The Howard County Museum and the Toughest Sherriff ever

Another year has passed, and the Mighty Howard County Fair has come and gone. I’m not going to write much about it this year, because county fairs are not exactly known for how much they change from year to year, and let’s face it—I don’t want this blog to keep covering old ground, which is one of the reasons why the posts are getting more infrequent.

                 

Still, the area has a few surprises left in her. If this blog is to be anywhere near a complete showing of what’s interesting and neat about this area a few more posts about Decorah are necessary. So is a post about the Howard County Museum.

                

 When I was growing up in northern Michigan, one of the places that I was always interested in was the Steiner Museum. A quick flip through the old Merriam-Webster says that museums are buildings “in which objects of historical, scientific, artistic or cultural interest are stored and exhibited.” Going by that definition, the Steiner Museum was indeed a museum, although with the way things were stored one could also mistake it for a warehouse, or one of the more interesting episodes of “Hoarders.” Regardless, I liked seeing all the old relics of yesteryear, including some attempts at capturing history like a photo album of a particularly controversial decision by the Michigan Department of Natural Resources that was protested by some locals with a vehement “Not in my backyard!” attitude. Despite the chaotic layout of the place, I do have a soft spot for it. It takes dedication to run a small museum, especially because when most people think about history they only think about the big things that happened in a country. People want to see Teddy Roosevelt’s spectacles or Napoleon’s military garb or the car that was driving JFK when he was shot in Dallas. But history is made up of smaller names too, the nameless people who were pilgrims, the foot soldiers in the American Revolution, not to mention the farmers, the ranchers, the doctors, and small businessmen who did everything from sell groceries to rooms at a hotel. If you think about it, they’re the unknown giants of history, the ones upon whose shoulders stand the truly exceptional human beings we revere. 

So what would I find in the Howard County Museum? As it turned out, the museum had recently received an old-fashioned Nickelodeon, which they had gotten refurbished from whoever refurbishes Nickelodeons. For those of you who have no idea that a Nickelodeon is anything other than a cable channel that caters to children, let me give you a brief description. First, picture a player piano, only this doesn’t have a visible roll of music. Instead, it has some elaborate windows carved into the wall of the piano that lets you see the keys. While this would no doubt be thrilling if a concert pianist were to play a Beethoven concerto, the real fun comes when you put a nickel in the machine. Then the device comes alive, as the keys press down, and the inside of the piano lights up so you can see the keys striking the notes. Comibine it with a cheery little dance hall tune, and suddenly the idea that our ancestors ever got bored on a weekend seems absurd. I watched the Nickelodeon play for a few minutes and I was utterly entranced. How could you not get tired of this? I pictured a few saloons open on the weekend, with people dancing a pleasant little two-step with each other, and when they got tired gathering around the Nickelodeon, a cold beer in hand, chatting with their fellow Howard County residents, occasionally letting a moment of silence enter into the conversation so everyone could take a few seconds to watch the Nickelodeon and consider that life really wasn’t that bad. 

 

               

 After the attraction with the Nickelodeon had worn off, I started looking around at the rest of the museum. There were a selection of army jackets, most from the days of World War II, all made out of wool and sporting patches and insignias, a code that only their brothers in arms could read without effort. Further inside were old barber chairs, dentist chairs, and contraptions that must have been considered futuristic at the time they were introduced, like a salon chair with curlers descending from the central power supply on thick insulated tentacles. It looked like an alien torture device. Of course, since Howard County was built on farming, there were a few very interesting farming implements, most of which looked like monstrous versions of the current farming implements I’ve seen. Granted, the farming machinery today are arguably bigger and look crazier, but they’ve also look newer and have much better paint jobs. 

               

  

For my money, though, the most interesting thing at the Howard County Museum was the memorial belonging to the Cresco Sheriff  Percy Haven. Percy came to Cresco in the 1930s, and got the job of Sheriff because the position was vacant and somebody needed to do it. At 6’4”, Percy was that someone. I can’t reproduce the articles, but the picture painted by Percy’s obituary was one of a man who was John Wayne before there was a John Wayne. He apparently cleaned up the town, even though the town didn’t seem to need that much cleaning up in the first place. There were a few accounts of his toughness and fairness, but the one that really stands out is how he told an FBI agent to get out of town after the agent demanded a criminal in Percy’s care be turned over to him. Percy refused until the criminal was tried and sentenced in Howard County, and when the FBI agent tried to pull rank, Percy told him in no uncertain terms to buzz off. The FBI agent went away empty handed. In the 21^st century that’s all but unthinkable, and I’m not sure it was much different back in the day. After all, Iowa and the Midwest were not exactly untamed by that point. Yet Percy embodied that Old West spirit. He must have been an incredible figure, but all the same I’m a little glad he was before my time. I’m trying to imagine getting pulled over by him, and I can’t help but think that even a routine traffic violation would turn into a pants-wetting experience that would instill in the offender a deep-seated desire to always abide by the law, lest they run into Percy again.

The museum was really interesting, and I have to wonder if any other county museums are out there, and where they might be located. If I happen to find them, I’ll let you know.