"Truth" is time dependent. It's also people dependent! It was said "I heard a new version of the truth and I did all I can to further it!" (Will Rogers, I believe). Falsehoods, if repeated often enough become a new version of the truth. Two people look at the same things and see differences. This concept is called a "scatoma". Scripture even speaks on it as "eyes to see, but do not see!" (Mark 8:18).
As an example of a scatoma was when a young 26 years-old teacher was killed on Cascade Road at US40. I saw it, was the first there and pried open the passenger door. I actively participated, but yet I failed to see! An attorney called me to testify on behalf of the defendant. He asked one question "Were there any other cars between you and the accident?" I said "No.". My credibility was eroded right then because other witnesses saw another car in between. My testimony was worthless! What I didn't see was a "scatoma". It's what we fail to see, hear, or experience in clear view.
Why all this explanation on truth and blindness to objectivity? Because it's important to remember that time has blurred truth and objective reality after over forty years! I can only divulge to the reader things as I experienced them and remember what I experienced. History written after years of aging, becomes blended with fantasy. Rather than history, what is written may be false memories. We all do that! Likewise, different people focus on different things and are blind to the other pages.
Because of limited perception I research what I write and pursue different viewpoints. Sometimes I stand corrected and for factuality, that's imperative!
Because someone in our past exhibited a peculiar, but memorable occasion a half-century ago doesn't define that person. There were legions of incidences before that one and as many after. For instance, if a person exhibited let's say "meanness" one time years ago, we may remember and write about that, but one incidence of meanness does not define the person. That person may be truly kind, but had a failure.
With all that said, I'm going to remember the incidences in Coatesville's history of people who made an impression for me to remember. It may be covered with dusty gilt from time, or it may be a different lens from which I see. Because I recount an unfavorable incident should not imply that the person is unsavory. Because I remember a kind act a person did does not define their charity.
Real people may have large slices of good enclosing slivers of bad. Others may have large pieces of bad with only slivers of good. Most people, even the worst, from Coatesville were good people many of whom had slivers of bad.
If when describing a person, it's what I saw at one cross-section in time. It's through my lenses that they're seen and it's my reality they are in! Because of these obstacles the reader may have a different viewpoint on personalities or even events. As you would want others to excuse your perceptions, likewise excuse mine. No one's character is in jeopardy when a funny incidence is represented. It's a treatise in laughing at how we were!
Let's take me first. I stole from a friend at one time. Of that I'm embarrassed, but it's reality. However, because I stole doesn't make me a thief because there is more to me than what I was when I was eight years old. Likewise, time has changed me. I'm not who I was! Some even still remember me as a teenager from a poor family. I was, but that period does not define me. Considering all that, let's laugh at who we were and how others perceived us to be!
I recently remarked that "Truth is the land beyond which pride lies". I wrote this free-form poem about that mysterious land:
TRUTH IS THE LAND
There is a land far beyond.
Beyond the fringe infringed by few.
A land of trees with hanging fruits.
Fruits that are real from trees of truth.
Truth is the land beyond which pride lies.
Rivers flow into that land.
A flat land with hills so few.
A land which few paddle beyond.
Beyond is the land which few shall see.
For to see is to believe that land beyond.
There is a savannah where many linger.
Lingering as their own shadow looms large.
It's there that pride ambushes the prideful.
Pride which chains many with delusions.
Delusions because truth is the land beyond!
It's a journey worth the pious way.
It's a way to the land of truth.
But truth is the land beyond which pride lies.
For lies are in pride for those defiant.
Many are those who defile the land where pride lies!
Pride is a liar! Meaning those prideful conceal who they really are. There is a land beyond lies where truth resides. Because I stole from a friend, I must admit it, but my pride wants it concealed. I reside (lie) in that land of pride unless it's truth I present. My motivation is to present truth to the reader without regard to pride. If pride kept me from writing about me, the pages may be blank. It''s better to write a word of truth than pages of lies. Therefore, when I write the truth as I see it about some person, it's my and only my perception of the truth, but I don't define them; they are a composite of all our perceptions!
As for me, some would never compliment me if they knew the evil I've done. However, that evil doesn't make me. It's just a small part. Some may see only that evil part, but my desire is to be loving and kind. Sometimes truth interferes with kindness, so we either keep it to ourselves or hope the other person laughs at it's memory. Laugh on because we all did things for which we deserve a laugh!
I've presented Mabel Davidson's frugality. That's not Mabel. That is one aspect of her personality. Mabel was a fine friend to me and many. It's okay to laugh at that now, but for her frugality was serious business because the Great Depression was serious and it was close at hand. If she were alive today, Mabel would laugh at her own frugality. We truly are a victim of our times!
I have told tales on two individuals who went unnamed because the past can hurt present relationships. We can still laugh and only imagine who they may be. There were folks in Coatesville who were the epitome of Peyton Place, the television series. You can imagine who they are and it may be many! Sometimes it's not the names we need to know, but the story which is told.
One of my best stories NEEDS two names. One is mine and the other belongs to another. Those who knew me know that I was never a drinker, but on a few occasions, I did drink spirits. That does not make me a drunk, nor even evil. It's my past. This incident is my past and it's not something of which I'm proud, but it was me at this cross-section in time. For the other person, it's the same. With that in mind, I must share the name to make this story alive and hope that those close to my friend do not take offense, because the person in 1964 is not the one of 2016.
The tale is about a friend and me. You know me, but not my friend; at least not his name. Bear with me and you will know his as well!
Woodson "Woody" Darnell brings this story to mind. Woody owned Coatesville Elevator. It too was where "everybody knew your name"! That set of city skyscrapers was Coatesville. They towered above all and could be seen from all directions. If one stood in Amo three miles away, and looked down the tracks, they would see Coatesville Elevator. It was the land of drying corn and wheat, storage for the height of the selling season, and the place where Coatesville's grain when to the world. The world has tasted the fruits of Coatesville. Those fruits your father's grew!
The "Elevator" was the home of nickel cokes in 7 ounce bottles, cigar-smoking Woody's, scattered grain and the hustle and bustle of farmers peddling their wares. It too was home of many memories for most people. It's where dozens of citizens received the income to feed those who they loved and it was the place where many a "round ball" was stuffed. It's where balls flew over rafters to sink home and where kids rode the vertical tram to great heights! Many memories were hatched there which we now look back on in maturity!
The grain silos were our Mt. Everest. We had to climb them because they were there. That's reason enough and climb we did! Most teenage boys climbed those towers many times, and Woody nor Lewis ever worried. It was the time when friends didn't sue friends and indeed "Mi casa es su casa!" or in this case "My grain elevator is your grain elevator!" Woody allowed us all free reign because we cleaned up after our messes and seldom were we careless and irresponsible. On this occasion my friend and I did a stupid thing, but God watches over those who need his help!
There is a cause and effect in everything. The cause in this case was a pint of mint vodka which somehow two very young boys had procured. There was that persistent "other cause". It was the grain elevator and those "daggum" tall silos standing about the height of the tower of Babylon; at least 150 feet or an half mile so it seems! There was an unguarded ladder of bent reinforcement rod spaced up the towering wall. In those days OSHA was yet to be a nightmare, and there was no ladder guards to keep careless, nor drunk kids, from falling to their deaths.
This fine friend and I drank about half that vodka and started our climb. It was easy to climb without protection because of our false courage and our self-awareness that indeed we as teens are invulnerable! We made it to the top without incidence, laughing as we climbed. When we were at our lofty perch we looked at the grand view and laughed that others weren't seeing what we were seeing. Our enjoyment was enhanced by each swagger of the mint vodka.
Now, the daring deed was about to happen and you need to know the name of my fellow imbiber; it was Billy Delp! Hs name needs to be known because Billy is unique. He was everybody's good friend and truly fun to be with all the time. He was a character for many reasons, having a great sense of humor. He is one of whom is called "a little person" today, but Billy was big inside.
There was a bar extending from one skyscraper to the other. Billy, half-full of the devil's brew and feeling quite superhuman, hand walked the bar from one silo to another, hand over hand, 150 feet in the air! And then hand walked back with his legs dangling in the darkness, hid from the prying eyes of the village people! I was afraid for him, but Billy had no fear. I cringed at every change of hand as he scurried from one silo to another!
Billy made it back safely and we finished off the pint. One pint doesn't seem like much, but Billy and I were just kids and neither of us were accustomed to alcohol. We were "feeling our oats" as adults were than wont to say. After the pint we were two inebriated to climb down. We both were afraid of the trip down that unsafe external ladder, so we slept the night way up there; above the city, until daybreak came! I believe that I had help with sobriety. I threw up what I had drank and more!
To this day, I don't drink alcohol and won't even eat mint candy! The thought of mint vodka still makes me cringe even as I gag when brushing with mint toothpaste. You see, we are a product of where we grew up and the time in which we grew.
If only Woody knew about that, there would have been rules! It's too late for that now because Billy and I lived in spite of lacking wisdom. Without looking, I would bet that those silos now have guarded ladders at least. OSHA takes the fun out of kids lives, while taking the danger out of carelessness.
Woodson Darnell lived in the big brownish-red brick home on the corner of Walnut and Milton Streets. The Arthur Awbrey home was at the intersection on the other side, and when Barbara Awbrey got married they lived to the north of the Darnells on Walnut.
The Darnell home was to us a mansion. It stood stately upon a hill with a meandering stream at its foot. We sledded there at times and some of us younger ones built pushcarts and raced them there. Before I get into the Darnell family, those days brings back memories. We made our own pushcarts! No adults helped us, nor even showed us how! Young boys are born with the innate ability to create things and that we did!
The source of raw material was the city dump for the most part. We did get the lumber from old buildings and left overs, but the essentials came from the open land-fill long ago closed (again OSHA at work to save us from ourselves!). Us youngsters would walk the two miles or so on SR75 north of town near where the Bell family from Indianapolis moved later. In that dump were the neatest things outside of Coatesville. As we dodged rats and snakes which we imagined, we dug through the waste of many Coatesvillans to find the hidden jewels which they had discarded.
What we were looking for were old tricycles and wagons from which we could strip the axles and wheels for our woodmobiles. We lugged them home from there and somehow found old nails all of the wrong size in our parents cache. We could never find steeples for attaching the axles so we merely drove in hoards of nails on either side of the axle and bent them over as a retainer. When we wrecked our mobiles, it was mostly when our nails stretched out to where they once were.
The base of the pushmobile would be of scavenged plywood or old flooring. to which the rear axle was nailed on the bottom side. We would find a huge nail, or if lucky, a bolt and nut to attach a plank to the front of the base. This plank is what actually held the front axle.
The seat back was nailed on at an angle with a support on either side and we simulated a hood by adding an nailed piece of wood to the front. Steering was a rope extending from both sides of the front axle and long enough to reach back to the passenger. This dangerous contraption was our homemade toy, again something of which OSHA would never approve! We made ours and we were proud of our handiwork! Believe it or not, the ability to create things on your own when young develops skilled men! I grimace at what exercising the thumbs on an electronic toy will do for our future!
That's from whence our pushmobile came and they were rode downhill at Woody Darnall's! We had races there, not sanctioned races, but Little Rascal type races, probably those we copied and maybe even learned!
Ah, I digress again! These same skills were used later when I was about fifteen when us young kids would have demolition derbies on the hillside by the shed at Buck Arnold's home out of town. We would make them "safe: by knocking out the glass and welding a row bar behind the backseat. They were our junkmobiles which were driven until they were junk and then drove on. It's just things like this that us young Coatesville boys had to do! My brothers, Charlie and Carroll were who I copied. I wanted to do what they did even at a young age, and Mom let me do them!
Well, Woody Darnall was always in his work clothes when we saw him. They were always brown khaki shirt and pants with a Coatesville Elevator green bibbed hat. He usually had a stogey in his mouth which he tried to light when he paused for conversation. It was usually unlit, but burnt on the end from previous puffs. That was Woody. He was truly a nice man, congenial and apparently a great businessman. His wife, Lillian, was more refined and we saw her little at the "mill". If Lillian had been from the south she would have been a southern belle. She was stately and friendly!
Lillian, when I saw her was always in a dress and had her silver hair neatly done. She wore glasses in vogue at the time and lipstick for everyday. She was always the one who hired Mom, Carroll and me for work: mom domestic, Carroll for heavier and me for the devilish weed-pulling. Although we were mere "help" she was so loving and caring that she became good friends.Whereas, Woody's friendship was casual and fleeting, Lillian's was more than that. She would bring nice drinks and cookies to us while we were working and always inquire about our lives.
We had the freedom to be anywhere we needed to be in her home or buildings. She trusted us and we never disappointed her. She paid us often in silver dollars. That was her trademark! Carroll said that she had a whole drawer full in her basement there for petty cash. I believe that because that was our pay currency!
Woodson "Woody" Darnall (aka Darnell as we called him) was born in 1904 and died in 1969. Woody was born in Arkansas, moved to Jackson County, Missouri and grew up in Putnam County, Indiana, probably Bainbridge. He was the son of Dexter Darnall and Oakie Batman. He married Lillian S. Smith who was also born in 1905 and was from Fillmore. Woody was in Coatesville by 1930. Woody's brother Paul lived with them for a period of time. Lillian and Woody had one daughter, June D. Darnall who married Lewis E. Hadley, who moved from town toward Reno in the mid-1960s. Lillian died in Coatesville in 2002 after living out her years in Greencastle.
This struck me as funny:
WOODS0N AND PAUL DARNELL WHO OPERATE ELEVATOR AT COATESVILLE LEAVE MOTOR RUNNING—MACHINE COASTS IN FRONT OF FAST TRAIN:
This is a story with a moral. The moral is “Have a sweet-running motor, but stay behind the wheel.” Wednesday, Woodson Darnell and Paul Darnell, brothers of Bainbridge, operators of an elevator at Coatesville drove their Ford truck to Coatesville, but left the machine in front of a store with the motor running. While they were in the store the Ford clutch became engaged and the vehicle started down Main street (without a driver). It reached the Pennsylvania railroad crossing on Main streets at the same time that a fast Pennsylvania train did. The train didn’t stop. Now the Darnell Brothers are advising all their friends to stop their motor when they leave their cars without a driver. (Greencastle Herald, page 8, November 17,1927)
Notoriety sometimes comes at the expense of carelessness!
June Darnell Hadley was born in 1926 in Hendricks County and died the same place in 2015. Lewis E. Hadley was born about 1916 and was the son of Luther and Grace Daugherty Hadley of Clay Township. Lewis died in Coatesville in 1997.
Those families were one. Lewis and June worked at the mill and later owned it. These two families were prominent in the community and they were all good friends. As I write is when I discover the demise of Lewis and June; good people from a good place.
Arthur S. Awbrey and family lived at the "T" on Milton at the intersection of Walnut. His was a modest home with a small orchard. Many times we've had apples from there as well as grapes and peaches. Almost anyone could walk down Milton and grab an apple and Arthur wouldn't care. His trademark was bibbed overalls like the farmers wear and his wife wore dresses as was the custom for ordinary families not encumbered by what was in vogue at the time. Of course the accessories were half heels in black and white anklets. Some wore nylons of dark tan with seams up the back, a remnant of the post war era.
Arthur Sherman Awbrey was born in Hendricks County in 1896 and died there in 1964. He was a private in the infantry in WWI. Arthur was from Amo. While we're at it, let's examine all the WWI veterans from Coatesville:
Awbrey, Arthur S. (Amo); Broadstreet, Roscoe E.; Buis, Almon Ray; Cline, Herschell V.;Crews, Charley O. ; Davidson, Samuel Frank ; Dobbs, Albert L.; Draper,Duncan, Earl; Frank A.; Eggers, Arthur C.; Ellett, John; Elrod, Wendell ; Gross, Leonard ; Harlan, Elmer E.; Harlan, Verla R.; Harris, Hilden N.; Herdis A.; Harlan, Rollie Philip; Harlan, Virla R; Heavin, Henry M.; Herod, Paul; Hinkle, elbert Ernst; Hope, Charles Franklin; Hubble, Fred T. (Pittsboro); Kelly, Daniel W.; Jones, Philip Leonard; Lewis, Lunie H. ; Lewis, Walter L.; McCammack, Truman William; Masten, Willis H. ; Miller, Henry Robert ; Montgomery, Al; Newman, Everett; Newman, Arthur B.; Newman, Willliam B.; Phillips, Clay R. ; Prichard, Gilbert Earl; Pritchard, Claude E.; Sharp, Oscar B.; Stears, Frank; Stephenson, Robert Maynard; Stewart, Atlas; Sullivan, Walter; Terry, Otis William; Walker, Oren S.; Wallace, Nobles Dees Stilesville); West, Kenneth Elbert; Wisehart, Verl D.; Wisehart, Verl D. (World War 1 Veterans - Hendricks County, Indiana).
There are others who moved to Coatesville from other places. Some of them are shown in parentheses. Others from Coatesville had ancestors who served from other places, but their descendants ended up in Coatesville. A list of all Hendricks County Veterans can be found at Plainfield Public Library and elsewhere.
Arthur served in the 140th which was part of the 35th Division of the National guard. This division served in France at various places in trench warfare. We owe much to veterans like Arthur. WWI has since been overshadowed by the atrocities of WWII, but the first world war was the war to end all wars! There were 38 million casualties in WWI and Arthur was not one of them. We knew Art because the Kaisar lost and we owe those doughboys many thank you's.
Arthur married Esther Hadley in 1920 Alabama. Why there? I don't know because Esther was from Indiana. She was born in 1898 and died in 1983. They had two children of which I'm aware. James and Barbara Awbrey. I don't know what happened to James, but Barbara married and moved to Walnut Street. Her husband was Ronnie Smith.
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| Figure #13: Arthur S. Awbrey (From Rosetta Murdock personal family photos) |
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Figure #14-WWI Registration Arthur Awbrey
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| Figure #15-WWII Draft Registration-Arthur S. Awbey |
Before we continue our journey up Milton to the north, let's digress for a moment up Von Tress St. During the '50 this was Broadstreet which turned from N/S and made the turn in the E/W direction. Later on the spur as added to SR-75 and Jim Poff's house was built on the sled hill there.
Many hours of fun were spent on that sled hill. At the base of the hill was an open stream. Most of these open streams were storm sewers and were contaminated by septic water. Since we didn't know that, we didn't care! In fact some of us went swimming in one after a gully washer in Wendell Winks yard and he said "You boys... Get out of that sewer!" The one at sled hill was the same and it meandered around in the Awbrey orchard.
Behind Clyde Poff's white barn was the summit of what we thought was a high hill. There surely was no more than eighty feet of rise, but that's a lot for Coatesville. We all gathered there after each snow: Winglers, Jamisons, Johnsons, and many more in that area in addition to the Poffs sledded there. Many of us froze because we didn't have proper clothing for cold weather. I wore socks for gloves and had regular worn shoes which would get filled with icy snow. My hands would hurt and my feet would freeze! There were few things which hurt worse than the thawing of frozen fingers and toes.
I don't know who had the sled, but I borrowed it. We would ride down the slope on drum lids and even cardboard. Sometimes we would slide on our bellies. Fun can be had whether nice toys are there are not. The imagination provides the toys. Young people need only to enjoy the imagination!
One day I was riding a real sled. It perhaps belonged to Billie Jamison because he always shared what he had with me. I was flying down Poff's hill at supersonic speeds, I thought, when my right foot got in front of the metal steering bar. I hit the stream and my foot was caught in front of the sled and against the opposite bank. It sliced my Achilles tendon partially through along with a skin gash.
Herrins never went to the doctor. That took money which we didn't have. I hopped on one foot for about six months even missing the wedding of my brother Joe to Marlene Kersey, daughter of Theodore Kersey of rural Amo. That was in 1960 and I was one month from being twelve. It took years before I quit limping from that untreated injury.
Regardless, there was so much fun on Poff hill, but that all ended with the marriage of Jim Poff who built his new white home behind Clydes white barn. Jim was born 1942 and married Shirley Ann White, daughter of Clarence White from rural Amo in 1963. This was the end of Poffs sled hill. We all respected their privacy except for those closest to them.
