​While I expect to continue Yours in a Hurry stories about Anna, Purl, Addison, and Ida, today I want to take you to where my thoughts have lain and share the story of a little-known historical Ohio Appalachian area: The Little Cities of Black Diamonds. It’s where my father was born and raised and to which he felt forever bound. He and his family left in the late 1930’s when much of the work finally dried up.
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I learned a lot while researching America’s Appalachia. The northern part is culturally different in many ways from the south, forcing me to revise many stereotypes. If you're interested in reading about this yourself, find a copy of The Encyclopedia of Appalachia (Rudy Abramson and Jean Haskell, 2006). It's helping me write  fiction based on my father's oral history and photos.

​Shortly after my mother passed away, the first thing my father asked me to do was take a several-day trip so he could visit every small-town hollow where he’d lived growing up. I’d never seen most of them as my mother, from a small town in mid-Ohio, felt no connection to the area. My then fourteen-year-old son and I watched with trepidation as he would get out of the car at various farm houses, knock on the door, and if someone answered, asked, “Have you lived here long?” If the answer was yes, he’d ask if they remembered his family. One man remembered that dad had worked for his father on the farm during summers when he was in junior high.

​Another time we parked across the highway from a house dad remembered. As he looked across the highway he smiled and said, “Look at that; (I can’t recall the name) doesn’t look that different after sixty years except for the beard.” The man looked like Santa Claus, about as round as he was tall in a T-shirt covered by suspender overalls. As I’d expected, Mike and I sat in the car about half an hour as the two old friends traded stories. Dad took to this discussion an old photo of a pretty teenage girl he'd brought with him (possibly an early love?). He never told us who was in the photo. 

​The most memorable visit was to Mrs. Parsons’ home in Athens. Dad was fortunate enough to graduate from an early auto mechanics class at Chancy Dover in the late 1930’s. That served him well during World War 2 and throughout life. But it really helped him during the Depression when the Parsons asked him to manage a gas station they owned at a unique location: the ‘Y’ at the intersection of state routes 33 and 50 in southeast Ohio. Given the few good roads at the time and the station's location at a main thoroughfare in southeast Ohio, including Columbus and West Virginia, it was a good business. He remembered an Ohio Governor stopping once. ​During dad’s employment it became Shell Oil. 

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​Dad always spoke of the Parsons with deep respect. Meticulously dressed, they were part of Athens society. One of his fondest memories was when they arranged dates with two of their visiting nieces who attended college for dad and a friend of his. Pretty heady stuff for guys in an area where high school was considered an accomplishment. In the early 1950’s, the Parsons visited mom and dad in Akron. Mr. Parsons was on a business trip, buying up property throughout Ohio for the new interstate highways.
In 1994, Mr. Parsons was gone. Dad made sure to put on a good shirt the morning the three of us were to visit Mrs. Parsons. The décor of her home reminded me of the Eisenhower farm in Gettysburg—a 1950’s feel. We sat in the back screened-in porch. Mrs. Parsons looked to be in her late 80’s but was still very bright and gracious. She surprisingly brought cookies and lemonade to us on a silver service—a first for Mike. 

​The trip was a unique experience to share with dad. He evidently knew it would be the last time he’d see these people who’d meant so much to him. I’ve made other visits to the Little Cities with professional groups and with my children. I’m fascinated with the area and the history of the once over fifty towns or crossroads that became the Little Cities. Few now live outside the bigger towns like Athens or Nelsonville, but some towns like Shawnee still work to maintain and preserve the structures and history of the boom years—among them Murray City, Glouster, Chauncey, New Straitsville, Buchtel…all have interesting histories. I’ll share some with you.

Next Time: Ohio’s ‘Little Cities’ History
Ann Otto writes fiction based on factual as well as oral history. Her debut novel, Yours in a Hurry, about Ohioans relocating to California in the 1910’s, is available on-line at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kindle, and at locations listed on her website at www.ann-otto.com. Ann’s academic background is in history, English, and behavioral science, and she has published in academic and professional journals.  She enjoys speaking with groups about all things history, writing, and the events, locations, and characters from Yours in a Hurry. She is currently working on her next novel about Ohio’s Appalachia in the 1920’s and prepared for future works by blogging about a recent World War 2 European tour. She can be reached through the website, or on Facebook @Annottoauthor or www.Goodreads.com. 
 

​I just returned from my first visit to Japan. It’s been 110 years since my grandfather Thomas Purl Hartle served in the Pacific with the army. The life-long devotee to Teddy Roosevelt helped build harbors in Corregidor, the Philippines, and Hawaii and visited Yokohama and Tokyo in Japan. 

​Interesting photos in the Edo-Tokyo Museum showed crowded 1910 streets that he’d walked. It’s hard to imagine that he’d had these experiences and then went home to small towns in Ohio that he never left again except for a couple of visits to his sister Anna in San Antonio, Texas.

​Here’s an excerpt from Purl’s travels in the Philippines from Yours in a Hurry.
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​      Purl guessed right. The topographical survey in some ways wasn't a lucky assignment. Transport was difficult and uncomfortable. Ponies and caribou couldn't be used through mountains, jungle, and across ravines, so a contingent of native porters pulled large boxes containing their equipment and provisions.
      One night an officer found an abandoned shack with some supplies. Purl and the other soldiers sat and rested after the day's march. Purl decided to take out his pen and share some experiences with Anna.
 
Philippines
February 3, 1909
 
Dear Anna,
 
      I was selected to assist in documenting our survey, so thought I would describe our experiences for you to share.
       Our party is divided into three sections, each with one commissioned officer, eight enlisted men, and four porters. We are provided provisions for two weeks, the time needed to complete the survey of our assigned territory.
      We went to the province of Bulacan. The route is through many barrios. Due to the heat, we bivouacked under roof instead of on the ground when possible. We once slept in an old native house of worship in Buena Vista and woke to church bells and chants by native Tagalogs who are now Catholic.
      We left through the Marquina Valley—large forests of bamboo, ebony, and bush-like trees filled with tropical fruits and vegetables, and a strong cinnamon smell. I can see why Spain fought so hard to keep this land.
In the dense forest of the San Madre Mountains, we saw many monkeys and parrots and stopped to trade for food.  I wish you could have seen the Albinos in northern Luzon—an entire colony who inherit the trait. They are shy and shield themselves from the sun with a fan of palm leaf. We passed a village of Igorrote head hunters—a wild tribe of the North who eat dog and grasshopper pies.
      As we begin our last few days, cholera and smallpox are reported throughout Luzon. It is against the law to drink un-boiled water, and we follow the rule as best we can out here.
      Much more to tell, but Robbie says that we need to fix camp as a storm may be coming.
Your brother
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       After finishing his letter, Purl walked out to where Robbie was standing. "Sarge says it may be a typhoon," Robbie said. "He hasn't been through one before, but some of the other men have."
      Purl squinted upward and assessed the darkening sky. "I'll give it at least an hour before we know for sure. I best be getting a shave in. It could be a long day or two."
      "You are the only man I know who can't be with a bristle of hair on your face!"
      "It's the light complexion—looks poorly with hair."
      The troops did what they could to make a meal of the brown and somewhat mushy produce they found in the shack by combining it with their tins of meat. Purl had just finished eating and stretched out on his blanket on the floor when a loud wind whistled through the palms.
      The shack trembled as though it would fall down around him. Purl heard thunder from far away. Flashes of lightening hit the ground as the storm approached. Each flash lit the dark room, and he could see Robbie cringing on the floor nearby.
      "That one was close. I don't remember storms this fierce in West Virginia!" Robbie said.
      After another loud clap of thunder the wind caused the palms to sway more erratically. "If this is a typhoon, you can be sure it's nothing like back home."
      The maelstrom continued until daylight. When they awoke, empty sacks of chewing tobacco lay scattered on the shack floor. "A lot were sure scared!" Robbie said, assessing the debris.
      "I went through one of those pouches myself." Purl replied. "When I wasn't worried, I was bored—couldn't sleep."
      They pieced together a quick breakfast of bread and fruit. The lieutenant came into the shack, wet and with muddy boots. "I don't think the rain is going to stop. We may as well get going. Pack up."
      The rain continued until midafternoon. They stepped carefully across the desolated landscape through deep gullies worn in the soil, avoiding flooded streams. Purl, one of the tallest, often had to stoop to avoid drooping palms.
      Then the sun began to blaze. Starting down the trail, they passed a Filipino carrying a load of sugar cane. Robbie said, "I'm going to go ask that native about the shack we stayed in last night. I still don't understand why it was vacant with all those supplies."
      He motioned to the Filipino translator. "Ask that man if he knows why no one is living in the shack on the hill with all the provisions. It appears they just up and left."
      The translator spoke to the man, returned, and without emotion, reported to Robbie, "No one will live there. All of the family died of the cholera."
Purl watched as Robbie ran to the lieutenant and with heavy breathing asked,         "Do we have anything to take for the cholera? Everyone in that shack died and now we're all going to be sick!"
       The lieutenant replied calmly, "Don't worry, White. I think we would know by now if we were contaminated. There's no delay in the action of that germ."
      One of the men standing next to Purl had eaten a significant amount of fruit in the shack. He turned pale, sat on the ground, put his head in his hands, and said, "We're all going to die!"
      The young lieutenant shook his head and helped the man up. "Come on, soldier, let's pick up the pace and get back to camp."
      They returned the next day. "It's good to be back at headquarters." Robbie said. "Good food, showers, cards, and music. Who could ask for more? And no one died of the cholera!" he added with mock seriousness.
      Purl chuckled, thinking of the anxiety some of them showed on the trail. "No, but some were near scared to death.” He was quiet for a moment. "A visit home sure wouldn't be bad. I'd like to see my family. And until we leave Manila, construction on the Corregidor emplacements will be harder work."
        Robbie yawned. "Well, right now I'm going to fall into bed."
       "See you in the morning."

Next time: The importance of ‘place’ in a novel: Little Cities of the Black Diamonds
Ann Otto writes fiction based on factual as well as oral history. Her debut novel, Yours in a Hurry, about Ohioans relocating to California in the 1910’s, is available on-line at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kindle, and at locations listed on her website at www.ann-otto.com. Ann’s academic background is in history, English, and behavioral science, and she has published in academic and professional journals.  She enjoys speaking with groups about all things history, writing, and the events, locations, and characters from Yours in a Hurry. She is currently working on her next novel about Ohio’s Appalachia in the 1920’s and prepared for future works by blogging about a recent World War 2 European tour. She can be reached through the website, or on Facebook @Annottoauthor or www.Goodreads.com.