Warren County
Local History by Dallas Bogan |
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Dallas Bogan on 4 September 2004 |
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original article by Dallas Bogan |
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On a frosty, snowy, February morning in 1883, one can only imagine what the
residents of Harveysburg were contemplating. As one strolls down the barren
streets, or at least it seemed the streets were barren, Dr. George Hatton
stepped out from his shelter and was overheard saying: "If skill and practice
have not gifted thee with the art of producing melody on instruments, or if
nature has withheld the gift of song and only endowed thee with a susceptible
ear, let thy heart be glad in praising her that through the avenues of music
are opened up to the chords of the soul attuned to the inspiring notes of the
whistle, the only musical inheritance bequeathed to all, both high and low."
Mr. Robert Wilson, hearing the Dr's remark, said: "I tell
you there is more true melody in a tin whistle than there is in the chaos of
philharmonic recitals called modern music, but which is nothing but a jingling
and discordant cataclysm of noise." His strides toward the old mill produced
a slight rhythmic walk and he was unconscientiously overheard whistling "Amazing
Grace."
Just a few steps down the street found Mr. Cal Edwards, local
stable owner, with his shovel, broom and hay-fork on display, whistling a commendable
version of "Nip and Tuck."
Hon. T.M. Wales appeared to see what the commotion was all
about. Unknowingly, he was whistling and singing, "The Camels are Coming."
And so, a quartet? Ah yes! Silas Hawk, John Cleaver,
Joseph Compton and Henry Oyler were rendering
very nicely, "Marching Through Georgia." So much talent in so small
a town as Harveysburg!
Assuming that Mr. Daniel Stump was in his blacksmith shop,
a call was given out. Upon entering he was found breaking up some kindling to
start his fire and whistling "Fisher's Hornpipe."
On up the stairs Frank Mills was meticulously eye-balling his
newly-varnished buggy. What was he whistling? A simple little tune called "Wait
for the Wagon."
Upon entering the alley, one could instantly hear Mr. I.H. Antram
whistling "Hea Shep, Hea Shep," and if one was to listen closely,
he was intermittently whistling "Pop Goes the Weasel."
Mr. Chris Smith was found on his door step, with bell in hand,
having just finished ringing it for breakfast, whistling "Every Hour I
Need Thee."
Adam Stoops was found in a very retrospective position, his
lips transfigured into a whistle that blew out in pleasant notes, "The
Cows are in the Corn."
Mr. Nathan Macy responded to the question, "are you fond
of whistling?" "Yes," he said, "it chimes merrily with the
voice of the birds, and besides a man can whistle when he can't do anything
else." Mr. Louis Dakin added, "And when he can't
get anything else he wants he can whistle for it." Robert Shidaker
agreed and the three were left alone whistling "In the Sweet By and By."
Mr. George Scroggy was not in. However, Mr. Albert
Merrill's whistle, certainly not a creative one, auditioned in a melodious
tone, "When you and I were Boys, John."
Mr. George P. Ross, the boss, to the tune of "The Mill
Will Never Grind With the Water That is Past", serenaded Mr. Buck
Stoops, working lazily at his job at the mill.
Alexander Reed was caught whistling in low notes "Come
Ye Sinners," while Thomas McDonald was caught with his
lips pursed, whistling the tune, "Oh for a Thousand Tongues to Sing."
Mr. James Ellis and Son were both quite busy building a fire.
Their stove was on the blink but their whistles were quite in tune, displaying
a pleasing and musical note. Will Antram quite abruptly opened
the door and rang out with "O Hush Thee, My Baby." W.W. Welch
was seen walking at a rapid pace across the street whistling with all his might,
"Pull Down the Blinds."
Mr. Arthur Ham complained of what effect the cold weather might
have on his whistler, but did his best to whistle "Boston Dip Waltzes."
Mr. Joseph Lippencott jokingly said: "It might be a good
thing to stop this eternal whistling if a number of their whistles would freeze
and leave their mouths in a perpetual pucker."
Mr. Ben Keiger composed a remark concerning the infection of
a whistler. "Yes sir, there is not one man in a hundred when he hears a
tune whistled whose mouth won't instinctively pucker to join in, unless he is
boiling mad."
Mr. S.M. Denny, for the sake of not being embarrassed, was
assumed to be a better store keeper than a whistler.
Mr. Henry McKinsey was visiting from Corwin. He was caught
whistling "That Cincinnati Ham." His somewhat sub-nasal chords caused
him some off-beat notes, but overall his performance was acceptable.
Imagine this pose! A well respected citizen of Harveysburg leaning back in his
chair, one eye half shut, looking vacantly out the window, one arm thrust in
his vest, and allowing the influence of an unguarded whistle propel from him.
Yes, Mr. A.T. Sabin was caught whistling "Fal de-diddle
di-do." It is his opinion that life would be fruitless if it were not for
whistling.
Mr. A.L. Antram had gone to Cincinnati and Dr. Mason
had gone to the country, but Sue says he whistles all the time.
Mr. Baily Davis flatly objected to his whistling on such a
short notice. The instant the door shut he was momentarily overheard practicing
"Do, Re, Me, Fa," etc.
Dr. Vandervoort says: "The whistling passion is so strong
the soul of an old friend of mine was brought back into his lifeless body -
so strong was the infection that instead of being frightened we who were walking
his corpse joined in the tune of "Little Brown Jug."
"Flares out like a speaking trumpet!" These powerful words were spoken
of Mr. Horace Dakin's whistle. His notes almost rivaled Mr.
Hisey's imitation of a Southern bird.
Alfred Edwards, C. Hisey, J. Kimbrough
and Prof. Bone joined in an effort to whistle "Over the
Garden Wall."
Mr. R.F. Wales screwed his mouth in piercing notes and trills
of the "Mocking Bird." His imitations of the rosy-necked fife, the
ear-splitting locomotive, and the screaming piccolo were an ovation becoming
his talent.
Turner Welch and W.J. Collett showered their
harmonious bird notes upon the multitudes, which sounded like a bunch of boys
playing on broken "flageolets," translation, a green baby lima bean.
Tantalizing! Yes, the whistlers of Harveysburg found life meaningless without
the harmonious challenges from their neighbors. They were accomplished whistlers,
most of them, and their puckered mouths suggested anything from a gas retort
to an inflated balloon.
A series of whistling contests was suggested with an all-out community gathering
with prizes being given in return for their exhibitions. Of course, to say the
least, a series of lung exercises would be held accountable, along with the
art of successful puckering.
However, when things came to a head, the contestants presented the comic appearance
of all men who try to whistle and can't. Their characterization of a whistler
resembled caricatures of the toothache.
[Writer's note: Story "slightly" modified from original.]
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This page created 4 September 2004 and last updated
28 September, 2008
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