BIO: Billy Brennecke, Tillard Pen Pictures, 1911, Blair County, PA Contributed April 2003 for use in the USGenWeb Archives by Judy Banja Copyright 2003. All rights reserved. http://www.usgwarchives.net/copyright.htm http://www.usgwarchives.net/pa/blair/ _________________________________________ Pen Pictures of Friends and Reminiscent Sketches by J. N. Tillard Altoona, PA: William F. Gable & Co., Mirror Press, 1911 BILLY BRENNECKE, Farmer's Lad Raised on The Border of The Town, He Spent His Youth in The Country and His Manhood in The City THE boys who forty years ago hunted squirrels, snipe and other small game in the swampy woods now covered by the Eighth and Tenth Wards of the city all knew "Billy" Brennecke. He had gone to Hamilton's School and knew all the boys of the country side. The old log farm house where his father dwelt and the barn where they played "tag" were familiar spots. About all the territory below Seventh Street was out in the country, and the boys of Hamilton's School, when they were playing "deer" or "hare and hounds," had as their runway any territory between Pottsgrove's Mill, at the foot of Brush Mountain, and Brennecke's Barn. Billy went swimming at "Miller's Bridge" and the "Beech," and clambered over the overshot wheel at the old mill when he came there with a "grist." He coasted with the others on Hegarty's Hill and chewed slippery elm and gnawed birch from the trees along the stream. In short, while he spent his youth close on the borders of the town, he was none the less a farmer lad, and the writer ran from his blacksnake whip on more than one occasion when he got off the sled to resent the furious fusilade of snowballs with which he was greeted when he happened to pass the school house at recess time. With the single exception of Sam Green, he could crack the aforesaid blacksnake whip louder and a great number of times to the minute than any other lad in the neighborhood. Then he had a fashion of converting it into a lasso, with which h would reach out and grab the mischievous imp who ventured too close to the sled or wagon, on deviltry bent. Once the loop was over the offender's neck, the jig was up, and he came into the vehicle in a jiffy, there to pay the penalty of his temerity. But he was good-natured and generous, for all that and, and if his team passed when school was dismissed, every youngster who was going his way was welcome to a ride. It was a long, cold road that most of the little folks traveled to school in those days, and during the hard times of the war, when fathers and brothers were away, their clothing was usually scanty enough, and frozen feet were not infrequent. So the privilege of a ride on the passing farmer's sled was something not to be despised. Probably more boys and girls of that neighborhood will remember Mr. Brennecke because of the opportune times he came along and provided transportation for them than for any other reason, though in later years he lost none of the elements of character that made him popular when a youngster. The roughest side of him was always out, and his bite was never nearly so bad as his bark. It was once said of a man in the neighborhood that "the only friends he had were those who did not know him well," but just the reverse was true of Billy. The better people knew him, the better they liked him. Sometimes he was bluff and brusque, but he was always square and could be depended upon to do just as he promised, a better quality in the long run than faithless suavity. If he called you a liar or applied any other epithet, he meant it, but he was quick to revise his opinion and make amends if he discovered that he had been mistaken. He had in him the germ of downright honesty that would never allow him to be a hypocrite or fake friendships that he did not feel in order to obtain an advantage for himself. While these attributes of character were not specially calculated to rapidly make superficial friends, those who came to know him well enough to appreciate his sterling qualities were apt to stick to him through thick and thin, through evil as well as good report. But he did not long remain a farmer. The growing village swept over the acres that his father had tilled and they were converted into town lots, while Billy drifted into other pursuits. He never lost his liking for the society of his kind, and found a congenial occupation in hotel keeping. Here he was in his element, especially in running a farmers' hotel. He understood the wants of his guests, for the reason that he had been one of them. At the White Hall and the Farmer's he always found company that suited him, and suited the people who patronized him. He was as much of an institution as the house he run, and his popular traits always individualized the place. Being built as he was, he was bound to get into politics, and his democratic proclivities suited the political complexion of his ward. A quarter of a century ago the people of the Fifth Ward sent him to represent them in common council, and in 1896 they made a selectman of him and kept him there for eight years, and he was by no means a wall-flower while he was there. He was not the sort of a fellow who would sit in silence when any measure affecting the rights of his constituents was under discussion, and always defended what he conceived to be the right thing with vigor and earnestness. He spoke with no uncertain sound and, whether right or wrong, his fellow- legislators never had any doubt about his position. He never equivocated or evaded, but hit out from the shoulder on all occasions. He did not believe in star-chamber methods, but always wanted an open and above-board discussion, threshing out his arguments with as much vigor and noise as he flailed buckwheat on the old barn floor. Not that he was a buckwheater in legislative matters in any invidious sense. Far from it. The man who bought him for a fool always had occasion to rue his bargain. He was always after results, and he generally got them. He came home with the pork, and didn't sneak in the back way, either. Recently he was a candidate for mayor and, while he did not succeed in landing the plum, he gave the tree a mighty good shake, and he may be more successful the next time he tries his hand. He is one of the sort of good fellows who go through life looking every man in the eye and not asking many favors, and the kind of friends he cares to make will always be all wool and a yard wide, warranted not to shrink in the washing. More power to his elbow! #