Ionia-Eaton-Barry County MI Archives News.....WOODBURY (MI) - MY HOME TOWN - 1925 By ViVerne Pierce June 1982
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THE SEBEWA RECOLLECTOR, Bulletin Of The Sebewa Association; Volume 17, June 1982, Number 6.  Submitted With Written Permission Of Grayden D. Slowins, Editor: June 1982
WOODBURY – MY HOME TOWN – 1925, By ViVerne Pierce

M-66, a paved cement road runs through Woodbury from the south to the north.  
It wasn’t always this way---just so many wagon tracks that had to be hand-
shoveled out in the winter from snow banks, head high to a tall Indian---
dragged and scraped and graded in the spring from ruts in the mud almost belly-
deep to a team of horses, and dusty as the devil in the dry summer.  Then it 
became #13, then #39 and eventually M-66.  And every time the road bed was 
changed, Ma made Dad and I rearrange her rock garden on the bank alongside the 
road.  No wonder I don’t like rock gardens even to this day.

The people in Woodbury in the 1920’s were very close to each other.  I remember 
no family feuds or quarrels.  If anybody had problems, no matter what, the 
whole town drew together and helped out.  Perhaps the one thing that accounts 
for this was the fact that practically every one who lived there either worked 
in town or not more than five miles away at the most.  The work was all hard, 
backbreaking, manual labor---no machines then.  The closeness of the town was, 
perhaps, shown best when the “Great Depression of ‘29” hit the country.  
Everyone drew together, helped each other, shared with each other---nobody lost 
his home and none went hungry.  It was with people such as these that I grew up 
among and gave me the fond memories I will share with you.

George and Bird Schelter made a living off their 10 or 12 acres at the edge of 
town.  It was their well and pump that finally made me realize there was no 
Santa Claus.  When I was six on Christmas Eve, my mother sent Dad over to 
Schelters for a pail of water.  It was dark out and I went out on our front 
porch to yell at my dad and discovered all the Christmas presents on the 
porch.  When Dad got back to the porch I said “There’s no Santa Claus, is 
there?  You and Ma got us all these presents, didn’t you?”

He quietly said, “I guess you’re right, boy, but let’s not say anything to your 
sister about it.  Let her believe as long as she will.”

Ricky Eckardt was an old maid, but a very nice one.  She disturbed me only once 
and but for a short time, when she told my mother, “One spread to a slice of 
bread”.  I was afraid Ma wasn’t going to put butter and jam together on my 
sandwiches anymore.

Jake and Lillie Miller operated a slaughterhouse, butchering cattle and hogs 
for people of that area.  I didn’t know whether I liked Jake or not, after 
watching him shoot the animals in the head with his single barrel 25-20 rifle, 
but then, Lillie made up for him with the hot cracklings she passed around and 
especially when she let me use her old setting hen to hatch out a nest of duck 
eggs I had.

John and Emma Gerlinger and their son, Carl, were next.  John moved an old 
schoolhouse onto his property and set up a wood-working shop.  With that and 
his team of horses, he made a living for his family.  Carl was my age and we 
were best of friends.  The stories about Cobby and I would fill another book.

Ernest and Olive Grant (Itha McArthur’s parents) and their son, John, lived 
next to the P. M. tracks.  How their house would shake every time the train 
went through.  One would have thought the windows would fall out and dishes in 
the cupboard would break but somehow they didn’t.  John was the reason for a 
firecracker exploding in my hand.  I lit the big cracker, turned to throw it 
and there stood Johnnie Grant.

I didn’t dare let it go, so it exploded in my hand and I let him know it was 
all his fault.  Grandma Grant lived up back of her son, Ernest, and I shall 
never forget the shock of seeing her sitting out on her little porch in a 
rocking chair and smoking a clay pipe.  She was the only woman in Woodbury at 
that time who smoked, but I liked her because she had some good fruit trees and 
grape arbors that I was welcome to eat from.

My folks, Carl and Neva Pierce, lived on the corner of now M-66 and Maple 
Street and no boy could have been more fortunate in the location of his home.  
My Grandpa and Grandma Wells (W. R. Wells & Cassie) lived beside us and my 
Grandpa and Grandma Pierce (H. O. Pierce & Katie) lived across the road.  How 
lucky could a boy be?  And because this is not a family history, I will not go 
into any detail about them, except to say, “I loved them dearly”.

Cleophus and Dora DeCamp with their son, Forrest, lived next to Grandpa 
Pierce.  He was a schoolteacher at Woodbury for many years and a very stern 
one.  Consequently not too many children idolized him, but because he insisted 
that my mother let me read his Argosy magazine, maintaining that a boy could 
round out his education reading about the cowboys, soldiers and other 
adventurers I liked, I thought him a very nice man.

Across the street again, lived Gottlieb and Mary Morlok, (Dick Morlok’s Grandpa 
& Grandma).  They were the parents of Carl Morlok, who, perhaps, brought more 
fame to Woodbury than any other one person.  He was the father of the Morlok 
quadruplets, born in Lansing, Michigan.  Bill Morlok, Dick’s father, was a man 
of few words and believed in going to the core of a problem to solve it.  Like 
the time he was suffering from a very bad corn on his little toe.  To cure it 
he placed his foot on a block of wood and with a sharp hatchet, proceeded to 
chop off the toe.

One incident I remember best, was when my Uncle Irol Wells and I were trying 
out our new bows and arrows that we had made---the bow from a thin piece of 
hickory with many pieces of store string wound together and waxed, and the 
arrows from dried cattail stalks.  The target was Gottlieb Morlok’s Rhode 
Island Red Rooster.  I know now that it wasn’t funny to see that rooster run 
around for two days with that arrow sticking out its rear end, but it seemed 
that way until our fathers caught up with us.

Pete Kussmaul’s family added the touch of sadness to Woodbury to balance out 
some of the joys.  I often wondered why Ma wouldn’t let us kids burn the leaves 
that we had raked up in our yard in the fall.  I found out that just about the 
time I was born the two Kussmaul children were playing in the leaves they were 
burning when the boy’s clothes caught fire.  The parents grabbed him and rolled 
him in carpet to extinguish the flames, but he died from the extensive burns on 
his body.  To this day I am apprehensive when I see children playing around 
burning leaves.

Reverend Lyons and his wife lived in the U. B. parsonage.  He was an impressive 
looking man to me.  He was quite tall, stood very straight, was always well-
dressed and then had this immense head of pure white hair.  He was the epitome 
of a preacher in my eyes and for many years I couldn’t understand how some men 
had become preachers when they didn’t look anything at all like our Rev. Lyons.

Abe Middaugh and family lived beside the church.  He worked for George Smith at 
Smith Bros. Belte elevator for many years.  Abe was a quiet sort of fellow, 
went about his work quietly and did it well.  “He’s my right hand man”, Mr. 
Smith often said.  But once in awhile Abe would get riled at some one or 
something and then the cuss words would roll out of him.  I often wondered if 
living that close to the church took some of the sting out of them, because he 
lived to be quite an old man.  Incidentally, Abe was Harlan Middaugh’s father.

Across the street from Middaughs was a vacant house owned by the Strimback 
family.  Although nobody lived there when I was a child, I must tell the story 
my Grandpa Wells told me about a family that rented the house from Strimbacks.  
Apparently the family obtained a small pig and kept it in the basement of the 
house.  This pig must have been the forerunner of a garbage disposal, because 
they fed it all their peelings, and table scraps from each meal.  It came time 
to butcher the hog, but they couldn’t get the 350# live hog up the stairway, so 
they were forced to butcher it in the basement.  Tale about building a boat in 
the basement!

George and Bessie Geisel and son, Kenneth, lived upstairs over the W. R. Wells 
store.  Aunt Bessie, being a daughter of W. R. Wells, clerked in the store and 
George ran the grocery wagon through the countryside.  George made many friends 
of the people on his routes.  They looked forward to his coming for many 
reasons.  He used to thread needles for several old ladies who were partially 
blind, carry messages for neighbors, and for the kids he always had “stick 
candy”.  This is probably why Grandpa used to say that with women confiding in 
him, Uncle George usually knew when a lady was “expecting” before her husband 
did.

Mr. and Mrs. Gross lived across from the store.  They were the parents of Rena 
Fender.  Mr. Gross was a shoe cobbler.  They were a very quiet family, speaking 
very broken English as I recall, and as kids, we sensed that they wanted to be 
left alone, so there is not much I remember about them.

Harlan and Olive Horn lived on the corner and her sister, Vera Gilson, lived 
with them and worked in the Horn’s store.  Their house was about the nicest in 
town.  Harlan hauled all the kids in Woodbury to school in Woodland when the 
Woodbury school was closed for eight years.  Vera Gilson, next to my mother and 
grandmothers was probably the most influential woman I knew in my childhood 
years.  She taught me to recognize and pronounce the wild bird names on the 
cards that used to come in Arm & Hammer Baking Soda.  I had my collection for 
years.  She also taught me how to play dominoes and checkers and impressed upon 
me how important good manners were for children.  I remember that she always 
seemed to find time in the store to teach me something but with her it was more 
like play.

Jake and Roxie Schelter, down the street from Horn’s store were Ethel Hynes 
folks (Ardath Wilcox’s parents).  I’ve often wondered how many yards of gravel 
he shoveled.  He was a quiet, hard-working man.  One time he had been working 
for my father and when it came payday, Dad asked “How much do I owe you, Jake?”

He responded quickly and quietly, “Six times eight is forty-eight---dollar and 
a half from last week, figure it up yourself, by God!”  Roxie was a wonderful, 
warm lady.  She always asked me in for a warm cookie and a cold glass of milk.  
Naturally I made it my business to know the time of the week she baked and 
always happened to be around then.  Come to think of it, this happened at quite 
a few places in Woodbury.

George Smith, his wife, Louise and daughter, Hilda, lived on---what else---
Smith St.  He and his brother David started Smith Bros. & Velte Elevators.  
(Larry Smith’s uncle and father).  The best way I can describe George Smith is 
with a comparison to a recent TV commercial.  You have all seen the one where 
people stop and listen when the name E. F. Hutton is mentioned.   Well sir, in 
Woodbury, when George Smith spoke, people listened, not out of awe, but with 
respect.

Mrs. Statsick, (Dorothy Smith’s mother) lived next to Smiths.  The two things I 
remember best about her place were 1)she had the only smooth section of 
sidewalk in town on which to roller skate and 2)she had an enormous horse 
chestnut tree in her front yard and that was where I got all my ammunition for 
my slingshot.  That was the only horse chestnut tree in town but the nuts wound 
up seeding the whole town.

Orley Middaugh lived on the corner of the highway and Kalamazoo Street along 
with his mother and brother, Adelburt.  Orley ran the barbership and poolroom 
and Delbert was a wood cutter.  As I remember, Delbert was always sharpening 
his axe, a double bitted one that shone like a new dime.  When he chopped a 
block of wood, you never saw three or four axe marks to one slab of wood.  I 
believe he could split a hair lengthwise with that axe.  Orley had a beagle 
dog, (Old Susie) that was a very good rabbit dog.  When hunting season rolled 
around it was our dog.  He would let Dad take the dog home and when he wasn’t 
hunting with it, the dog had a special place in our kitchen and was given all 
the attention of visiting royalty.

Next to Middaughs lived Rev. Hettler and his family in the Evangelical 
parsonage.  He was a good man and a good preacher, but he never seemed to be 
able to help Delbert Middaugh with his temper and profanity.  The Hettlers had 
a son, Forest, who in the vernacular of those days “wasn’t quite right”, and 
after seeing him chase his sister-in-law with a butcher knife, our teasing of 
him let up somewhat.

Glen and DeEtte Rairigh and family lived down the street.  Glen worked for 
years for Forrest DeCamp in the garage and also ran his own sawmill.  But I 
remember him best for taking time out of his day to show me how to throw a 
baseball, how to use a ball bat and how to play the game in general.  He is 
still alive and I always enjoy a chat with him when we happen to meet.

The Hildinger sisters, always referred to as the “Old Maids” lived next to 
Rairighs and they were always the brunt of our Halloween tricks.  We would make 
tic-tacs from a thread spool, notched on the edges with rubber bands put 
through them and a wind-up stick.  After winding one up and placing it on a 
window pane we’d let it go so it would make a terrible racket.  Those two dear 
ladies never tried to retaliate and why we were so mean to them, I don’t know, 
but I’m sorry.

Leo and Ethel Hynes and children, Glendon, Cecil and Ardath were next.  Leo 
also worked for George Smith and later for Harlan Horn before starting farming 
for himself.  Ethel could never understand why her children had colds and runny 
noses most of the winter when they were bundled up with sweaters, coats, 
stocking caps, scarves, overshoes, mittens and anything else she could get on 
them, while I was running around bareheaded, shirt open, feet wet, wet mittens 
and never had a cold.  She asked my Ma about this one day and my Ma simply 
said, “Ethel, maybe you ought to let those kids breathe a little.”

Then there was Mr. & Mrs. Winters, Ed Winters’ folks.  I don’t recall anything 
in particular about them so it will suffice to say that they were just “nice 
people”.

Ted and Nina Pachulski lived across from Winters with their son Kenmore “Bud” 
Fender.  I was eight or nine years old before I could understand why his last 
name was different from his parents.  Divorce was unheard of in Woodbury at 
that time.  Incidentally, I heard that Bud went down in a torpedoed submarine 
in World War II and his body was never recovered.

Clarence and Sarah Meyers lived on the north side at this time.  They were 
another nice couple and at their place a young boy was always welcomed into the 
kitchen for cookies and milk.  And you could play in their yard or run across 
it without feer of being “hollered at”.  Come to think of it, there wasn’t any 
place in Woodbury like that.

Luther, “Mose” Brodbeck lived on the street across from the elevator with his 
wife and children.  “Mose” was the station agent at the depot and that could be 
a whole story by itself.  Their children were Marguerite and Luther Jr. but 
being younger than I, I don’t remember too much about them.

Now---George “Baldy” Kussmaul and Martha, his wife, I could write another whole 
book about him.  Baldy worked at everything---section hand, woodcutter, 
thresher, ditch digger, farm hand, whatever there was to do, Baldy could do 
it.  To me, he was my euchre partner, jew’sharp teacher and story teller.  Just 
a person a young boy enjoyed being with because Baldy was young at heart also.

Just outside of town was Carl and Florence Eckardt.  They delivered milk in 
town in the evening.  Who remembers milk before it was pasteurized and when 
left on the porch a little too long on a cold evening would freeze and raise 
out of the bottle?  That frozen cream was like ice cream to me.  Ma accused me 
of leaving it out on the porch too long on purpose---she was right.

Dan Smith lived south of town.  We could set our clocks when Dan came to get 
his mail at noon and for the men’s gabfest every night in Grandpa Wells’ 
store.  He never missed coming to town twice a day as long as I knew him.  He 
was also, to my knowledge, the most and best read Bible student in the area.

Across the road from Dan lived Mike Hildinger.  Mike was a short roly-poly red-
faced, laughing man, who liked his cider, but was always a most generous man 
when it came time to contributing to a worthy cause.

I have left to the last Ed and Martha Winters, the main reason being that 
Martha was like a second mother to me.  Before her children, William and Helena 
were born, she would walk into Woodbury, take me as a baby into her arms and 
walk home and then bring me back at night.  This continued long after I could 
walk with her.  She showered me with so much love and affection, it was no 
wonder my day was complete when she walked into my daughter’s home two years 
ago to honor me with her presence at the celebration of my wife’s and my 40th 
wedding anniversary.  She will always be Marsie to me.

Woodbury today has changed for me.  Old buildings have been torn down while few 
have been built.  Old majestic trees have been cut down with few replanted and 
saddest of all, practically everybody mentioned in this article has passed on 
leaving nothing but memories---but they are memories I’ll never forget.

My sincerest thanks to Robert Gierman for all the time he has spent reproducing 
the articles on Woodbury and the CK&S Railroad and using them in The Sebewa 
Recollecotor for all to enjoy.  His efforts to compile and perpetuate these 
statistics and memories are deeply appreciated.  VGP                 End



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