SOUTH OF TOWN
SHOPTALK: Greetings all. Atop the shop’s desk this week is a pic I really can’t be definite about. My best guess would be that it’s a grain mill – and that it was probably located somewhere in Birmingham. But who knows? It might have been in Milan. The miller, his wife, and daughter probably wonder what Roscoe was doing when he caught their shadows in time.
On my desktop at home is a pic provided me by Kathy Dickason Kvach several years ago. I believe it’s also in my new book. It is, of course, Warren “Smitty” Smith outside his store on Darrow Road.
Note the always present pipe, the tilted hat, and the sign: “Blow…”. It actually says (at least I think it says) “Blow Horn” (for service).
I received a note from Mr. Williams this week about the pic of the Olympic Club last week. I had thought that the white paint at the bottom of the trees was there to mark the height of the flood waters. Mr. Williams told me that the trees were actually painted at the bottom like that with a concoction that would keep them healthy – not rotted from the waters.
RECENT ACQUISITIONS: During the week the museum acquired some very nice wicker chairs for the front porch (over the entrance of the museum) along with a beautiful antique sofa.
The sofa was donated by museum member Beverly Zimmer. She had purchased it some time ago from an antique dealer in Milan, Ohio. She did tell me the name of the dealer, but I can’t recall what it is (at the moment).
The wicker chairs and table were donated by Dave and Ginny Wilkes (my brother-in-law and sister). They purchased them at a sale at the north end of town. There’s also another, larger chair, that will sit on the back porch.
VIDEO WORK:One the many projects I’m working on at the moment is that of producing a video tour of the museum.
Because of the age of the building we’re not handicap accessible. And because of the cost implicit in becoming accessible it doesn’t appear that we will be in the near future. Consequently, it should be nice to offer a digital video tour for persons unable to take the physical one. The electronic tour will be much like the one I personally offer visitors when they tour the place.
I’m hoping that it will be available by the end of the month.
As a side note I should mention that we also have some of the interviews we recorded with local residents over the years available. I would warn interested parties that they are not all very good nor are many long productions. But they are interesting nonetheless.
Those currently available are: Nancy Tarrant Emery; William R. Tarrant; Connie Dropko; Jim Snell; Dawn Full; Marie Tansey; Jim Hart; Roger Watkins; John Tuttle; Bill Seith; Melba Gorbach; Arlyss Schwensen; Marilyn VanDenBossche and several others. Some of the interviews are on a single DVD.
In the near future we will also have some audio-only recordings available. (i.e. Nettie Welch, Rita Howley Summers, Hank Fischer, etc.) I can say that though these are not what one might call comprehensive recordings most are historically informative.
The DVD’s are $5 – and only available at the museum.
NEW MUSUEM SCHEDULE: Beginning now the museum will be open six days a week from 11 AM to 3 PM. We will be closed on Sundays and Holidays.
Private tours during those hours and during the evening can be arranged by calling the museum, or stopping in to see us.
FIVE-OH-ONE-CEE-THREE: The museum is a 501(c)(3) organization. Consequently, all donations to the museum are tax deductible. This is retroactive to November of 2011.
VISITING HOURS: We are located at 727 Grand Street in Vermilion across the street from Vermilion's historic E&R Church. The museum is open Monday thru Saturday from 11 AM to 3 PM. A small admission donation of $3 (for adults) is requested. Children accompanied with an adult will be admitted free. For Special Tours call: 440-967-4555.
We are closed on Sundays and holidays.
MEMBERSHIPS: Memberships to the VERMILION NEWS PRINT SHOP MUSEUM are now available. Funds generated will go toward the aforementioned renovations and maintenance of the shop.
If you would like to become a member the VNPSM you can send a check or money order to:
Vermilion Print Shop Museum727 Grand Street Vermilion, Ohio 44089440.967.4555.
LIKE US ON FACEBOOK:Take the time to visit us on Facebook. Click on the badge below and stop in. We'll keep adding pix as we go along. If you're in the area come on in. I try to be there in the a.m. most everyday. If you see a Chevy Silverado in the drive with the plate "MRCOOKR" stop by and see what's cooking.
Historically,
MOREY BYHAM JEFFERY 1920 – 1988: I found this pic of Morey B. Jeffery (c.1943) in a stack of pix that my brother, Al, had set aside for reasons unknown (to me). I knew who it is simply because I’d have a real hard time mistaking a Jeffery face anywhere on the planet.
Mr. Jeffery distinguished himself as a pilot during WW2. He did leave the service for a short time following the war, entering into a grocery / meat market business with his brothers (Keith “Doc” and Sidney “Ding” at the Park Market. But I believe he missed the action. So he reenlisted and became a career military pilot.
Morey’s son Morey “Larry” was also a career pilot. He flew helicopter in Vietnam. Currently he works for the C.I.A. and travels all over the world. I receive emails from the most exotic places (I’ve never heard of) now and again from him.
The entire Jeffery family were (and remain) great people – wherever they might be.
SPENT LAST WEEK IN 1867: Some people go on river cruises. Some go to Amish country. Some go to Maine or Yellowstone. I spent a good part of my life last week in 1867. It wasn’t in Vermilion though. Well physically it was. But mentally I was inside a diary written in Milan, Ohio – kept by my maternal great-grandfather Caselton Roscoe.
“Cass” was 32 in 1867. Home after spending 4 years in the Union Army during the Civil War he seemed to be at peace with things. His daily entries were, for lack of a better description, rather mundane. [e.g. Wednesday January 2: “At home all the forenoon. Afternoon went to mill and staid until night. Eve attended masonic meeting.”] Being accustomed to reading detective novels I kept reading waiting for an “Aha!” moment. But not being one of those thrillers the “Aha!” moment, of course, never came. However, I did further my education about both great-grandfather and life in mid-19th century America – at least in Milan, Ohio.
Like his father Levi, Caselton was a skilled carpenter and millwright. Thus, his earnings were just a bit above average. [e.g. Friday June 7: “Worked for A. Page on mill dam all day… $2.50.”] Bear in mind that – skilled labor or not – he did not have steady employment. Nor was he always paid the same wages from one job to another. [e.g. Friday April 12: Worked for Tim Washburn building smokehouse. Worked all day…$2.00.] But however poorly that may seem to us today most inflation calculators will show that a dollar in 1867 would be equal to around $16 today. So Cass was actually making a pretty good buck – when he worked that is.
In the meantime he worked the family farm. It was located along a bend in the Huron River in what folks in those days called “North Milan”. After his marriage to my great-grandmother, a schoolteacher named Helen Forster in 1868, (both pictured in 1900) his father sold him part of the farm for $5. [Incidentally, I came across the actual deed for the sale after reading the diary.] But I’m getting ahead of myself.
On the farm he cut down trees and burned some stumps. Some of the trees he formed into sleds. He trimmed grape vines, hoed and planted sorghum, took up wheat and oats, cut weeds, slaughtered hogs and some cattle, and took the horses to town to be shod.
In his spare time he went fishing in the river, went to Huron for “a swim in the lake”, and “went up town” or to Norwalk to “Lodge meetings”. While in town he’d often purchase some “smoke (35¢) and / or chewing tobacco (25¢), or a cigar (10¢). One time he bought a keg of beer ($2), and another time a new pair of boots ($4.75). On Sundays he attended church. He seldom missed a Sunday. He also sang in the choir. Being a musician (guitar and fiddle strings 50¢) he played for dances in Milan and Berlin Heights. Sometimes they lasted all night. He played the drums for the 4th of July celebration “up town”. And on August 3, 1867 he joined the Milan chapter of the “Sons of Temperance”.
Following the American Civil War numerous fraternal organizations flourished in the light of Free Masonry. The Sons of Temperance founded in New York in 1842 was one. While Freemasonry deliberately avoided any formal insurance program, other organizations, like the Sons of Temperance, made it a central part of membership. Though it did promote the temperance movement its constitution required members to pay thirty dollars to cover the burial costs of any brother who died. In short, it acted as an insurance company – but one with an altruistic mission of course. Anyway my great-grandfather became a member in good standing.
On Monday October 10th he went to “Clide” [Clyde] and caught the train for Cincinnati to attend a Masonic convention. He missed the first train, but got the next one. For the next several days he attended Grand Lodge meetings “forenoon”, and “walked around the city, and went to the theater or visited the Masonic Temple” during the evenings. By Saturday, October 15, he was back home working in his “…sargo mill all day.”
The mill referred to is a sorghum mill. Sweet sorghum was widely cultivated in the U.S. in the 1850s and 60s for use in sweeteners, primarily in the form of sorghum syrup. He recorded selling over 100 pounds of sorghum molasses between September 29th and late October when he put the mill to rest for the winter.
On the last day of the year, Tuesday December 31st, he wrote: “Milan, Ohio: At home. Went down to the woods and chopped until 3 o’clock in the afternoon. Eve. Went up to sis Harriet’s [his sister]. Danced the old year out and the new one in.” And that, by and large, ended my visit to Milan, Ohio in 1867. I arrived home on Sunday June 22, 2014 refreshed from my journey into the yesteryear with my great-grandfather. We had a fine time.
AGAIN - ANOTHER NEW (NOW OLD) THING: Initially I said that "This will not take the place of the "Macabre" stuff all the time - but will supplement whilst I search for more macabre stories to tell." But methinks that it's carved out a niche for itself and the "Macabre stuff" with have to find another.
So stay tuned...
Vol. X – NO.11 – August 23, 1906.
Leslie Cole, aged 11 years whose parents reside on Grand street, met with death last Friday afternoon while on a visit at his grandparents home a short distance north of Milan. He with his brother and two other boys had been playing around the house and the grandmother called to the boys to go get some apples for a relative who was spending the day there and was about to go home. The boys stated on a run for the apples, it was supposed. After waiting for some time search was made to find what had become of them. Finally they were heard down near the river and soon three of the boys came up and told the awful tale of the death of Leslie. It seems that the boys, intent in their play, did not hear the request to go after apples and had gone to the river instead.
Leslie, not being able to swim as well as the other boys said he would wade out as far as he could, which he did. The treacherous current caught him and then came a heroic struggle for life. The little fellow worked, using every effort to save Leslie and finally succeeded in getting a stick out to him and towing him into shallow water. He then attempted to wade ashore but fell over backward and disappeared.
His companions barely had strength to get where they could tell of the accident. They said Leslie went down five times before his final disappearance. The alarm was given and soon a large crowd gathered to search for the body. In the meantime the boys’ grandfather, Austin Ruggles who is 73 years old went into the water to try to find the body.
A launch from down the river was telephoned for but the body was found before it arrived.
The boy’s parents were at Rocky River and a message was sent o them but did not reach them until too late for them to take the train, and it was three o’clock Saturday morning before they arrived.
Funeral services were held at the home of the grandparents Sunday afternoon. Among those who attended from Vermilion were: Mr. and Mrs. Geo Walper and family, Mr. and Mrs. J.A. Klaar and son; Mrs. J. Lenz, Mrs. Adam Walper and daughter and Bert Ruggles and family.
The boy’s parents and brother Harold have the sympathy of the community.
The mother was prostrated by the shock and the brother who saw him drowned nearly crazed with grief.
Mr. and Mrs. Cole expected to go to Lisbon and Mr. Cole who is in the employ of the Nickel Plate had gone to the depot to see if their passes had arrived when he received he telegram.
The management of the above popular named pleasure resort wishes to announce to the public that in addition to the various amusements booked for the coming Sunday August 25th, that they have secured at a great expense, an attraction that is bound to draw a large crowd. “Balloon ascension” by Prof. R.G. Reese, the world’s renowned and most daring aeronaut of present day, under the direct management of R. J. Hawkins and which will take place immediately after the Vermilion-Lorain game.
Admission to the grounds will be free.
The strong and heavy hitting Lorain team will stack up against the Independents on the coming Sunday afternoon, August 26th, on the Shadduck’s Lake Park grounds at Vermilion, Ohio and will endeavor to defeat the Vermilion and thereby even up the defeat that the Independents administered to them on their home grounds at South Lorain on last Saturday afternoon.
Both teams will use their strongest lineup and will put forth their best efforts to win.
Vermilion will be handicapped without the services of center-fielder Tischer who sustained a badly sprained ankle in the Lorain game and catcher Young who receive a split finger in the Leader battle on Sunday afternoon.
The rooters for both teams will be out in force and on account of the rivalry which is intense between the two towns, a large crowd will be on hand to witness these teams battle so the “fans” can rest assured that the game will be exciting from t start to finish.
Game will be called at 2:30 Standard time.
“Jimmy” Leach of Lorain will officiate.
The Elyria Chronicle has dispatch from Pittsburg stating that, “When a young man stepped up to H.C. Lohr a wholesale grocer from Vermilion, Ohio, yesterday on the steps of the Pittsburg post office and asked him to cash a draft for $740, he was so polite about it that Lohr had not the heart to refuse. He just counted out the money. The young man told him he owed a bill to the government and that Uncle Same would not accept drafts.” Now the city detective force is looking for the young man. The draft was worthless.
H.C. Lohr was at one time a resident of Vermilion and is a carpenter – but as being a wholesale grocer – that is news to us.
Mr. and Mrs. J.H. Baumhardt left Friday for an extended trip through the west. They expect to visit relatives in Iowa, Nebraska and Kansas.
Rev. A.D. Blakeslee is enjoying a five weeks vacation.
Mrs. A. Shattuck is reported quite ill.
Miss Margaret Holstein returned home Friday from a two-week’s visit with her grandmother, Mrs. Rae in Amherst.
Charlie Gibson of this place is seriously ill at this writing.
Little Marion Baker has been on the sick list but is better at this writing.
Miss Vedah Lee of Shinrock was in Ashmont Thursday delivering her Larkin soap products.
Mrs. Conrad Nuhn spent several days with her father, Geo. Bone on the shore. Mr. Bone is dangerously ill.
Mrs. Charles Thompson has been assisting Mrs. Orra Jump with her papering.
Mrs. T.W. Derry is reported on the sick list.
Mrs. Adam Opperman underwent a successful operation for a growth on the neck last week at Lakeside hospital, Cleveland.
Mrs. B. Brooks is slowly recovering from her recent illness.
Mrs. Geo. Rheimiller is reported seriously ill.
Miss Maud Barnes won the prize in the voting contest for the most popular young lady given by medicine show people Saturday night.
Another leak has been discovered in the Ok Point scheme. Someone old someone else that someone told him that someone heard that someone else said that a huge tin mill would be built at Oak Point, also that [sic] docks of immense proportions. When we really get down to business all interviews with those who hare supposed to be back of the scheme have proved that if there’s anything in it, it hasn’t leaked out yet and they propose to keep it bottled up until they are ready to let it be known.
[VV. Ed. Note: I am very honestly surprised that “anyone” thought to print this article. By this time I’d have thought that it was obvious that nothing – at least nothing of this nature – was ever going to be built at Oak Point.
Dr. Carl Fischer, the state veterinarian, has prepared a map of the state showing the counties in which glanders has appeared since 1903. There are 21 such counties. They are: Fulton, Putnam, Miami, Montgomery, Hamilton, Greene, Madison, Clinton, Brown, Adams, Scioto, Gallia, Fairfield, Perry, Coshocton, Huron, Erie, Lorain, Cuyahoga, Geauga, Trumbull and Columbiana. In only Lorain and Montgomery has the outbreak proven serious.
[VV. Ed. Note: Glanders is an infectious disease that occurs primarily in horses, mules, and donkeys. Other animals such as dogs, cats and goats can contract it. It is caused by infection with the bacterium Burkholderia mallei, usually by ingestion of contaminated food or water. Signs of glanders include the formation of nodular lesions in the lungs and ulceration of the mucous membranes in the upper respiratory tract. The acute form results in coughing, fever and the release of an infectious nasal discharge, followed by sepsis and death within days. In the chronic form, nasal and subcutaneous nodules develop, eventually ulcerating. Death can occur within months, while survivors act as carriers. I knew you’d want to know all that.]
It is reported that there is promise of a good chestnut crop this fall. This may be good news to the average small boy.
The carnival will be the biggest affair that ever transpired in this section of the country. The $1,000 exhibit of fireworks will be a feature.
Aug. 21.
A severe electric storm passed over this morning accompanied by a heavy fall of rain. The storm was of short duration and so far we have heard of no damage.
Telephone wires are up now waiting for the patrons’ connecting wires.
Mr. and Mrs. Early spent Sunday at Cedar Point.
Mr. Durling of Michigan is in town. He reports poor crops in his section of country on account of dry weather and in the region of Black Swamp, O., everything is so wet the crops are poor.
It must have given Mr. Stensland a pang of regret to leave Chicago. But he took about everything in the bank except the safe and office cat.
[VV. Ed. Note: Paul O. Stensland was a banker who according to one report embezzled $1,003,000 from the Milwaukee Avenue State Bank in Chicago. His story was that he was re-investing the embezzled funds, had lost, and was trying to recoup his losses when he became overwhelmed with the situation (at the age of 65), and fled Chicago and Illinois. Other than the financial losses experienced one depositor committed suicide and another just dropped dead. When caught Stensland – to the chagrin of many folks – got less than ten years in the pen.
When you consider the N.Y. has paid out $1,000,000 to insanity experts, it leads to the suspicion that N.Y. may be half crazy.
Officials of the ice trust are escaping fines and punishment on technicalities, but you will notice that you cannot escape your ice bill that way.
[VV. Ed. Note: The Ice Trust was a monopoly controlling the New York City ice supply. Charles W. Morse, tycoon and robber baron, founder of the American Ice Company, ruthlessly ordered prices raised and service cut upon assuming control.]
A New York girl announces “that she is going to Africa to study monkeys’. Why wander so far afield? Why not visit the racetrack?
Mr. Gompers objects to the use of Chinese laborers in digging the Panama canal. Is Mr. Gompers prepared to supply Americans to do the work?
[VV. Ed. Note: This is very interesting footnote in American history. I refer to the attitude of the writer.]
The man who ejected a woman from President Roosevelt’s pew in church should without a moment’s delay be made postmaster at Oyster Bay.
[VV. Ed. Note: Roosevelt’s summer home was located in Oyster Bay. Obviously, the writer of this piece had not real affection for the president. Politics haven’t really changed all that much since then. ]
Chas K. Clary of Berlin Hts. and Miss Helen E. Stone of San Francisco, Cal. Were quietly married at Sandusky Aug. 3.
Veronica Keane, aged 11, died at her home in Amherst August 13. She was the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. M.F. Keane who formerly resided at Ceylon.
Twenty-two firemen attended the convention at Elyria Wednesday besides many other Vermilionites.
A good time is reported. The boys did not go in for any of the prizes but carried the day on the idea of having an outing to some popular resort instead of a convention in some hot crossed hall. Where this outing will be held is left to a committee.
The Republican Executive committee met in the office of Al C. Close, chairman, at Sandusky Saturday afternoon and selected delegates to the thirteenth district Republican Congressional convention which is being held at Cedar Point today. The following from Vermilion were chosen: A.A. Blair, A.D. Baumhart, C.C. Baumhart, R.F. Quigley, E.B. Welch.
34 years ago Sunday the first railroad entered Lorain. H.P. McLeman of that city brought the first engine into the city.
LOST – Between the residence of John Knott Sr., and the L.S.E. station a fine umbrella. Finder please leave at the NEWS office.
Justice Baumhart has held court several times during the past week. Two cases that of A.J. Giddings vs. The Duplex Stamping Co. and Guy S. Davis vs. same were postponed on account of sickness of one of the defendants.
The case of Detroit Metallic Casting Co. vs. E.B. Welch was also postponed until next Tuesday.
BORN – To Mr. and Mrs. George Howell, Saturday August `8, ’06 a son.
[VV. Ed. Note: This refers to the birth of Irvin “Irvie” G. Howell who is the father of well-known Vermilionite Larry Howell.]
Capt. F.A. Goodell and wife of Cleveland spent Sunday at the home of Capt. Bell.
The case of Cady Machine Co. vs. The Duplex Stamping Co., of Vermilion has been appealed to the court of common pleas from the court of Justice Baumhart.
Mayor Geo. Curtis of Milan and daughter Miss Maud with her friend Miss Peet of Beloit, Wis., dined at the Hotel Maudelton Sunday.
DIED – Monday Aug. 20, ’06 Mrs. Louisa Johnson Normando, aged 71 years, at the home of Mrs. Arnold. Mrs. Normando was born in Vermilion in 1836. She was the mother of six children three of them are living. Mrs. Josephine Arnold, Mrs. Sarah Darby and Joseph Normando. Funeral services were held at the Arnold home, Wednesday at 10 o’clock, conducted by Rev. J.W. H. Brown.
Geo. Knoch who resided west of Vermilion died Saturday. Funeral services were held Monday.
The Funeral of John C. Black was held from his late home Saturday at 12.30. Conducted by Rev. J.W. H. Brown also by Hudson Tuttle.
[VV. Ed. Note: Hudson Tuttle was a nationally famous author, lecturer, “Spiritualist” from Berlin Heights. ]
Hmmmmmm....
By Mary Wakefield Buxton
Speaking of the riches of growing up in small town, America, what more treasure in life is there than fishing on the beach off placid Lake Erie on a fine summer’s evening? Father attached the poor earthworms while I suffered. I couldn’t do hooks. But I was glad that someone could because fresh Lake Erie white bass filets fried in butter was the best.
One day Father gave Alice and me a lesson in “free enterprise” and set up a “booth” on 6 and 2 for us to sell our home- made cockleshell necklaces and clam shell ashtrays to passersby. “They’ll sell like hotcakes!” Father said looking over our beautiful homemade wares before leaving for work at the factory.
We manned our booth all day long but not one car stopped. We have ever since laughed at the expression, “They’ll sell like hotcakes.” The lesson learned was how hard it is to make a sale. A good idea is often nothing more than one man’s wild dream of profits.
We were abject failures in the cockleshell and clam business but Alice and I left Vermilion with no illusions about the hard work it would take in life to earn money. We three sisters worked hard at careers; Alice, a college professor, Georgia, an executive in a major drug corporation, and I, an educator turned writer. Meanwhile, no wild Canadian geese honked as they passed overhead without my flapping back my arms and wishing to fly off with them to make my way in the world. I couldn’t wait to leave Vermilion. How impatient youth is and how ironic that I ended up living in a small town, Urbanna, VA, that so reminded me of my old home town. Speaking of birds, Father detested crows because they ate baby birds and he commandeered an ongoing one man force to save them. The first sound we would hear at dawn after the wild caw of crows from the willow trees along the shore was Father rising from his bed. I would hear him slip down the hall to his gun closet and creep out the front porch door. “Bang! Bang!” When Father returned I heard two words to Mother. “Got em!”
I wasn’t a hunter like Alice, but I learned to shoot a Daisy BB gun and could hit a clay pigeon target in front of the lake. But I couldn’t kill anything. Why, I even worried about stepping on June bugs and I had to tiptoe everywhere I walked. I can still hear the dreaded “snap “under foot. I stayed away from Father when he came home from a hunt because I could not bear the sight of lifeless birds, rabbits or squirrels he would remove from the deep recesses in his hunting coat and lay out on the sidewalk. Once, I recall the horror of the arrival of a dead deer tied across the front fender of his car. What I wished for was to be bad. A dreamer, I romantically thought it would be much more fun to be bad than to be good. Oh, if I could only be bad like “Yankee Doodle” who had been so bad he had stuck a feather in his hat. One day I snuck into Father’s gun closet which smelled of hunting gear, cigars and used ammo and I reached high up on the top shelf for his bottle of whiskey. I uncapped it and took a big swig like I imagined a cowboy standing at the bar in a saloon might have done and then ran screaming to the kitchen sink to wash out my mouth. I was sure this deed had made me suitably bad.
Later, when I was a teen, I took up smoking cigarettes which I practiced holding with just the right come hither drop of my eyelids and crook of my little finger in front of the living room mirror to give me a whiff of an evil look. Mother would immediately smell the smoke and scream from the kitchen which spoiled my newly discovered sophisticated demeanor.
I had a deep secret. Most of my childhood was spent not as “Mary Annie” as Auntie Ruth lovingly called me or “Mays” as Father called me, or “Maysie” as the rest of my family and close friends called me, or “Mary” as I am now called, but as ”Janie Experience.” Janie was sort of an imaginary super woman prototype that not only knew how to solve the problems in the world but also had the means and determination to do so.
My parents must have sensed that l spent most of my younger days living in another world and one day Father noticed at the dinner table I was preoccupied with thoughts and he outright asked me who I was. “Why, Father, I’m Janie Experience,” I said gravely and then related my glorious adventures of the day. There was some muted giggling at the table but Father stopped all laughter. “Mays is a writer,” he said solemnly and we stared back in stark horror at such sudden revelation. But from that point on Father always said, “Mays is a writer” so I grew up believing I was writer. I had no idea what that meant, however.
I always wondered if Father also had an imaginary character in his brain and therefore understood my “Janie.” I believe those who have imaginary friends and adventure going on internally are the richest people of all.
Mother, who held high, hopes that one day her three girls would grow into lovely ladies, make good marriages and have fine children, insisted on dancing, piano, voice lessons, and, of course, going to school. I heartily disliked group settings, but bravely marched along with her schedules according to plan for Father had taught me it was good and right to always “carry on.” I only lasted in Girl Scouts for 3 weeks, however. The truth was “Janie” was much more exciting than any club I could ever join.
Mother feared I had a “vulgar streak.” This was because I used words on her forbidden list like “crud”, “brat,” “shut up,” and, the worst word of all, “snot.” Ladies did not use such language. But I wished for a vulgar streak probably because I was a writer. I recall Mother dressing us in patent leather shoes , plaid dresses with spanking white bib collars, straw hats on our heads with our thick curls pinned back so that we looked respectable and not fresh from the fields of corn, playing jacks, jumping ropes and dancing rock and roll music to “Shake, Rattle and Roll” in front of the living room mirror and trying not to chew gum and crack it or worse, blow huge bubbles and let them pop over our nose which was really delightfully crass.
I went through a stage of kissing the living room mirror to practice for the time I might fall in love. “Mays has been kissing the mirror again, Mom!” Alice would report and, sure enough, Mother checked the living room mirror and saw smooches exactly my height all over the mirror. A girl had to practice for falling in love, doesn’t she?
On Sundays Father dropped Alice and me off at the First Congregational Church. We always dressed in matching hats, gloves, shoes and pocketbooks because this was an era when everything had to match. We sang in the choir and listen attentively to Reverend English’s sermons. I particularly remember his suggestion that we not take the Bible literally, but figuratively. That sage advice must have struck oil because I never moved another inch in the great shifting sands of theology.
Lastly, I remember the Memorial Day parades where bands, flags, and veterans from all the wars would march by and finally, Alice and I following faithfully each year in the bike brigade with red, white and blue crepe paper streamers flying in the wind. Years later, I recall visiting while working in Cleveland and as I stood with Father on the sidelines, he pointed out all the veterans that marched by in their old uniforms.
“There goes the Korean War, Mays,” he would say as the young men marched by, then WW 11, WW 1, and even one or two limping along the best they could from the Spanish American War. I saw tears stream down Father’s cheeks and I, too, was filled with emotion because of all those who had fought to protect the Republic we so loved.
Eventually Alice, Georgia and I grew up, graduated from dear old VHS and left for college only to marry, have families and careers far away from our old hometown. Oddly enough, we all ended up in Tidewater, Virginia and we see each other often. Just as prone to laughter as ever, inevitably, our conversations return to the rich memories of Vermilion.
Mother and Father passed away more than a decade ago and a Cleveland couple bought our old home. It’s now used as a weekend and summer home. Graciously, they recently invited us to visit our old home which had been beautifully restored. It was quite an emotional experience to walk through the rooms of yesteryear. I saw Father in every room. I saw the three Christmas trees Father once planted in three consecutive years many years ago along the border of our property in honor of his three daughters. They are now massive evergreens and as I stood at their feet and gazed upward to the highest limbs with the blue Ohio sky hailing me in the background I was filled with more real wealth: emotion.
Condos filled the property to the east and the creek we girls once damned with rocks lugged from the beach was dredged to house a marina. The three cornfields to the west were transformed into a housing development, the beaches eroded away, the lake now covered Father’s old stone pier that once brought boyfriends in boats in on a straight line with our flagpole. Woe to any boy whose boat meandered too much to the port or starboard of Father’s straight line because he ended up on the rocks.
The old pig house and treehouse were long ago felled by the bulldozer’s blade. And, sadly, even dear old Janie Experience who once reigned in this magical land was also gone, like pollen in the wind.
One day as the wild fields, beaches and forests of our past are leveled, developed and filled in with cement there will be no children growing up rich in America anymore. But those of us that grew up in Vermilion 60 or 70 years ago will always remember those halcyon years…and we’ll always be able to say… no matter who we were, where we ended up, or how our lives turned out…oh, yes, we really did grow up rich.
THE FIRE-LANDS: I found the following information re: the early inhabitants of our area to be extremely informative. Methinks you will also.
I am getting better at transcribing these passages so there are fewer mistakes. But I like to read as I go - and sometimes I fill in the blanks. So tread carefully this trail through yesteryear.
The following series will take thee to the townships south of Vermilion. Methinks you'll find this history quite fascinating.
…white mail. The early settlers speak of having found fine fields free from timber all along the river, and say that the underbrush was so cleared from the forests that the deer, as they bounded along, could be seen half a mile off through the steady vistas. The principal Indian village was where the town of Milan was since located, but there were smaller settlements extending from the north line of the township as far as Ridgefield. There were, undoubtedly, a thousand red men in this group, principally of the Delaware and Ottawas, —the latter commonly called Tawas. Here, to a greater extent than in most other localities where the Indians have been known to have had permanent villages, they followed in a rude way the arts of peace during the intervals between their extended hunting journeys; here was to be seen the domestic side of the savage nature; here burned the council fires of the chiefs, and here were celebrated the religious rites of a race that is now scarcely known, except through scanty historical savings, and the vague, often unreliable traditions of the early whites, transmitted through the generations of their descendants.
To this village and its outlying settlements, lying upon the high banks of the Huron, 'and surrounded by charming natural scenery, more beautiful, then, than now, came the Moravian missionaries in 1787. Their old mission stations upon the Tuscarawas and Muskingum rivers being broken up by the persecution of the white settlers, they had wandered from one place to another, and finally a few of them under the guidance of the Rev. Christian Frederick Dencke started a new mission on the spot where Milan now stands. The Indian name of the village was Pequotting, and the mission was regarded as a branch of the Gnadeuhutten mission. The mission house was upon the lot adjoining that, on which the Presbyterian Church was afterwards built. The chapel, surmounted by a bell, stood near by. Indian David occupied a house in the immediate vicinity, and there were fifteen other houses belonging to those interested in the mission, —the Christian Indians. The Rev. Christian Frederick Dencke, who had charge of this mission, has been described by those who knew him as a man of great learning and most thoroughly devoted to the cause in which he labored. He taught his followers the rudiments of education as well as the tenets of his religion. According to all accounts, he was a very kind, warm-hearted man, courteous, generous and hospitable. He was a native of Iceland, and his father was a missionary in that country.
The Indians who belonged to this mission, it should be borne in mind, were only a small part of the number living in the settlement. Comparatively little seems to have been accomplished in making converts among the mass of these savages, though some of them were Christianized. Doubtless, many more might have been added to the little flock, had it not been for the disturbing influence of the white man's arrival. The Indians, shy always of their pale faced brother, though treated here with the utmost friendliness, began to leave the settlement when the pioneers came, in the year 1809, and by the following year only a very few remained. Those belonging to the mission removed to Canada.
There was also another Moravian missionary, with a small band of Indian followers, in the township from 1787 to 1793. Their settlement was upon the east side of the Huron, about three-quarters of a mile north of the old county seat, and was known as New Salem. David Zeisberger, of whose life and works, as well as those of Dencke, much is said elsewhere in this history, was the missionary in charge of this settlement.
Two years after the survey was made, David Abbott bought a tract of eight hundred acres of land lying in section number two, and upon both sides of the river. Jared Ward became the first resident of Avery, now called Milan, settling upon this tract of land in the same year, and immediately beginning preparations for farming upon the Indian bottom. John Walworth, of Cleveland, purchased the same year a large tract of land, which he soon after sold to Charles Parker, who moved in with his family in 1810. Seelick Comstock came the same year. A number of families located as squatters upon the lands that had been occupied and in a measure tilled by the Indians. Three of them—Starr, Laughlin, and Burdue, afterwards bought lands in Berlin township, but most of them moved away during the war, not to return. Three settlements were formed which made the points of a triangle, of which Milan afterwards formed the center. Another settlement was commenced in 1811, in the northwest corner of the township, by Thomas Jeffrey, Josiah Smith, Dydimus and Elijah Kinney, and George Colvin. These settlements filled up rapidly, so that prior to the war of 1812, the number, including unmarried men, was not far from two hundred and twenty-five. Following are the names of those who were heads of families, as given by the Hon. F. W. Fowler, of Milan. In section one: Hosmer Merry, Reuben Pixley, G. Harvey. Section two: David Abbott, David Barrett. Jared Ward, Elijah Pollock, James Leach, Nathaniel Glines, Alexander Mason, A. Collins. Section three: Thomas Jeffrey, Josiah Smith, William Smith, Phineas Tillottson, George Colvin, Dydimus Kinney, Elijah Kinney, Stephen Kinney, David Smith. Section four: Charles Parker, Winslow Perry. James Payne. W. Hubbard, James Guthrie, William Howard, A. Wilson, Eldridge. With a beautiful location and a fertile soil, an unusually large number of settlers, and nearly all of them of the class qualified to make the community one of good character, the pioneers naturally looked forward to a pleasant and profitable residence in their new homes. But their hopes were blasted by the declaration of war on the part of Great Britain, which caused the wildest alarm and utmost anxiety…
AN ARTIFACTUAL: I (think I) learned something new during the week about Vermilion. There’s a house in Nokomis Park (i.e. the little housing development nestled between Linwood Park and Key Bank along Liberty Avenue) that once occupied a place by the river. One of the families who reportedly lived in it was named Stockerd.
To the best of my knowledge that home would be the one pictured at the back of Showalter’s Boat House in the early years of the last century. The little house would be on Ewa Yea Street just past Hiawatha Drive.[The names of the streets therein were taken from Longfellow’s poem The Song of Hiawatha.] I believe it’s the second house from the corner situated some way back from the road.
Someone may undoubtedly know more about this than I.
But it’s interesting stuff.
A newspaper reporter for the Los Angeles Times had received instructions from his senior editor to get photographs of a brush fire in the foothills of northern California. The instructions included hurrying to the Santa Monica Airport to board a small plane, taking some photos of the fire, and hurrying back by noon with the story.
The reporter dressed quickly, rushed to the airport, saw the small plane waiting on the runway, drove his car to the end of the runway, parked, and climbed on board. Off they flew into the clear blue skies.
At about 5,000 feet, the reporter took out his camera and said to the man flying the plane, "Bank right and I'll take some pictures of this fire." Then he heard the most frightening questions of his life, "Bank right? How do I do that? You ARE the instructor, aren't you?"
LOCAL ANNOUNCEMENTS: After giving it much thought this link has been "put-down". During the last year most of the folks who used to use this page as a bulletin board have acquired their own and, consequently, no longer need this forum from "Views". I have, however, kept links (in the links section) to Larry Hohler's "Hope Homes" in Kenya - and to Bette Lou Higgins' Eden Valley Enterprises sites. They are historically and socially relevant projects. I suggest that you visit these sites on a regular basis to see "what's shakin'".
Persons interested in the history of the Lake Shore Electric Railway (which was the subject of a recent past podcast series) - "the greatest electaric railway system on the planet" may want to go to Amazon.com and purchase a book called "Images of Rail - Lake Shore Electric Railway". It was put together by Thomas J. Patton with the help of my friends Dennis Lamont and Albert Doane. It'd make a nice gift.
Another great book with Vermilion Roots is, "Grandmas’ Favorites: A Compilation of Recipes from Margaret Sanders Buell" by Amy O’Neal, Elizabeth Thompson and Meg Walter (May 2, 2012). This book very literally will provide one with the flavor of old Vermilion. And ye can also find it at Amazon.com. Take a look.
MARY WAKEFIELD BUXTON’S NEW BOOK “The Private War of William Styron” is available in paper back for $15.00 with tax and can be purchased locally at Buxton and Buxton Law Office in Urbanna, ordered from any book store, Amazon.com or Brandylane Publishing Company. A signed, hard back edition may be purchased from Mrs. Buxton directly for $30.00 by writing her at Box 488, Urbanna, VA 23175 and including $6.00 for tax, postage and packaging.
THE BEAT GOES ON: This page is generated by a dreaded Macintosh Computer and is written and designed by (me) Rich Tarrant. It will change weekly ~ usually on Saturday. Bookmark the URL (Universal Resource Locater) and come back at your own leisure. Send the page to your friends (and enemies if you wish). If you have something to share with those who visit this page, pass it on. And if you see something that is in need of correction do the same. My sister, Nancy, is a great help in that respect. It only takes me a week to get things right. And follow the links. You might find something you like. If you experience a problem with them let me know. Also, if you want to see past editions of this eZine check the new archives links below.
If you're looking for my old links section (pictured) I've replaced it with a pull-down menu (visible in the small box next to the word "Go"). If you're looking for links to more Vermilion history check that menu.
How the old links menu looked
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Vol.12, Issue 18 - July 12, 2014
© 2013 Rich Tarrant