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John and Florence Kistler – John and Florence Kistler were another highly respected family in Carroll. He worked in the Carroll bank along with his brother. John and Florence’s two boys Judson and Victor both became professional men with Judson becoming a lawyer and Victor a doctor.
Charles and Dora Cooper – Charlie Cooper was another long time member of the Carroll School Board. My oldest brother Garry told me that he paid Charlie Cooper, Jr. forty dollars for the Dispatch paper route in 1939. That year he also bought a bicycle from Bill McLaughlin for twelve dollars. Both the paper route and the bicycle were handed down through my brothers to me. In 1951 the route was passed back to Charles Cooper’s grandson, Ronnie Bussert.
Bradfords – Reverend Bradford was the minister of the United Brethren Church and was a barber, which I always thought was an unusual combination. His son Charlie was another classmate and good friend of mine. Charlie had a lot going for him. He was good looking, personable, had a good singing voice and was by far the best basketball player at Carroll during my time and possibly ever. I was lucky enough to make the Carroll varsity team and was a member of the starting five both my junior and senior years. In my junior year the starting five were Charlie, Kenneth “Rip” Irwin, and I from the eleventh grade and the two seniors, Bob Benson and Duane “Cheese” Gierhart. In my senior year the starters were Charlie, Rip and I along with two juniors, Fred Lawrence and David Simiele. In my last year our team made it to the final game of the Fairfield County Tournament. We lost to Liberty Union. As a team we were okay and not great but Charlie was exceptional and was named to the All County Team his senior year.
Just for fun I’ve compiled a chart of the team’s scoring leaders from 1935/36 to 1952/53.
Year High Scorer Pts 2nd High Scorer Pts 3rd High Scorer Pts
1935/36 Eugene Shumaker 41 Richard Brown 31 Don Hemplemen 19
1936/37 Dean Blackstone 84 John Schmidt 79 Gerald Hemplemen 66
1937/38 Dean Blackstone 75 Leroy Thornton 49 Ed Wolfe 47
1938/39 Ed White 90 Dick Courtright 71 Dwight McGee 61
1939/40 Dick Courtright 92 Walter Boyer 84 Dwight McGee 80
1940/41 Walter Boyer 195 Dick Courtright 147 Paul Bachman 125
1941/42 Charles White 102 Bob Seymore 62 Vaughn Pierce 62
1942/43 Vaughn Pierce 112 Roger Miller 86 Ray Skinner 73
1943/44 Roger Miller 248 Bill Mclaughlin 183 Ray Skinner 157
1944/45 Joe Fisher 123 John Arnett 100 Glen Miller 151
1945/46 Dick Ridgway 98 Glen Miller 75 Joe Fisher 37
1946/47 Dick Ridgway 103 Joe Fisher 97 Roger Fisher 63
1947/48 Charlie Eversole 117 Gerald Ety 102 Harry Myers 87
1948/49 Jim Waugh 183 Roger Ridgway 117 Howard Cohagen 64
1949/50 Bob Montgomery 157 Roger Ridgway 126 Roger Davis 77
1950/51 Bob Benson 92 Charles Bradford 88 Roger Davis 75
1951/52 Charles Bradford 259 Bob Benson 164 Duane Gierhart 141
1952/53 Charles Bradford 426 Fred Lawrence 185 Dennis Ridgway 179
These numbers come from Ray Skinner’s History of Carroll High School. You may note that Ray Skinner’s name is on the chart. In fact half of the names on the chart also appear somewhere else in this memoir unassociated with basketball. This merely reflects what it is like to grow up in a small town and attend a small school. I must confess that it wasn’t necessary to extend the chart all the way to third highest scorer to make my point. But how else was I going to get my name on the chart. It is interesting to note how much the game changed during this time period. I’m not sure what caused this change. It probably was a combination of things such as jump shooting versus set shooting, higher quality balls encouraging better dribbling, stalling not being coached as a strategy, but most likely, it was a change of mindset by some players such as Charlie. While the rest of us viewed our jobs as playing a position he recognized that the real point of the game was to make baskets. The bloomcarrollbulldog website shows that now, after fifty-seven years, six players have surpassed Charlie in Most Single Season Points but Charlie still holds the top two positions in the Most Single Game Points. He was the first of a kind at Carroll.
At the top of the chart you will find Eugene “Pie” Shumaker. He was fun to be around and a great kidder. So I got to thinking of how much I would enjoy being able to show this chart to Pie. I would love to point out how a few Ridgway boys outscored him and the fact that Charlie Bradford scored almost ten times as much. In fact almost everyone on the chart out scored him. I think Pie would have enjoyed this.
But I don’t think Ray Snider would get any enjoyment out of being reminded of his coaching time at Carroll. Ray was the basketball coach for three years from 1949/50 through 1951/52. I personally thought he was a terrible coach because he would scrimmage with the team as a fifth man while the fifth man sat on the sidelines. I think my dad also thought he was a terrible coach and I suspect that my dad was responsible, at least partially, for Ray’s short tenure at Carroll. My dad was the president of the school board at the time. I can easily imagine him ranting and raving to Carl Fell the school superintendent. My dad’s displeasure with Coach Snider started when I was a sophomore. There was a rule in those days, and maybe there still is, that a player could only play in four quarters a night. During my sophomore year we were playing against Canal Winchester and I played on the reserve team. The coach held me out of the fourth quarter so that I could participate in the varsity game for a quarter. Canal Winchester did not have many tall players that year. The coach sent me into the game in the last minute or so of the third quarter. I got a couple of rebounds. Then I had to come out because I now had played in four quarters. At the time I did not think much of it, for after all, I had gotten to play some with the varsity. But my dad got very upset. He said if the coach had waited and put me in at the start of the fourth quarter I could have controlled the backboard for the rest of the game or something to that effect. When I look at Ray Snider’s unhappy face on page 362 of Ray Skinner’s book I think to myself, here is a guy who would probably take issue with my earlier statement about Dad being well liked by most people in town.
That being said, Ray Snider did have an important positive effect on my life. Before basketball season in my junior year I was summoned to the coach’s office at the corner of the gymnasium. He obviously had heard of some of the semi-delinquent escapades documented elsewhere in this memoir. He said he really wanted me on the team for my rebounding and ball handling but that I needed to straighten out. He didn’t have to explain. I knew exactly what he meant. And it really did influence my behavior for the rest of the time I was in school. So, I thank basketball and I thank Coach Snider.
Elmer and daughter Mildred Miller - In the summer of 1951 on the day that I turned sixteen, I went to the door of Elmer Miller’s house on the corner of Mill Street and High Street and asked for my first real job. I asked if I could work at his pea huller. The pea huller was about a mile north of town, past the bend where Oberle Avenue becomes the Carroll Northern Road. On the west side of the road was an open faced barn containing the specially designed hulling machinery. The harvested pea plants came from nearby fields where they had been cut, raked into rows and loaded onto open farm wagons. The highly loaded wagons were pulled under the over-hanging roof in front of the pea huller, where they could be pitch-forked directly into the mouth of the hulling mechanism. The pea vines were pulled into the huller by a toothed conveyor. The huller separated the peas from their pods and the peas were deposited down a chute. A worker opened the chute to release the peas into wooden boxes. Each box had to meet a prescribed weight. The boxes were loaded onto a truck for transport to the canning company in Canal Winchester. The pea vines and pods were conveyed out the back of the building and deposited onto a large stack. Cows had direct access to the stack and when the wind was right you got the strong mixed aroma of silage and cow dung. The entire hulling operation including the conveyors and shelling mechanism was driven by a single large webbed belt attached to the front drive shaft of a tractor. I would walk to work early each morning with my lunch bag in hand and trudge home in the evening feeling very good about myself. The pea hulling job only lasted for two to three weeks but for me it was my first step into the adult world of responsible productive work.
I also worked at other farm jobs that summer for Elmer Miller. I loaded loose hay in a mow one day, a very hard, hot and dusty job. (OSHA which did not come into being until 1970 would not have approved.) Also that summer I baled hay. I worked on the wagon that was pulled behind the baler. The job was to take the sixty to eighty pound bales from the baler and stack them. The bales were stacked in two rows with a top bale stabilizing the two stacks together. If I remember correctly we stacked them “five high with a tie.” (A nice phrase.) Usually there would be two stackers but one day I was stacking by myself and the tractor driver was pulling the baler much too fast for me to lug the heavy bales to the other end of the wagon and stack them “five high with a tie”. I was quickly overwhelmed and bales were coming off the baler and tumbling haphazardly off the wagon into the field (shades of I Love Lucy and the candy conveyor episode). I think the farm boy driver was having great fun at the expense of this greenhorn hotshot from town. I can imagine some good laughs around his kitchen table that evening. But at the time I did not see the humor in it.
Another job I had that summer was detasseling corn. This was for Cliff Coffman who was an early adapter of hybrid corn. In those days hybrids were created by planting two kinds of corn in the fields. They were planted two rows of one kind of corn alternating with six rows of the second kind. The two rows were to pollinate the ears of the six rows. For this to happen it was necessary to remove the tassels from the six rows before they produced pollen. So at just the right time in the growing process we were hired to walk the fields pulling the tassels by hand and dropping them on the ground. You had to be a certain height to get this job. It was a very hot and sweaty job. In fact one day our crew chief passed out from heat exhaustion. I only recently learned that Carolyn Fell’s father Carl, the school superintendent and the teacher Mary Fischer both worked as crew chiefs during detasseling days. Without knowing it, we detasselers were one minute part of a major revolution in corn growing as the yields per acre have quadrupled since then.
Mildred Miller – My dad stopped driving sometime in the 1970’s due to failing eyesight. Mildred Miller would sometimes take Mom and Dad with her shopping for groceries in Lancaster. On one of these trips Dad, feeling a little woozy, stepped outside of the grocery store to get some fresh air. He had a stroke and fell down on the sidewalk. He was taken to the hospital and never recovered consciousness and died a few days later on January 20, 1981.
Out the Winchester Pike
Windy Underwood – Windy had a picturesque abode out by the C & O Railroad track. You had to ride up a dirt path to get to it.
We continue up this dirt path to the railroad track. If a train happened to be coming, we might lay a coin on the track. And after the train had passed we would try to find our flattened souvenir. We cross the railroad bridge to get to the other side of the Winchester Pike.
Roy Phipps – Roy Phipps ran the nearby grain elevator. If we weren’t delivering papers we would jump/slide down the corncob pile.
Train Depot – My dad took me with him to this depot to either ship or pickup a package. While we were there a train was stopped right in front of the station. The engineer invited Dad and me to climb into the engine’s cab and he explained the various levers and controls to Dad.
As we head back to town we turn onto the alley behind Elmer Miller’s house. Here we will cross the old interurban road bed.
Swimming Hole – About one hundred yards north of this point is where the Scioto Valley Traction Company “interurban” line crossed a bridge over the creek. The bridge was no longer there but the sandstone abutments were. In 1948 the creek flooded and washed the dirt from the footer of the abutment on the north side and it fell across the creek. Then the abutment on the south side fell, overlapping much of the other abutment. The creek washed its way around these stacked sandstone walls creating an excellent swimming hole. This is where many of us first learned to swim. With the sandstone providing the perfect place for us to drop our clothes this was skinny dipping paradise for all of the town’s boys. But the following year was even better. A small portion of the south abutment had remained standing. Near this a tree fell across the creek and acted somewhat like a dam. As the water washed under the tree it washed out a deep pool. My brother Roger, Howard Cohagen, Donny Craig and others secured a couple of boards to the bottom step of the abutment with burlap bags filled with sand. This gave us a diving board about eight feet above the water.
And now we will head back to cover the southwest side of Market Street.
Charles and Dora Cooper – Charlie Cooper was another long time member of the Carroll School Board. My oldest brother Garry told me that he paid Charlie Cooper, Jr. forty dollars for the Dispatch paper route in 1939. That year he also bought a bicycle from Bill McLaughlin for twelve dollars. Both the paper route and the bicycle were handed down through my brothers to me. In 1951 the route was passed back to Charles Cooper’s grandson, Ronnie Bussert.
Bradfords – Reverend Bradford was the minister of the United Brethren Church and was a barber, which I always thought was an unusual combination. His son Charlie was another classmate and good friend of mine. Charlie had a lot going for him. He was good looking, personable, had a good singing voice and was by far the best basketball player at Carroll during my time and possibly ever. I was lucky enough to make the Carroll varsity team and was a member of the starting five both my junior and senior years. In my junior year the starting five were Charlie, Kenneth “Rip” Irwin, and I from the eleventh grade and the two seniors, Bob Benson and Duane “Cheese” Gierhart. In my senior year the starters were Charlie, Rip and I along with two juniors, Fred Lawrence and David Simiele. In my last year our team made it to the final game of the Fairfield County Tournament. We lost to Liberty Union. As a team we were okay and not great but Charlie was exceptional and was named to the All County Team his senior year.
Just for fun I’ve compiled a chart of the team’s scoring leaders from 1935/36 to 1952/53.
Year High Scorer Pts 2nd High Scorer Pts 3rd High Scorer Pts
1935/36 Eugene Shumaker 41 Richard Brown 31 Don Hemplemen 19
1936/37 Dean Blackstone 84 John Schmidt 79 Gerald Hemplemen 66
1937/38 Dean Blackstone 75 Leroy Thornton 49 Ed Wolfe 47
1938/39 Ed White 90 Dick Courtright 71 Dwight McGee 61
1939/40 Dick Courtright 92 Walter Boyer 84 Dwight McGee 80
1940/41 Walter Boyer 195 Dick Courtright 147 Paul Bachman 125
1941/42 Charles White 102 Bob Seymore 62 Vaughn Pierce 62
1942/43 Vaughn Pierce 112 Roger Miller 86 Ray Skinner 73
1943/44 Roger Miller 248 Bill Mclaughlin 183 Ray Skinner 157
1944/45 Joe Fisher 123 John Arnett 100 Glen Miller 151
1945/46 Dick Ridgway 98 Glen Miller 75 Joe Fisher 37
1946/47 Dick Ridgway 103 Joe Fisher 97 Roger Fisher 63
1947/48 Charlie Eversole 117 Gerald Ety 102 Harry Myers 87
1948/49 Jim Waugh 183 Roger Ridgway 117 Howard Cohagen 64
1949/50 Bob Montgomery 157 Roger Ridgway 126 Roger Davis 77
1950/51 Bob Benson 92 Charles Bradford 88 Roger Davis 75
1951/52 Charles Bradford 259 Bob Benson 164 Duane Gierhart 141
1952/53 Charles Bradford 426 Fred Lawrence 185 Dennis Ridgway 179
These numbers come from Ray Skinner’s History of Carroll High School. You may note that Ray Skinner’s name is on the chart. In fact half of the names on the chart also appear somewhere else in this memoir unassociated with basketball. This merely reflects what it is like to grow up in a small town and attend a small school. I must confess that it wasn’t necessary to extend the chart all the way to third highest scorer to make my point. But how else was I going to get my name on the chart. It is interesting to note how much the game changed during this time period. I’m not sure what caused this change. It probably was a combination of things such as jump shooting versus set shooting, higher quality balls encouraging better dribbling, stalling not being coached as a strategy, but most likely, it was a change of mindset by some players such as Charlie. While the rest of us viewed our jobs as playing a position he recognized that the real point of the game was to make baskets. The bloomcarrollbulldog website shows that now, after fifty-seven years, six players have surpassed Charlie in Most Single Season Points but Charlie still holds the top two positions in the Most Single Game Points. He was the first of a kind at Carroll.
At the top of the chart you will find Eugene “Pie” Shumaker. He was fun to be around and a great kidder. So I got to thinking of how much I would enjoy being able to show this chart to Pie. I would love to point out how a few Ridgway boys outscored him and the fact that Charlie Bradford scored almost ten times as much. In fact almost everyone on the chart out scored him. I think Pie would have enjoyed this.
But I don’t think Ray Snider would get any enjoyment out of being reminded of his coaching time at Carroll. Ray was the basketball coach for three years from 1949/50 through 1951/52. I personally thought he was a terrible coach because he would scrimmage with the team as a fifth man while the fifth man sat on the sidelines. I think my dad also thought he was a terrible coach and I suspect that my dad was responsible, at least partially, for Ray’s short tenure at Carroll. My dad was the president of the school board at the time. I can easily imagine him ranting and raving to Carl Fell the school superintendent. My dad’s displeasure with Coach Snider started when I was a sophomore. There was a rule in those days, and maybe there still is, that a player could only play in four quarters a night. During my sophomore year we were playing against Canal Winchester and I played on the reserve team. The coach held me out of the fourth quarter so that I could participate in the varsity game for a quarter. Canal Winchester did not have many tall players that year. The coach sent me into the game in the last minute or so of the third quarter. I got a couple of rebounds. Then I had to come out because I now had played in four quarters. At the time I did not think much of it, for after all, I had gotten to play some with the varsity. But my dad got very upset. He said if the coach had waited and put me in at the start of the fourth quarter I could have controlled the backboard for the rest of the game or something to that effect. When I look at Ray Snider’s unhappy face on page 362 of Ray Skinner’s book I think to myself, here is a guy who would probably take issue with my earlier statement about Dad being well liked by most people in town.
That being said, Ray Snider did have an important positive effect on my life. Before basketball season in my junior year I was summoned to the coach’s office at the corner of the gymnasium. He obviously had heard of some of the semi-delinquent escapades documented elsewhere in this memoir. He said he really wanted me on the team for my rebounding and ball handling but that I needed to straighten out. He didn’t have to explain. I knew exactly what he meant. And it really did influence my behavior for the rest of the time I was in school. So, I thank basketball and I thank Coach Snider.
Elmer and daughter Mildred Miller - In the summer of 1951 on the day that I turned sixteen, I went to the door of Elmer Miller’s house on the corner of Mill Street and High Street and asked for my first real job. I asked if I could work at his pea huller. The pea huller was about a mile north of town, past the bend where Oberle Avenue becomes the Carroll Northern Road. On the west side of the road was an open faced barn containing the specially designed hulling machinery. The harvested pea plants came from nearby fields where they had been cut, raked into rows and loaded onto open farm wagons. The highly loaded wagons were pulled under the over-hanging roof in front of the pea huller, where they could be pitch-forked directly into the mouth of the hulling mechanism. The pea vines were pulled into the huller by a toothed conveyor. The huller separated the peas from their pods and the peas were deposited down a chute. A worker opened the chute to release the peas into wooden boxes. Each box had to meet a prescribed weight. The boxes were loaded onto a truck for transport to the canning company in Canal Winchester. The pea vines and pods were conveyed out the back of the building and deposited onto a large stack. Cows had direct access to the stack and when the wind was right you got the strong mixed aroma of silage and cow dung. The entire hulling operation including the conveyors and shelling mechanism was driven by a single large webbed belt attached to the front drive shaft of a tractor. I would walk to work early each morning with my lunch bag in hand and trudge home in the evening feeling very good about myself. The pea hulling job only lasted for two to three weeks but for me it was my first step into the adult world of responsible productive work.
I also worked at other farm jobs that summer for Elmer Miller. I loaded loose hay in a mow one day, a very hard, hot and dusty job. (OSHA which did not come into being until 1970 would not have approved.) Also that summer I baled hay. I worked on the wagon that was pulled behind the baler. The job was to take the sixty to eighty pound bales from the baler and stack them. The bales were stacked in two rows with a top bale stabilizing the two stacks together. If I remember correctly we stacked them “five high with a tie.” (A nice phrase.) Usually there would be two stackers but one day I was stacking by myself and the tractor driver was pulling the baler much too fast for me to lug the heavy bales to the other end of the wagon and stack them “five high with a tie”. I was quickly overwhelmed and bales were coming off the baler and tumbling haphazardly off the wagon into the field (shades of I Love Lucy and the candy conveyor episode). I think the farm boy driver was having great fun at the expense of this greenhorn hotshot from town. I can imagine some good laughs around his kitchen table that evening. But at the time I did not see the humor in it.
Another job I had that summer was detasseling corn. This was for Cliff Coffman who was an early adapter of hybrid corn. In those days hybrids were created by planting two kinds of corn in the fields. They were planted two rows of one kind of corn alternating with six rows of the second kind. The two rows were to pollinate the ears of the six rows. For this to happen it was necessary to remove the tassels from the six rows before they produced pollen. So at just the right time in the growing process we were hired to walk the fields pulling the tassels by hand and dropping them on the ground. You had to be a certain height to get this job. It was a very hot and sweaty job. In fact one day our crew chief passed out from heat exhaustion. I only recently learned that Carolyn Fell’s father Carl, the school superintendent and the teacher Mary Fischer both worked as crew chiefs during detasseling days. Without knowing it, we detasselers were one minute part of a major revolution in corn growing as the yields per acre have quadrupled since then.
Mildred Miller – My dad stopped driving sometime in the 1970’s due to failing eyesight. Mildred Miller would sometimes take Mom and Dad with her shopping for groceries in Lancaster. On one of these trips Dad, feeling a little woozy, stepped outside of the grocery store to get some fresh air. He had a stroke and fell down on the sidewalk. He was taken to the hospital and never recovered consciousness and died a few days later on January 20, 1981.
Out the Winchester Pike
Windy Underwood – Windy had a picturesque abode out by the C & O Railroad track. You had to ride up a dirt path to get to it.
We continue up this dirt path to the railroad track. If a train happened to be coming, we might lay a coin on the track. And after the train had passed we would try to find our flattened souvenir. We cross the railroad bridge to get to the other side of the Winchester Pike.
Roy Phipps – Roy Phipps ran the nearby grain elevator. If we weren’t delivering papers we would jump/slide down the corncob pile.
Train Depot – My dad took me with him to this depot to either ship or pickup a package. While we were there a train was stopped right in front of the station. The engineer invited Dad and me to climb into the engine’s cab and he explained the various levers and controls to Dad.
As we head back to town we turn onto the alley behind Elmer Miller’s house. Here we will cross the old interurban road bed.
Swimming Hole – About one hundred yards north of this point is where the Scioto Valley Traction Company “interurban” line crossed a bridge over the creek. The bridge was no longer there but the sandstone abutments were. In 1948 the creek flooded and washed the dirt from the footer of the abutment on the north side and it fell across the creek. Then the abutment on the south side fell, overlapping much of the other abutment. The creek washed its way around these stacked sandstone walls creating an excellent swimming hole. This is where many of us first learned to swim. With the sandstone providing the perfect place for us to drop our clothes this was skinny dipping paradise for all of the town’s boys. But the following year was even better. A small portion of the south abutment had remained standing. Near this a tree fell across the creek and acted somewhat like a dam. As the water washed under the tree it washed out a deep pool. My brother Roger, Howard Cohagen, Donny Craig and others secured a couple of boards to the bottom step of the abutment with burlap bags filled with sand. This gave us a diving board about eight feet above the water.
And now we will head back to cover the southwest side of Market Street.