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| Myrtle's Neighborhood |
In the latest installment in our look at the memoirs of Myrtle Emma White, we get her recollections of several of the families who lived near the Morris family and their home on Pigeon Hollow Road. The map to the right shows where each of the families lived. At the end, I'll have a few notes and some quick background on a few of the people Myrtle mentions. Enjoy!
The Neighborhood
As a child and eight years old, I lived with my family in a small house on a dirt road. We did not own the house, but rented from our neighbor Willard Buckingham. He was a small man, always dressed in a suit and tie. He would walk to our house on a Friday afternoon, when my father got his pay at the clay yard where he worked. Mr. Buckingham was there to collect the rent. He liked to sit and talk about family. He was quite nervous and talked with a stutter. All the while, we think he was observing how we kept the house clean and taken care of.
He lived with his sister Lizzie and brother John. We could see their house from our back porch. John was in a wheelchair. He had been shot and was paralyzed. We would see him on the porch when we walked by, and we dared each other to go up and speak to him, for he always threw his hand up in seeing us walk by. He talked in gasps but very plainly. He wanted to know what kind of dog we had—he had heard it barking. We told him it was a beagle named Spot. He was a good hunting dog and loved to chase rabbits. John’s sister Lizzie, who took care of him, would come to the door and say hello.
Their brother Al and his wife Emma lived in the next house on the paved road. There were steep cement steps leading up to the front porch. Our mail boxes stood by each other across from the steps. Many times when we got our mail, we would take their mail up the steep steps and give it to them at their back door. Emma would always greet us and was thankful to get the mail. Most of the time she would give us a cookie or something sweet. It was a nice treat.
The next house up the paved road belonged to the Piersons. His name was Sam, but we never heard his wife’s first name. They were farmers and grew potatoes. At harvest time, we would pick and, in exchange, he would give us a winter’s supply. He brought them to our house in a wooden wagon pulled by a dark brown horse. If his wife saw us playing near their house, she would give us old Farm Journal magazines. We liked to look at the pictures of farm animals and the bright pictures of fruits and vegetables. Mother liked to read the recipes, and I’m sure she tried a few.
On the other side of our house, down the dirt road beyond the hedgerow, lived a family of colored people—Prince and Rachel Williams and their son Clarence. They were good neighbors, but we didn’t see too much of them. Clarence went to a different school than we did. Rachel came to our house when our little sister was born. She took my brother Will and me upstairs to see her.
Across the field was the Patterson farm. Edith and Jesse had two boys, Walter and Marvin. Walter was my brother Will’s age, and Marvin was younger. We saw a lot of the Patterson family. My oldest sister Mary was a big help to Mrs. Patterson. We helped on the farm too. We thinned corn and picked strawberries, being sure to leave a little stem on them so they would look nice at market. We helped at the road stand and graded apples. We played ball in the meadow and waded in the creek. The Pattersons were known to grow the best sweet corn. It was called silver queen. In September, they had a corn roast on a moonlit night, with hay rides, Western music, dancing, and plenty of roasted corn. All the neighbors were invited.
I don’t remember neighbors getting together except at the corn roast. Neighbors never visited neighbors, but there was always a hardy greeting when meeting, and I’m sure if anything was needed, it was given. No one had a phone or electricity. At night, you could look around and see the faint glow of a lamp burning by a window.
Below our house on the main road was Whiteman’s Garage. Abe, the owner, was a friend of our father. The building had electricity, and the big garage sign was lit up on both sides. When we saw the garage lights on at night, Father would say, “Abe has some work to get out.” We waited there for the school bus. In bad weather, he would let us come into the office to wait. We were careful not to touch anything, enjoyed the warmth, and saw the light bulbs and telephone.
We had sturdy legs and liked to be outside. We walked and played all over the neighborhood. No one ever said, “Don’t come in my yard,” or closed a gate on us. We felt safe and cared for and knew it was a nice place to grow up.
Does sound like a fun place to grow up, doesn't it? The Buckinghams have been one of the preeminent families in the Corner Ketch area for well over 200 years. The four siblings mentioned by Myrtle (Willard, John, Lizzie, and Al) were all children of Alban Buckingham, who died in 1926 when Myrtle was 3. I believe Willard, John (more on him shortly), and Lizzie lived in the house seen below, which stood on the north side of Pleasant Hill Road just off of Corner Ketch Road. I think the house seen in the background on the right is actually the old Eastburn Store, which at that time was home to the Williams family. The Morris' house would have been just to the left of it.
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| Buckingham House on Pleasant Hill Road |
Next up, on the west side of Corner Ketch Road just before Pigeon Hollow, was the home of Alban T. and Margaret Emma Vansant Buckingham. Their house can be seen below. That is presumably Emma standing on the steps, partially obscured. They're still there, although often overground in the roadside. To her right would be Al and their son, Ralph. The steps going up to the home of Samuel and Jessie Pierson next door are also still there, hiding in the weeds. Unfortunately, all three of these houses are now gone.
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| Al, Emma, and Ralph Buckingham in front of their home |
But back a moment to John Buckingham, who Myrtle said was in a wheelchair, having "been shot and paralyzed." It turns out she was absolutely correct, even though the event happen long before she was born. On November 23, 1908, then 19 year old John Buckingham was teaching his nephew (possibly Richard L. Buckingham, son of John's brother Harry) how to shoot. There was an accident, and apparently the younger boy inadvertently shot John in the back of the neck. He spent about 2-1/2 weeks in the hospital. Two years later he was taken to the University of Pennsylvania Hospital in Philadelphia to have the bullet removed. It was hoped that it would cure his paralysis, but it evidently did not. John would survive the incident, of course, not passing away until 1956.
