Background: Before sharing my recollections of Darrtown, I want to clarify that I was never a resident of the village; but, throughout my life, I have often told others (willingly, and with pride) that I grew up “near Darrtown.” I’ve always had a good feeling about Darrtown; in my experience, I’ve found the majority of people from Darrtown to be friendly, honest, “down to earth” people. As best I can recall, I never, ever had any regrets about being associated with Darrtown.
I will briefly digress from talking about Darrtown to explain how my association with the village came to be. I know that, if it were not for my Darrtown connection, my life would be vastly different.
I was born February 4, 1938 in Hamilton, Ohio. Through the early 1940’s, my family (father, Albert; mother, Bernice; younger sister, Betty Jean, and I) lived on a Wayne township farm between the villages of Jacksonburg and Trenton in eastern Butler County, Ohio. Unbeknownst to us, sometime before 1946, Mr. Herman L. Sanders, owner of the Butler County Lumber Company in Hamilton, bought the 180 acre farm at 3700 Hamilton Richmond Road, which is about a mile and a quarter south of Darrtown in Milford Township. Somehow, Mr. Sanders learned that my father was a good, hard-working farmer and Mr. Sanders approached my father about becoming a tenant farmer on a 50-50 basis. And so it was that, in 1945, during the second semester of my first year of school, we moved to the Sanders Stock Farm on Darrtown Pike, which we came to consider our home for the next two and a half decades.
Given that background, I offer the following as my recollections of Darrtown and the life that I associate with it. I hasten to add; these are just my memories, which may not be totally accurate. If you lived in and/or around Darrtown during my generation and have different views of how things were, please contact the Darrtown .com webmaster and share your perspective.
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School bus rides: I will begin my recollections of Darrtown by describing the school bus rides, because my earliest impressions of Darrtown were formed, as I rode back and forth, between our farm home on Darrtown Pike and the Collinsville school, where Milford Township elementary students attended. While riding the school bus through Darrtown, I would look out the window and wonder what went on in the various houses and businesses that we passed. Remember, I was a farm kid who lived “out in the country” and had farm chores; so, I didn’t get to visit “in town” very much. As I rode the school bus, I would hear stories from the kids who lived in Darrtown - about the games that they played after school or on the weekend (“Kick the Can” is one game that I recall hearing about as being a big deal for Darrtown kids). I missed out on that part of life, because I helped my father with chores and field work. I’m not bitter about that; I just remember that occasionally I would feel envious of the free time that the other kids seem to have.
“Pop” Taylor is the first school bus driver that I can remember. Later, Ellis “Dugan” Glardon drove us; Dugan drove the school bus for a lot of years. Our bus route ran about 30 minutes, which often seemed like an eternity - as the bus chugged along county roads making multiple stops and starts. For example, on the afternoon route home, we would travel west from Collinsville; drop off kids along State Route 73; then turn south at State Rt. 177 and head toward Darrtown. After making different stops in the village, we would begin “deadheading” from Darrtown to the end of the line on the different roads. We would go west on Schollenbarger Road to the Lanes Mill, then drive back to Darrtown, and then drive south on Darrtown Road to the Hanover Township line and then return to Darrtown. The same pattern was repeated for Hamilton Richmond Road and Scott Road. In the morning, the routes were repeated.
At some point in elementary school, I became a member of the American Automobile Association School Safety Patrol; which, at the time seemed like a big deal. The AAA provided a white cloth belt with a strap that went around the waist and over the shoulder and it sported a silver-colored AAA badge. It was my job to “supervise” the younger kids, as they got on and off the school bus. I would precede the other kids off the bus, walk around the front of the bus, and look in both directions of traffic to assure that the roadway was clear for any students to cross the road in front of the bus. After some time on the job, the bus drivers even allowed me to operate the door handle. Wow! However, before I hit seventh grade, I decided that AAA duty wasn’t so “cool” and I “turned in my shield.”
When we finished the sixth grade at Collinsville School, we were allowed to choose whether to attend Seven Mile School, Oxford Stewart School, or the McGuffey Laboratory School - which was operated by Miami University. Most of my classmates favored attending Seven Mile, as I did - perhaps due to the athletic prowess of the Seven Mile Panthers at the time. I share this background information to explain why I remember our bus-riding experience as we rode to and from Seven Mile School on old Route 127. To reach Seven Mile, we would ride the school bus as usual from our homes in and around Darrtown to the Collinsville School. Then, we would transfer to another bus and ride from Collinsville to the Seven Mile. Mr. Welborn (Jerry’s father) drove the bus to Seven Mile; as I recall it was a Ford. When the bus would reach a certain speed, the floor of the bus would vibrate and it would continue to vibrate until the bus slowed. It was an irritating sensation and sometimes it seemed necessary to lift our feet from the floor for temporary relief. I think it is odd (yet, intriguing) how we retain small, seemingly irrelevant pieces of memory.
Darrtown grocery stores: Glardon's Grocery was the primary store in town. For my sister and me - as little kids - it was a big deal to travel from our farm to Darrtown and shop for small grocery items at Glardon’s. Dugan and his wife, Ethel, ran the store. It was a small general store with food items and various odds and ends. We used Glardon’s for small purchases. We drove to Hamilton, primarily, on the weekends for larger items. One winter, during a particularly heavy snow storm, we drove our Allis-Chalmers farm tractor to Darrtown to purchase some provisions at Glardon’s.
In the late 1940's and early 1950's, there was another small grocery store across the street from Glardon’s. It was known as the Dees Grocery. They had gasoline pumps in front of the store. I also remember that they had some kind of “game of chance” that involved punching out numbers on a game board. Dad played it some; but Mom disapproved. The Dees family included a son, named Bob, and several daughters (see the Dees Family page).
Lane Library Bookmobile: The bookmobile was a regularly scheduled event at Collinsville School during the school year. Happily, the bookmobile came to Darrtown during the summer. They parked the bookmobile on the west side of the street between Glardon’s and the Hitching Post. It seems to me that there were some shade trees there - or maybe they just used the shade of the buildings. I’ve always loved reading and going to the bookmobile was fun. I remember being impressed to see different adults from the village using the bookmobile. I guess that, early in my life, I thought reading was something that only kids did in school - although I remember seeing both my parents reading at home. And, they taught me the alphabet and some basic words, before I ever went to school.
Church and the Union Sunday School: My mother was a member of the St. Matthew Lutheran Church in Darrtown and both my sister and I followed her lead by becoming Lutherans. However, a unique arrangement between Darrtown's two churches (Lutheran and Methodist) religious scene gave the kids in the community a unique opportunity to learn the liturgy of both faiths.
As explained on the “Churches” page of this website, there existed an alternating church service arrangement in Darrtown that lasted for several generations. Each church only had a part-time minister, who preached on alternating Sundays. Consequently, some adults attended church every Sunday, singing hymns from whatever hymnal was in their hands at the time, and other adults only attended church every other Sunday, at the church of their preference.
However, there was a "Union" Sunday School service that met every Sunday - on an alternating basis ... in one chuch on one Sunday and in the church on the next Sunday. The two constants were the Union Sunday School, which met every Sunday, in whichever church was having services and the Youth Choir.
Youngsters in the Youth Choir, whether Lutheran or Methodist, sang at both churches, every Sunday. Kids being kids, especially young adolescents, I suspect that our participation in the choir was somewhat motivated by our desire to simply spend some time together. For most of us, in the 1950s, in Darrtown, church activities were a primary social event.
Life-long friend: The Union Sunday School experience (described above) enhanced the friendship that Ron Wiley and I have enjoyed since we met in Mrs. Schmidt's combination first and second grade classroom at Collinsville school in 1944. Ron was a second grader, when I enrolled in Collinsville school in the middle of my first-grade year. With Ron being a year ahead of me, our school time together was limited. But, we were able to spend time together on Sunday mornings at church service and on Wednesday nights at choir practice ... especially choir practice. We always sat in the back row - need I say more? Despite the reverent surroundings, we managed to participate in some harmless, but entertaining (to us) pranks and high jinks. In hindsight, we probably added a few gray hairs to the head of our choir director, Mrs. Augusta "Gussie" Gaiser.
Collinsville School: The school, which housed grades 1-6, was like a large family; although, it was hardly a large school. There were only four classrooms upstairs and the lower level consisted of a furnace room, a cafeteria, and an auditorium - with a stage, that featured a red-wine colored, velvet, pull curtain. In the mid-to- late 1940’s, they only used three of the four classroom. Three teachers each taught two grades levels. Mrs. Schmidt taught grades 1 and 2; Mrs. Rudisil taught grades 3 and 4; and Mrs. Teckman taught grades 5 and 6.
I enrolled at Collinsville School during the second half of my first grade school year in 1946 and ten years later, many of my classmates from that same first-grade group stood alongside me at the Oxford Stewart High School graduation ceremonies. We were, in many ways, like brothers and sisters. When we advanced from Collinsville's sixth grade to Seven Mile for our seventh grade year and later (at the end of our sophomore year) when the Ohio Department of Education transferred Milford Township students from Seven Mile High to the newly created Talawanda School District's Oxford Stewart High School, we went together - like a support group. In today’s vernacular, we “had each other’s back.”
Collinsville school classrooms had cloak rooms with hooks on the wall for coats, hats, etc. There were steam heaters, standing beneath the windows along the outside wall, and I recall that, after being outside for recess on a wet day, we were allowed to place damp clothing on top of the heaters to dry. The desks were wooden with flat writing surfaces and hinged seats. The desktops each had a hole in the top to hold ink bottles; although, by the mid-1940's we mostly used pencils. Each desk had a storage shelf underneath - to hold papers and our “Think and Do” workbooks and our basic readers (as we learned to read, we became very familiar with the the fictitious family of "Dick" and "Jane" and their pets - a dog named "Spot" and a cat named "Puff"). The feet of the desks were screwed to 1-inch by four-inch wooden skids that were maybe 14 feet long. So, each row of desks accommodated about six students. It was a special event, when the teacher announced that we were rearranging the classroom and we would get to help push the desks around to face in a different direction. Of course, that only happened about once during the school year. At other times, it was a really big deal when the teacher would allow us to “trade” individual desks. In that case, if we had been well behaved, we would be rewarded by getting to choose a different location in the desk rows and sit next to a special friend.
The cafeteria accomodated about 40 students at tables with benches. The first school cook that I can remember was Anne Grollmus, who lived across the street from the school. She had three sons, Dale, Paul, and Melvin (“Shorty”); all were older than we. I think all the kids liked Mrs. Grollmus; she always seemed jovial. If there was food left over, she would give us extra servings. Thanks to Ann Grollmus, I developed a life-long love for peanut butter and pickle sandwiches.
The school had a belfry located over the main entrance; you climbed about four steps to reach the small room where they kept a cot, as a place for kids to lie down, when not feeling well. They also had a set of scales that they used to weigh students; it was one with a platform that you stepped up on and it had a device attached to measure height.
Outdoor features at the school included the toilets; wooden, cold, smelly - but, essential. The boys’ restroom was located at the south end of the swing set area and the girls’ was at the opposite, north end.
South of the boys' toilet, there was a large (maybe four foot high and eight feet across?) pile of ashes that accumulated, as the custodian emptied the coal furnace during the winter. Over time, the ashes would harden, so that we could run up and down the mound, without sinking in. We boys would play “King of the Hill” on that ash pile; as one boy assumed a position at the top of the ash pile, other boys tried to dislodge him through a variety of pushes, pulls, tugs, and grabs (this activity obviously occurred before lawyers became a force in playground activities and equipment).
Two other playground attractions that would not pass muster today were the swings and the “johnnies."
> The swings were made of metal chain and wooden seats, with gravel beneath. The best swingers in school would stand up in the swing seat and "pump" (pull against) the chains in an attempt to get so high that, on the backswing, the students could see the top of the horizontal pipe from which the swings were hung. The most adventuresome daredevils would conclude their turn in the swings by jumping from a swing at its highest point forward and landing as far as possible from the swing area..
> The “johnnies” were perhaps more dangerous; this piece of playground equipment consisted of a metal pole, approximately eight inches in diameter and about 12-15 feet tall. At the top of the pole there was a revolving disk-like device from which there hung about six metal chains that ended about five feet off the ground. At the lower end of each chain, there were rectangular, metal devices that students could grasp. While holding onto the hand grips, the students would run around the pole; which caused the upper disk to turn. As the upper disk turned and the momentum built, the students would hang onto the hand grips and begin to sail in the air around the pole. It was great fun; but more than a little dangerous.
There were two metal fire escapes, affixed to the exterior of the building; one at the north end and one at the south end of the building - just outside the first and second grade room at the south end and the fifth and sixth grade room at the north end.. Mrs. Teckman, our fifth and sixth grade teacher would use the fire escape as a motivational strategy. Occasionally, on warm days, she would allow pairs of students to sit on the fire escape and study spelling words together - all the while, keeping the classroom door open of course.
Thinking about the classrooms and the teachers causes me to mention three Collinsville teachers in particular:
> Mrs. Marie Schmidt: Mrs. Marie Schmidt was small in stature; but she had a huge influence on countless students and fellow educators. I first knew her as my first and second grade teacher and elementary school principal (she was a combination teacher and principal). Later, Mrs. Schmidt was my boss, when I became the sixth grade teacher at Collinsville School in 1960. She and I became professional colleagues, when I was appointed principal at the Somerville School in 1962. As a measure of my profound respect for Mrs. Schmidt, I still have a reading book that she gave to me in 1946. Entitled “The Gingham Dog and The Calico Cat,” it bears her personal inscription that reads “1st in Every Pupil Reading Test - 1946 - Freddie Lindley - From Mrs. Schmidt.” Mrs. Schmidt displayed a gentle, but firm manner in her classroom that fostered a love of learning. She had a deft hand in classroom management; many of us students craved her approval and we did our best to avoid being banished, however briefly, to the “red chair” - which, looking back on it was no different than the other chairs that were painted a variety of colors. But, to have to sit on the dreaded red chair was punishment to be avoided.
> Mrs. Virginia Teckman: One of my all-time favorite teachers was Mrs. Teckman. I consider her a master teacher. Mrs. Teckman used teaching techniques in the 1940’s that are touted today as cutting-edge teaching strategies. For example, the day after a spelling test, Mrs. Teckman would stand at the chalkboard and, without any written notes, review the words that particular individuals missed on the test the day before. Hence, she was utilizing formative assessment and providing meaningful and timely feedback. She also handled classroom management flawlessly; several were the times that we students were fidgeting in line, as we waited to enter the lunchroom or go to the bookmobile. Mrs. Teckman would walk over and place her hand on the shoulder of one particularly impatient student. Without a word, she calmed the moment and communicated the message. When she placed her hand on my shoulder, I felt as though I had taken on the weight of the world. Mrs. Teckman was a great teacher; she covered the basics and prepared us well.
> Mrs. Mable Bradbury: During the spring term of my senior year at Miami University (1960), I fulfilled my student teaching requirement, with Mrs. Bradbury, who taught fifth graders at Collinsville School. I learned a lot from Mabel. Like her cohorts, Marie Schmidt and Virginia Teckman, Mabel Bradbury also ran a “tight ship” and her lessons were well organized and presented in an interesting fashion. During my time with her, she provided guidance and helpful feedback to me. Two fortuitous things happened, as I concluded my student teaching experience: (1) Mrs. Teckman, the sixth grade teacher at Collinsville School announced her retirement and (2) Mr. Robert Bogan, Superintendent of the Talawanda School District hired me to fill the vacancy created by Mrs. Teckman's resignation. As a result, the 1959-60 Collinville fifth graders and I moved on to the 1960-61 sixth grade year. My first year of teaching was a learning experience - for the students - and for me! Many times, at the end of a school day, during my first year of teaching, I found myself back in Mrs. Bradbury’s classroom discussing the challenges that I was encountering as a novice teacher. Mabel Bradbury was my teacher-mentor - long before school administrators thought of creating teacher-mentor programs.
Collinsville classmates: And, thinking about the Collinsville School, I must mention my classmates. I was a student at Collinsville, from the middle of my first grade year through the sixth grade and I so enjoyed times with young lads, like JImmy Inman, Kenny Russell, Ralph Yauger, and Jerry Neal. Four of us, Kenny, Ralph, Jerry and I were together, as early as the fourth grade and we graduated together at Oxford Stewart High School. Kenny, Ralph, and I still get together occasionally - like class reunions. Last we heard, Jerry was living in Missouri.
Collinsville 'Tom Boys': For our younger readers, I will explain that the term “tom boy” was used to describe a girl who played sports, climbed trees, and so forth, as well as any boy might. I am including this little section about tom boys, because, I would be remiss, if I failed to mention Frances and Roberta. Frances Beiser and Roberta Napier were two of the best elementary school athletes that I ever knew. Those two girls played softball with all the boys and were NOT the last ones chosen for the teams. They both went on to become outstanding high school athletes.
Ken Russell’s Cushman Scooter: Several years before any of us had our driver’s license, Kenny Russell had personal transportation. During the late 40’s and early 50’s, the Russell family lived in the southwest corner of the Harris Road and Route 177 intersection. Kenny had a pale, yellow Cushman scooter that he used to travel all over the place, while the rest of us walked, pedaled bicycles, or rode with our parents. I don’t think I was alone in thinking that Kenny was a “lucky dog” to have his own wheels; even, if they were only two.
Harry Teckman: I was probably only nine or ten years old when Harry Teckman first drove his stock truck into our barn yard to haul livestock to the Cincinnati Stock Yards. His truck was always clean; after he hauled one load of livestock, he must have used a shovel and water hose to clean the truck before taking on another job. The truck was a Dodge (I think); the cab and hood were painted orange and the fenders were black. The truck racks were yellow and he always had clean straw spread in the bed of the truck, when he arrived to transport our livestock. I remember the first time that I watched Harry pull the loading plank from under the truck. It looked heavy; maybe 8-10 feet long. My father helped Harry hook one end of the plank to the back of the truck, so that it sloped to the ground. Then, they removed the loading chute racks from the opposite sides of the truck and stood them in the slots along the edge of the plank. Then, Harry would go up the chute and open the two sliding doors. Now, we were ready to load the livestock. Harry was gentle with the animals, as they were herded up the loading chute; however, when he had to, he would use an “electric cane” to deliver a shock to the rump of any animal that was particularly reluctant to board the truck.
For the first couple of years, I had to stay home, when Harry and my father transported the livestock to the Cincinnati stock yards. Consequently, it was a big deal, when I was deemed old enough to make the trip to the Queen City. Finally, I was allowed to squeeze in between Harry and my dad in the truck cab and ride to Cincinnati. I did my best to keep my knees out of the way, as Harry maneuvered the floor-mounted gear shift. My father pointed out to me that, once we hit city traffic, Harry constantly looked two or three traffic lights ahead to synchronize his ground speed with the traffic signals, so that he would avoid frequent stops and starts. That made for an easier ride for the animals (and reduced the weight that they lose during the trip - after all, their value at the market was related to what they weighed when they crossed the scales). To this day, when I’m driving in city traffic and looking several traffic lights ahead, I remember that I learned that practice from Harry Teckman, while riding in his livestock truck.
I was a member of the Milford Township 4-H Livestock Club for 11 years and the Butler County Fair was a culminating experience for all 4-H members. I exhibited Angus steers and Berkshire hogs at the county fair and every year, Harry drove our steers and hogs to the Fair Grounds in Hamilton. Harry Teckman was an integral part of my years as a farm boy.
Constable Owen Kelly: In 1948, the house at 4311 Oxford Street became home to Owen Kelly, his wife, and four daughters. The Kelly family came to Darrtown from Boston, Massachusetts. He was the stereotypical, New England character; Owen possessed a quick wit and a sharp opinion that he was not hesitant to express. To his credit, when presented with the opportunity to serve as a voluntary town constable, Owen readily accepted and subsequently fulfilled the role - beyond the expectation of his townspeople. He worn a policeman’s hat, with a badge, and he outfitted his car with a red light. On those Saturdays, when the Miami University football team played at home (in Oxford, Ohio), Constable Kelly positioned his car at the intersection of State Routes 177 and 73. Owen’s presence, as a law enforcement officer, prompted drivers to exercise extra caution when approaching the crossroads that had seen several serious auto accidents through the years.
The Election of Constable Owen Kelly: To borrow a line from the Paul Harvey radio show, here is the “rest of the story,” behind Constable Owen Kelly. During the 1950’s, my father served as a precinct judge for both the primary and general elections in Darrtown. The polling booths were set up in the Darrtown K of P hall. By that time, Ron Wiley and I became good friends. We discovered that we had a similar sense of humor; for example, we both enjoyed the dialogue on the Yogi Bear TV show, which now seems rather lame (“Hello to you, Boo Boo”). We also liked the (then) edgy writing and cartoons in Mad magazine. So, it followed that we were quick to pounce on ideas involving harmless pranks and/or practical jokes. That’s where my father’s work as a precinct judge came into play. One particular year, while reviewing some of the election material, in advance of the election, Ron and I learned that the position of town constable appeared on the printed ballot that Darrtown voters would be using. But, the name space on the ballot was empty; no one was running for the job. My father explained that the space for a name had been blank for several years and multiple elections. And, with that bit of information, the light bulb switch clicked to the “on” position. Who, wondered the two of us, might we promote as a write-in candidate? And, so it was that the “Elect Kelly Constable” campaign was born.
Several nights before the election, working on the kitchen floor of the Lindley farm house, Ron and I created hand-painted posters/signs with election slogans that included “Elect Kelly Constable,” “Clean Up City Hall,” “Stop the Graft,” “Make Our Streets Safe,” “Write-In Owen,” etc. Then, on election eve, under the cover of darkness, we posted the signs around town - at Luther’s Garage, Glardon’s Grocery, the Hitching Post, on telephone poles, and so forth. We even created an "Elect Kelly" paper banner that stretched across Main Street from in front of Luther’s garage to the house on the opposite side of the street. We thought we had it properly positioned; it looked great - until the first semi-tractor trailer barreled down Main Street and ripped it down. I think that banner was on display for all of three minutes.
But, that was the only set-back to our adolescent careers as clandestine, political campaign managers. The next day, the citizens spoke. Yes, to our delight, people actually wrote in Owen Kelly’s name for town constable. As a result, Owen was elected Town Constable and the rest, as they say, is history!
The Omar Bakery Bread Truck: Movies, TV shows, and other forms of media depicting home life in the mid-20th century sometimes include images of, or references to, the delivery of milk to individual houses. In a similar manner, at some point in the 1940’s and 50’s, while living on the farm at 3700 Hamilton Richmond Road, we had bread delivered to our home by an Omar Bakery bread truck. I cannot recall the driver’s name; but, I remember that he seemed like a really nice fellow and he ran the route long enough that we considered him a friend of the family. I remember that the Omar Bakery was located on Route 4 in Hamilton, across from the Butler County Fairgrounds - we could see the bakery when we showing our livestock at the Butler County fair.
50-50 Dances: Before Bill Haley and the Comets lit up the country with “Rock Around the Clock,” before Elvis introduced us to blue suede shoes, and yes, before black and white images of Dick Clark’s “American Band Stand” streamed into our homes via table-top television sets, Darrtown had its 50-50 dances (see an image of a dance poster on a back wall of the Dees Grocery store). Held at the Darrtown K. of P. hall in the late 1940’s and early 1950’s, the “50-50” dances featured both “round” and “square” dancing. “Round dancing” referred to dancing as couples - similar to ballroom dancing - and “square” meant dancing in groups of eight (four couples) in response to the melodic directions of a square dance “caller.” It was a genuine family atmosphere; people of all ages engaged in the dances. As a youngster (eight, nine, ten years old), my first dance lessons occurred on the K. of P. hardwood floor, thanks to adult women like my mother and other female family relatives (aunt Anna Mae Alston, Aunt Hazel Bufler, etc.). I remember the fun of running out on the dance floor when the band was taking a break and sliding across the surface as Uncle Dick Bufler and others spread a product (soap powder?) on the floor to make it slippery for dancing.
We entered the K. of P. Hall at the west entrance - facing Main Street. The dance “hall” was (according to my memory) probably some 30-40 feet wide and 50-60 feet long. There were wooden benches along the north and south walls. A stage was located at the east end of the room, which could be accessed by a short series of steps at either side of the stage. The musicians and the square dance caller were positioned on the raised platform. A concrete block addition, maybe 12 feet by 15 feet, was located in the northeast corner of the structure and served as a refreshment area. Restroom facilities were located outback (yes, they were the old-fashioned “outhouses”).
It seems that the dances occurred throughout the year. I am certain that they were held during the summer months (I remember that we little kids would run outside to cool off during the evening). I know there was a wood/coal stove that sat in the southwest corner of the room, which I think it was used to provide heat during winter dances. All in all, the 50-50 dances at Darrtown were a social highlight during my early lifetime.
Department Store Cashiers: Picture, if you will, the pneumatic tube that is commonplace at 21st century drive-in banks and/or drugstores. You sit in your car, put your money or prescription into the container, place it in the receptacle, and send it inside. That same concept, albeit with different materials, was used by a department store in Hamilton, Ohio during the late 1940’s and early 1950’s. I recall accompanying my mother as she shopped in a store on High Street (it may have been a McCrory’s store). My mother paid the clerk; the clerk placed the money in a cylindrical container and placed in some kind of metal tube that extended upwards to the ceiling, where the container traveled to a central location. After a few minutes, the change and receipt arrived back where we were waiting. Perhaps the store used the tubular system to avoid the expense of providing cash registers throughout the store. I don’t know what happened to that technology; it disappeared for several years/decades. Now, it is back in vogue.
Meat Lockers: Like many families in the late 1950’s, our family refrigerator was not large and the freezer compartment was pretty much limited to making ice cubes and storing a few pints of ice cream. However, to supplement our food supply, we did our own butchering of livestock. In order to preserve the butchered meat, we took advantage of a new facility in Hamilton, Ohio. We rented a space at the meat locker, which some enterprising entrepreneur constructed along the south side of High Street - approximately four blocks east downtown. Then, whenever we butchered, we would wrap the freshly processed beef and/or pork in “butcher” paper and transport it to the locker where it would be frozen for long-term storage. In the weeks and months that followed, we would periodically drive to Hamilton, stop at the meat locker, and pick up some meat for our meals at home.
THAT’S ALL FOR NOW; IF I THINK OF OTHER RECOLLECTIONS, I WILL ADD THEM."
Recollections of Fred Lindley
The following was written and contributed by Fred Lindley in 2010.
