Civil War Days

Two Old Dearborn Doctors

Civil War Days Recalled

by Henry A. Haigh

The Dearborn Press

March 18, 1931

          Dr. Sweeney and Dr. Snow, rare old characters of Old Dearborn, were among the men who interested me much.

          It seemed to me, in my youthful days in the good old town, that there were more interesting and odd old characters there than anywhere else in the world.  Perhaps it was because my observation was then limited to the little hamlet of about 500 people that lived in Dearborn in those wonderful days of long ago.

          And it was a glorious time, especially for wild-eyed boys of ten and twelve, those thrilling days of the 1860’s, when the Civil War was on and everything seemed fateful and terribly important.

          The soldiers were there at the Old Arsenal, a full regiment at times, sometimes separate companies, squads, recruits and veterans, coming and going, training, marching and holding grand parades.  War worked wonders in the little town.  Bands of martial music, fifes, drums, the call of bugles, and the firing of the great sunrise and sunset guns kept old and young alert.

          Great men came and went; General Grant and his staff on a special train, the town turning out to meet them; General Sherman, much beloved, who remained overnight and was entertained at my father’s house, and local heroes like Governor Blair, Michigan’s war governor and General Custer, famed Michigan soldier from Monroe--are among many that I recall.  They were received with cheers and cannon salutes, reviewed parades, held conferences, made speeches and departed, while the natives watched and wondered.

          The common talk of the town was of great heroes like “Old Abe”, and great events like “Gettysburg” and “Appomattox” and the shock of the assassination of Lincoln.

          This was the setting of the times in which the old characters of Dearborn can best be pictured.

          Of the dozen or more whose names come back distinctly, two stand out in memory as among the interesting characters of old Dearborn – Dr. Thomas Sweeney, and Dr. Edward A. Snow, both bright men, good citizens and good physicians of the old “family doctor” type, both devoted to their patients, their families and the public welfare.

          But politically they were diametrically opposed.  Dr. Snow was a “black Republican”, a stalwart champion of the Union, an advocate of the war as a protection of human liberty and as a means of procuring the freedom of the slaves.  Dr. Sweeney was an old-time, unregenerate Democrat, opposed to war, an advocate of the right of secession, a sympathizer with the South and a justifier of the rebellion.  He was called a “copperhead” but he could support his position by arguments hard to refute.  Yet at heart he, like Dr. Snow, was a kindly man, with a wide range of knowledge and a fondness for discussion; but Dr. Sweeney was not much given to story telling.

          Dr. Snow, on the other hand, was very fond of telling stories and could tell them well.  He enjoyed a “dish of conversation” specially if it ended with some humorous conclusion.  Space permits repeating but one of the good doctor’s stories, though all were wholesome and some funny, as the following may show.

          It seems that in those early days there was an old fellow who was a pretty good citizen in a general way, but who had one serious failing—more common formerly than now—that of “going on a spree”—with no evil intention further than having a harmless good time.  But on one occasion the “spree” extended to such length and was pursued so ardently as to result in an illness bordering on delirium tremens.  The devoted wife knowing of this weakness, finally succeeded in getting the old chap home and in bed where he dropped at once into profound slumber from which he refused to be aroused.

          The poor woman, knowing the danger of the dreaded delirium drowse, became so alarmed that she sent for the doctor and the priest.  On their arrival, rushing them to the bedside and shaking her husband, she exclaimed shrilly, “Rouse ye, rouse ye, the doctor’s come and the priest has come.  Rouse ye, lest it be too late.”  But all to no effect.  The more the good priest pleaded and the doctor dosed, the deeper seemed the drowse.  While they were giving another heart stimulant, a storm that had been brewing broke suddenly with a crash of thunder and a blast of wind. 

          The terrified wife in desperation grabbing the patient by the ears and bumping him up and down cried out, “Wake up, the storm is raging and the wind is blowing down the house!  Wake ye, we’ll sure be kilt.”

          At this the patient roused himself enough to utter faintly, “Wind, Hum!  Throw out a little peppermint.  It’s good for wind!”

1865 -- Dearborn's Arsenal Receives Proclamation Regarding Abraham Lincoln

Here are the words from a Proclamation that my Great-Great Grandfather had in his possession.  He was a doctor at the Arsenal. Edward. S. Snow. Here are the words:

Detroit Arsenal,

Dearbornville, Mich., May 31^st, 1865

Post Order No 16.

            The President of the United States having appointed to-morrow, June 1^st, as a day of humiliation and mourning for our good and martyred President, work of every kind will be suspended at this Post, and all connected with the Arsenal are earnestly enjoined to comply with the spirit of the President’s Proclamation.

            Abraham Lincoln is dead and buried; while an upright and conscientious Magistrate needs no nobler monument than the flag which floats to-day triumphant from the lakes to the gulf, from ocean to ocean – over one Union and one People – let us mourn for the man, true and just let us freshen his grave with our tears, and with our prayers, keep his memory green in our hearts.

                                                O.E. Michaelis

                                                1^st St. Ord. Confr.

                                        Com’dt

1912 Missing the Titanic; Scottish Folk Tales; Mention of the Lusitania

1912 - At age 27, Clara Snow had tickets for the Titanic, due to leave New York on April 20.  Three weeks before sailing, she changed to a later ship and I don't know why.  The Titanic sank on its trip to New York, on April 12.  We have the letter from the Steamship Tour company explaining how to receive her refund.  It seems rather brave that she sailed only 2-3 weeks after the sinking of the Titanic.

Shipboard  May 4 – 14, 1912

Rather good passage with one storm and rather rainy at the end.  Wonder of wonders, I was not seasick.

Played shuffle board, which is stupid, and deck golf, which is nice.  Played the last with Mr. Watson, the staid bridge groom with a young bride.

Met Mrs. & Miss Atwater who knew Mrs. Mary Mumford Weiss in Washington.  Had several nice talks with her, when the wind was blowing and it was most wet.  She and her mother are interesting, wife & daughter of a college professor deceased.

Had two roommates.  One a hard-faced English woman who was very nice, but we were careful not to interfere with her.  The other was Miss Nelson, who was traveling with her sister and Mrs. Hunt.  They were very nice to me.  I sat at table with them when they were there.  The first night we had a lovely walk around the clipper.  The sea was calm and the lights of an Italian steamer showed plainly.  Miss Sarah (my roommate) was most awfully sick.  Miss Mary and I played games together and walked.

Then there were the Perrys from New York City.  Miss Mary a very good sweet woman.  Helen the daughter with more sense than most fourteen-year-olds.  Very pretty too.  Dear Fred the son nineteen or twenty who was most sick but quite good fun.  We watched the shore of the river together and laughed at our first English train & its funny whistle.  They came to London to join their father who is at work here.

Then Mrs. Abeel from New Jersey, a woman of social ability who was most interesting to me.  She told me she thought I was a person whose life would grow fuller as I grew older.  I am sure I hope so.  She has a small boy who tells history in original verse, & who always called me “Detroit.”  Also two very energetic girls. 

The trip up the channel was lovely, although we saw little the first day of land.  But it was light & warm & so gentle.

The next morning we saw the cliffs of England and Dover.  It was the most beautiful sight I have ever seen.  The blue of the water and sky & the red & white of the cliffs with the green beyond.

It was four before we reached Tillbury.  The tide was out & we went in on land in tenders.  Grace, Harry and William [Grace Beecher Moore and her husband and son] came out in it, & I was glad to see them.  Said farewell to S.S. Minnetonka & to the steward who was a typical Dickens character & always hurrying people up.

July 10.  Wednesday.  Packed & helped Grace with dinner.  Mrs. Perry came in and made a call.  Had a lovely birthday dinner.  The table was beautiful in lavender and sweet pea.  Lovely lavender & white cake with “Clara 1912” on it.  Left in a hurry with Gus to get train for Edinburgh.  He did the stunt very nicely and started me off in a 3^rd class carriage—ladies only.

July 11.  Thursday.  Had a very comfortable night rolled up in my steamer rug.  Changed at Edinburgh & at Perth & at Inverness.  Leachy Dunelly [?] offered to see me to a lavatory carriage .  Crossed the Forth Bridge & saw the Channel fleet – real this time, not lights.  The ride from Perth to Inverness was lovely. Crossed two passes & passed the highest point reached by railway in Gt. Britain, 1435 ft. – I think – The hills without a tree for miles and purple with heather & the occasional loch.  Had two girls in my charge from Inverness to B.B.  Lovely ride through to more hills, now mostly blue in the distance.  Louise met me at B.B. with Mr. Vass & a cart & we drove eight miles to Spinningdale, quaint village with a mill burned 100 years ago & some quaint people & cottages.  Walked over to Mr. Wall's study after supper.  He is supposed to be the most [illustrious annual?] painter alive today.

July 13.  Saturday.  Went down by the sea in the afternoon to read & Louise painted.  Came home by crossing the river on stepping stones & by walls cottage.

Heard great stories in the evening about the lady who arose from the dead when a tinker chopped off her finger for a ring & afterwards bore twins, both of whom were famous preachers.  & of the Case of the Red Dog out of which a dog comes every night, & which Louise herself always [?] something, and of the funerals where only men go & the coffin is always carried & of Mr. Vass who is so godly a man he can not clean stables.

July 15 Monday.  Took our lunch & book & Louise & I walked to Migdale Rock which was blown out of the earth & left a hole which is now Migdale Loch.  Passed the place where Mr. Vass himself saw a mermaid very beautiful with a findly tail who dived into the water when he passed.  The Loch is lovely and the rock on one side with the bell heather and the fine forest on the other & the blue bells in the distance.  Found the entrance to the Cave of the Hurly man, who lived there about sixty years ago & would come smashing into a house to grab porridge from the woman’s hand.

Mr. Vass said it was two stags fighting on the skyline of the rock & they say they fought all day long & the battle was tremendous.  Both were royal stags, 12 pointed horns.

July 16 Tuesday.  In the morning after having left all our losable articles at home we went by the way of the Reeveloch to the cairn of the Red Dog.  The Reevelach is a walk through bridges.  There are many beautiful waterfalls and the whole is lovely.  We passed the tin house built by Mr. Callegin & went through the woods to a road.  On one side of it is the open moor.  Beautiful hills of heather with one or two crofts in sight.  Beyond this the wild moors stretch with no sign of habitation.

The Cairn of the Red Dog is a curious place.  It is probably an old Pictish tomb.  It was a cabin & a few years ago was opened by the dignitaries.  There was found in opening a chamber about four by five & 3 high with a probable passage way.  Old weapon of stone was found within.  They have been unmoved and the tomb is open.  And they do say that it is guarded by a red dog, part fox & part wolf, who crosses the road every day at dusk and then guards the tomb by night.  The funny thing is that every time people go there they lose something.  This time Louise lost her side comb, mounted in gold.  They have lost only valuable things.

We came home through the woods looking for deer.  We saw lots of the unused crofts & their walled gardens, and in one place a row of pins set like in [?].

July 17 Wednesday.  We secured two Gadder [?] berths and started for Dornoch.  We had permission to drive through Carnegie if [?] at Lkibo Castle and do so.  Not so much though part of it was very pretty.

Then we went to Mrs. McCron for tea and saw the inside of a real Scottish house.  Then we went to see the Witch’s store where the last witch in Scotland was burned in 1722, and saw the “little village” which grew up of the crofters who were burned from their land to make a game preserve, & over the famous Dornock golf link, to the Earls cross where Sir Richard Murray having broken his sword in a fight with a landing Scandinavian chieftain, cut off the leg of a horse & slew the chief with that.

Monday, July 22.  Left for Inverness.  Drove down with Louise & Mr. Skinner, engineer of S.S. Lusitania, Dollie’s husband Andy Chrisholm.  [The Lusitania was sunk in 1915.] Actually saw a deer on the way down.

Jane Hicks and The Flying Machine

Jane Hicks graduated from the University of Michigan about 1915.  She worked for both Henry Ford and Clara Ford, and she taught at Dearborn High School until 1959.  Here are some of her memories:

To me DEARBORN is HOME.  In all the years before we moved to Dearborn we lived in rented houses.  My father was a traveling salesman for gas and electric appliances.  Sometimes we moved because his territory was changed; other times we had fixed up a house and then were told it was sold, so we had to move.

My college days at the University of Michigan held thrills and tragedy, but always I went through those times on a shoestring.  Summers I was fortunate enough to be given positions in the Detroit Public Library – work I enjoyed, and the remuneration enabled me to buy clothes.

My first teaching job ended in an illness, and when I recovered, again I was accepted in the Detroit Public Library and entered a class of training in librarianship.  Shortly after I had completed that course, I was interviewed by Olive Day (later Mrs. Pulford) and was offered a position as librarian in the Henry Ford Hospital library.  I thoroughly enjoyed this position, both the work and the personnel.  But one day, out of a clear sky, I was moved to Dearborn.

 At this time we lived beyond Water works Park on the east side of Detroit.  To get to Dearborn on time I had to leave my home at five o’clock in the morning to catch the interurban for Dearborn.  It was dark and spooky, but this I did for years.

My days were busy in the Ford Motor Company library.  Mr. Henry Ford had a beautiful, large room made into the library with panels that opened to hide the filing cabinets.  There were luxurious draperies, stacks for the books, and boxes for the magazines.  A partition divided the room – one side was his office and the other the library.

Distinguished men were ushered through the library and usually I was introduced to them.  Fred Black and Ben Donaldson would tip me off when distinguished visitors, often authors, were coming, and I would have a copy of their book ready for them to autograph.

One incident I shall never forget!  Fred Black was proud of taking flying lessons.  One day about closing time, he came in and said: “Jane, would you like to take a trip to Ann Arbor?  I have to deliver a plane there.”  Of course I would, and off we went for one of my first plane rides.  He was proud of his new skill.  We turned upside-down and went through all the tricks.  Finally we arrived, right side up, in Ann Arbor.  Then Fred said:  “Jane, do you have any money?”  I looked in my purse.  “Three dollars,” I answered.  Fred had forgotten his wallet.  We went to a restaurant and ordered cautiously for we had to return to Dearborn on the Interurban at a cost of about one dollar.  It was great fun and when we got back, Fred took me first to his house to tell his wife, Maude.  She joined in the joke, after reproving Fred for his forgetfulness.

Mr. Ford brought Mr. and Mrs. Lovett to Dearborn to introduce old American dances to Dearborn.  Under Mr. and Mrs. Ford’s sponsorship, they became important social events.  They were delightful, and everybody got into the spirit.  The card-club group attended, augmented by many others.  It was a “dress” occasion and became very popular – an invitational affair.

There were also the Sunday evening concerts of the Detroit Symphony Orchestra to which invitations were issued by Mr. and Mrs. Ford, featured by a talk by William J. Cameron.

Gertrude's School Days in the early 1900's

I didn't go to school regularly until I was in the third grade.

I started school at the usual age but came home every day sick with a headache.  The odors were just too much for me.  The toilets were really just privies but were in the school basement and were very smelly.  And some of the farm children were sewn into their underwear at the beginning of winter and didn't get a bath until spring.  My stomach just couldn't take it, so Mother taught me at home for several years.  She had had more education than most of the teachers and was good at teaching, so that when I did go back to school, I had no difficulty with the classes.

Our school was the two-story square red brick building in the middle of the block bounded by Morley, Monroe, Garrison and Mason.  It had been built while my grandfather was alive and he had been one of the leaders who had pushed for it.  Until then there wasn't a high school in Dearborn.

The school was completed while my older sister Clara was in the first grade and she remembered being in a long procession of children carrying their books from the Upstairs-Downstairs School on Park to the new high school.

That was the school that everybody went to.  It had four rooms downstairs and three upstairs -- one of the upstairs rooms was double-sized.  The kindergarten, first, second, third and half of the fourth were downstairs.  And then the other half of fourth, fifth and sixth were upstairs.  When you got into the eighth grade you went into the big room that went all across the building.  That half was the seventh and eighth and all the high school.

There were no lockers -- just a board down the middle of the hall with hooks for coats.  The rooms generally had six rows of seats, three for each grade.  Most rooms held two grades.  One grade, I think the 4th, was divided.

They rang the school bell for the start of classes; if you came after the doors had been closed, you were late.  Few of the girls went out for recess; I never did.  The boys had some games they played but I don't know what they were.  The girls didn't participate.

I remember that when I was in the eighth grade there were five high school graduates that year, four girls and one boy.  One teacher and the principal were all the teaching there was for the high school youngsters then.  They taught algebra, history, English, and so on in high school but no science -- there was no lab.

Some of my classmates in the Dearborn schools were Thad Moon and Sherwood Foley, Florence Hurst --Ethel Hurst was two grades ahead of me --, two of the Sollinger boys, Clemens and Stanley, and Albert Wittelsburger who lived out on Telegraph.

Nita Clark of the Dearborn Clark family was my teacher for most of the years that I was in school all day.  She changed grades when I did.  I had a Miss Van Buren as my first teacher.  She was a pretty blond who died during the year and Nita Clark finished out the year.

Dearborn High School was not accredited and I wanted to go to college, so I changed to Detroit Central High School after the eighth grade.  I either had to do that or take an examination to get into college.  Transportation was easy: interurban to downtown, then streetcar up to a block from school.  It took not quite an hour and a half, and I used to study on the way home.  But Mother thought it was too hard to go in and out on the interurban every day, although my brother did it. 

So I lived with my Father's first cousin, Cousin Lizzie Hulbert.  I think that was one of the best things that happened in my life because I was the youngest in our family.  I didn't know anything about children at all.  They took me in and I think Cousin Lizzie did a wonderful job.  She had three little children, one was only about two when I went in and one was about four years younger than I.  They still think of me as an older sister.  They gave me training in children and that sort of thing that I wouldn't have had in my own home.  I was the baby there.

I would go into Detroit on the interurban on Monday morning and come back to Dearborn on Friday afternoon.  I did well in high school.  I even got all A's one year when my brother told me he didn't think I could do it, and I determined to show him I could.  

The only time I can remember being upset by our modest financial circumstances was when Mother had to tell me that we couldn't afford to have me attend Vassar College.  I was a senior at Central High School in Detroit at the time.  Vassar had always been my goal and my grades were good, but I just couldn't go.  The first thing I did was to drop my fourth year of Latin, which I detested.  I went to the University of Michigan as had my sister and brother.

Note:  Gertrude graduated from the University of Michigan in 1915.

Dancing School in Detroit by Gertrude Snow

For two or three years before I got into high school, I went to Mr. Strasburg's dancing school on Friday afternoons. It was in Detroit upstairs on Adams about a block east of Woodward. I would be excused from school early, at two o'clock, then take the interurban into Detroit and walk up to the school. We would be through at five o'clock and I would walk down and take the street car home again. I carried my dancing slippers in a cloth bag and changed into them in the girls' cloakroom.

We learned a wide variety of dances, the waltz and two-step, polkas and square dances, how to curtsy or bow. Music was provided by a piano on the balcony. Mr. Strasburg was a German and he was assisted by his sister, Mrs. Hyde. I remember her son Eric, who was younger than I but attended there too.

I was not a natural dancer and Mother thought it would be good for me. She was right, and I was very glad later that I could dance. My brother Harry started earlier than I and was attending when I first started. We didn't dance together much. He was not a natural dancer either, and he preferred to dance with someone who was better at it than I. He stopped after a year and I kept it up alone. Some of the others from Dearborn attended, too. Edwin, who was eventually to become my husband, did for about a year.

Most of the students were from Detroit of course. There were quite a few in my class -- two lines along the length of a good-sized ballroom. Small children had a special class on Saturday mornings. Some of those that I played around with there were the O'Briens -- two William O'Briens (cousins), Irene and Adelaide O'Brien, Laurence Crawford, and a Marguerite whose last name I have forgotten.

In the middle of the year and again in May, at the end, we would have parties. We dressed up especially for these. Sometimes they were fancy dress parties. I remember one dress Mother made for me of China Silk. She sewed by hand strips of red and white silk together and made the body of the dress. Then she made a little blue jacket with white stars and embroidered around the stars. Once I got into high school, I didn't have time for dancing school, but I had a good foundation in dancing.

Detroit by Gertrude Snow

Detroit

Before the interurban was built to Dearborn in 1897, we usually went to Detroit by train, although my older sister Clara remembers riding bicycles in with Mother as far as the Detroit streetcars. Once the interurban came, we walked down to Mason and Michigan and took it to the Detroit City Hall. We made a trip into town about once a week.

We went to Detroit for shopping -- clothes and food -- and school and amusements. We bought our shoes at Fyfe's. We shopped at Taylor-Woolfenden's and Newcomb-Endicott's. Taylor-Woolfenden was a favorite until it moved north on Woodward. This move didn't work for them and they later went out of business. We went to Hudson's or Kern's for dresses, notions, yard goods and household necessities. We considered Endicott's the best.

We also patronized the three grocery stores on Woodward below City Hall: McMillan's, Wallaces and O'Brien's. Two O'Brien children were in dancing school with me. We would buy special things in Detroit, such as oysters for stew. Mother was fond of oysters. Of course, most food we got in Dearborn. We also went to the Broadway public market, a collection of small shops. We bought our Christmas candy at Kuhn's.

Mother and Harry, my brother, and I would go to the ball game a couple of times a year -- Clara wasn't much interested. If our cousin Ray was staying with us, he would go too. We would go down on the interurban. The games started at 2 or 2:30 -- something like that -- and we would get out about 5 or 5:30. Then we crossed Trumbull to where there was a corner saloon, to get the car to come home. We always sat in the grandstand and we liked to get between home and third base. The Park wasn't as big as it is now but it was still high -- we had a roof over our heads in the grandstand. Of course they didn't in the bleachers. We didn't eat a lot but we would often get popcorn. I especially remember the wonderful team they had in 1910 or 11, with Ty Cobb and a catcher whose name I don't remember.

I remember the corner saloon from another favorite family story, one about my grandmother and her great friend Aunt Gussie Parker, the wife of Col. Francis H. Parker, one of the commandants at the Arsenal in Dearborn. They were coming back from visiting Cousin Lizzie in Detroit and had to wait on the corner for the interurban to Dearborn. All of a sudden it started to rain torrents, and Aunt Gussie, who could either be a proper lady or one not so proper, went into the saloon, grandmother in tow, for protection. This was unheard of in those days, for a real lady to go into a saloon. The proprietor, astonished and upset, came forward to ask "Madame, is there anything we can do for you?" The two stayed there until the car came.

We also sometimes visited a vaudeville house named Wonderland in downtown Detroit, back of the Opera House and Hudson's, usually on Saturday afternoons. This was vaudeville which often ended with a short comedy play. I also remember an exhibit of small animals in glass cages. I think Wonderland went out of business when I was a child; it had gone by the time I was in high school. We didn't go very often as Mother didn't really approve of it.

A New Voice -- Gertrude Snow

Dearborn (as remembered by Gertrude Snow, born 1892)

When I was small, not even Michigan Avenue was paved, although it had been improved with gravel. The rest of the roads were just dirt, rutted, dusty when it was dry and muddy, very muddy, when it rained or snowed. They were just wide enough that two wagons could pass each other. Sidewalks were just paths, muddy and slippery when it was wet and uneven and hard to walk on all the time. I was given a bicycle when I was eight or so, but I really didn't use it very much because the roads and sidewalks were so hard to ride on.

I remember when the first part of Michigan was paved from Monroe west past St. Joseph’s Retreat. This was in 1900. I remember when our first sidewalks were built, too. They consisted of short planks laid on stringers on the ground. The first one was on Michigan from Monroe to Mason, and then they were gradually extended, both along Michigan, and on some of the cross streets. The closest one to us began across Saw Mill Woods Road (today Snow Road by Monroe St.) and went along beside the field west of the Lutheran Church and pastor's home where we kept the horses, then followed Monroe to Michigan. Monroe was called Center Street when I was little. The path by the Lutheran Church and pastor's home had a nickname, something like Pigtail Alley. The path to the church was still dirty even after this. We had a dirt path down our hill from the house to the closest sidewalk. The sidewalks were an improvement but they often had broken or missing planks, as the wood didn't last very long. [Gertrude grew up in a large Victorian home built in 1852 on the site of today’s Snow Hill Condominiums, near Beech St. and Monroe. The house was razed in the 1930’s.]

Dearborn was a small town with a few stores, churches and saloons when I was growing up and of course the school and the Town Hall, formerly the Commandant's Quarters of the Arsenal. Mason Street was the street with the most houses on it. A number of retired German farmers built houses there. The Presbyterian and Catholic churches were there, too.

I have mentioned the Lapham grocery store, Schultz's Meat Market and Buford's store. Then there was Sloss' store, which stood on Mason and Michigan where the Manufacturers Bank now is. It was a square red brick building, which seemed to me to be bigger than needed. It carried dry goods, thread, that kind of thing. We didn't buy much there. Sam Lapham had a bank as well as a grocery store and was our leading businessman.

There was no industry and very little business in town. Arna Mills was an attempt to bring industry to town. When I was very small, the building on the east side of the Arsenal square stood empty and deserted. I think I was in high school when Arna S. Mills were started there. It made fabrics of some kind. It caught fire and burned in 1911 and was never started up again.

The Schoettles ran the hotel in the Wagner building at Monroe and Michigan. The post office and the barber shop were in that building too. There were seven churches and five saloons and Mother used to say that the saloons were much richer than the churches. There were no real clothing stores; we had to go to Detroit for that.

Ivadel's Memoir Ends with World War I and a Poem

Some Church Memories by Ivadel

The church supper was another function carried on mostly by the women. Because I was an Episcopalian I knew about their chicken pie suppers. Mother made a pie in a large granite pan, placing the chicken in the bottom and covering it with a biscuit dough. She cooked potatoes and pies which were carried to the parish house, where the tables had been set up and each lady had taken her own table cloth, decorations, jellies, pickles and anything she had to make her table attractive. They prided themselves on their arrangements and personal contributions.

For weeks before the bazaar, committees had worked to make candy, fancy articles and aprons to sell. We even made little cardboard boxes and decorated them with crepe paper to hold the candy. (And remember we did not have scotch tape or staples in those days.) These church suppers were a part of the development of the new community.

We had church socials, so called because people came together in a private home for an evening of games, entertainment and refreshments. There was a small charge, 25¢, if my memory is correct. The entertainment was strictly amateur and I remember well that my brother John and a friend, Charles Proctor, played a selection on their violins while I accompanied them [on the piano] at one such social. Another time I played “The Storm” and I am sure the rumbling of the thunder on the old piano must have been a great performance. You can imagine the work involved for such an affair – cleaning, adjusting furniture to take care of the crowd and the serving of coffee and cake to all. The little money obtained was surely earned by the hostess and committee. As I remember, no one seemed to think much about it at the time.

Ivadel ends her memoir:

We really had neighbors in those days -- people who shared our sorrows as well as our joys and where welfare was rarely heard of. Somehow families took care of their own and hardship was part of the lives of most of us. Few of our homes had furnaces and the big baseburner was put up in the living room every fall and taken down in the spring. It was a beautiful monstrosity of iron and nickel with isinglass in the doors. In the spring my mother removed the nickel collar and foot rests and stored them in the house. The chassis was carried out to the barn by placing 2’x4’s on either side. (Two neighbors helped us, because my brothers and I were too young to help much). [Ivadel's father died when she was not yet 2 years old, with two brothers not yet 9 years old.]

Pocohontas coal, if we could get it, was poured into the top of the stove, fell down into the grate where it glowed and set forth its warming comfort, then the ashes fell into a pan at the bottom. Needless to say we spent most of the time near the stove during the cold weather.

The First World War set our simple country town into a state of anxiety. Our friends and relatives of military age enlisted or were drafted into the service. Many trains carrying troops passed though Dearborn on their way from Camp Custer at Battle Creek to embarking points and sad scenes were witnessed as the boys tried their best to wave a last goodbye from the platform of the train. Some threw their hats and others notes to loved ones.

Two of our boys did not come home to enjoy the celebrations and joyful occasions after the Armistice -- Walter Blankertz and Fred Kachafkey.

I shall never forget the great excitement when word came that Germany had surrendered; offices and factories closed, clerks left their places in the stores and those of us who could went to Detroit where the streets were jammed with people milling around in the greatest of hilarious excitement. Everyone let themselves go and entered into the happy occasion. Now, we had only to wait until our boys came home. [Her brother John was wounded in the war, met a nurse while recovering, and married her. They lived just south of Sacred Heart Church on N.Military.]

I have enjoyed thinking about these childhood experiences and I hope I haven’t bored you with my personal stories. I think it would be wonderful if each of you would write about your early memories, so that they may not be lost. To close, I would like to read a poem written by Anne Campbell and published on March 4, 1964 in the Detroit News:

“Do You Remember?”

by ANNE CAMPBELL

Whenever you start a sentence

With “Do you remember?”

It means a parade back

Through the cheerful years,

Recalling many a bright June

And December.

Feeling the warmth of joy

To still our fears.

Our past is our brave shield

Against disaster.

Through it we build a shelter

Against storm.

And as the years sweep by

Faster and faster,

All we have lived through

Keeps us safe and warm.

So let’s relive the years!

“Do you remember”

How happily we look back and

Review

The glowing past grateful for

Each November

And the ‘contrasting summers

We once knew!

The Ford Twin Ponds and winter

In 1964 Ivadel wrote about Dearborn in the early 1900's:

The brick yard ponds, or Twin Lakes as they are known today, were the scene of ice skating parties and festivities in the early 1900s. The lakes in front of the Ford Engineering laboratories were the result of the Anthony Wagner and Son Brick Company’s digging activities. Brick making flourished in Dearborn because of the presence of beds of blue clay free from lime, not found in any extent in other parts of Wayne County.

On winter days and evenings the ponds were a scene of happy skaters. Fathers and mothers brought their children and experienced skaters practiced for the contests that were held each year. The First Annual Winter Sports Day was held January 1, 1925. The Newspaper carried this story at that time.

Governor Groesbeck expressed himself concerning such events as follows: “I can’t conceive of anything more conducive to the growth of a healthy community life than such an event as this. There is a real tonic for health and vigor in skating and the mixing and mingling of people, both old and young in social intercourse at the carnival is complimentary to the civic activities of Dearborn.”

There were speed races, half mile races for girls, mile races for boys and a Dearborn business men’s race that attracted a great deal of attention. Charles Buckenberger won this business men’s race in 1925 but he had won many roller skating races previously, and in 1889 he won the state championship on ice.

Another wintertime sport was coasting. My brothers and I had two wooden sleds about four feet long, eight inches high and had iron runners. There was no way to steer, except by body movements. We often lay flat on our stomachs for the run down the hill and sometimes one lay on the front sled, another on the one following with another smaller child riding piggy back. The second rider held the first sled by the runner and could steer the trailer-like combination.

We spent many happy hours on the hill on the south side of the Rouge just west of Military, but the Long hill [family named Long] was our favorite because it was higher. We often rode down to the river, then climbed the hill again for another ride down with the crisp wintry air blowing in our faces.

Sleigh ride parties were often held by groups when the snow came. We rented a team, rode into the country, then returned to someone’s home for refreshments and games. Sometimes we were very cold but our young spirits made the experience a well remembered one of teenage romance.

Many of the community’s activities took place in the church. Christmas was one of these times. The children learned songs, pieces and sometimes a short play or pantomime. The tree that was usually out on the Haigh farm was set up in the chancel. It was decorated with the usual tinsel and balls but gifts for each of us also hung from the branches. I shall never forget the lighting of the real candles. Men with long sticks with a taper on the end lighted them and oh, how beautiful the tree was.

The air was filled with excitement throughout the program and we could hardly wait for the time when the presents would be passed out. At last Santa handed us our book, game or doll and another Christmas tree had given us a happy time.

The Fourth of July Celebrations -- oops

Ivadel remembers:

The Fourth of July was another day that was planned for and talked about with great anticipation. The parade was made up of homemade floats, decorated bicycles and towns people dressed up as clowns or in some other funny costume. The school ground was the location of the first celebration as I remember and there it was that the races and other athletic events took place. However, the pie eating contest for boys and the nail pounding contest for women was held on the back porch of the Arsenal building.

The ice cream booths managed by the ladies of the various churches were very popular because we didn't have commercial ice cream very often. In fact, it was only made at home for a special occasion.

When it grew dark and it was time for the fireworks display, crowds assembled around the platform that had been set up on the corner where the Salisbury school now stands. On two occasions a near tragedy occurred. Someone was careless with the lighters and after a few Roman candles and sky rockets had been shot off, a sudden glare burst forth. In an instant the air was full of the hot fireworks, shooting in all directions. People ran as fast as they could away from the area and horses pulled at their reins that tied them to the fence. In no time, all of our July 4^th fireworks were wasted. Luckily no one was hurt.

Louis Howe wrote this account of the Fourth. “The old Fourth of July celebrations were the biggest events of the year. Jimmy Guinan and I were a track team between us. I could be counted on to win the high jump and Jimmy hardly ever lost the 100 yard dash. The prizes were cash, something we could always use.”

Dorotha remembers:

Fourth of July was always an exciting time. Richard would always wake us up with 3” long fire crackers outside our bedroom window, then would hurry on his bicycle, which he had trimmed with this and that, in order to get in the parade later on. One time the Fourth almost ended in a catastrophe as the fireworks at night were always held on the school grounds and this one year someone was careless I guess because the whole shebang went off at once every which way. The horses that were tied by the farms coming to town for the fireworks bolted and everyone screamed and ran for cover. No one fortunately was hurt I think, but it scared everyone silly and ruined the display I can tell you.

Gertrude (another little girl at the time) wrote:

Mother lent our horse Bob to the head of the village council to ride in a Fourth of July parade. And one of the floats got running away and ran into Bob and hurt him. He was never safe for riding after that.

Christmas, the Snow Family, Moving Away

Dorotha wrote to my mother:

I remember one Christmas your grandmother and mother went into Detroit on the interurban to buy dolls for the Sunday School Children in their class. Every Christmas the Christ Episcopal Church had a huge tree and this particular year they trimmed the tree with these dolls. Can't you picture it with foot-long dressed dolls all over the tree? Ivadel and I received one I know. Marie was a Presbyterian.

[When we visited your grandmother] she made us Washington Pie, a sheet cake spread with red raspberry jam and topped with thick whipped cream. Whew! Although I generally avoided Dr. Snow's office because it smelled so strongly of medicine [Dr. Snow died in 1892; his office in his house wasn't much changed].

Gertrude [the Snow's daughter], Arline and I would run upstairs to the "Green Room" to play paper dolls. She had such lovely ones I remember and we played in an alcove in this room that had Nile green wallpaper -- a beautiful room.

[Much later] I remember your father [Ed Moore] stopping by now and then in their open touring Edison car and picking me up to take a ride to Inkster and back. Those were the days.

Marie wrote:

There were wooden sidewalks with ditches on one side past our house and of course no street lights. Sometimes on dark nights in the rain some of the Ovens family or others living on farms just out of town would stop and borrow a lantern to help see their way home. We were all good neighbors and friends. In fact I knew almost every one in the town until the war. [World War I]

When we moved east after I had been married for some years and had a daughter in college, she said, "Now Mother -- just because you don't know people, don't go around talking to strangers." I have found that there are friendly people everywhere and although many things have changed, life goes on and the world is quite wonderful.

Little memories of playtimes by three friends

Born in 1896 (Ivadel) and 1898 (Marie & Dorotha), three little girls grew up together in Dearborn. Here are a few of their memories, all written when they were retired:

Marie:

I remember playing games after dinner at night until dark -- 'Run Sheep, Run,' 'Hide and Seek,' etc. It was hard to have to go to bed and to leave my friends. We walked to school together. My special friend Dorotha Hall often stopped for me and now she and I recall how I would walk home with her, then she would walk back with me, and so on.

There were plenty of baseball fields where the neighbor children could get up a game. My brothers would call and say "Come on, Marie, we need someone to play third base" and away I would go. We could roam the fields picking wild asparagus which tasted so good since we had found it and of course later we had wild strawberries. The girls played jacks and skipped rope and then the roller skating and the hoop rolling! We could run all over too, even way down on Mason Street where there were long stretches of sidewalk with few side roads.

Nothing was organized -- we just made our own good times and always had plenty to do. The summers were looked forward to and we were off to the fields and woods. Our mothers didn't worry about us, knowing we would turn up at meal time. The daisies grew in the open fields and I dream of standing in a field of daisies on a lovely summer day behind Moore's barn. There were only two houses in the whole square -- Mrs. Moore and her family lived in one and my family lived in the other.

Dorotha:

The Arna Mills fire was a terrible thing I remember. Everyone turned out for that in all kinds of apparel. Afterward there were a lot of huge empty cartons that escaped the fire and the children were told they could have them. Marie's brother Russell brought a few to their house to play in and that really was fun.

There was a lovely field between our house and Ivadel's which was almost solid with white Shasta daisies. It would make us furious because people would come out by street car from Detroit and pull them up by the roots to take back with them.

We used to play run Sheep Run until long after dark some nights in the neighborhood. No one was afraid for us.

I could go on and on but this will give you some idea of how happy we were.

Ivadel:

We often followed the paths that led us across the river to the old road that is now Cherry Hill. Wintergreen berries grew along the way and when we entered the Sisters' woods, we found beech nuts in the fall. We rustled the leaves around and picked up the little triangular nuts that had fallen from the trees. Squirrels and other wild animals watched us from a safe distance.

The boys in the neighborhood built a club house in one of the large trees at the end of Morley Court. They spent many happy hours spinning yarns, playing games and enjoying the freedom of being on their own in this crude house.

Many times we organized outdoor games as soon after the evening meal as we could and one of my favorites was "Run, Sheep, Run." We chose teams and instead of hiding as an individual the whole group was concealed and then ran home when the leader yelled "Run, sheep, run."

Roller skates and iron hoops played an important part in our lives. We skated all over town on the sidewalks. Our knees and elbows bore signs of our many falls. We had to remove our skates before going into Mr. Wood's drug store where the post office was located. In those days everyone had to call for his mail and either rented a box or used the general delivery.

I cannot remember where I got my hoop, but it was about ten inches in diameter. I made a cross-like stick with which to roll it and it was a wonderful sport to run as fast as I could with my iron hoop engaging all my attention.

The Interurban on Michigan Avenue

Born in 1896, Ivadel remembers the interurban (electric trolley):

Down the center of the dusty road known in the late 1800s as the Chicago Road (today Michigan Avenue) came the interurban car. The tracks were not paved and the wooden ties held the rails in place.

The schedules were set for half hour service, but there were many delays because of the single track system that demanded the use of switches for passing. We often sat for what seemed like hours on a switch waiting for the car from the opposite direction. The trolleys sometimes came off the overhead line and the conductor would have to go out on the platform and adjust the trolley before we had electric power to move.

The fare was only ten cents to Detroit and there were similar rates to other places.

There was a motorman and a conductor on each car. The smoker in the front section had about ten double red velvet seats. The back part had a stove at the rear and the conductor had to tend the fire as part of his duties. He would shake the fire and add more coal as it was needed. I can assure you there was never any blast of heat in the old interurban.

The street car company installed electric lights at the main corners. Five or six little dim bulbs were strung above the street. They were little more than a feeble flow in the darkness. Mr. L. Somers, who lived on the corner of Michigan and Tenny, turned the lights on each evening.

At night we lighted newspaper torches in order that the motorman might see us in time to stop.

The first service began in 1897 and continued until 1929. The Detroit Street Railways extended their lines over the old interurban tracks as far as Telegraph Road at that time, but after several months tryout, this service was discontinued and in 1933 Michigan Avenue was resurfaced and the tracks west of Shaefer Road were removed or covered over.

Motion Pictures, Medicine Shows in early Dearborn

Born in 1896, Ivadel remembers:

Our first motion picture house was on Monroe across from the fire hall. The movies were silent, of course, and a pianist played the old instrument, trying to create the mood necessary for the scene on the screen. These attempts were often ridiculous, especially so the first time the film was run, because she had no idea what was coming next. "Hearts and Flowers" wasn't appropriate for a tragic accident or the "Stars and Stripes Forever" for an amorous scene.

Later there was a show near the present location and then sound was introduced. No longer was the tired pianist needed. (The Calvin Theater opened in January 1927 with seating for 1,485 patrons.)

Summertime brought the medicine show to town. Mr. Sharpsteen set up his tent on the corner of Oakwood and Michigan or in a vacant lot west of the Town Hall on Michigan Avenue. A scheme was promoted by which a queen would be chosen. Votes were procured by buying the medicine Mr. Sharpsteen sold. It was supposed to cure all ills and bring youth to the aged. The contest sometimes grew heated and people bought a great many bottles of the elixir in order to get the votes. I'm sure much of the so-called wonder cure was never consumed. The entertainment was a very mediocre performance, jokes and stories, skits and songs.

During the summer evenings we could hear harmonica music and singing, as the section hands relaxed after their hard day's work along the railroad. They lived on the siding hear Military Avenue in box cars that were fixed up as traveling homes for the men who repaired the railroad beds. Most of these men were Italians and we rarely saw them around town, but we enjoyed their harmonies brought from across the sea.