1870s Sketchbook — Part 16 (Final)

All posts featuring these sketches are indexed under the “Blog Multi-Part Series” tab above.

Once again, thanks to Jon Hudson for the donation of the sketchbook.

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A Lost Business

This ad from the 1956 Centennial issue of the Yellow Springs News represents not only a business no longer there, but a kind of business no longer available in Yellow Springs with the end of Holly’s Dry Cleaners on Corry Street.

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A Yellow Springs Woman for Health Care

In our occasional look at Yellow Springs profiles in Women of Greene County, it seems particularly appropriate at this time to highlight someone who made her make in health care.

Kathy Parker Gillespie (1925-1988)

Irene Kathy Parker Gillespie was appreciated for much more than just her physical accomplishments. Even though she was stricken by poliomyelitis at the age of twenty-nine and confined to a wheel chair for thirty-four years until her death, whenever she received a compliment on one of her many accomplishments as a handicapped woman, she would say, “I don’t think of myself as handicapped.’

She understood that the greatest handicap is loss of faith, hope, and strength of will. Her heart and mind were an inspiration to others. She was the wife of Reverend Malcolm Gillespie and raised two children, Grace and Alan, while managing a household almost single-handedly. In the 1960s she wheeled her chair back and forth between home and Southern Illinois University to earn her Master’s Degree in Home Economics.

She taught at the Springfield School of Nursing and Clark Technical College until 1974. In Yellow Springs she founded the Home Health Aide Service to enable the elderly and sick to receive care in the home. She trained nurse’s aides according to nationally recognized standards and matched those needing jobs with those who required health care.

Gillespie was honored by the Dayton Pilots Club in 1978 as its Handicapped Professional Woman of the Year, and by the Kentucky-Ohio-West Virginia Pilots International organization as its Handicapped Professional Woman of the Year in 1979. In 1985 she was inducted into the Greene County Women’s Hall of Fame.

She was gifted with great patience. This was fortunate for the constant irritations of being confined to a wheel chair and subsequent breathing difficulties were severe trials. After her death, when her husband of almost forty years was asked if caring for her had been difficult, he replied that it was good that he had been chosen to care for her while she put up with all the discomfort because if it had been the other way around he didn’t think he could have done it.

Gillespie always made light of her suffering. Her biggest inspiration to those who knew her well was her inborn, strong faith that God was guiding her life. When polio first struck and she was rushed to the hospital to deliver her second child prematurely, she later claimed that she saw a beautiful white light that she knew was God, and from that moment on the thought of death was never frightening.

She often liked to tell this story: Just prior to the debilitating illness, she and her husband were teaching vacation Bible school and learned these words from a poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson:

Speak to him thou for he hears
and spirit with spirit can meet.
Closer is he than breathing,
nearer than hands and feet.

In her own words: “Learning these lines of Tennyson turned out to be providential. A few weeks later I lay in an iron lung, paralyzed in hands and feet and breathing. My husband was beside me every day, praying and quoting Tennyson’s words to remind me that God’ spirit is closer to us than our hands and feet. God’s love for us is closer to our hearts than our own breathing.”

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From the Antioch Bookplate Archives — 1990s Part 19

0272-0 (box of 30) and 0277-1 (sleeve of 12) — by Jennifer Hewitson
0273-9 (box of 30) and 0278-X (sleeve of 12) — by Richard Franklin
0274-7 (box of 30) and 0279-8 (sleeve of 12) — by Robin Anderson
0275-5 (sleeve of 12 only) — in-house design
0276-3 (sleeve of 12) — another design by Mike Peters


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March “Safety Symphonies” from the Hooey

A regular feature of the CCC Camp newsletter The Hooey was a series of cartoons on various safety cautions. The following “Safety Symphonies” are from the 1937 and 1938 March issues.

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Unusual Name and Unusual Story

A while back Robin Heise, while on the board of the Historical SOciety, discovered the following article of the Xenia Daily Gazette issue of March 21, 1935.

Hibben’s (1875-1969) family came to Yellow Springs from Indiana. Although his death occcured in Dayton, his burial is in a military cemetery in Washington, D.C.

Certain questions arise: what became of the sword? what was Lord Michael’s story? did Bellmer Hibben achieve his goal of moving out west?

Off-hand, what kind of a financial offer would you make for the rather ordinary looking sword, with the broken blade, shown above? Not much, probably, but that is because appearances are so often deceiving.

For example, the owner of the sword, Bellmer S. Hibben, 236 Corry St., Yellow Springs (right) has refused offers as high as $500 for it and wouldn’t consider a bid much less than ten times that amount. He values it at $5,000, which proves this particular sword must be something out of the ordinary.

Mr. Hibben, an interior decorator employed in Springfield, who has made collecting Indian relics, old manuscripts and other rare articles a hobby for more than forty years—ever since he was a boy—treasures the sword more than his entire collection of about 300 pieces. That is because it has such a fascinating background.

The fact the sword once saw service in the Napoleon war, a stray bullet severing the blade about six inches from the point, and originally must have belonged to a high ranking British noble, has been established conclusively by Mr. Hibben.

Inspection of the gold handle shows engravings of the royal line of England. It bears the British coat of arms, the three plumes of nobility, a lion’s head and the British bulldog. Engraved on the blade, near the hilt (which fits rather loosely into the lion’s open mouth) is the Scotch thistle and the English rose.

The sword once belonged to an English lord, whose body lies in Glen Forest Cemetery at Yellow Springs, the grave identified with a plain marble slab on which appears the simple inscription: “Clement Westbrook Michael, native of England.”

For some unexplained reason, the British nobleman came to the United Stated in 1836, established a residence in Cincinnati and later became a habitue of Elisha Mills’ hotel at the “springs,” then a widely known health resort because of the medicinal qualities of the water. Afterward, when Mills sold his hotel and built another which afterward became a “Home of the Aged” the present site of Bryan High School, the titled Englishman also was a frequent guest at the new hostelry.

Lord Michael was credited with furnishing money to equip a store room built by Mills’ first business establishment in Yellow Springs, but which was removed some years ago. He also bought land on the Dayton-Yellow Springs Pike, now owned by the Huston family, built a home and lived there until his death. Michael was a remittance man and enjoyed a regular income from entailed estates in England. He imported a span of horses and entertained in a lavish manner when ‘in funds.” When he died after the Civil War, a relative came over from England to settle up the estate and erect the simple stone marker at his grave.

The lord’s effects were sold at public auction, and the engraved sword was included among the articles purchased by the late Charles Helfner, Yellow Springs. Helfner apparently considered the weapon of no value for one day, in a spirit of generosity, he made a gift of the sword to Bellmer Hibben, then a lad of 13, for whom it presented a boyish attraction as a plaything.

Young Hibben soon tired of the toy and sold it for a dollar to Civil War veteran, Tom Jobe. Years passed and Hibben began to find pleasure in collecting miscellaneous relics. It was twenty-five years later—in 1910—that the forgotten sword was recalled to h is memory. After the veteran’s death, Hibben happened to see the sword in his collection.

Expressing to the veteran’s widow a desire to buy back the sword, Hibben made an offer of a dollar—the original price Jobe paid him twenty-five years before—and it was accepted. Hibben still did not realize that the sword might be of historical value. It was dim and tarnished and coated with grime, but he polished it up and was surprised to discover the handle was of gold. The engravings on the hilt intrigued his interest and this persuaded him to look up the history of the blade.

The Yellow Springs decorator has had no offers from big-time collectors, but he feels reasonably sure that they would display a lively interest in the prize of his collection. Hibben is rather anxious to dispose of his other relics because in the spring he plans to take up his residence in the West. He has relatives in Colorado and in California.

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J. Peery Miller Memoirs — Part 18

More about their horses…

Pete was the name of a large bay horse of many good qualities. He served well as a lead horse at plow or wagon. Seldom were lines needed to guide him so willingly would he respond to the request, “Go on Pete”, “Gee”, “Haw” and “Whoa”, terms easily learned by a horse of good breed. All went well with this much beloved animal until a sudden fright almost ruined him for family use. One Sunday morning Pete was the buggy horse chosen to take the family to the Christian church at Enon, O. Mother, Sister Kate and Charity and myself were the passengers. When within a half-mile of the town it began to rain, and as it dashed in from the front Sister Charity raised an umbrella, pointing it over the dash-board. Pete caught a glimpse of this unusual performance so close to his back misinterpreted the motive, and, becoming frightened, started to run. Of course, the umbrella followed with equal velocity and Pete’s fright increased accordingly, resulting in a complete run-a-way. I think that I was doing the driving when the start commenced but when the women realised the situation every body wanted to help pull on the lines. Great confusion ensued. I was crowded out of the game. Much hollowing of “whoa, Pete, whoa” only served to increase his speed instead of checking it.

A sudden turn to the left of the road brought the front buggy wheel in contact with the out side corner of a stake and rider fence which stopped the vehicle but not the horse. The harness broke and Pete slipped out of the shafts like a flash of lightning and continued his run with excellorated speed, being relieved of any burdensome attachment. Urged on by the flapping of loose lines and traces that still hung to his back, he continued to run until completely exhausted. He stopped in the village not far from the Christian church. A man in the street realizing the situation and fearing that some of us might be seriously hurt, gently led the much humiliated animal back to learn the cause and result. None of us was hurt. The horse and buggy simply parted company. We stayed with the buggy fast in the fence corner, being very willing to let old Pete continue the race alone if he so desired.

Stake and rider fence

Fortunately a house stood close to the road not far from the place of our misfortune. We stayed there until some of our friends returning from church took us home. Pete was stabled for the time being.

Later in the afternoon Father hitched a team to the big two-horse carriage and went after the buggy, which was anchored to a fence stake, and the bad acting Pete, who had forgotten the morning escapade and was now enjoying a good feed of hay from a strange manger. Father took me with him to guide him to the place and be of service in returning Pete, who by that time was completely over his scare. The buggy, somewhat wrecked, was towed to the Donnelsville carriage-shop for repairs.

I still remember how I felt when father, with one sweep of his strong arms, placed me astride old Pete’s back assuring me that he was perfectly safe, that he would not run away from other horses. I was game, but the morning’s experience was fresh in mind and I was not very anxious to risk repeating it. Father was right, however, as he generally was in matters pertaining to the conduct of our horses.

Old Pete never got over the result of this scare. He was perfectly safe while working by the side of other horses, but he became absolutely untrustworthy in shafts. If he could not free himself by running, he resorted to kicking, a detestable habit. Father finally sold him to a government agent for use in the U. S. army.

A heavy set sorrel mare, named Mark, was the most serviceable as an all-round farm house. She was reliable wherever placed. This was the animal I referred to as so trustworthy in loading sawlogs.

Mike, a dark bay horse, belong to brother Harrison and was noted throughout the neighborhood for his dashing disposition and physical strength. Move quickly and keep going was his motto when hitched to a heavy load. Many times I saw him perform marvelous feats of strength in pulling heavy wagon-loads of wood or grain through bad places in the road and up steep hills. It was up to the driver to keep the other horses moving when Mike was one of the team. He would set the pace and his companions must follow. “Never stall” was his motto.

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The more things change…

An announcement in the September 27, 1856 issue of the Anti-Slavery Bugle published in Lisbon, Ohio:

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Welcome to the Stone

A photograph recently discovered in the Historical Society archives, with the following handwritten on the reverse:

“Morgan Memorial Stone, near Trailside entrance to Glen. Arthur Morgan arranged the transportation of the boulder from a field at Dayton Pike & 235.
Art & I attended this ceremony”

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1870s Sketchbook — Part 15

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