The Little Brown Church

The Little Brown Church, Nasha, Iowa

I've been terribly amiss in continuing my posts of travel adventures here and I am determined to be better in the new year, 2013.  As I don't have any immediate travel plans, I will try to catch up on a number of posts that I failed to make in Fall of 2012.  The first is more a spot of personal nostalgia than something of more specific significance or adventure, but thought I would post it anyway.

My family was involved in the Shiloh Valley Grange #1807 when I was growing up, and as a result, I would spend the first Friday and the third Saturday nights of every month in the basement of the Shiloh Valley Grange Hall in a meeting of the Shiloh Valley Juvenile Grange #5 (later changed to Junior Grange for some reason I never quite understood).

Shiloh Valley Grange Hall,
shortly before it was sold

The meetings were mirror images of the full Grange meetings happening upstairs, so there was a set order of business, including an opening and a closing song, one of which was almost always "The Church in the Wildwood."  One of my siblings or I would bang out this music on the converted player piano that sat on a short wooden platform to keep it dry in case water came into the basement.  I particularly remember that we would be over-enthusiastic in our chanting of "Come, come, come, come" in the refrain.  I don't suppose this song is even remembered or known by most people my age or younger, but it certainly holds prominence in my early memories.

Click here for a version of the song from the Andy Griffith Show.  Or if you prefer, Dolly Parton.

Church in the Wildwood Score

I actually didn't realize that the Little Brown Church was a real place until a few years ago, during one of my regular drives between Minneapolis and St. Louis.  Along what they are now calling "The Avenue of the Saints" (because it ultimately is to be an Interstate highway connecting St. Paul and St. Louis), between Charles City and Waverley, Iowa, lies Nashua.  About 3 miles northeast of town you'll find the remains of the pioneer town of Bradford--which really is nothing more than the Little Brown Church.  This became a favorite resting spot for my beagle, Max, on our drives.  There is a nice wayside park opposite the church where Max could do what he had to do, and it would also allow a revisit of this lovely building.

I stopped here on my most recent trip to Minneapolis, in September 2012, sadly without any beagle, just for old times' sake.  I was pleased to be reminded that it is a Congregational Church--United Church of Christ--so hopeful that it might be a gathering place for people embracing a liberal and open view of Christianity.  The advantage of not having a beagle in tow meant that I could explore a little more fully. In doing so, I discovered a pamphlet laying out quite an incredible story about the origin of the church.  More can be found at the church's website, but the core of the story is here:

The first settlers came to the Bradford area in 1848 and with an abundant water supply and virgin timber, the town grew. By 1855 the first members of the Puritan-Congregational Church had begun holding meetings. By 1856, Bradford had 500 residents and was the first town in this part of Iowa. 

A young music teacher named William Pitts was traveling by stagecoach from Wisconsin to Iowa to visit his future wife. While waiting for the stagecoach horses to be changed, he walked down Cedar Street and saw the empty lot where the church now stands. Being a romantic young man, the thought came to him of what a charming setting the spot would make for a church. Returning home, he wrote the poem “Church in the Wildwood,” and later set it to music. He put it away in a drawer and forgot it. 

Meanwhile, church members grew tired of meeting in places such as the lawyer’s office, abandoned stores and parishioners’ homes. They began making plans to build a church. A family in the parish gave them the property. When Rev. Nutting arrived, talk of building became serious. Limestone was quarried and by 1860 the foundation was laid. The Civil War slowed the work, but when one family gave trees and another donated the sawing of the lumber, the work never really ceased. By 1862 the building was enclosed and not a penny had been spent. When it came time to paint the building, the cheapest paint to be found was Ohio Mineral Paint, which would protect the wood but which was unhappily brown. With help from friends in the east, the building was finished, complete with bell, in 1864. 

Mr. Pitts had married and was living in Wisconsin. In 1862 the couple moved to Fredericksburg to be near her elderly parents and Mr. Pitts was hired to teach singing class at the Bradford Academy. Imagine his surprise when he saw a little brown church nestled in the very trees where he had stood some years before. He went home and found the song and taught it to his class who sang it at the dedication service of the church. Pitts had written a song for a church that wasn’t there. The congregation had painted their little church brown without ever hearing of the song.

This is such a hard story to believe that it must be true.  No one would make something up like that, I think.

Anyway, the church is, indeed, just a clapboard building painted dark brown.  It is oddly appealing in its monochrome appearance.  Inside, it still maintains a primitive but comfortable vibe.  It brings to mind some of the churches I saw in Cades Cove in the Smoky Mountains.  They were oddly barren of anything to indicate human presence.  I don't know if that was simply because the National Park insisted on them being empty or if it was by choice.  Perhaps the constant flow of tourists and the fact that they were open made a difference, but this church seems to be open and unattended almost all the time.  Seeing those empty churches, even when in use, was sort of haunting.  This structure, from essentially the same time period, was very warm and inviting.

I was interested to see that the fake Gothic windows are constructed almost identically to the Gothic windows in the Espenschied Chapel here in the Mascoutah City Cemetery.  The window shape is constructed to have the pointed arch of a Gothic window, yet the window is actually just a rectangular window with the point just filled in solid.  I guess it was a practical compromise to  get the desired "church" look and still build with relatively primitive supplies.

At any rate, not a very adventure-laden visit, but one that elicited very fond memories for me of my childhood, which has sort of double meaning as that is the primary idea communicated through the original poem.  I think I'll keep stopping there just for a few moments as I have to repeat that trip.  It'd be nice to be there on a Sunday and actually go to a service.

It also makes me realize how much I miss having something like Grange meetings to attend.

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