Francis Raymond Line-1903

By C. S. Line

To continue that sequence of my story, Francis was on the way, and we were up against it, no private accommodations for the great event and we knew nothing about hospital procedures.  We debated the situation from every angle, and it was proposed that Daisy should go east and stay with Myra until the baby was born, and grown to a size that it would be safe to return with him, and rejoin me rather than to throw overboard all that we had worked for and striven to attain in the new country, for the benefit of ourselves and the children.  This choice we mulled over for days with the final conclusion to let the tail go with the hide and sell outright then and there, thereby burning our bridges behind us.

Accordingly, we distributed the sewing machine and other household items among the neighbors, Carrack sold our horse at $20, he took the cow and calf, as noted and I think the trio of poultry, we packed and shipped very little, I leased the premises, tools and equipment to Carrack for the enduing year; sold him my field of corn for $12, for possible fodder; and my “garden”, principally potatoes, for $1.  He afterwards told me he got stuck on both these latter deals, as got no fodder, even, and no potatoes.

We went to the Carrack’s to spend the last night and he took us to the depot next morning.

All of the current summer, after having become convinced that I would have a complete crop failure in the fall, I had sold half of my acreage to Frank Carrack, for $1000 on which he had built himself a house, a real lath and plaster house, and was occupying it soon thereafter.

However, the morning in question, in his rented premises, he took us to the depot, and after bidding the mister and his wife, and son Brent, good bye, we boarded the train for the east.  I had gotten tickets this time via the D. & R. G. and the Missouri Pacific to Chicago.  The Missouri Pacific operated a through Pullman clear through, so we had no car changes, but plenty of grief before the journey ended, but nothing to compare with that we had on our way out 7 months or more ago.  This was in early August 1903.  By the time we reached Pueblo, we ran into terrific floods, with bridges out or weakened, making for continual delays, and from then on, we were dogged with continuing flood conditions.  Upon reaching Kansas City we were hours late, and were switched into the railroad yards until morning. 

In the morning we got going again, but were still further delayed so that missed our next connecting train at Bloomington, Illinois, and again shunted into the railroad yards for the night, resuming our journey into Chicago next morning.

Arriving in Chicago Daisy and I parted ways, she going on to Battle Creek to contact her mother, and then continuing on to her sister Myra’s in Canal Fulton, Ohio, there to awaiting me to join her a week or so later.  In the meantime I went on to New York, to size up mercantile prospects, with the idea of starting another store, somewhere in Ohio.  Upon arrival in New York, and contacting brother Allie, I concluded to make the gamble and buy a stock of goods complete to establish a store not yet located, the goods to be held in the meantime for my telegraphic instructions as to shipping directions after I had located the town.  Therefore I did just that, Charles Broadway Rouss being my principal supplier, on cash down basis.  I had previously barrowed $500 from brother Fred, to augment my reduced cash balance, for I had spent in Grand Junction so lavishly for equipment that the natives out there had classed me in the millionaire group.

 For a long time I had had in mind, from reading history the “Western Reserve”, in Ohio, which includes the area embraced in and adjacent to Huron County.  The area was otherwise known as the “Connecticut Fire Lands”, which was set aside in the developing west for settlers in New England, in the early days whose holdings had been burned out, and so the name originated.  It was known as a fertile and promising section of country.  Therefore that general section was my goal, after coming to Canal Fulton and contacting Daisy and my boy.  Grant had a proposition to jointly with buy out a local meat market, I to furnish the capital and he the meat cutting know how.  I had had all I wanted in business with which I was a total stranger, and so the appeal did not strike me at all.

I first investigated Wellington, on the Big Four, 35 miles southwest of Cleveland, a mighty pretty town, but largely residential, but on a trolley line direct into Cleveland, which did not auger so well for the local trading center.  However, I took an option on a small room, but, before deciding, an itinerant acquaintance, who had some knowledge of drummers’ habits up and down the line, suggested that I look over New London, which he claimed was the snappiest business town along the line of the Big Four, with several industrial plants.  Therefore I proceeded 12 miles further down the Big Four to New London.  A short inspection convinced me that this was my town, and before night I had leased a small business room on the main street, 15 foot front and 45 feet deep, at $8 per month, and thereupon wired New York to mark and shop my mercantile stock to “The Buckeye Exchange”, New London, Ohio, and hustled around and rented the little house in which Francis was born.  Locally my store was to be named as above in deference to the state slogan, though my creditors refused to recognize any other authority than “C.S. Line”, and I to be so billed.

New London

            One indication of a lively business town is the dearth of available residences.  There was nothing whatever anywhere to be had, and I must having assurance before I got the family here that I would have some place in which to house them.  After much searching I ram up against a place where the folks were getting ready to move, and house not yet spoken for, owned by a Mrs. Segor, who lived in Grafton.  Therefore, without delay I hied down the railroad line to Grafton, and contacted Mrs. Segor.  Cash talks, and so the Mrs. Leased the premises to me at $7 per month, when I flashed pay in advance, with immediate possession as soon as the other people moved out.  So that was settled.

I opened a store in the first part of September 1903.  From then for the next 6 years and 7 months there occurred the following incidents in the order of their happening, as far as possible, but, being mostly unrelated, it makes little difference if I miss the mark once in awhile.

Mr. Powers was my landlord, soon thereafter to move to Los Angeles.  Aden Baer was my first helper.  He was energetic in spirit, but frail physically, and his mother insisted that he eat with us, that Daisy might prepare special food that his stomach demanded, though he slept at home, 2 miles out, his father bringing him in the morning and coming after him at night.  He was a nice lad, and stayed with me until long after Christmas, when he had to resign, and died that spring.  I walked out to the funeral.

Francis was born January 9^th.  It was 9 below zero that morning.  Mary, from the east, was there for the occasion, staying over into the summer to help in the store.   Dr. Gamble was our physician in attendance. 

Fred and I decided to make a trip west in the summer of 1904 by rail.  It was the year of the St. Louis Exhibition in honor of the Louisiana Purchase. I had projected the trip as a practical necessity; first, I wanted to view the “Louisiana Purchase” show to compare it with the World’s Fair at Chicago 10 years previously.  This was not a major consideration, but I had other business out west.   I was anxious to contact Mr. Carrack in Grand Junction and see how he had managed my property during his stewardship in the past year.  I was also going to arrange for the sale of my remaining holdings in the area.  Next, I want to go to my landlord, Mr. Powers, in Los Angeles.  In the past year I had discovered that our storeroom was totally inadequate for even my small business, and there was ample room in the rear for an extension of 25 feet between the walls that were already there.  I felt that to get what I wanted required a personal contact with Mr. Powers, and possibly some pressure, as he was one of the “old timers”, retired, and hard to convince.

I may say here and now, that the Powers objective was attained.  We walked out to 7^th Street, which was in the suburb, at that time, as soon as we struck Los Angeles, and he agreed at once to my proposition, and upon my return authorized me to have the work done and send him the bill and he would pay it, and would add only $2 to my rent to pay for the investment.  We had stopped at St. Louis on the way out, but gave the big show only the most cursory going over, in company of our several cousins, all of who, with us, were making Schyler’s home in East St. Louis our headquarters.  So, in effect, we had quite a reunion of various cousins, as Amos was also there and Emily McIntosh formerly of Akron and Detroit.  Fred and I had left New London, with St. Louis our first stop, and from that city we continued on to the west coast, having left Mary in charge of the little store, and Mabel, Fred’s wife, to stay with Daisy in her husband’s absence.

Continuing our journey, we stopped at Ogden, a division point of the Union Pacific Railroad, where found we could make better time and connections by changing our plans a little.  So we switched to that line, and took the “Overland Limited”, the U.P. crack train to San Francisco, of course giving Salt Lake City due attention, for Fred had never seen the sights and attractions which that city had to offer tourists.

Arriving at “Frisco” we did not loiter many days there, just long enough to visit the Golden Gate Park, the Cliff House, with its seals off shore, the United States Mint, a bit of night-life in a guide conducted tour from the Palace Hotel, to Chinatown, with its “opium dens”, and some sport houses.  There were over a dozen in our party.  Those were the days of the real Chinatown, before the devastating earthquake and fire, and the subsequent re-building into a modern city.

Then we took the coastline of the Southern Pacific down to Los Angeles, and we found the city and whole area just as hot then as it is now, but minus the smog.  Concluding my business with Mr. Powers, as noted, we were off for Grand Junction and the Carrack’s as our next goal.  Arriving at the Carrack’s we found them in the midst of the peach harvest, so we turned in and helped them for two weeks, for, of course I charged them nothing beyond my board and lodging, but at my suggestion, Mr. Carrack paid Fred $5.

Mr. Carrack had taken my property to sell on a very nominal commission basis and later did sell it to Mr. and Mrs. Moore, but with but a small payment down (when I needed cash so badly in my slowly growing business) and the remainder on an unlimited time allowance, but with interest @ 8%.  I carried the Moore’s for 16 years before final settlement.  They were grand people, and we never had a word of conflict in all that time.  After original paper ran out, I reduced the Moore’s 8% interest to 6%.

“Thus endeth the chapter” of the last contact Fred and I had together personally of any length during the remainder of his life.  Fred had joined me in this expedition not only for the personal experience and pleasure, but also for the comradeship and to keep me company on the long journey.  I often recall those times with love and affection for the enjoyable association we were privileged to have together, and hope for the next world his life example will be emulated, as he practiced it in this world.

So we returned to New London, to go our separate ways, I to continue in my store and he to return to the pastorate that he had interrupted, for his vacation to take this trip with me.

We lived in the rented house for 1-1/2 years, when I bought a lot on a dead end side street, high and dry, on which to build, and did, forthwith, contract with Ott Sutfin, the builder, to do the job, but first, we lived in the little old cottage that stood on the lot when I bought it, of a little time, and when our new house was ready, we leased out the original.  The lot was a large one, with a chain pump to serve both houses, from a well located between.  The Savings and Loan Banking Co. financed my building needs, and the house, not counting the value of the portion of the lot it occupied, cost well below $1500, and we thought it was a pretty good house for the times, for the investment involved.  We later modernized the tenant house, and rented it for $6 a month.

The new house of course had no plumbing or sanitary arrangements, as sewers and city water were not yet available.  It was 1-1/2 stories, 6 rooms, with oak kitchen floor, slate roof, full basement, Southern hard pine inside finish, and as neat and economical inside planning as Daisy and I could devise though weeks of study, with two stairways to negotiate. For emergencies, if required, we had our big new cistern fitted with a brick and straw filter, so that it could serve for water, if necessary.

It was not long after this that I bought a nicely located lot on the main street, and built white brick front and block sidewalls business block, 29 feet front, and 69 feet in length, which we shortly after moved into.  The Townsend First National Bank staked me on this deal, and before the job was finished, it cost, as always, more that I had calculated, and I was badly worried, and called Hi Townsend to the house one day, where I lay sick, for a consultation, and I told him frankly that I had bitten off more than I could chew, with safety.  He reassured me and said “Line, go ahead and finish your building and we will see you through”, such is the value of good credit and moral responsibility.

So I did go ahead, and finished the block, which was a credit to the town, but I did not occupy it long.  A well to do clothier up the street had his eye on the building for himself and had noted the quality on material and construction put into it (Ott Sutfin did the work, the same who built our house) and knew I had gotten in deeper than my means justified, and offered me spot cash just what I had put into it, $6,350.00, which I at once accepted, with strings attached.  The name of my buyer was Del Barnes, and he had another well located business block on the main drag that he had been leasing to a grocer, but the grocer was far back on rent, and apparently not very reliable, and Del had forced him to vacate, and that just recently, so the room was empty.  So I agreed to sell my building to Del if he would lease that building to me, which he with alacrity agreed to do, at $25 a month, so we moved forthwith, and it proved a logical and profitable change.

Curt Larabee, an old time clerk, over 50 years old, was my helper, at $8 per week.  While we had him, I got a chance to go on a special excursion way down to Brownsville, Texas, with my family, so we went, leaving Curt in charge, who did as well as any hired help could do, for he was perfectly honest and trustworthy, though of course not on his toes as would be the owner himself.

I will just note some of the highlights of this trip.  We went “tourist” and by the time we got to Houston, the conductor came around and said that he would go to the city ticket office and have our tickets transferred to a Standard Pullman, to save him hauling our tourist car all the way down the coast.  We had a 6 hour lay over there, but when the conductor came back, crest fallen, he said the transfer could not be made under the law, else the line would be subject to a fine of $10,000.  Therefore they hauled us, and our porter, the 377 miles down to Brownsville and there side tracked it, in which the porter lived for the 3 days we stayed there, and then attached to the outgoing train, which carried us back to Houston.  Negroes, under the Presidency of Theodore Roosevelt, manned Fort Brown in the vicinity, and the local populace was up in arms.  A Negro wasn’t safe on the streets, hence his confinement in his car as long as he was there.

On a trip across the Rio Grande one day to Matamoras, Mexico, we encountered our porter there.  He had skipped out for a little relaxation south of the border.  We toured the city by horse car and were blatantly cheated out of pennies in change by the conductor, for we didn’t know anything about their currency.  We took a one-horse guided tour with a native taxi.  He took us by what he called the “bone yard”, the disinterred remains of those who hadn’t paid certain penalties imposed by the church.

We walked around the queer little streets lined with little Mexican shops showing the most beautiful specimens of handkerchiefs and lace work.  One day we went out with a promoting party to establish the county seat in the wilderness, in an adjoining county.  We boarded and roomed with nice people in a private home, but they wouldn’t allow a colored man on the premises, even in a help capacity, though in our opinion for more desirable than the average dirty and lazy Mexican help.  On the evening, we went to the beaches and got loaded with sand fleas.

Leaving the area, in our old “tourist” coach, with our porter, we stopped in Fort Worth and went to a hotel and stayed three days, applying skin preparations in an effort to get rid of the fleas.  Then our next objective was certain towns in Oklahoma that we wanted to look over.  We were there when Oklahoma City was celebrating its 20^th anniversary of existence.  At Enid, an aggressive town, we canvassed it quite thoroughly, but it was here that Winfield was taken sick, and I had to carry him all over the city in my arms, he was only 6 years old, and Francis 1-1/4 years younger.

We had written Billy Warner, who lived at Wellington, Kansas, at the time and was expecting him to meet us at the train, and so made him a short visit, and then went on to call on my brother, Fred, in church work at Junction City, Kansas.  From there our next call was at Collinsville, Illinois, where we met cousin Schuyler Smith and family, Amos Smith and family, and Clyde Smith and family.  Then we traveled on home after one month’s absence.

In those days, so worried was I on finances, to keep up the family morale, we formed the habit of a weekly outing every Sunday.  We would take our lunches and go to “Kings Woods” and loll around for a few happy hours, or to “Buck Creek”, a 1-1/2 hour walk, with wading, bathing, fishing etc. of an afternoon, all of which was great fun for the boys and helped to boost our spirits.  In a visit to the old stamping grounds with Winfield, two years ago, in 1957, he insisted upon walking across the big pasture field to Kings Woods, to brighten old memories, and to again visit Buck Creek, both of which actions touched me deeply, so perhaps Daisy’s and my precepts in bringing up two healthy and active boys was not far wrong and appreciated by them.

Not too long after the end of the trip described above, Billy Warner came out to visit us, with the hazy idea of going into business with me.  Upon arrival, and exhausting our limited bag of entertainment, he and I took the B&C train to Wadsworth, about 40 miles from New London, to look the town over. We stayed there over night, and interviewed the woman proprietor of the store that was for sale.  Upon leaving her, Billy said, “gee, I wish I could talk to a woman like that.”  Though I had talked nothing but frank business with no trimmings.  Billy was always shy of women.  Nothing resulted from our investigations then or later, though Billy had on his person the equivalent of $7000.  I didn’t blame him for being careful in a venture of which he knew nothing, and I was not convinced I wanted to hook up with him.  Not withstanding his good intentions, he was not a businessman, and had so told me of some ill-advised deals he had previously been mixed up with and been stung.  We took Billy up to Cleveland and to Euclid Beach for disporting in the waves for an unusual relaxation for him from the interior hinterlands. 

Billy took himself off for his old home in Wellington, and, upon arrival married his old sweetheart Jessie, who was 30 years younger that he, but, never the less, had waited all these years for his proposal. I give myself the credit of thinking that his association with me had imbued Billy with renewed courage to cope with womankind.  The couple bought a little house in town, and there lived forever after.

Daisy and I visited them years later, in 1925, subsequent to their founding a family.  They had two sons, William Junior and Robert, aged at that time 15 and 12, respectively.  Billy like to boast that he, as a Civil War veteran, aged between 75 and 80 in 1925, had a longer span of years between his age and that of his sons, than most men of his age.  It did make him mad when accosted by strangers to be referred to as the boy’s grandfather, rather than a proud father, even at his advanced age.

Those boys are now of middle age, located in business at San Angelo, Texas, very successful, each with a family.  Mrs. Jessie, now 82, in 1959, lives in the same city.  A letter we got from her says she is still going strong.  Billy has been gone for more than 25 years. So time marches on.

While still in Kansas, I forgot to mention that when we left Fred’s via the Rock Island, from Junction City, Fred, with a number of his business friends, convoyed us as far as nearby Fort Riley for they were all friends of the conductor, who lived in Junction, and they were anxious to see us off to a good start.