Gypsy Camp

Marietta Leader, November 25, 1893

There is a large gypsy camp a short distance below Belpre. It is a genuine lot of gypsies and they are evidently well off for gypsies. They have several wagons, a number of splendid horses and a good camping outfit. They work the fortune telling racket and rake to the coin from the gullible people. Several of the women belonging to the camp have been working Parkersburg. They were taken before Judge Drennen on complaint that they were peddling. But they gave evidence that they were telling fortunes only and in proof they offered to read the future for his Honor. He declined their proposition and let them go.

 

Dancing School

The [Marietta] Daily Register, October 1, 1894

Buell's Hall has been completed and is now the finest dancing hall in the city. It will be occupied by A. H. Trace, who will open his dancing school Monday evening, October 8, 1894. The following is a partial list of the dances he will introduce: Chautauqua Square, Lanciers, National American Lanciers, College Lanciers, Minuet Lanciers, La Grace Waltz, Quadrille Waltz, Polonaise Waltz, Varsovienna Waltz, Comus Waltz, Rye Waltz Nos. 1 and 2, Vassar, Oxford, Minuet, Esmeralda, Waltz Step, Redowa Schottische and Rock-a-way Schottische.

A few more scholars will be taken.

Fiddle Warns Youth Hiding in Woods

Marietta Daily Times, August 12, 1918

Nero, according to tradition, fiddled while Rome was burning. Mrs. James Beaver fiddled while officers waited Sunday night at her home on the Little Muskingum for the return of her nephew, Floyd Weddle, sought as a draft evader. Thus does history repeat itself.

Weddle, hiding in the thickets on the Beaver place, doubtless interpreted the more or less musical strains as a warning. Leastwise, Deputy Sheriff Frank F. Fleming had a three-hour wait in the darkened farm house before he was rewarded by the appearance of the young man, who is alleged to have come here last spring from his home at Newell, West Virginia, for the purpose of escaping registration with the 21-year-old military eligibles in June.

The young man, who was brought to the county jail at one o'clock Monday morning, is a son of Beaver's sister. He is said to have attired himself in knee-length trousers when he had occasion to go on errands to the store at Reno, about a mile from the Beaver home.

His habit of scurrying off into the thicket upon the arrival of strangers in the vicinity finally aroused suspicion. This was communicated to the officials in Marietta. An investigation disclosed that although the young many was born February 29, 1897, he had not registered for military service with the class of June 6.

Sheriff Posey and Deputy Fleming both were at the Beaver residence Sunday night. Before their arrival, Weddle had fled into the hills where he camouflaged his identity with a rank growth of rag weed, sassafras saplings and blackberry bushes. The officers were given the impression that the young man had permanently changed his abode.

Both James Beaver and his wife remained with the officers, neither retiring to bed. About midnight, when Beaver stepped out into the yard under some pretext, a sound like the plaintive call of a quail separated from its flock smote the ears of the county officers. They heard it answered from the hills.

The fiddle screeched on the porch no longer. Reluctantly the woman surrendered the bow, which was secreted by the sheriff. Posey then boarded his auto and returned to the city. Deputy Sheriff Fleming remained in the house. Within an hour he heard the sound of someone's tapping on the windows. The figure moved around the house.

Beaver, acting under the deputy's instructions, opened the front door. He said nothing, even when the deputy suggested his telling Weddle to come in. When the latter appeared opposite the doorway, Fleming, throwing the rays of a flashlight into his face, covered him with a pistol and took him in custody.

To the officer Weddle declared that he expected to register when he became of age. He said his mother maintains that he is not yet 21.

 

Belpre Is Improving

The Marietta Register, September 21, 1865

A friend informs us that James Howe is erecting a two-story house; that J. Robinson is building a frame dwelling in good style; that E. E. Cunningham has put up a shoe store, that two houses have just been completed for rent - to whom belonging, we do not recollect; beside several buildings have just received additions. 

Then again, the erection of a saw and grist mill has been commenced by the Belpre Mill Co. And more still, a neat two-story building for an academy has recently been erected. Belpre is on the "wing of progress."

We would thank the people of that quarter not to be quite so modest hereafter. Let outsiders know what you are doing. "Blow your horns," through the Register.

Reminiscenses

The Marietta Daily Times, December 1, 1931

Recently I met a fellow who was a pal of my boyhood days, and naturally we got to reminiscing of the days when life was young. Those were happy days, and these are happy days also. I think life is just as enjoyable for me today as it was nearly half a century ago, only in a different way.

Young folks today are reared without any knowledge of many things which were a part of home life three or four decades ago. My first childhood dreams came in a trundle bed, which was the first lower berth. It furnished bunking quarters for three of us at night and was rolled back under the big bed for the day. This provided most economical sleeping quarters, where there were large families and few rooms. The beds were often of the cord variety, where a heavy cord took the place of slats or springs. Surmounted by a feather mattress they were about as comfortable as some of the modern beds, though they did not comply with some of the present sleeping technique.

All the rooms except the parlor were heated with barrel stoves with coal for fuel. There was an open fireplace in the parlor which was fired up on Sunday and when company arrived. One of the regular chores after school was to fill the coal boxes and get in enough dry kindling to start the fires in the morning. If this was not done before dark, it had to be done after dark by the dim light of the oil lantern. Those old stoves when they began to show red below the doors provided ample heat that was real heat. They may have violated some of the rules of heat engineering, but they were most cozy and comfortable.

There were other chores at the barn, feeding and milking the cow who added much to the family living. Also, old "Barney," the equine member of the family, had to be fed and bedded, and occasionally curried. He also served as a passenger sedan when he was taken back and forth to pasture.

Usually there was a pair of pigs who were making hogs of themselves to replenish the family lard for winter. Those home grown hams and sausage - well I can taste them yet. None today taste like those did.

In the fall the cellar was well-stocked with potatoes, several barrels of apples and a barrel of sorghum. This sorghum was used for frosting the buckwheat cakes which composed the daily breakfast all winter. Some day dietitians will discover a new vitamin in buckwheat cakes and the air will be filled with their praises a la Phil Cook or some other cook.

The acme of every boy's ambition was a pair of red top boots. Shoes were very plebeian. Occasionally when snow or water got into them, it taxed the capacity of the old boot-jack to get them off. I still have the old boot-jack, now retired on pension. It served its day well for it helped many times to get our feet out of a tight place.

On Sundays and for an occasional party or funeral, we were decked out in those stiff-bosomed, clap-board shirts. They were alright until you sat down; then they shoved the collar up against the ears and shut off part of the air intake. Weekends were not anticipated with any great joy. They meant a vigorous Saturday night scrub, which always brought out all the sore spots collected during the week and it also meant those stiff jacket shirts on Sunday.

The evenings were usually spent around the big center table lighted by a large kerosene lamp. Here we learned to extract the square root and to locate Timbuktu. After the lessons, possibly there would follow a game of checkers or authors, while at other times we gathered around the wheezy organ and sang some of the old hymns which today lift my spirit above the noise and clamor of this speeding age as they are occasionally wafted in over the air.

As I sit by the radio on Tuesday evenings listening to the sacred hour program featuring the grand old hymns, I find myself in a pew in the old two-horned church, listening to Miss Lillian Eells as she sang these same hymns so appealingly, just before Dr. Dickinson, that grand old man, arose to tell us of that better way. In those days, every family had a pew and usually had enough children to fill it. 

We never get away from those early influences, however far afield we may wander. Such are some of the memories of boyhood days, which bring much delight to live over again as we draw nearer to that golden shore where we shall renew friendship with those whom we have loved long since and lost awhile.

By C. Tassel