The Wabash Railroad

A passenger train speeding through Raymond in the 1960's 

Like many small towns, Raymond was the product of the railroad expansion across the United States in the nineteenth century. Nimrod McElroy and Ishmael McGowan owned most of the land that Raymond was built on, and in 1870, they sold a strip of land to the Wabash Railroad officials who were expanding the railroad tracks from Decatur to St. Louis. The following spring, the post office opened and our town (originally called Lulu) was born.

The railroad runs through Raymond from the northeast to the southwest, and W.R.W. O'Bannon platted the town based on the direction of the railroad tracks rather than by using a compass. The depot was built in 1872. Two years later, D.J. Parrott built a large elevator near the railroad crossing, and the village of Raymond became well known for having one of the largest and most extensive elevators on the line of the St. Louis Division of the Wabash Railroad.

Mr. David Sorrell*, a former Raymond resident who moved to Texas, contributed to a column in "The Raymond News" entitled As I Remember. The following excerpt from one of his columns pertaining to the depot was printed in the Raymond Centennial Book that was published in 1971:

Howard Ling was the first station agent. Agent Ling, as I remember, had a full blue uniform which he wore, without the long swallowtail coat at all times except when it was passenger train time, and then he would don his fine brass buttoned coat and go out to meet the train, confer with the conductor, and generally be seen and admired by the gathered crowd. Being a railroad agent in those days was a very important thing.

The arrival of any of the five local passenger trains was always an interesting event of our small town day. An hour or so before the train was due, the town loafers and folks who were going to Litchfield, Harvel, Honey Bend, or Tayloville, would begin to come across the long platform to the depot. The travelers could be told from the loafers by the bags or valises they carried.

Inside the middle rooms was the ticket office on one end and on the other was the half round table and its circle of ever clattering telegraph instruments. Their clatter never seemed to cease. The telegraph instruments brought death messages, the returns of a presidential election, and the major league baseball scores. Sometimes the train would bring a pine box bearing the body of a man or woman who had gone out into the world and had been brought back to the old hometown for burial. The night passenger train brought up the daily St. Louis Chronicle and the Post Dispatch. The railroad and all its appurtenances was the town’s link with the outside world.

* In the Centennial Book, the name was spelled Sorrell with no "s." It occurs to me that his name might have been "Sorrells." I plan to try and find his original columns in the archived issues of The Raymond News this summer.

While reading through some Raymond history, I found some other interesting notes pertaining to the railroad:

• In the early 1900’s, a passenger train accident occurred about one mile north of Raymond, injuring many people. It was said that people were carried into town on stretchers and churches were used as first aid stations.
  
• In 1904, folks from Raymond boarded trains to attend the World’s Fair in St. Louis.
  
• In 1918, about 50 trains a day ran through town and there was an agent on duty 24 hours a day.

Some of my classmates and I were fortunate to take a train ride through Raymond once. For our first grade class trip, we traveled from Litchfield to Taylorville on the train. We had a picnic at the Taylorville park and then the school bus picked us up and brought us back home. It was a big deal.                                                          

The Raymond Cafe

Bandy's Cafe in the early 1930's. Pictured (from left) Anna Bandy, Pauline Bandy Hinkley, Elsie (Burley) Pitchford, and an unidentified person. 

I mentioned Bandy's Cafe a couple of weeks ago. My grandparents, Charles and Anna Bandy, opened the cafe in 1929 in a brick building on Main Street where the current Raymond-Harvel Fire Department and Ambulance building is located. The Bandy family lived in an apartment directly above the restaurant, and grandma was downstairs making pies every morning by 4:00 a.m.

Back then, the restaurant served three meals a day, six and a half days a week (they closed on Sunday after lunch). The cafe was always open after ballgames and other activities, and it was a popular gathering spot for the high school crowd, as well as adults. Hamburgers sold for 10 cents, plate lunches for 35 cents, and a complete dinner cost 45 cents. Customers could get a piece of homemade pie and a cup of coffee for 15 cents. There was a nickelodeon, and for 5 cents, customers could hear their favorite songs. There was a short wave radio, and for the Illinois State Police (who rode motorcycles), the restaurant was a warm place to gather and listen for police calls.

A crowd of young people went to the restaurant on Saturday nights to listen to the Philip Morris Hit Parade on the radio, and find out which of their favorite songs topped the list for that week. Many people were employed at the cafe during those years including (my aunt) Pauline Bandy Hinkley, Lela Hudson, Beulah (Fortin) Lowe, Loretta Lessman, Elsie Pitchford, Helen Luking, Merrill Foster, Geraldine Hendricks, and Georgia (Halford) Plappert.

In 1943, grandma sold the restaurant and it became known as the Raymond Cafe. Some of the people who owned it through the years included: Harry Garard, Eleanor Miller, Loretta Lessman, Claude Carlock, Leon Martin, members of the Vickery family, June Funderburk, and Vi Heisman.

Dad talked frequently about the restaurant days, and how a lot of hard work and "elbow grease" were required to make a living there, especially during the Depression. He often commented that although they didn't have money or any luxuries during those years, the family never had to worry about having food on the table.  

When I was in afternoon Kindergarten, occasionally mom would take over at the Variety Store while dad and I walked to the cafe to enjoy a hamburger and a "Bubble-Up" before I went to school. I always looked up to see the words, BANDY'S CAFE, that had been painted across the top of the building in the 30's. The large, white letters were still visible when the building was demolished sometime around the turn of the century.

Many thanks to Susan Lebeck for providing this week's photo.

Louise Chausse

This week I was looking through some items that we found when we were cleaning out Mom's house a few years ago. Mom had saved a letter that was written by Louise Chausse, and I enjoyed reading it and remembering Mrs. Chausse.

Around 1924 when she was Louise "Martin" and attending Raymond Community High, Mrs. Chausse boarded with my great-grandparents, Archibald and Jenny McCallum. She went on to Blackburn College and then taught at Ware's Grove before becoming a teacher in Raymond. She later married Veryl Chausse who taught fifth and sixth grade. It's interesting to note that when Veryl was only six months old, he became critically ill with diphtheria and was the first individual in the area to be given the new antitoxin for the disease. He responded and improved immediately.

After she got married, Mrs. Chausse resigned to become a homemaker, but was later asked to return and teach primary school in Harvel. Back then, kids from Raymond attended first and second grade in Harvel, and she was my second grade teacher in 1971. I have many fond memories of her, but one thing that stands out in particular is the hours that she spent reading Beverly Cleary's books to us. I always thought that I was the teacher's pet, however, I'm sure all of her students thought that because she had a way of making everyone feel special.

The Chausses' lived on a farm south of Raymond, and following second grade, Mrs. Chausse and I became pen pals. I would write long letters to her on fancy stationery and then wait anxiously for her to write back to me. She always did.

In 1979, Veryl and Louise left the farm and moved next door to Hough Funeral Home. Veryl died on November 4, 1990 and Mrs. Chausse continued to live there until her death on March 10, 2010. Mom used to tell me that she would always look out the kitchen window to see if Louise's porch light was on.

I'll post the letter below. Those of you who had the pleasure of knowing Mrs. Chausse will hear her voice and think of her smile when you read this.

You know you're in a small town...

Several versions of You Know You're in a Small Town have circulated over the years, and I have always found them to be funny as well as quite accurate. Following is an example of one:

You know you're in a small town...

• When Third Street is on the edge of town.
• When you write a check on the wrong bank and it covers for you.
• When the undertaker supplements his income with a furniture store (or another job).
• When you miss a Sunday at church and receive a get well card.
• When a 55 year old farmer is referred to as "young Johnson." 
• When someone asks you how you feel and listens to what you have to say.
• When the nicest house in town has a beauty salon in the back porch.
• When you drive into the ditch five miles from town and word gets back before you do.
• When you dial a wrong number and talk for fifteen minutes anyway.
• When you speak to each dog you pass by name, and he wags at you.
• When everyone's cap has a seed emblem on it.
• When you don't use your turn signals because everyone knows where you're going.
• When a crowd gathers on Main Street and looks toward the fire house when the siren blows.
• When the banker will figure your taxes if you help him sort through the shoe box...

                                                     -- Author Unknown

For this week's blog, I've been thinking about ways You Know You've Grown Up in Raymond, Illinois. Following is how the list is shaping up so far:  

You know you've grown up in Raymond because you remember:  

• When you only locked the house if you were going away on vacation, and then it took a while to find the key because you hadn't used it for a year or two.
• When Bob Hough, the funeral director, provided the ambulance service and dispatched the police. When someone called the ambulance, Bob responded himself; when someone called the police, Bob flipped a switch that turned on a red light uptown to signal to the cop that he had a call. As soon as the town cop happened to drive on Main Street and see the light, he would go directly to the funeral home to find out where he was needed. 
• When someone had a death in the family, Walch Electric delivered an extra refrigerator to the home to store all the extra food donated by friends and neighbors. 
• When most of the vehicles parked on Main Street during Thursday night men's bowling league were pick-up trucks, and most had the family name painted on the side. 
• When you could easily remember all your childhood friends' home phone numbers because they were only four digits.
• When you could make a U-turn on Main Street at the corner of Mizera's Market (it probably wasn't "legal" but everyone did it and no one got in trouble for it).  
• When no one really knew the names of the streets in town because you simply relied on landmarks. 
• When the town cop walked up and down Main Street at night and jiggled all the doors of the businesses to make sure they were locked.
• When it was the last day of school, and all the kids (even the "country" kids), rode their bikes to school. 

If you have comments about these and/or other things that you remember about growing up in Raymond, let me know and I'll share them on my blog. Thanks!

Big Shoes to Fill

While on a recent shoe shopping trip with my thirteen year old son, I had a sudden realization: the kid has Bandy feet. As we walked out of the store with his brand new sneakers, size 11.5, I thought back to a minor crisis in our family in 1971 when my dad had trouble finding dress shoes to wear with his tuxedo for my brother's wedding. He wore size thirteen or fourteen and back then, it was uncommon for men to wear that large of a size. In fact, none of the stores in Hillsboro, Litchfield, or even Springfield carried sizes that big, and the shoes for the wedding had to be special-ordered from St. Louis. Traveling down there was a big deal, and I remember riding in the back seat of our red Chevy Impala from Bandy's Chevrolet (It's a dandy if it's from Bandy), and pestering dad to turn up the KXOK a little louder, so I could hear Heart of Gold by Neil Young through the static.

While growing up, I had heard a lot of stories that involved dad's feet. Like the time when a tornado touched down in Raymond right at the intersection of Route 48 and 127. It happened on April 24, 1937 when Dad and grandma were living in a second floor apartment in a brick building on Main Street (located where the current fire department and ambulance building is today). Grandma owned and operated Bandy's Cafe, the restaurant directly below the apartment. As the storm grew worse, Grandma became concerned that the strong winds might blow in one of the plate glass windows in the front of the restaurant. She woke up dad (a sophomore in high school) at 1:30 a.m., not to send him to the cellar, but to have him lie down in front of the plate glass window and use his feet to push against the glass and hold it in place. The window stayed in and there was no damage to the restaurant, but a large section of Raymond sustained considerable damage as the tornado swept North through town. Fifteen homes were damaged and the power and phone services were cut off. Traffic on Route 48 was halted for eight hours. The worst damage occurred a few doors down from Bandy's Cafe at the intersection of Broad Street and the highway, where Haarstick Implement Company, the pool room, the tavern, and Guthrie's Jewelry Store were located. 

Dad was fitted for Army boots on November 20, 1942 and began his journey "across the pond" on the Queen Mary on May 27, 1943. Not long after arriving in Europe, he got separated from his unit, and unknowingly walked across a live mine field. Apparently his drill sergeant was both upset and impressed that Bandy had made it across that $%^#* field with those big #$%*^# feet of his (needless to say, dad was not fond of his drill sergeant). Luckily, he managed to stay out of harm's way and two and half years later, those feet were planted firmly on the the deck of the S.S. Exchange as it sailed back into New York Harbor. Most of the men in his unit were from the Northeastern part of the country and planned to stay in New York City to celebrate their discharge. My dad and his big feet went straight home to Raymond.  

A few years after the war, my brother Joe and Rex Pitchford were born within a day or so of each other at Hillsboro Hospital. Joe was born first, and the next day, Cecil Pitchford brought Frances to the hospital. Dad was there visiting, and the privacy curtain was pulled around mom's bed, exposing only dad's feet. As Frances was being wheeled down the hall to the delivery room, she glanced at the feet under the curtain and said, "Well, Charlie Bandy, what are you doing here?" She told him that she was sure it was him behind that curtain because she would know those feet anywhere.  

I've heard other stories too, like how the Raymond Bowling Alley had only one pair of bowling shoes that would fit both dad and Rise' Johnson's dad, who also wore a large size. Apparently it was a weekly race to see whose family could get uptown first on Sunday night. I had also heard stories of how the size of his feet was always a running joke at the firehouse, and that he had his very own pair of fire boots because no one else could wear them. 

I can't say for sure if my son will make it all the way up to a size thirteen or fourteen, but it looks promising. I think it would be great to have another pair of those feet in the family.  
  

Days Gone By...

This week, I've been reading through the booklet that was published in 1971 in commemoration of Raymond's Centennial year. Raymond Stewart was mayor, Bert Martin was Village Clerk, and Raymond R. Hough was Village Treasurer. Board members included Carl Peger, Joe Martin, Pete Henderson, Verne Pinkston, Kenneth Wagahoff, and Glen Myers. Raymond's oldest citizen at the time was Mrs. Mary Peger, born August 28, 1974.

Back then, "Main Street" was busy and there were times when it was difficult to find a parking spot on either side of the railroad tracks. I was amazed to see how many businesses were open in Raymond in 1971, and reading through the following list brought back a lot of good memories. Enjoy!

Raymond Post Office
The Raymond News
Telephone Exchange
First National Bank
Irwin Electric
Spring Air Motel and Restaurant
Spring Air Texaco
Gino's Pool Room
Dr. T.L. Wagy
Jo's Standard Service Station
Nannie's Tavern
Local Propane Gas Company
Raymond Cafe
O.K. Grain Company
Raymond Handi-Wash
Walch Electric
Raymond Lumber and Hardware Company
Eckhoff Western Wear
S & S IGA Market
Mizera's P.A.G. Market
Cal's Service
Dr. Nicholas Dub
Held Sales & Service
Heid Drug Store
Hank's Sales & Service
Bandy Chevrolet Company
Raymond Variety Store
Ray's Jack Service
White Cottage Cafe
Poggenpohl Construction & Materials
Bud's Tavern
Raymond Implement Company
Raymond Super Service
Carl Routt - Standard Oil Agent
Herman's West End Grocery and Service Station
Ye Olde Barber Shop
Hough Plumbing & Heating
Angle Welding Shop
Home Oil Company
Raymond Ready Mix
Ralston-Purina Elevator
Johnson Builders' Supply
Montgomery Service Company
Raymond Food Market
Montgomery County Housing Authority (Raymond, Illinois Project)
Raymond Bowl
Darald Peters Ford
Benning Equipment Company
Mick's Auto Body Shop
W.H. House, Sr.
Sorrell's Farm Supply
Mosby's Garage - Raymond Tile Company
Lancer Den
Hough Funeral Home
Beauty Shop owners: Cheryl Herman, Bernice Keller, Mary Ann Durbin, Lucille Rossi, Jane Barry and Norma Bray. Operators: Kathy Vieregge, Elaine Walch, Marie Germman, Mary Brown, and Alice Marsch.

Vietnam

Vietnam Veterans Day was observed last Saturday, March 29th. Three million U.S. service members were in the Vietnam War, and the death toll of Americans surpassed 58,000. The last U.S. troops left Vietnam on March 29, 1973. In 2012, President Obama proclaimed that this anniversary would be observed to "reaffirm one of our most fundamental obligations:  to show all who have worn the uniform of the United States the respect and dignity they deserve, and to honor their sacrifice by serving them as well as they served us."

Men from Raymond who served in Vietnam include:
Robert Bandy, Joseph Barto, Robert Barto, William Barto, Gordon Casey, Ross Clark, Mike Dagon, Kenny Duff, Don Fuller, Tom Glover, Rick Hailstone, Ronald Hefley, Robert Herman, Robert Holder, John Honnies, Terry House, David Huber, Fred Huber, Norman Jackson, Mike Langen, Larry Lewis, Carl Mayer, Jr., James R. McCallum, Loy McCart, David Mills, Kenneth Mondhink, Richard Polston, Terry Polston, Rollie Pope, Charles Rhine, Freddie Roach, Mike Slightom, Michael Stephenson, Francis "Butch" Todt, Louis Tucker, William Tucker, Joseph Wagahoff, James Walch, Thomas M. Walch, Thomas Walz, Melvin Wempen, Jr., and Dennis R. Williams. (Since this is my blog, I am also including my brother-in-law, Tim Lebeck, of Harvel.)

Pete Henderson provided the names to me back in 1996. Pete had kept extensive records on Veterans from our area and he gladly shared the information with me when I was doing research for Raymond's 125th anniversary celebration book. I apologize if any names were omitted. There were several other men from Raymond who also served our country during the Vietnam era, but were not sent directly to the battle zone. My brother, Joe, was one of those men.

I have somewhat vague memories of 1970 when both my brothers were serving in the U.S. Army. Bob was sent to Vietnam, and Joe was stationed in Germany. Even though mom and dad did their best to go on as usual, it was obviously a stressful time for our family. My dad and I still played Ring Toss every single night after supper, but I could tell he was distracted by the NBC News coverage showing images of helicopters and jungles, and protesters, and Richard Nixon. Sometimes we had to stay home to "sit by the telephone," and I'm sure mom held her breath every time the phone or the doorbell rang. She was so nervous that she lost most of her hair and eventually had to wear a wig. Our family looked forward to the white envelopes with the red, white, and blue borders that would arrive regularly from my brothers, and occasionally Joe and Bob would be mentioned in The Raymond News under the heading, "Men in the Service." To keep busy, mom and Grandma Gamlin baked homemade oatmeal raisin cookies, and shipped them overseas in half-gallon milk cartons. The boys came home when I was seven. Mom's hair grew back. Life went on.

It would be many years before I would even begin to understand and appreciate the sacrifices that were made by my brothers and by all the men and women who served during the Vietnam era. I'm sure that even today, I don't fully realize the extent of those sacrifices. I do however, make it a point to always remember (as the saying goes), freedom is not free. Thank you to all who served.