KEEPING HISTORIC OLD FARM IN FAMILY 22-YEAR OLD YOUTH BUYS CALLAWAY COUNTY PLACE SETTLED BY GREAT-GRANDFATHER, 111 YEARS AGO FULTON DAILEY SUN-GAZETTE MARCH 11, 1943 BY F. A. BEHYMER

Going--going--all done--gone. Sold to Jimmy Gill for six thousand six hundred dollars. So Edgewod Farm, historic Callaway County estate of the Gill family, held by three generations for 111 years, is still in the family, now owned by James William Gill of the fourth generation, great-grandson of the conversed wagon pioneer who settled upon it in 1831. Jimmy, 22 hears old, saved it when it was put up at partition sale at the courthouse door, as his last act of devotion before being inducted into the Army. In keeping it out of the hands of strangers he brought an end to a bitter family feud that had lasted many years.

Out of Fairfax County, Virginia, in that year of 1831, came Daniel Gill and his wife, Matilda, with an immigrant train, and homesteaded a quarter section on a ridge in what, 10 years before, a county had been formed and named Callaway. In the following year, having built a log house and complied with other requirements, he received a land grant signed by President Andrew Jackson. In the nearly half a century that he lived there Daniel Gill increased his holdings to about 640 acres. He died Jan. 26, 188. His funeral was held at Union Methodist Church, built on the farm, the first in the community, and buried in the family graveyard.

One of his sons, James, who had gone to St. Louis and prospered there in the box-making industry and had married Julia Frances Poorman, with whose father he was associated in business, bought out the other heirs and maintained Edgewood Farm as a country estate while still occupying a home in the city.

One of James' sons was James ray, called Ray, who had great skill as a cabinetmaker and who was expected by his father to succeed him in business, but he was a farmer at heart and persuaded his father to let him take over the operation of the Callaway County estate. So when he was only 21 years old he became the master of Edgewood Farm.

As farmer and stock raiser he prospered. The log house was moved from the knoll on which it stood and a frame house built. There his parents spent as much time as his father could spare from his business until he retired, to spend their remaining days on the farm. in preparation for their coming Ray doubled the spice of the house, with 14 rooms in the east and west wings. Ornate mantels and other important interior woodwork were wrought by him. At the same time at about the turn of the century, he built a large barn with a smoothly floored loft. When it was finished he dedicated it with a barn dance what was the talk of the countryside and of the St. Louis social circles in which the Gills and the Poormans moved. There were many guests from St. Louis, who went by rail or boat to Portland on the Missouri River and were met there and taken in farm vehicles the seven miles to the farm, east of Readsville, where some of them enjoyed the hospitality of the Gills for days.

The invitation to the people of the country was general and hundreds came. For the convenience of the guests a grand stairway, 16 ft. wide, had been built from the door to the loft, which was decorated and illuminated with lanterns. There was an orchestra from St. Louis and refreshments were provided by the host. Square dances vied for favor with the waltz. It was break of day before the last of the horse-drawn vehicles had gone down the long winding drive to the county road.

The dance gave Ray Gill so much satisfaction, for he was socially minded and expansive in his hospitality, that every autumn for several years he repeated it.

Ray remained a bachelor until after the death of his father in July, 1918. Then, at the age of 45, he married Rosalie Tate, who lived near Williamsburg, and installed her as his bride in the east wing of the big house. His mother continued to live in the west wing, as during her husbands life.

Relations between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law were not more pleasant than is usual when women so related live under the same roof. Rosalie, considerably younger than her husband, had difficulty in adjusting herself to the rigidity of his aging mother. As time went on there was little communications between the west wing and the east wing, so far as the women were concerned, although Rosealie saw to it that the older woman was not neglected so far as her physical needs were concerned. Ray, folks say, was good to his mother. He bought for her everything that she wanted, even fruit out of season that had to be brought from a distance. Every evening at 7 o'clock he went to the west wing to spend an hour or two with his mother, often taking his little son, Jimmy, with him. His mother kept cookies and candy and toys in her room for the boy and while he played his father talked with her and read to her, for her sight was impaired, until she lost her hearing also.

On account of the age and infirmity of his mother, life on the farm was quiet in contrast to the gaiety that there had been before. It went on that way for 16 years ad then, on Oct. 15, 1934, Ray died, and was buried beside his father in the family graveyard on the farm.

It was in obedience to the with of the 92-year-old woman that her only remaining son, Clarence, and his wife, Cora, came from st. Louis to take care of her. Conditions in the gib house, with a mother-in-law and two daughters-in-law under the same roof, were worse than they had been before. The aged woman, known as Aunt Frank by most of her relatives and old friends, disliked Clarence's wife because, as she was quoted as having said, Clarence had married her after being divorced from his first wife. Mrs. Lucy V. Jackson told about that in a deposition she gave in litigation that came later. "Aunt Frank never had nay use for Cora," Mrs. Jackson testified, "because she didn't come into this family just right. Clarence was divorced. He left his other wife.

" Clarence's first wife, Nettie, Mrs. Jackson said, was devoted to her and Aunt Frank grieved over the separation. Once, according to Mrs. Jcakson, who was a cousin by marriage, Mrs. Gill said to her: "I've got Clarence and Nettie's picture on the wall, and I don't know what Clarence thinks of that."

The three-cornered household did not long hold together. On April 24, 1935, Mrs. Rosalie Gill and her young son left the farm. Mrs. Gill says she was given by Clarence to understand that they were not wanted there any longer and were requested to leave.

For seven years Aunt Frank lived on in loneliness in the west wing, seldom seen by anyone because callers were not encouraged . Clarence told them that she was not in a condition to have visitors. when she died, June 29, 1941, at the age of 98, she is believed to have been comforted as long as consciousness lasted, by the thought that, when she was gone Jimmy, her favorite grandson, would have Edgewood Farm, as she had always said it was her wish for Clarence to have her St. Louis property and Jimmy to have the farm.

What had allegedly been happening at the farm during the seven years came out in a suit filed to the May term, 1942, of the Callaway County Circuit Court, to set aside a deed. It was filed by James William Gill, lately come of age, against his uncle and aunt, Clarence and Cora Gill, and others. It alleged that a deed for the farm, given by Mrs. Julia Gill to Clarence on Nov. 4, 1935, was the result of fraud and deception and the exercise of undue influence on a woman who was 92 years old, practically blind, infirm and feeble in mind and body and unable to read. It was alleged that she had wanted her grandson to have the farm and her son to have her St, Louis property, but Clarence was represented as having told her he wouldn't manage the farm or have anything to do with it unless she deeded it to him. Clarence was alleged to have kept her in an upstairs room and did not let the plaintiff or her mother and friends see her except in his presence.

It was alleged that Clarence had destroyed a will made by is mother giving the farm to Jimmy. There is on file with the papers in the case an unexecuted will containing an item reading: "I give and bequeath unto my grandson, James WIlliam Gill, the farm known as Edgewood Farm, near Readsville, Mo., with a life insurance in it to his mother, Rosalie Gill."

The trial, bitterly contested, widened the breach between the branches of the family and the numerous collateral relationships. Sympathy was on the side of the boy, for he was well regarded and most of the relatives and friends knew that it was his grandmother's wish for him to have the farm, and they were sure she died in the belief that he would have it and that it would remain in the family, as she also greatly desired.

The decision was that the deed was obtained by fraud, undue influence, over-persuasion and threats. It was set aside and Clarence and James were declared sole heirs of Mrs. Julia Gill, with James entitled to half interest in the farm, free from such in cumbrances as had been placed on it by Clarence.

There were three other suits, two to replevin household effects and tools and one involving a note for $400. The replevin suits were settled by stipulation and the other was decided in Mrs. Rosalie Gill's favor.

Then, in December, Clarence Gill filed a suit for partition of the estate, 14-room house and 635 acres, except tracts given by the first owner, Daniel Gill, for a church and family graveyard. Judgment was given and the property ordered sold at auction at the courthouse door.

In the interim before the sale there was much speculation as to whether the estate would be permitted to pass out of the family possession. It was considered unlikely that Clarence would try to hold it. He said he would not. He had said so the day before when this writer visited him at Edgewood Farm. Coming out of the house, carefully closing the door behind him, he had stood in the yard and talked guardedly and dourly about the troubles and the uncertainty that hung over the farm. He an Jimmy could have fixed things up between them, he said, if others hadn't interfered. He wasn't a farmer and it had not been his wish to come there in the first place, but he had to take care of his mother. The house and the farm were too big. It was very lonely there. He had no wish to stay.

Because of the size of the house and farm it was unlikely that there would be high bidding from outsiders. That left Jimmy. What would Jimmy do? Nobody knew. Jimmy wasn't saying. The only certainty was that he was going to be on hand at the sale. For that purpose he had obtained a deferment of his induction into the Army.

"If Jimmy wants it," everybody said, "he can have it. Nobody in Callaway County will bid against him."

On the day of the sale Jimmy was there, accompanied by his mother and his uncle and aunt, Mr. and Mrs. John Dutton, and there were cousins and other relatives in the crowd. Clarence was there, alone, almost ignored, knowing himself distrusted and disliked. As I. W. Holman, the auctioneer, standing at the door called for bids, Jimmy Gill seated himself on the parapet at the side of his lawyer, T> A> Faucet, with his feet drawn up under him. "Who'll start 'er at $10,000?" the auctioneer chanted. Nobody made a bid. Holman kept coming down until her reached $5000. Jimmy gave him a nod. J. R. Baker, a lawyer who had represented Clarence, bid $5500. "Fifty-seven hundred and fifty," said Jimmy. Baker raised it to $6000. Jimmy made it $6250. There was a lull and then Alfred M. Fox bid $6500. Jimmy conferred with Fauct. "Sixty-six hundred," he quietly said.

Homan did his duty as an auctioneer but there was no other bid. So..... "Going---going---all done---gone. Sold to Jimmy Gill for six thousand six hundred dollars!"

Upstairs in the courthouse, in Faucet's office, Jimmy and his mother and his aunt and uncle stood waiting for the papers to be made out, taking a serious view of the occasion, saying little, carrying no air of triumph. They were glad, yes, that the farm had been kept in the family, but unhappy over the bitterness that had been engendered.

Through the door, walking unsteadily under the weight of his 72 years, came Clarence Gill. The others, surprised and silent, watched him warily. He held out his hand to Rosalie. "I'm glad it's been kept in the family," he said quaveringly.

Mrs. Gill, taking his hand incredulously, her face still hard from remembered hurts, said evenly: "Do you mean that, Clarence?" "I mean it, Rosalie," he said. The woman's eyes softened and became suffused. She turned away to regain her control. Clarence offered his hand to the others and they took it in token of their forgiveness.

John Dutton, forthright farmer, spoke for all of them. "I always knew Clarence," he said, "that your heart was right. You was influenced, that was all. There won't be any more hard feeling's."