In the
late 1920s, Gillespie was possibly the busiest town in Macoupin County. One
coal mine, the so called Little Dog, operated on the north rim of the city
while other pits, Superior Mines 1-4, brought coal to the surface in the
villages of Eagerville, Mt. Clare, Sawyerville, and Wilsonville. Many of the
miners working for the Superior Company lived in Gillespie. There was, on
the east side of town a large railroad repair operation that employed a
substantial number of men. Altogether, the economic inputs offered by these
facilities gave Gillespie a strong stimulus for growth.
It is a given
that Gillespie was a much different place then than it is today. Most
importantly, it had a relatively young population for the employment
opportunities were themselves relatively new. There was a force of optimism
in the town, this being before the Great Depression, and it could be seen in
various forms. Schools were bursting at the seams, for most of the younger
couples had two, three, or more children. This was especially true among the
Catholic families of the town. The local Catholic school flourished in the
twenties, and the public school authorities were forced not only to keep the
aging Little Brick School functional, but also to add another education
building on Maple Street called quite naturally, Maple Street School.
Saturday night was the best business night of the week. Those owning
cars drove early to the main street in order to have a parking place. For
some, it was considered an ultimate pleasure to sit in cars and watch the
passing parade of shoppers young and old, male and female. Those not owning
autos walked from their homes to perform what can easily be defined as a
weekly ritual. Sunday was a non working day, so Saturday night was a time
for meeting friends and for relaxation. Because of the Eighteenth Amendment,
which forbad the sale of liquor, there were no bars or saloons legally
anywhere, though there was always someone who knew which door to knock. In
Latin American countries, on certain nights there is a custom in which young
girls walk in one direction around the plaza, while the young boys go in the
opposite direction. Very like this, young and middle aged couples walked up
and down the main street, meeting friends, window shopping, or buying
groceries, etc.
Downtown consisted of a variety of stores ranging
from Woolworth's Five and Ten down to Hogan's Ice Cream Parlor at the other.
On one corner stood Dippold's Drugstore, a meeting spot for many. Since
there were no bars or saloons at this time, those with similar interests had
to assemble in suitable meeting places. Some of the single schoolteachers
met at Dippold's soda bar and on almost every summer night, a group of
Scottish miners grouped on the nearby corner. Scots also attended weekly
dances that were organized in a large upstairs room in one of the business
buildings. The flings and reels here were interspersed with vocal
performances by members of the Clan. I can recall that one attractive lady
sang the same melody at almost every gathering. Entitled "Memories," it was
appropriately named, for as she moved into the chorus, all present joined
in. She had performed it so often that all knew it by heart. The singing of
Auld Lang Syne normally ended the festivities.
One of the popular and
busiest grocery stores was that owned by the Bunn family. Shopping in those
days was entirely different. Since many had to carry groceries home,
purchases were limited. One of the best liked clerks at the Bunn store was
Marie Jones and when she was given a list of items, she scurried about
behind the counter, either retrieving the tins from the shelves by calipers
or by climbing a short ladder. The groceries were placed one by one on the
counter top and when the list was completed, Marie carefully totaled the
bill and bagged the items. Because it was not easy to shop in this manner,
each neighborhood in town had its own little "mom and pop" grocery store
where one could buy additional necessaries.
Bunn displayed his fruits
and vegetables at the front of the store or in the windows. As indicated
above, canned and bottled goods were vended from the south counter while, at
the north counter, meats were sold. One would make his purchases at one
counter and then move to the other for whatever he needed. When in season,
oysters were sold out of an iced container standing before the meat counter.
These were ladled into closeable containers. Also before the meat counter
there stood a vat containing peanut butter. It was not homogenized and, in
the barrel or vat, the peanut oil covered by two or three inches the more
solid ground peanuts at the bottom. When purchasing this item, one had to
make sure to obtain enough of the oil to make the solidified peanuts more
malleable. Lacking the appropriate oil mixture, the butter when applied to
bread merely rolled the slice up with it. Later in the 1930s, the Swift
Company added vegetable fat (like Crisco) to its peanut butter, thus making
it eligible to be called homogenized.
Other grocery shops flourished
in the business district. The Eiler grocery and the Bertolino store shop
were at the south end of the block from the Bunn store. Bertolino was a
genial and kindly businessman who worked hard to please his customers. One
did not know what to make of Efler, however. Entering his shop was like
crossing the Arctic Circle in winter for he was a dour man, indeed. One saw
few customers in the place and it was a source of puzzlement how the
business kept going: that is, until one realized that the owner had hit upon
an extremely good idea. He catered mainly to older ladies, mostly widows,
and women who found it difficult to do the task of shopping. His small panel
truck was to be seen delivering groceries all about the town and that, very
simply was how the Efler store prospered. One of the Efler sons became an
influential executive in the Eastman Kodak Corporation while the other,
Robert, was in his final years in medical school when he was involved in a
boating accident and died. "Buster" Bertolino, son of the affable butcher,
became a lawyer in Missouri following World War II.
The Meno butcher
shop came along in the thirties, while on the other side of main street,
there was a "cash and carry" store" and another grocery as well further to
the south. It is strange that no national grocery chains operated in
Gillespie in the late twenties and thirties: the Piggly Wiggly chain for
instance. One of the rumors concerning this was that Gillespie was such a
strong "union" town that no chain store outfit felt that it could make
substantial profits in the area.
Between the Bunn store and Dippold's
stood a monument dedicated to the soldiers of World War I. It was a lone
"doughboy" standing at attention. He did well there until the increasing
automobile traffic made it necessary to remove him to the local park. There
was simply not enough room for autos to move between the curb and base of
the monument and since automobiles were beginning to rule the nation, the
soldier had to go.
Midway between Dippold's and the Woolworth store
was a business that later residents could not imagine. It was a restaurant.
Not just a hash house, but instead a restaurant with caparisoned waiters who
served tables with a neat white towel draped over one arm. The existence of
this eating spot was proof that, at the time, Gillespie was attracting
salesmen and entrepreneurs who could afford this semblance of class. It was
not a dining room for most ordinary people in the town, however. And its
existence was a tenuous one, for it disappeared almost instantly with the
Wall Street collapse of 1929. If my memory is correct, the restaurant was
called Butcher's Cafe.
There were two movie theaters in Gillespie in
those days. The Colonial was made of pink stucco. Besides having a lower
tier of seats, it also had a balcony. The standard fare at the Colonial
consisted of Grade B movies. The other movie house was reserved for such
major productions as The Big Parade or Hell's Angels. In time, the Colonial
was virtually abandoned as a movie house, becoming used more as a showplace
for high school operettas and performances by the local theatrical club.
This last organization was extremely active during the twenties and into the
thirties, producing drawing room melodramas involving plots of extra marital
entanglements with broad humorous implications. The male star in many
presentations was Fred Link, who had served in England during the war. While
there, he met and eventually brought to this country as his bride a young
girl by the name of Elsie Lawrence who lived long enough to reach the second
millennium.
Before the advent of "talkies," when Frank Woodhouse
played the piano score as backgrounds to silent pictures, the entire
atmosphere within the Lyric or the Colonial was different than later on. One
had to read the dialogue as it was flashed on the screen and there were
always one or two people in the audience who could not refrain from reading
it aloud, much to the annoyance of others. Acting in these movies was much
more flamboyant and theatrical for gestures had to convey meanings which
were not run into the words which appeared on the screen. There was another
characteristic that was true of silent pictures and not of talking pictures.
The movie house always employed an individual who walked up and down the
aisles while bearing a tray of popcorn and candies. He actually hawked these
viands aloud since his voice did not disrupt the reading of the film script
by the audience. As I recall, one of the Forrler boys from the south end of
town seemed to hold this job forever. In fact, the Forrler boys were
remarkable in many ways. One, as I remember, delivered newspapers. And
again, if I am not wrong, one entered the Army Air Force before World War II
and became a pilot.
We should include a short note about Frank
Woodhouse, who during the period of the silent movies was one of the most
recognizable personalities in town. A smooth dresser with attractive wavy
hair, he held a special position in Gillespie society. But times change, and
they did for him. When talking pictures were introduced, Frank's place in
the sun, or at the theater's piano, was done. He continued on as a piano
instructor, but a great deal had gone out of his life. He gradually moved
down from the style of dress and class which once marked his appearance and
he eventually died as a single and lonely man.
There were other
special occasions for movie devotees. When "epics" came to town,
particularly those directed by Cecil B. DeMille, the theater owners provided
special matinees for school children. Those wishing to attend were allowed
out of class and this usually meant most of the students in the eighth
grade. On some occasions, this opportunity existed only for the public
school children. Frequently the Catholic Legion of Decency placed Biblical
epics on its unacceptable list.
Lower priced offerings were on
Tuesday night and on Saturday matinees. The latter were mainly for
youngsters and for a nickel or a dime, depending on the year, one could pay
his way into the theater to watch two Grade B pictures, plus a chapter of
what was called a serial, plus presentations of coming attractions. The
movies usually consisted of a "horse opera," such as one starring cowboy
actor Buck Jones, and the other a murder mystery such as a Charlie Chan
movie starring Warner Oland. Each would last around an hour. The horse opera
consisted of old Buck on his white horse, either chasing or being chased by
the baddies for about forty minutes of the entire movie.
When one
reached the age of thirteen, the price of the Saturday matinee went up.
Guarding the Chinese wall, at the ticket counter, was one of the Traynor
girls who, when I look back, was exceedingly indulgent with most of the
youngsters. But when the hair on the face became too noticeable, and the
voice began to demonstrate glandular changes, she drew the line.
Nevertheless, those afternoons were something else and I well recall that,
on many occasions, I left the theater, head throbbing and with eyes half
blinded from watchin old Buck and Charlie Chan for more minutes than I
should have.
One of the great features of main street was the
Illinois Terminal System whose tracks ran straight through main street from
the old Lutheran Church down to Russell's store, which marked the spot where
Route 4 turned temporarily west before turning again toward Benld. During
the twenties, the I.T.S. (called the Toonerville Trolley by many, after a
comic strip of the time) was a very active line, running both passenger and
freight trains throughout the day and night. In its heyday, the line
attached a diner to its evening run and downtown strollers saw passengers
inside being served by three or four AfricanAmerican waiters. Many times I
wondered if these shoppers appeared as curious a spectacle to those diners
as they did to the pedestrians.
The I.T.S. was electrically powered.
On the lead car, there was a metal shaft topped by a wheel that drew power
from a line strung above. The advantage of this system was that it allowed
for no pollution of the air and furthermore it was quiet. The trains offered
a relatively quick way by which one could get to a ball game at Sportsman's
Park in St.Louis, or to Springfield in the other direction. One could also
travel to Champaign or Danville on the same line. As the country slid into
the depression, less care and money was given to keeping the I.T.S. in good
repair. The roadbed became more and more uneven and by the time of World War
II, to travel on the line for any distance was akin to riding the whip at
the local carnival.
In the early thirties, Gillespie was hit not only
by the Great Depression but also by a longrunning mine union squabble. It
was a double catastrophe and slowly but surely the nature of the town
changed. One day, while we played ball on the Big Brick School ground, a boy
riding a bicycle stopped to watch for a moment and then rode on. His name
was Kiel. Shortly thereafter, the Widow Kiel left her door to door spice and
flavorings business and took her family to California. I heard of this young
man later after World War II, when he became the darling of British
audiences as the star of the London production of Oklahoma. Thereafter he
moved back to California, changed his name to Howard Keel, and became a
leading man in a number of Hollywood musicals. Similarly to the Kiel flight,
whole families began to leave Gillespie in order to seek better employment
in California. Other talented young boys and girls, as well, left the town
simply because there were no opportunities left to induce them to stay.
The New Deal, Roosevelt's New Deal, brought the gradual end to the
Eighteenth Amendment and another change occurred. Saloons or bars opened up
on the main street and, at night, one could see the faint and flickering
cheap neon lights which told the public the brands of beer offered inside.
All over the Midwest, little breweries went back into operation, brewing
beers whose labels have long since disappeared. Some were Alpen Brau, Hyde
Park, Stag, Highland, Griesedieck, and Pabst beers. Champagne Velvet, an odd
name for a beer, held its own for a while, only to disappear like all the
rest before the more powerful firms like Anheuser Busch or Miller Beer.
By the mid thirties, business did not regain the vitality of the pre
depression years. On Saturday night in the summer, stores remained open a
little while longer, but far fewer cars were parked downtown than in the
previous decade.. Some of these were to be found in front of the bars or the
two bowling alleys. On Saturday night in winter however, downtown offered a
late night scene that was stark, cold, and virtually lifeless. It was, as
the words of a later war song went, almost the "loneliest night of the
week."
On a warm and sultry night in the late thirties, along with
two or three of my friends, we would walk up to main street merely to pass
the time. Sitting on the step of a defunct bank building, one that had gone
belly up in the depression, we watched the light traffic as it passed. The
late night arrival of the I.T.S. was heralded by a blast from its horn as it
passed the Lutheran Church. There was not a whole lot going on Gillespie in
those days. It was not yet time for the last picture show: not just yet. But
the wisest among us sensed that change was in the air. We had a notion of
the violence Hitler was to wreak upon the world, and how that violence might
make its way into our lives. If it were to happen, our lives would be
altered forever. Most of us would be gone from the town we had grown up in,
never to return.
I remember Frank Fries and when a small boy, saw Mother Jones. I worked at mines No. 1 and 2. During the early thirties, the town of Benld was called by the Post Dispatch "the wickedest sin city in the U.S." The people there ignored prohibition and booze flowed freely. There was a constant war between the Newman gang and the Shelton gang. Benld had a beautiful ballroom called the Tarro Showplace. But by 1935 the leading Tarro was in the pen. At one time Benld had something like 40 saloons and houses of prostitution. We in Gillespie always thought of our town as being "clean". Perhaps its was just because everybody was going to Benld. Gloria, I am so old that I remember people writing with chisels.
Grew up in Gillespie in the Middle Ages. People drove Model T Fords. Still had a livery stable in town. No gangs. The livin' was easy. Fished at the reservoir. Swam in Mine No.1 pond, which is how I became immune to most diseases.
I grew up in Gillespie next door to Jack Burns' grandparents. Want to know if you knew John Russell who came from Gillespie and who became a judge in Carlinville. Or Leo Brianza who once ran a little store in Carlinville. John went to high school with me, and Leo attended SIU for a little bit while I was there.
Did you know that Howard Keel who was in the movies (Showboat, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, Annie Get Your Gun) came from Gillespie. I knew him as Harold Kiel. He is still around in Hollywood and was in that horror "Dallas" for a long time. I actually remember him fairly well. His mother had been widowed and she tried to make a go of it in Gillespie by peddling Watkins products. Tough during the depression.
Contributed by Victor Hicken
Macoupin County ILGenWeb Copyright
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This page was last updated
07/01/2022