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A little throwback to the Y2K scare back in 1999... 

Happy New Year to all the Throwback Thursday readers! See you in 2021!

Santa Claus is coming to town!

Downtown Raymond, Illinois. Photo courtesy of Nancy Weitekamp. 

Please enjoy tonight's encore presentation of the Throwback Thursday post, Santa Clause is coming to town, originally published in December, 2014.  

Raymond's Santa  -  Harold "Fats" Wagahoff

One of my favorite memories of growing up in Raymond is meeting Santa Claus on Main Street. He would come to town on a Saturday before Christmas, and dozens of children, many clutching their wish lists, would wait in line for what seemed like hours to talk to him and receive a small brown sack containing an orange, a peppermint stick, and two or three Hershey's Kisses. 

I remember one year in particular, standing in line shivering in my red wool coat with black trim. The general belief was that Santa always flew into Raymond and landed near the water tower (the old water tower along 48), but on this day, the line was buzzing with the news that Santa had been spotted coming out of the fire house. Someone's parents quickly let us know that Santa had stopped at the fire house on his way over from the water tower to warm up and "take care of his business" before greeting all of us. Of course we all eventually learned the truth about Santa, and found out that Santa was really Harold Wagahoff. And everyone agrees he was the best Santa ever.

A special thank you to Harold Wagahoff's granddaughter, Stella Merit Turner, for sharing the following article that appeared in the Montgomery County News on December 19, 1990:

The First Train Arrives in Town

The following information appears in a self-published book by former Raymond resident, David A. Sorrell, called “As I Remember.” The book features Mr. Sorrell’s recollections about the early days of Raymond. The stories appeared in a weekly column in The Raymond News from 1963-1972.  

The Wabash Depot in Raymond, Illinois

In the days I am thinking about and writing about, the Wabash Railroad could be likened to the artery of lifeblood to our town. This must have been a great day for our little town when a little tin pot engine came puffing up to the platform pulling a small string of dinky boxcars. So far as I know, there is no written record of what happened on this day of August 8, 1870, when the first train arrived in Raymond. Let me try to reconstruct in my imagination just what it was like.

Clouds of dust stirred up the by the rigs coming into Raymond would be seen in all directions. The word had gone out via the grapevine all about the vicinity of Raymond the railroad was finished and that the first train would come through our town. No time was set for the arrival of the train so everyone came in early so that they might not miss this great event for both the townspeople and the farms around Raymond. Already two elevators had been built there by the tracks and no longer would farmers close around Raymond have to haul their grain to Hillsboro or Litchfield to sell it. No longer would the people of Raymond have to drive to another town to catch a train to go where they wanted to go. All the hitch tracks on Main St. were full. Farmers coming later unhitched their teams and tied their horses to the wagon, spread a little hay for the horses to munch on, and headed for the depot. Mama and the kids followed papa as he headed toward the depot. To these farm children their leather boots sounded funny to them as they clumped over the wooden sidewalks. They had perhaps made a great fuss in the morning at home about wearing their boots, for they were used to going barefoot. The discomfort of the boots was forgotten there on the town sidewalks. It was so much fun for the boys to clump down hard on the sidewalks and hear the resulting noise so much that Mama had to tell them “stop acting so silly here in town, children.” Mother had to lift her long skirts as they came to the dusty street crossings. How quaint those old pictures of that day seem to us as we look at them now. The little girls with their long dresses and the boys with their leather boots and invariably scowling because they were having their pictures taken.

By this time, the boys have gotten ahead of Papa and were up nearly under the old cottonwood there on Main Street before he could get them stopped to stay by their parents. My, what a crowd of people. There was hardly standing room on the depot platform. The real depot had not yet been built. There was only a temporary shed there to house the stationmaster who was both telegraph operator and ticket seller.

The first thing our family wanted to know as they came up to the group of folks there under the big cottonwood “hear anything about what time the train is coming in?” Fred Mondhink replied that he would let everybody know when the word came over the telegraph wire that the train was leaving Litchfield. Some wooden benches had been set up there under the cottonwood tree for the waiting crowd. Papa found a place for Mama to sit behind some neighbor women and seeing young Reynolds Chapman in the crowd, an old war comrade moved over to reminiscence a bit about their days in the Union Army. Soon they were joined by Ab Kidd, Bill Guthrie, William Terry, and Cap Fisher. Only five years had passed since these young men have been discharged from the Union Army. Ridley Wesbrooks walked up to stand in the edge of the group listening to the Army talk he loved so well. Still a scarecrow from his terrible privations in Andersonville Prison, Ridley perhaps enjoyed the happiness of a life free from all the hardships of the Army more than any of the rest of these veterans who had not suffered what he had. Said Cap Fisher, “I hear that Ed Booth is going to build a brick building over there on the corner of Main and he told me that he was building it two story so that us Army boys will have a meeting place for our new Grand Army Post.” A murmur of assent ran though the group. What a strong comradeship there was between those young men who had suffered the hardships of the Civil War together.

A passenger train speeds through town in the 1960's. 

Just about this time, the crowd quieted down there on the depot platform. “Look, there’s Mr. Ling out there, wonder what he is saying?” They listened. “Listen everybody, the train was reported out of Litchfield about fifteen minutes ago. It should be here in about fifteen minutes.” A yell of approval went up from the waiting crowd. Little boys jumped down from the depot platform to the rails. Mother scolded them and told them to “get back up here this minute.” A half silence descended on the crowd. Pretty soon some said, “I heard a whistle and then someone yelled, “Look there she comes around the bend there by Sam Miller’s place.” Now a loud shrill blast came from the engine’s whistle and in a moment the crowd and even the little boys shrank back as the engine pulling a box car and a couple of passenger coaches jerked up to the depot platform and halted. The brakeman was twisting hard with his hickory stick on the brake wheel of the last passenger coach for there were no air brakes as yet on trains. For a moment, folks awed them to silence. Not for long, however, did the silence last for in a moment broke forth a mighty yell from the throats of these happy people. What a wonderful thing had happened to our town. At last, we had a railroad and now how the prosperity will come to our town.

Now some passengers were descending from the train. Coming down the steps of the passenger coach was Joe Potts followed by his little wife. Joe had gone to Litchfield the night before so that he might be one of the first passengers to ride into our town of Raymond on this wonderful new railway and further that he might write up in the newly established paper, “The Raymond Independent,” the story about just how it felt to ride into our town on a train. Following Joe Potts came Joe Kessinger and young Doctor Herman. And so came the first railroad train to Raymond or at least this is the way I like to think it all happened in my imagination for so far as I know there is no written record of what happened on that the day the trains began coming to our town.

So the years went on and light rails that were first laid to carry the small passenger coaches and light box cars were taken up and heavier rails laid down as the passenger trains grew heavier and the box cars bigger, and by 1905 there were long heavy trains thundering through Raymond night and day. There were the fast passenger trains that ran between Chicago and St. Louis and did not stop in our town and they were heavily patronized. I like to think of the railroad as then being the artery that keep the lifeblood of business and pleasure flowing through out town. That day is gone now it seems. The truck and the car have taken over. No longer is the little depot filled with folks of our town happily chatting as they wait for the “half past eight” to carry them to Litchfield or St. Louis for a day of shopping in the larger stores there. Litchfield is only twenty minutes away by car and hard road. Thinking of those pleasant and more leisurely days, I feel sad now when I come and look at the little deserted depot still there by the tracks and standing there by the old cottonwood. I keep looking there at the little depot and the long platform and I picture it again as it was in those dear dead days of so long ago. The trains, both freight and passenger, still thunder by the little depot both day and night, but none stop to let off the happy people as they did in those days when the “half past eight, the nine-ten, the three-fifteen and the last one in the evening -- the half past seven” that brought the Litchfield and St. Louis shoppers back home again.

A Date Which Will Live in Infamy

Tuesday, December 7 marked the 79th anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor. On that day in 1941, more than 2,400 Americans were killed and 1,000 injured in a surprise attack by the Imperial Japanese Navy Air Service that lasted a little over an hour. President Roosevelt asked congress to declare war on Japan the following day. The headline in the December 8, 1941 Illinois State Journal proclaimed “U.S. IN WAR” in extra-large letters.

When I was growing up, mom and dad spoke about Pearl Harbor and WWII quite frequently, but it all seemed like ancient history to me. As they were talking, I would picture everything being in black and white, and I could almost hear the old fashioned Glenn Miller Orchestra music playing in the background. Now that I’m about the same age that my parents were in the 70's, I have a different perspective and I can understand that back then, the 1940’s seemed like only yesterday to my parents, just like the 1990’s now seem like only yesterday to me. I mean, the days of watching Seinfeld and hearing songs by Nirvana and Pearl Jam for the first time were not really that long ago, right? And when you consider what people living in the 40’s went through, it’s no wonder that it was all still sort of fresh in my parents' minds when I was growing up. Now that I’m older, I wish I would have paid more attention to their stories and recorded more information about those days.

Dot Pinkston recently told me that she clearly remembers when she heard the news about Pearl Harbor. She said she was glued to the radio for a few hours and then remembers running uptown and meeting up with Joanie Whalen (Joanie Lange). Dot said the two of them were really “worked up” and were so scared by the thought that all the young men in town would soon be leaving for war. 

This made me remember that years ago, my mom had also spoken about “all the men leaving.” She once told me that in the months following the attack, more and more men just kept leaving for war until finally there were hardly any men left. She worked at the bank in Hillsboro and would go to the movie theater with her coworkers and watch newsreels of war updates. Dot, who was in high school in Raymond at the time said that anytime she was not in class, she worked at her family’s grocery store to help fill in for the store employees who were gone.      

Over 220 men from Raymond served in WWII. My dad, who was one of them, told plenty of stories about being in the war, but I don’t recall him ever talking about the prospect of going to war. I imagine that he, like most of the others, was scared, but he just did what he had to do and didn’t talk about it. He left for the Army on November 20, 1942 and did not return home until November of 1945. While the vast majority of men returned home, sadly, eight men from Raymond gave their lives during the years 1943-1945: Marvin Brown, Robert Mayfield, John R. Mitts, Leslie Tucker, Charles Varner, Billy VanZant, Edward Martin, and Murray Bost.

Even during challenging times, you can always find uplifting stories. Here is one that is related to Pearl Harbor Day: 

Sunday, December 7, 1941 was Anita Goby’s 15^th birthday. It also happened to be the day that she had her first date with Bruce Hall. Bruce went on to serve in the Marines in World War II. According to their daughter, Chris Meisner, romance by love letters is doable, and the couple became engaged while her dad was on leave at the end of the war. He went on to continue his enlistment as a Rifle Instructor at Annapolis, Maryland for the U.S. Marine Corps. The couple was married at the First Presbyterian Church in Raymond on June 14, 1947. Bruce enjoyed a career at the First National Bank in Raymond and is remembered as one of the nicest guys around. Anita (Mrs. Hall to me), was my 6^th grade teacher and was a favorite teacher of many students who went to grade school in Raymond. She celebrated her 94^th birthday this week.

People from the Past: The Chicken Wagon Man

 The following information appears in a self-published book by former Raymond resident, David A. Sorrell, called “As I Remember.” The book features Mr. Sorrell’s recollections about the early days of Raymond. The stories appeared in a weekly column in The Raymond News from 1963-1972. 

Dear old Newt Scott. I wish that I could set down on this paper just how I remember him. Newt started out to be a schoolteacher; I suppose his growing family made him try to find something that would better help him to support his family. Thirty to fifty dollars a month for teaching school about seven or eight months a year was hard to get along on. So, Newt became the driver of the “chicken wagon,” or rather one of the drivers for the G.M.D.  Legg Poultry Company. This was the company that had bought the old I.J. Lawler building and turned it into a place where chickens were picked, eggs were candled, crated, and shipped, and feathers were stored and sent off a few times each year in great burlap sacks. They also dumped the fine butter bought from the farmers’ wives indiscriminately into big fifty gallon barrels and sent it away someplace to be rechurned and sold in the big cities.

Now, a chicken wagon driver was quite a personage to the farmers’ wives along his route. To him was sold the surplus young fryers, mostly young roosters. The best looking young hens were saved to produce eggs and so on. He would buy all the eggs and butter the farmers’ wives had to sell. The chicken wagon had a regular day to come. What did a chicken wagon look like? Well, it was just about a four-storied chicken coop on wheels. There was railing around the top to hold on the cases of eggs that the chicken wagon man bought as he covered his route. Also, here were the butter firkins into which was dumped the butter that was bought. Sometimes in muddy weather, it took four mules to drag the chicken wagon on around its route. I think that perhaps Newt Scott was an ideal chicken wagon man. He was polite, he always joked with the women, if they liked to joke, he was a shrewd buyer for his company, he could figure quickly just how much so many pounds of chicken came to or how much so many dozen eggs would be, all in all Newt was an ideal chicken wagon man. Now, I suppose he would be called our poultry, egg, and butter buyer, but to the farmwomen he was just the chicken man who came every Thursday and brought the little cash money that was scarce in the lives of these hard-working women.

Newt’s tiny blonde wife was a dear little soul and she gave Newt three babies. Again memory is hazy and I cannot think of but one’s name and that was Herschel. An incident stands out here. It was haying time and I was working for Frankie Bowles out east of town driving the horse to the hayfork. This was before Newt began his career as a “chicken wagon man”. He was working there during his summer vacation helping Frankie get his Timothy hay up. It was Saturday night and the week’s work was over and Frankie and Newt and his small boy were driving back to Raymond for the weekend. That is, Newt and I were going home for the weekend and Frankie was driving us in. It was a beautiful summer evening and as we drove along the country lane that led us by the old Blue Mound Church, the Henry Hitchings place high up there on the mound to the right, and the Frank Brandes place on another mound to our left, we are going into the sunset and Newt began to sing a song about “Going Down the Mountain into the Sunset.” I suppose Newt was happy about going home to see his wife and babies and the song just bubbled up out of his happiness at this good prospect. A good memory and even now I hum the tune of this old song at times and somehow this little scene of so long ago comes into my mind.