From the monthly archives: "October 2015"

by James Rada, Jr.

1871 — Catoctin County, Maryland

Can you imagine a Catoctin County, Maryland? It would have included Frederick County, north of Walkersville, and Mechanicstown would have been the county seat.

It was a dream that some people in the northern Frederick County area pursued throughout 1871 and 1872. The Catoctin Clarion was only on its tenth issue when it carried a long front-page article signed with the pen name Phocion. Phocion was an Athenian politician, statesman, and strategos in Ancient Greece.

The issue had been talked about within groups of people for a while, and it was time to garner support by taking the issue to a larger, general audience.

“Some sober sided citizens in our valley are quietly discussing the question among themselves, shall Frederick county be divided and the new county of Catoctin be erected into a separate organization?” the newspaper reported. Wicomico County had been formed in 1867 from portions of Somerset and Worcester counties, so the idea of another new Maryland county was not far-fetched. In fact, Garrett County would be formed from the western portion of Allegany County in 1872.

The main reason put forth for creating a new county was the distance and expense of traveling to Frederick to register deeds and attend court. Opponents argued that creating a new county would be costly for the citizens in the new county. New county buildings would have to be constructed and county positions filled. All of this financial burden would have to be absorbed by the smaller population in the new county.

“Our neighbors across the Monocacy in the Taneytown District have but a short distance to go to attend Carroll County Court. Why shall we on this side be deprived privileges which were granted to them? Shall the people on one side of the Monocacy be granted immunities which are to be withheld from citizens residing on the other side?” the Clarion reported.

Besides northern Frederick County, Phocion said that in Carroll County, residents of Middleburg, Pipe Creek, and Sam’s Creek were also interested in becoming part of Catoctin County.

“If a majority of the citizens residing in Frederick, Carroll, and Washington counties (within the limits of the proposed new county) favor a division, I see no reason why it should not be accomplished,” the newspaper reported.

In deciding on what the boundaries of the new county would be, there were three conditions that needed to be met in Maryland: (1) The majority of citizens in the areas that would make up the new county would have to vote to create the county; (2) The population of white inhabitants in the proposed county could not be less than 10,000; (3) The population in the counties losing land could not be less than 10,000 white residents.

Interest reached the point where a public meeting was held on January 6, 1872, at the Mechanicstown Academy “for the purpose of taking the preliminary steps for the formation of a New County out of portions of Frederick, Carroll and Washington counties,” the Clarion reported.

Dr. William White was appointed the chairman of the committee, with Joseph A. Gernand and Isaiah E. Hahn, vice presidents, and Capt. Martin Rouzer and Joseph W. Davidson, secretaries.

By January 1872, the Clarion was declaring, “We are as near united up this way on the New County Question as people generally are on any mooted project—New County, Railroad, iron and coal mines, or any other issue of public importance.”

Despite this interest in a new county, by February the idea had vanished inexplicably from the newspapers. It wasn’t until ten years later that a few articles made allusions as to what had happened. An 1882 article noted, “It was to this town principally that all looked for the men who would do the hard fighting and stand the brunt of the battle, for to her would come the reward, the court house of the new county. The cause of the sudden cessation of all interest is too well known to require notices and only comment necessary is, that an interest in the general good was not, by far, to account for the death of the ‘New County’ movement. Frederick city, in her finesse in that matter, gave herself a record for shrewdness that few players ever achieve.”

A letter to the editor the following year said that the men leading the New County Movement had been “bought off, so to speak, by the promises of office, elective at the hand of one party, appointive at the hands of the other, and thus the very backbone taken out of the movement.” The letter also noted that the taxes in Frederick County were now higher than they had been when a new county had been talked about, and that they wouldn’t have been any higher than that in the new county. “And advantages would have been nearer and communication more direct,” the letter writer noted.

by Carie Stafford

Pets of Interest photo 2My name is Honshuu (pronounced hon shoe), which means “trouble” in Japanese. Why in Japanese? Because I am a Shiba Inu mix, one of six ancient dog breeds from Japan. We were bred for hunting and flushing out small game. Some say we have cat-like agility; I like to say I move like a ninja! Speaking of cats, we do get along well with them—they are fun to chase.

I am the smallest of the Japanese breeds, at about 18 to 22 pounds and 13.5 to 16.5 inches tall at the shoulder.

I am a talker, and I am sturdy, muscular, and confident. I need exercise every day. Many mistake us for foxes since our coloring and size are similar. We come in red (that’s me), black and tan, or sesame (red with black-tipped hairs), with a cream, buff, or gray undercoat.

We have a two-layer coat. The inner coat is thick and soft and the outer coat is coarse—short to medium length—naturally waterproof and naturally protects us from cold temperatures. We do shed, but I am naturally clean and groom myself like a cat. I know it sounds silly, but it’s in my DNA.

Our nature is to be independent, and we are reserved with strangers; but, once we get to know you and like you, we are loyal and affectionate.

I have to say that I am not a fan of other dogs, although I do have a few friends. I don’t possess the “pack” mentality that most dog breeds have; I am more of the loner type. My human family is my pack.

Enough about my genetics. Let’s talk about me. I was rescued when I was about six-eight months old, and have been the head of my household for eleven years now. I do a perimeter check every morning around my home, and can be found chasing rabbits and squirrels when they cross my path. I love to ride in the car, and I am an avid camper. I have been known to sleep in other people’s sleeping bags, so my mom got me my own.

I am a member of Boy Scout Troop 270 and Venturing Crew 270. You will find me at most camp outs and at many of their meetings. When we turn onto Elm Street in Thurmont, I get excited and can’t wait to get out and say hello to my fellow scouts.

I am a talker, although I wouldn’t say that I am obnoxiously barky, and I have been known to mutter under my breath when I disagree with a command, which is usually when I am begging and get caught. I do have to admit that I really aim to be the center of attention, and if I don’t think I am getting enough of it, I will definitely “tell” you all about it.

I have to run…I see a squirrel!

Deb Spalding

IMG_0318-1“Some days I wonder if it’s a blessing or a curse to live to be as old as I am,” saidIMG_0317-1 Emmitsburg native and ninety-two-year-old World War II Veteran, Tom Hoke. “I’ve lived plenty of good times and plenty of bad times. I hope, when it’s my time to go, that I go without being a burden on anyone.”

During his lifetime, so far, he’s seen everything from the horse and buggy to the man on the moon. He’s witnessed when radio, television, and the automobile, were new.

He attended local schools where those who could get to school went. There was no such thing as a snow day.

In his youth, he and his friends made their own entertainment with hide and seek or scavenger hunts. Tom said, “It was an enjoyable time.”

Emmitsburg’s telephone was a party line. Tom said, “You had your own ring, but probably everyone in town would listen in to get all the news.” Nellie Felix ran the telephone exchange.

Tom reminisced, “We would sled on the streets in town. The best hill was on Bollinger’s Hill behind the Lutheran Church.”

Amos and Andy were on the radio, Saturday nights you could get the Grand Ole Oprey. “Later on you could get the Lone Ranger and Buck Roger’s stuff with ray guns — today it’s come true with taser guns.”

Tom lived across from where the laundromat is now, two blocks up from the fire hall. He has three sisters and one brother who are all deceased. His parents are Joseph and Effie Hoke.

When Tom was young, Emmitsburg was a farming community. The town had everything anyone would need. He said, “Everybody was poor but nobody knew it.” Emmitsburg was a very self-sufficient town.

Their swimming pool was Tom’s Creek. If it was running, it was clear, if not, it was stagnant. They stayed out of the stagnant parts. At Christmas, “Santy Clause” gave the kids an orange and a box of candy. Then they’d go to the Gem Theater to see a free movie, then to the fire hall for a tin cup full of vegetable soup.

They were always busy, but somebody always knew where they were and where they were going. They had no drug or whiskey problems, but cigarettes were common. Tokar’s sold cigarettes a penny a piece. By high school, most kids were sneaking a smoke. Tom tried cigarettes, cigars, a pipe, and then dipped snuff. He has since quit all of that.

The train brought the school kids in from Rocky Ridge and Motter Station. St. Euphemia’s School taught eight grades. The girls went on to St. Joe’s, the boys went to public school. In doing so, the boys had to repeat 8th grade. Pappy Kugler was the only janitor at the school (Emmitsburg High School). He kept the school clean and warm with the coal fired furnace burning.

At school, some would crawl through the trap door in the ceiling of the girl’s locker room and go up and sit on the roof and skip classes. The boys would skip school and head over to the train station when the Baseball World Series was on to keep up with the scores. Kids had a tradition of hiking up to Indian Lookout every year. You were one of the crowd if you got to go along.

Tom graduated from school and then worked for the Troxell Brothers selling feed and fertilizer, then for Charlie Harner at the general store. Tom said he was Harner’s “Head Rabbi” killing chickens, turkeys, ducks and geese, then taking them to Baltimore City to sell.

At age nineteen, Tom and his friends, Mickey Eyler and Bill Chase, were walking down the street. Guy Nunamaker was going the opposite direction and asked why they weren’t in the Army. Tom said, “The next week, we had our draft notices.”

Tom was given one week to get things in order, then to report to Fort George G. Meade in Maryland. He was off to serve as a Staff Sergeant as a medic in the Army. From Meade, he and some other enlisted men were sent to Camp McCain in Mississippi where they met up with other nineteen-year-olds from all forty-eight states to form the 87th infantry division. Tom said, “Camp McCain was the worst camp in the United States — ever! It was condemned from the day it was built and littered with snakes, mosquitoes, ditches, swamps, and plenty of chiggers.”

They would complete training over thirteen weeks. Tom was assigned to the medical battalion. He was a “litter bearer.” His job was to support and aid the wounded, and to get them off of the battle field and into the medic aid station by whatever means available.

Tom said his aid station resembled the medic camp featured on the television show MASH. As part of Company C 312th Medical Battalion, they had four doctors, ten ambulances, and fifty litter bearers.

Tom and his unit were sent to Fort Jackson in North Carolina, a wonderful camp compared to Camp McCain, where he continued training and learned more first aid.

They were then sent to Camp Kilmer, their point of impartation to provide support during the Battle of the Bulge in World War II. On November 27, 1944, they boarded the Louie Pasteur, a French luxury ship manned by an English crew. They had to stay below deck and many of them got sea sick. Nine days later, they arrived in Liverpool, England, where they awaited transportation across the English Channel. To cross the English Channel, they were given Sea sick pills but they didn’t need them since crossing the English Channel was nothing compared to crossing the Atlantic Ocean.

Being a pack rat, Tom gathered up motion sickness pills which later proved wonderful for hangovers for the other men.

Their first assignment was to support the 347th Infantry as they were to take a hill in Aken. Quite a few infantry were wounded, but war courtesy meant that you didn’t aim for the medics. It took them two days to take the hill with heavy mortar fire. They didn’t find Germans—they had withdrawn.

After Aken, they approached the Siegfried Line; Hitler didn’t think it could be breached. “But,” Tom said, “once you cracked a pill box, the Germans were pretty easy to take prisoner.”

One night, Tom and his buddies stayed in one of the German Pill Boxes. Their German interpreter, Embry Summy—a boy from the Amish Country, who spoke Pennsylvania Dutch—was practicing his German outside the pill box. Tom and his gang thought there were Germans outside. Tom said, “Well, we talked to him with soldier talk and let him know not to do that anymore!”

His unit was called into the Battle of the Bulge to where the 106th surrendered. During defensive action to hold the Germans from coming in—the weather got bad. It was twenty degrees below zero with two feet of snow and fog. Airplanes weren’t flying. The soldiers were spending all their time in fox holes. Tom noted, “They were taught how to dry socks, but a dry sock in a wet shoe doesn’t do much good. We were treating frozen foot and frost bite.”

General Patton said to a chaplain that he wanted him to pray for a clear day. It worked! The next day the clouds cleared and the sun came out. Morale went up, planes were flying.

They were there from the 16th of December to the 25th of January. It took that long to push the Germans back. After that, they went back down and cleaned the Siegfried Line, then had to cross the Mozell River.

Tom recalled, “Any river crossing usually cost a lot of men. We had A Company help, and crossed in soft boats. Company B lost three when a boat was sunk. After that we still had the Rhine River—we crossed that by crossing a bridge. Then we went to dismantle the bridge; two engineers were shot under machine gun fire.”

Next, Tom’s unit started their big push across Germany. General Patton was running his tanks as fast as he could, as long as he could. Tom said, “We caught up with him then leap frogged across Germany.”

We had to find a place for our aid station. Sometimes it was a places without a roof or a chicken pen. We split in half. Half of us would sprint ahead of Patton, then once he got there, the other half would sprint ahead.

On April 11, Tom was on an advanced party when they came across the Buchenwald prison camp. Tom remembered, “That is something you’ll never forget, especially the odor.” The guards had already left but the prisoners would not leave the camp thinking it was a trap. Tom’s group identified themselves and the prisoners came out looking for food. The soldiers couldn’t give them food because of their emaciated condition, but they shared some drinks.

Patton’s 6th Army got the credit for liberating the concentration camp. Tom’s general wanted to fix that, but couldn’t.

After that, Tom recalled, “We were to hold our position and not fire on until fired upon. We got word that the Russians were uniting with British and American troops. On May 7, we got notice that Germany had surrendered.”

Tom was sent home on furlow when President Truman ordered the first atomic bomb dropped. That got the Japanese’s attention. They dropped the second bomb. Tom was scheduled to go to Japan on the first wave to hit the main land and feels the President saved his life.

On January 9, 1946, Tom was handed his discharge papers and pay. He headed home to Emmitsburg.

At home, he was going to take the discharge papers to the court house to have them recorded. He looked closely at his discharge paper—it had one serial number on one side and another on the other. It listed medals he didn’t earn and some that he did earn were not listed. He said, “That’s the Army life. You got used to it.”

Tom got married in 1947 to Ethel Long. She was from Motter Station where her family farmed. He met her when she was working at Harner’s while Tom was on furlow and they started dating.

Tom retired from Potomac Edison as heavy equipment operator. He said, “Potomac Edison hates me. I’ve been drawing out their pension for over 30 years. I’m still looking for the golden years. Haven’t found them yet, but I’m still hunting.”

Tom said that the thing that he’s most proud of is that he has friends. That means the most. He added that the worst part about getting old is losing people. “I really miss my wife.”

These days, Tom travels often. He loves Alaska, likes the beach in South Carolina, claims the best steak is in Oklahoma City, and has eaten some pretty good Prime Rib in Montgomery, Alabama. He doesn’t have much fondness for Mississippi or plane rides. He said, “After Mississippi, anything looks good. I got pneumonia down there.”