Three Faces of Iowa

Serenity in Spillville
“God, the sky is blue, and the air is shot with gold,” Patricia Hampl wrote in Spillville, her 1987 homage to the simple, rugged beauty of northeastern Iowa and the artistic heritage of Spillville.

Hampl wrote about the New York–to–Iowa pilgrimage of Czech musician and composer Anton Dvorák, who spent three months in Spillville in 1893, perhaps putting the finishing touches on his now-famous “New World” symphony. That summer remains enshrined in a memorial in Riverside Park, where Dvorák was said to take his morning walk along the Turkey River and where a dilapidated ballroom (“dance and stay young”) still hosts bands such as Jack Norton and the Mullet River Boys.

A two-room exhibit commemorates the place where Dvorák and his wife and six children lived in Spillville, and a poster is still on display downtown for a celebration held in 1993 to honor the hundredth anniversary of his visit. Phyllis Mashek, a lifelong area resident, conducts tours of St. Wenceslaus Church, built in 1860, pointing out the pipe organ Dvorák liked to play. St. Wenceslaus, the oldest surviving Czech Catholic church in the United States, is known for the iron crosses that mark sunken graves on the church’s back lawn.

Spillville holds stubbornly to the deep roots and slower pace of days gone by. An employee of the upscale Old World Inn complained to me that there’s nothing to do, “unless you like to hunt or skin deer.” After spending a night at the refurbished inn—where the dining and accommodations rival anything I’ve experienced in Stillwater or Red Wing—I was convinced that such boredom is worth pursuing. My room had no Internet access. My cell phone wouldn’t work. I spent the evening strolling, reading, and eating a delicious meal (specialties include pan-seared salmon and pork loin with sauerkraut) and slept as soundly that night as I have in a good long while.

The town’s proudest attractions are the 1854 Bouska Schoolhouse-Log Cabin, which sits on the grounds of the Bily Clocks Museum, a place better witnessed than described (563-562-3569). Had I not met a couple from Owatonna who had driven here solely to see the hand-carved clocks, I’d have been tempted to skip it. Instead, I spent an hour with museum director Georgiann Eckheart, a generous, informative tour guide whose husband teaches art at Luther College in Decorah. Donning white gloves, she showed me the clocks and described Czech bachelor farmers Joseph and Frank Bily, who pursued carving as an avocation. Lacking any training in art or sculpture, the brothers nevertheless produced astonishingly intricate clocks—some taller than they were. Each tells a unique story: about American pioneers, aviator Charles Lindbergh, the struggle for time as man-made innovations increased the speed of life . . . .

Georgiann recommended Taylor Made Bed & Breakfast, a neat Victorian house where proprietor Clarabelle Taylor insisted that I join her for coffee and kolacky in her spacious kitchen (she sells prune, apricot-cherry, and poppy seed varieties to anyone who knocks on the back door). Less expensive and more informal than the Old World Inn, Taylor Made is ideal for those who want an authentic Czech experience in Spillville. Taylor—who raised eleven children and considers this venture her “retirement”—cooks up homemade sausage and buttery kolacky every morning for breakfast. Her husband, Howard, still speaks Czech.