Prairie Fires

by Caroline Fraser

  Charles and Caroline Ingalls, late 1870s or early 1880s. Caroline is wearing a comb in her hair, perhaps the gift from her daughters described in Pioneer Girl.

  A dugout on the South Loup River, near Virge Allen Homestead, Custer County, Nebraska

  Grasshoppers stopping a train on the Union Pacific Railroad, from a sketch by A. P. Smith, Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper, August 7, 1875

  The first known photograph of the three eldest Ingalls sisters, taken around 1879 or 1880. From left to right: Carrie, Mary, and Laura Ingalls. Carrie is believed to be wearing a string of Indian beads, perhaps those collected by her sisters on the day she was born.

  Mary Ingalls, Vinton, Iowa, circa 1880s

  Almanzo Wilder as a young man in De Smet, circa 1880s

  Laura Ingalls at seventeen, De Smet, 1884

  Laura and Almanzo Wilder in the winter of 1885, shortly after their marriage

  Laura and Almanzo Wilder near Westville, Florida, circa 1891–92

  Among the Ozarks: The Land of Big Red Apples, an illustrated book promoting the Kansas City, Fort Scott & Memphis Railroad and the “Big Red Apple” region of Missouri, 2nd edition, 1892. The Wilders’ daughter, Rose, recalled studying it before the family’s journey to the Ozarks in 1894.

  The Ingalls family in 1894, shortly before the Wilders left for Missouri. Seated, left to right: Caroline, Charles, and Mary Ingalls. Standing: Carrie Ingalls, Laura Ingalls Wilder, and Grace Ingalls.

  Laura Ingalls Wilder on the porch of her house in town, Mansfield, Missouri, circa early 1900s. On the back of the photo, she has written: “Just as I am without one plea.”

  Rose Wilder at the time of her graduation from high school, Crowley, Louisiana, 1904

  Rose Wilder at nineteen, when she was working as a telegrapher, Kansas City, 1906

  Rose Wilder Lane, newly married, in San Francisco, 1909

  Rocky Ridge farmhouse and its distinctive fieldstone chimney, shortly after renovation was completed, 1913

  Laura Ingalls Wilder at the beginning of her career as a farm columnist for the Missouri Ruralist, circa 1917

  On this undated photo Laura Ingalls Wilder has written, “A J Wilder making hay on Rocky Ridge farm with horses Buck & Billy.”

  Laura and Almanzo Wilder visiting neighbors near Mansfield, 1929

  Laura Ingalls Wilder in a publicity photo taken in 1937 for the publication of her fourth book, On the Banks of Plum Creek

  Rose Wilder Lane testifying as a “revolutionist” before a Congressional subcommittee hearing on the Ludlow Resolution, May 10, 1939

  Laura and Almanzo Wilder visiting Aubrey Sherwood’s newspaper office on Old Settlers’ Day, De Smet, South Dakota, June 1939

  Laura and Almanzo Wilder greeting visitors at the Rocky Ridge farmhouse, July 4, 1948

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  In 1993, I had the great good fortune to meet Barbara Epstein, co-editor of The New York Review of Books, and it was she who first encouraged me to examine the authorship of the Little House books. Two years and many rolls of microfilm later, the NYRB published my first article for them, “The Prairie Queen,” which led to other opportunities. I doubt that this book would ever have been imagined, much less written, without Barbara. She died in 2006, leaving behind scores of writers who cherished her curiosity, dry wit, and cheery if remorseless editorial acumen. I will always be grateful to her.

  In 2011, Max Rudin, publisher of the Library of America, asked me to edit Wilder’s Little House books for the nonprofit organization that, for the past thirty-five years, has been re-issuing classic works of American literature in authoritative editions. It was an honor, and in preparing the first new edition of Wilder’s novels since 1953, I discovered her anew, uncovering historical nuggets with the greedy delight that Laura knew, searching for colored beads in the ashes of Osage fires.

  Writing a chronology of Wilder’s life was a revelation that always left me wanting more. In preparing the texts and notes, I was aided and inspired by the Library of America’s tireless contributing editor, Chris Carduff, and by an exceptional editorial staff including G. Thomas Tanselle, textual advisor; Brian McCarthy, associate publisher; Stefanie Peters, associate editor (who among other finds helped us track down the elusive “Little Dickie Dilver”); and managing editor Trish Hoard.

  I thank Chris as well for recommending me for a travel grant to the Herbert Hoover Presidential Library in 2014. On repeat visits, I’ve grown to depend on the archival expertise of Matthew Schaefer, Spencer Howard, and Craig Wright. Photo archivist Lynn Smith kindly tracked down additional items, as did audiovisual specialist Jim Detlefsen. Thanks are due as well to Delene McConnaha of the Herbert Hoover Presidential Library Association for handling details of the grant. On several occasions, beginning in the 1990s, I benefited from discussions with Dwight M. Miller, now retired senior archivist, about the Library’s acquisition of the Rose Wilder Lane Papers and his pivotal early visit to Wilder’s Rocky Ridge farmhouse.

  Over the past year, it has been a real pleasure to work with Nancy Tystad Koupal, editor of the South Dakota Historical Society Press and leader of the Pioneer Girl Project, the venture that published the revelatory annotated edition of Wilder’s Pioneer Girl in 2014. I thoroughly enjoyed working with Nancy on an essay for Pioneer Girl Perspectives, published earlier this year in celebration of Wilder’s 150th birthday, and participating in the related conference, “Laura Ingalls Wilder: A 150-Year Legacy.” There I learned a great deal from fellow contributors William Anderson, Michael Patrick Hearn, Elizabeth Jameson, Sallie Ketcham, Amy Mattson Lauters, John Miller, Paula Nelson, and Ann Romines, all of them specialists in history, literature, and Wilder herself.

  Of those Wilder specialists, Bill Anderson deserves a special vote of thanks from scholars for his work over the decades, and he has kindly spoken with me at length on several occasions. John Miller, too, author of a fine biography of Wilder for the University of Missouri, has answered questions and offered valuable suggestions.

  Librarians close to home have been generous with their time and assistance. Barbara Messer, who handles the interlibrary loan program at the Santa Fe Public Library, tracked down exotic and obscure items, including Samuel Ingalls’s broadside, newspaper microfilm, and many other works. It may be a small-town library, but under the able direction of Patricia Hoddap, herself a noted Laura Ingalls Wilder fan, it is also mighty. In addition, two private libraries in Santa Fe allowed me to use their collections: the Fogelson Library at the Santa Fe University of Art & Design and the Meem Library at St. John’s College.

  Farther afield, Dawn Eurich, Archivist at the Burton Historical Collection of the Detroit Public Library, helped arrange for scanning of their Wilder manuscripts. I’m grateful as well to Dale Ann Stieber, Special Collections Librarian and Archivist at the Occidental College Library, which holds the papers of Bessie Beatty; Evelyn Parker, who helped locate letters in the Jane Burr Papers of the Sophia Smith Collection of Smith College; Clint Pumphrey, at Utah State University, for supplying Charmian London’s correspondence with Rose Wilder Lane; and Kathy Shoemaker, at Emory University’s Manuscript, Archives, and Rare Book Library, which holds the papers of Isaac Don Levine and Ruth Levine. Lee Grady, reference archivist, and other staff at the Wisconsin Historical Society aided in navigating their rich collections, and Heather Stecklein and Robin Melland at the University of Wisconsin, Stout, arranged for me to examine WHS materials at their campus research center in Menomonie, Wisconsin. Reference librarians Nancy Robinson at the Cuba Circulating Library in Cuba, New York, and Kelly Sheahan at the Ella Johnson Memorial Public Library in Kane County, Illinois, diligently searched through rare items in their collections. The public library in Durand, Wisconsin; the Wright County Library in Hartville, Missouri; and especially the Laura Ingalls Wilder Public Library in Mansfield, Missouri, were also enormously helpful.

  Two professional researchers supplied welcome assistance. Kevin Leonard, of the Leonard Group, charted a path through
the byzantine halls of the National Archives, providing important background on the Federal Farm Loan program. David Williams patiently unfurled Civil War records and searched other materials at the Wisconsin Historical Society. In addition, Sarah Miller generously bestowed digitized materials; Jeff Nillson, archivist & historian at the Saturday Evening Post, compiled a list of Lane’s contributions to the Post and spoke to me about the strange career of Garet Garrett; and Dr. Robert Elsie gave his insight into Albanian history and the sad case of Rexh Meta.

  * * *

  Everyone writing about Wilder is obliged to the home sites that maintain her legacy, and I have found their guides, staff, and local researchers endlessly knowledgeable, engaging, and helpful. I’m indebted to Cheryl Palmlund, former director of the Laura Ingalls Wilder Memorial Society in De Smet, for allowing me to spend a week examining their collection, including items on display and their extensive newspaper files, which I examined on Rose Wilder Lane’s Harlingen patio furniture, a gift from Roger MacBride. The Society’s current executive director, Tessa Flak, has also lent a hand, offering timely help with photo research.

  I thank Roland Rydstrom, guide at the nearby Ingalls Homestead, for an enlightening personal tour of Silver Lake, the family homesteads, and other landmarks. On the same trip, Marie Tschopp graciously invited me to join her on her visit to De Smet’s First Congregational Church and the town cemetery with Craig and Bonnie Munger, whose knowledge of the town goes back decades.

  In Malone, New York, Anne Smallman, of the Almanzo and Laura Ingalls Wilder Association, opened the archives for me during the off-season. In Pepin, Wisconsin, Catherine Latané joined me on a Sunday morning to discuss years of research. Nicole Elzenga, collections manager at the Laura Ingalls Wilder Museum in Walnut Grove, Minnesota, explained their significant holdings, and in Spring Valley, Sharon Jahn stole time from farming duties to describe her genealogical research, sending key documents and photos. Allen Whipple pored over historical records with me at the Dale Pleasant Prairie cemetery in Zumbro Falls, Minnesota, where Frederick Ingalls may be buried; at the Masters Hotel in Burr Oak, Iowa, curator Bonnie Tieskoetter displayed plat maps and other records. Researchers Sarah Uthoff and John Bass have also provided valuable insight and information. I’m grateful to them all.

  In Mansfield, Missouri, I was overwhelmed by the kind hospitality of everyone at the Historical Society, but especially Kathy Short and Donna Brame Climer. Publisher Larry Dennis and staff at the Mansfield Mirror allowed me to look through fragile back issues. “Everyone looks in the Mirror” used to be their slogan, and it’s still true today.

  Up in Hartville, I must thank Kathy Garrison, Recorder of Deeds at the Wright County Assessor’s Office, who arranged for an assistant to handle her duties one morning so that she could lead me up to the second floor of a dark, abandoned building where she shifted what appeared to be several tons of leather-bound volumes, helping to locate deeds Wilder had recorded during her tenure as secretary/treasurer of the Mansfield Federal Farm Loan program.

  I’m obliged as well to Wanda Cope, the Mayor of Hartville, and her husband Darrell Cope. Over the course of an afternoon and on little advance notice, they unspooled for me decades of Wright County political history and their recollections of local hardships during the Great Depression. I’ll never forget Darrell Cope’s story about a dark day during the Depression when his father set off to confess to the tax collector that he lacked money to pay the bill, expecting to lose his family’s home. On the way to town, however, he found and unearthed a nest of skunks and sold their skins for a quarter each, saving the day. It’s one thing to read about history, another entirely to hear it firsthand.

  In that same vein, I spent a riveting afternoon with Gloria Bogart Carter, who grew up in Mansfield and had astonishing stories to tell about the history of the region. As a teenager, she waited on the Wilders at Winslow’s Cafe; as an adult she became a genealogist and historian, acquiring and maintaining a trove of materials documenting local Ozarks lore and lives. I am deeply grateful as well to Nava Austin, for speaking with me about her memories of Wilder. Gloria and Nava remain highlights of my time in that part of the country, and I thank them both.

  It remains something of a national shame that this country does not support its literary heritage as well as it might. All of the Wilder home sites have struggled to secure adequate funding, but Mansfield merits particular mention in this regard. While its Wilder manuscripts were microfilmed and made available in the 1980s, the Wilder Home and Museum has never hired a full-time archivist or librarian and its holdings have not been properly catalogued or made available for research, a problem that still awaits a solution. I’m grateful, however, to the tour guides and staff at Rocky Ridge for sharing their abundant knowledge of the Ozarks and of the Wilders’ remarkable farm.

  * * *

  AT Metropolitan Books, I have been extremely fortunate to work with the superlative publisher and editor Sara Bershtel. She has, as always, seen exactly what was needed. I benefited as well from the gifted and meticulous line editing of Grigory Tovbis, who patiently pruned and untangled overgrown passages. Prudence Crowther supplied her discerning skills in copyediting, maintaining her good cheer in a pinch.

  I’m also grateful to Don Fehr, of Trident Media, who reached out to me in 2013 and has since delivered fine literary representation and clear, calm advice at every turn.

  I’d like to thank my friend James McGrath Morris, an accomplished biographer and a founder and past president of the Biographers International Organization, who was kind enough to take time from his own work to supply a recommendation and offer invaluable tips about historical research in Missouri.

  My friends Jeff Dreiblatt, William Walker, and the lovely Bess provided a warm Brooklyn haven during Hurricane Sandy, which struck hours after I gave a Wilder talk at the Bank Street BookFest, hosting me as well while I was doing research at Columbia University’s Rare Book and Manuscript Library. Though deeply troubled by the episode of the pig’s bladder, Jeff, a vegetarian, persevered in reading Little House in the Big Woods, a mark of true devotion.

  My close friend Harbour Fraser Hodder has always been an indefatigable supporter of my work, generously organizing a book event for my last work. As always, she listened to my hopes and plans for this one, asking important questions, and from her Massachusetts home she sent me on my way to Malone. I value her more than I can say.

  While I was working on this project, my brother, Christopher Fraser, and sister-in-law, Linda Warner, discovered and passed along the article describing our Wisconsin past, inspiring the description in the introduction. For that and for so much else, I thank them. My sister Katie Wheatley has likewise uncovered startling details of our ancestry, and she and her exceptional offspring, Sarah Wheatley and Colin Wheatley, have long buoyed my spirits and spurred me on.

  Hal Espen, my husband, has put up not only with my actual absences, but with years of Wilder-related absorption. In the early 1990s, he drove me through miles of sunflowers, across half the west to reach De Smet. In addition to dispensing sage editorial advice, he has read untold drafts, pitching in with suggestions for titles, subtitles, photos, and other matters. If books, like quilts, are the work of many hands, his are all over this one. Along with the essential canine comfort of Huck Fraser and Alice Espen, he is my life, and I’m thankful for him every day.

  Finally, my preoccupation with western settlement began long ago, with my maternal grandmother telling me about her own labors on a Minnesota farm, where she baked bread before dawn to feed a multitude of brothers and sisters. Her education went only through the fourth grade, and she was supremely unsentimental about the rigors of pioneer life. But she remembered Longfellow’s poem, “The Village Blacksmith,” and when prodded would dreamily recite it at bedtime to help a little granddaughter go to sleep. This all goes back to her.

  My mother, her only child, would grow up to become a public school teacher who would spend her professional life teaching
children to read. Then she would come home and read to her own, and I owe to her my sense that the books we discover as children shape our lives. She helped me make books with crayons and bind them with yarn. She took me to libraries and bookstores, gave me every book I ever asked for, and my first typewriter. I promised that if I ever wrote a book I would dedicate it to her, and I regret that this comes too late for her to see it. Memories are our treasures and torments, as Wilder once said, and somehow it is only in books that it can all be set right in the end.

  ALSO BY CAROLINE FRASER

  God’s Perfect Child

  Rewilding the World

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CAROLINE FRASER is the editor of the Library of America edition of Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House books, and the author of Rewilding the World and God’s Perfect Child. Her writing has appeared in The New York Review of Books, The New Yorker, The Atlantic, the Los Angeles Times, and the London Review of Books, among other publications. She lives in New Mexico. You can sign up for email updates here.

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