Pryor, Helen B

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Masthead Logo The Palimpsest
Volume 52 | Number 7 Article 2
7-1-1971
Girlhood in Waterloo
Helen B. Pryor
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Pryor, Helen B. "Girlhood in Waterloo." The Palimpsest 52 (1971), 353-363.
Available at: https://ir.uiowa.edu/palimpsest/vol52/iss7/2
No. 7
The Pat.tmp.sfst
E dited by W illiam  J. P etersen
V ol. LII Issued in July 1971
Copyright 1971 by The State Historical Society of Iowa
Girlhood in Waterloo
Lou Henry and Herbert Hoover were both born 
in Iowa in 1874 within one hundred miles of each 
other—she in Waterloo and he in West Branch. 
They were destined not to meet, however, until 
they met at Leland Stanford Junior University 
(Stanford University) in Palo Alto, California. 
There is a distinguished lineage of sturdy pioneers 
and many outstanding people in both family trees.
Lou’s father, Charles Delano Henry, was born 
and reared in Wooster, Ohio, where he married 
Florence Weed. Charles came from a pioneer 
family, his grandfather, William Henry, having 
been bom in 1776. William Henry was married in 
a Quaker ceremony to Abigail Hunt. The Henry 
ancestors came from North Ireland and Scotland 
and the Hunts from Pennsylvania. Their son, 
William Henry, Jr., and his wife, Mary Dwire, 
had three sons—Charles Delano, William D., and 
Addis M. Grandfather William Henry helped 
make the original surveys of the town of Wooster, 
Ohio, in 1807, the men being interrupted several
353
354 THE PALIMPSEST
times by hostile Indians. William Henry, Jr., was 
a member of the General Assembly in the State of 
Ohio.
Florence Weed’s grandparents, Joshua and 
Jennie Weed, had one son, Phineas, who was 
born in Wooster in 1823. As a young man Phineas 
moved to Shell Rock, Iowa, where he married 
Mary, the daughter of Dr. John Scobey. Their 
children were Janey, Wallace and Florence. 
Phineas returned to Wooster and conducted a 
livery business on East Liberty Street until the 
Civil War. During the war he purchased horses 
for the government.
As a little boy, Charles Henry and his brother 
went with their father to celebrate the arrival of 
the first railway train to Wooster amidst great ex­
citement and the shooting of the town's cannon. 
Charles remembered his father as a member of the 
State Legislature, six feet tall, weighing 225 
pounds, smooth-shaven, dignified in carriage, a 
kindly man who wore a black suit, long Prince 
Albert coat, and always a high silk hat.
The Henry family lived in a five-bedroom, two- 
story white house that had no trimming but a roof 
of handmade oak shingles. It was set in a yard full 
of flowers and shrubs. The front door opened out 
directly on the street while the back yard had a 
stable and buggy house near the alley, all enclosed 
behind a board fence.
Charles started to Miss Henderson’s private
GIRLHOOD IN WATERLOO 355
school at age five. He rode horseback a great deal 
until roads were improved enough to drive a 
buggy. Florence, the daughter of Phineas Weed, 
was a student in the Grove Female Institute (later 
Miss Pope's School in Wooster). The Weed and 
Henry families were friends. Charles, who was 
tall and broad-shouldered, loved out-of-door 
living and frequently went hunting and fishing. 
He served for a time in the Northern army during 
the Civil War.
When Charles returned from the army to 
Wooster, he told Phineas Weed, his father's 
friend, that he was determined to become a 
banker. After his father’s death in 1868, when 
Charles was twenty-three years old, he and his 
widowed mother moved to Waterloo, Iowa. His 
heart remained in Wooster, however, for in five 
years he returned to marry Phineas’ daughter, 
Florence Weed, on June 17, 1873.
By 1874, Charles Henry was engaged as a 
bookkeeper for the First National Bank in 
Waterloo, the county seat of Black Hawk County. 
Located in a rich agricultural region, Waterloo 
proved an excellent place in which to grow. As a 
result, Charles Henry took an active interest in 
both business and civic affairs.
Charles Henry took great pride in the town of 
Waterloo, in his own home, and in his beautiful 
young wife. In short, he had everything a man 
could wish for—except a son. He eagerly awaited
356 THE PALIMPSEST
the birth of his first child and confidently hoped 
it would be a boy. But fate decreed otherwise. 
March 29, 1874, was a cold stormy day, but all 
was snug and warm in the spare bedroom of the 
Logan house where Florence Henry gave birth 
to her daughter—Lou.
The little newcomer was welcomed by both 
parents and, if in his heart Charles was momen­
tarily disappointed, he did not show it outwardly. 
It was not long before his gay, active daughter 
had wrapped herself around his heart completely 
and Charles could not imagine giving her up for 
a boy. Whenever possible, Charles Henry took 
little Lou with him, no matter where he went.
By the time she was five years old Lou was 
allowed to go fishing with her father on the Cedar 
River. On these occasions Lou bravely learned 
how to tie penny-apiece fishhooks at intervals 
along a butcher string, while her father cut willow 
poles for them. Angleworms for bait completed 
their equipment except for a sturdy jackknife used 
to clean their catch before going home to the im­
maculate kitchen of Mrs. Henry.
Lou learned to ride horseback on her Grand­
father Scobey’s farm at Shell Rock. When she 
was six she was lifted on to a big farm horse for 
a bareback ride in the open fields. She loved it and 
begged to return often for more. As she grew 
taller, she learned to ride easily, securely, and 
gracefully behind the high pommel of a western
GIRLHOOD IN WA TERLOO 357
saddle. She very early exhibited a love for and 
great skill in handling horses. By the time she was 
ten, she had mastered the sidesaddle, then rather 
mandatory for girls.
Lou Henry first rode in saddles with her father. 
She would sit sideways with a foot resting in the 
sash which her father had taken from around his 
waist and looped over the saddle horn for her 
support. He would then mount the apron of the 
saddle behind her, his feet stuck into the stirrups 
and his arm holding the reins, passed over her 
shoulder to steady her, and often he would place 
his hat on her head. Her father encouraged her 
riding and later taught Lou to master the wiry 
western broncos, which she was allowed to ride 
astride like a boy, on their long trips into the 
country.
Saturdays, in the fall, Lou went tramping 
through the woods with her father gathering 
hazelnuts. He showed her the right place to catch 
rabbits and how to cunningly hide their wooden 
cracker box trap in the bushes.
As a little girl, Lou Henry paid scant attention 
to her dolls, always preferring a game of ball, or 
any form of play that took her out-of-doors. The 
corner lot of their block on Fifth Street was a 
playground for the children of the neighborhood. 
Lou was the youngest child and her favorite game 
was hide-and-seek, in and out of all those 
neighborhood yards with the Chamberlain girls,
358 THE PALIMPSEST
the Alfords, and others. Her special friend in pre­
school days was Joe Rickert, who sensed Lou’s 
alertness to sympathize with anyone in misfortune, 
and particularly after Joe received a spanking 
from his father. Lou and Joe liked to play anti- 
over, throwing the ball over the porch roof to be 
caught without seeing the thrower.
She went camping with her father at the tender 
age of six, sleeping on a canvas spread on the 
grass. She loved the pioneer stories told her by her 
Grandmother Henry and when she went on out­
ings with her father they talked about pioneer 
qualities of courage and resourcefulness. Her out­
door experience stood her in good stead when she 
reached maturity.
But deep as was her love of outdoor life, Lou 
enjoyed domestic interests, too, and this tug of 
war in her nature continued all her life. Florence 
Henry, secretly worried about her daughter’s 
eager preference for boyish activities, resolved to 
teach her feminine graces and skills. Sewing was 
high on the list.
On her eighth birthday, March 29, 1882, Lou 
had spent three hours under her mother’s careful 
guidance, sewing on a new dress. She turned 
anxiously to her mother, “Is my dress all right? 
May I put it on now?” Mrs. Henry examined the 
small plaid garment carefully. “Yes,” she replied 
with a smile, “you have turned a good hem and 
you may wear the dress to show your father.’’
359
With the dress over her arm, Lou ran eagerly 
upstairs to her room. As she passed the window 
on the landing, her eye was caught by a red kite 
snared in the branches just outside. Dropping the 
dress, she threw open the window. At the foot of 
the tree stood a small neighbor boy staring up dis­
consolately. His face brightened at the sight of 
Lou. “Can you get it loose?” he called.
Lou never hesitated. “I’ll try,” she answered, 
and leaned out precariously. She stretched as far 
as she could, but the kite stayed just out of reach. 
She stretched farther, and might have tumbled out 
had not the wind blown a branch within her reach. 
Lou caught it and pulled until the kite was in her 
hand.
“There!” she called triumphantly, as she set it 
free. “There’s your kite.” For just a moment, as 
she watched her grateful little friend run off with 
the tugging kite, Lou was tempted to leave the 
new dress where it lay and slip outdoors to play. 
It was a glorious day for kite flying, tree climbing, 
and all the other tomboy activities she loved. But 
then she thought of the tiny stitches she had so 
painstakingly put into that hem. Domesticity won. 
She caught up the dress and ran into her room.
Dressed in her new plaid dress, Lou waited im­
patiently for her father to come home. When she 
saw him coming she ran to meet him. “Look, Papa, 
this is my new dress. I helped Mama make it too.”
“What a clever little girl,” he said as he gath-
GIRLHOOD IN WATERLOO
360 THE PALIMPSEST
ered her into his arms. He carried her into the 
house and deposited her, laughing, in the middle 
of the floor. He turned to kiss his wife and then 
took his accustomed place in front of the pot­
bellied stove with his hands behind his back and 
his feet apart. Lou, who liked to imitate her father 
in every way possible, stood beside him, with 
hands behind her back and her feet apart.
A moment later Mrs. Henry sniffed the air. 
“What is that?” she asked. Lou jumped and felt 
the back of her new skirt. “I’ve burned a hole in 
it,“ she wailed in dismay. Her mother comforted 
her and allowed her to use the family sewing ma­
chine to mend the dress and also to make a ging­
ham sunbonnet to match. Following the current 
fashion, it had a wide, poke brim stiffened with 
interlining and a full soft crown gathered to the 
brim. There was a ruffle to protect her neck and 
tie strings that matched. Lou was proud of her 
new clothes and pleased that her mother allowed 
her to help make them.
A girlish looking, rather frail young woman, 
Florence Henry spent many sessions in her sitting 
room making Christmas presents for her family. 
She was expert with her needle and gave Lou 
many ideas for little gifts which they worked out 
together. Grandmother Henry was a stately wo­
man who teasingly questioned the value of so 
much time spent in making Christmas “gewgaws.“ 
Lou frequently laughed over the busy hours she
361
and her mother spent assembling their numerous 
gifts, all gotten together with love and ingenuity 
and finished off in a rush just before Christmas.
Everything was simple and unpretentious about 
Lou Henry—even her name had no middle initial. 
She wore her hair bobbed because Florence Henry 
considered short hair sensible for little girls, even 
though it was not the height of fashion.
In those days, when “nice” girls were expected 
to be rather prim and sedate, a girl who liked out­
door sports was unusual and one who liked to 
climb was extraordinary. No wonder that Lou 
Henry was labeled a tomboy when she climbed up 
a tree at the school picnic and tied a long rope to 
a strong branch to provide a swing! On another 
occasion, a student on a stepladder wrote words 
at the top of the schoolroom blackboard. Then the 
ladder was removed but when the teacher arrived 
he demanded angrily that the writing be erased. 
Lou quickly mounted a chair, held in place on top 
of the teacher’s desk, and erased the writing.
The father-daughter camping trips continued. 
Lou adored her father. She admired his easy way 
of handling horses, the deft motions of his hands 
as he built a campfire on a weekend outing, and 
she listened fascinated when he explained differ­
ent kinds of rocks, trees, and flowers. She was un­
afraid of the dark and enjoyed watching those 
violent midwestem electric storms. She observed 
the lightning and thunderclouds with interest.
GIRLHOOD IN WATERLOO
362 THE PALIMPSEST
When they went tramping together and came to 
a fork in the way, Lou always chose the unknown 
path to see where it would lead and then returned 
with much to tell. One day she asked, “Why 
doesn’t Mama like to go camping with us?”
“This rugged kind of living doesn’t agree with 
her,” explained Charles. “She wouldn’t mind if 
she could go in a surrey and carry along a mat­
tress to sleep on, but she really doesn’t enjoy 
roughing it. We won’t be camping so much now 
because pretty soon she is going to need you to 
help her take care of a new baby.’’ This realization 
stirred all of Lou’s maternal instincts and for the 
time being she became more her mother’s girl while 
they discussed the coming of another child.
Lou helped her mother make baby clothes. She 
shaped a dozen flannel bands ten inches wide to 
be wrapped around the baby’s abdomen. She 
helped to hem several crib blankets and was trust­
ed to make flannel covers for the hot water bottles 
by herself. Lou watched Florence’s skillful fingers 
fashion little woolen shirts with high necks and 
long sleeves and long petticoats supported from 
the shoulders. She learned from Grandmother 
Henry that Canton flannel and stockinet were 
both superior to linen as absorbents for diapers.
Lou looked forward eagerly to the coming of 
the new baby and wondered if it would be a boy 
or a girl.
Finally the great day arrived. Lou, awakened
363
by the commotion in her mother’s room, tiptoed 
down the hall and eventually was admitted. She 
heard protesting wails and saw a wrinkled little 
red face through a small aperture in the blanket.
Fascinated by the newcomer, Lou loved learn­
ing how to take care of a baby and was a great 
help to her mother. But she continued her outdoor 
interests too and she thoroughly enjoyed her 
school. She was active in other school activities as 
well as sports. She especially enjoyed nature study 
and history books and took a lively interest in 
what she read, particularly in history.
If Lou had had a brother to be a companion to 
her father, her life might have been very different. 
Spending time with her father developed her in­
genuity and courage but she was taught by her 
mother that the home is the cornerstone of civiliza­
tion and she learned such feminine pursuits as 
housekeeping and baby care. Gentleness and 
grace developed naturally through her mother’s 
example but her parents did not insist on her fol­
lowing the rigidly “feminine” pattern of that day. 
Instead, they encouraged her to develop her own 
interests, which, uncurbed, were very broad.
As a child, Lou had more than the average 
chance to initiate her own activities and carry out 
her own plans. However, the discipline in the 
Henry home was such that she never argued with 
her parents but accepted their decisions without 
quibbling.
GIRLHOOD IN WATERLOO


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