Why does the fear of drowning exist only with water?  The earth has to have swallowed a million times more souls than the sea has ever dreamed of.  Perhaps our fear of water is nothing more than our fear of being the exception.

M.H. King was my grandmother’s grandfather.  He was a dirt man.  I seem to come from a long line of them.  There are two types of dirt men.  You’ve got the farmer, who scratches it in order to grow something from it, and you got the contractor, who moves and digs it by the yard for building.  History would show the diver and the swimmer are in equal danger of going under.  King would.

For his first contracting job he had to come up with some money to operate with.  He got it by mortgaging his house.  Over time the contracts grew, his business grew, and so did his houses.  He worked on numerous street projects around the city of Des Moines, moved 50,000 yards of dirt excavating and grading the site of the present Iowa State Capitol, moved 700,000 yards building 17 miles of levee near Burlington, but his main specialty would be railroads.

He used a mule drawn scraper, which raised and deposited dirt in trip-bottom carts also pulled by mules.  He became well known for his innovative process and rail companies sought him out to work in many of the surrounding states.  Eventually he would be one of a handful of contractors the Union Pacific selected to bring out to Portland, Oregon to see about building a railroad to Seattle.

When his mules were idle, he housed them right south of downtown.  While they were idle, he was busy serving as the longtime alderman of Des Moines’ then 6th Ward.  He was often rumored to run for Mayor.  He never did.  Any other spare time was devoted to civic projects, such as being one of the founders of present day Mercy Hospital.  In it all he gained both admirers and detractors, and several political cartoons of the day featured King and his famous mules.  Some papers were fond of him.  Some, like the Register, he seemed to battle.

Before his death he had the city’s first steam shovel, which was estimated to displace the work of 50 men.  The papers noted he kept it guarded at all times for fear of sabotage.  At his death the same papers noted he had been the city’s largest employer.  After his death they noted the complaint of a laborer, lamenting that everyone had always had work when old Mike King was around.

King flirted with disaster twice.  The first time a railroad went defunct while he was in the middle of a large project for them.  Eventually the court would make sure the wealthy individuals behind the project paid.  Years later a second railroad would go defunct.  Evidently this time the individuals which had been backing it were no longer wealthy either.

King mortgaged the family home in order to pay his help.  On Memorial Day of 1902 he died.  The bank subsequently foreclosed on the property, and the family eventually moved over to 31st street.

On giving notice of his death, one paper concluded by saying, “He was generous to a fault and had he been as good to himself as he was kind to his friends he would have attained to a comfortable competence.”  A more friendly one concluded he died “leaving no heritage to his family but….a public spirited citizen, a friend of the poor, an honest, well spent life.”

My grandmother’s mother was the only one of four girls to have married.  She had one child.  It would seem M.H’s meager heritage grew smaller, but not without his daughters’ best efforts.  During their lifetime they concerned themselves with their father’s legacy, and some managed to carve out their own.

Someone else’s legacy can be an ocean we lose ourselves into, trying to lay claim on the exception we fear to be, before we too someday drown in the dirt.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lmVNswlLDgc