BIO: Thomas Durbin Hughes, Tillard Pen Pictures, 1911, Blair County, PA

Contributed April 2003 for use in the USGenWeb Archives 
by Judy Banja <jbanja@comcast.net>

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
                                  
                                   DURB. HUGHES
                               Acute Discriminator

      His Grocery Once Headquarters for Bunch Who Discussed Everything
                from Nebular Hypothesis to Length of Pig Tails

0NE evening a generation ago the usual gang sat discussing matters of moment 
in the mercantile emporium of Thomas Durbin Hughes, Esq., on Sixth Avenue. 
The place, however, was commonly referred to as "Durb" Hughes' Grocery, and 
had that admirable mixture of marvelous qualities, (the most of them unknown 
and never suspected by himself) heard himself addressed by any other title 
more dignified than "Dumb," he would have suspected that he was being guyed.
  There was plenty of dignity in the bunch that adorned his counters, boxes 
and barrel heads in the evening. They took themselves seriously. After 
turning out an honest day's work in the railroad shops they met to legislate 
for the universe and settle off hand any question that happened to be 
perplexing the professional adjuster of difficulties, whether political, 
social, scientific or general. Any subject from the nebular hypothesis to the 
length of pig tails in China was fearlessly taken up and satisfactorily 
disposed of.
  It was seldom that "Durb" participated in a formal way. He was too busy 
selling groceries and seeing to it that the real customer was able to steer 
his or her perilous way through the loudly declaiming, wildly gesticulating, 
and erratic spitting of the assembled parliament of man. But he was never the 
least disturbed by their antics. He knew very well that, after all, they were 
not a bad lot. If their tongues were sometimes too busy, there were blisters 
and callous spots a-plenty on their hands. They did other things than talk. 
They were building cars and locomotives as a regular business and sometimes 
they passed the hat and built a church.
  However oblivious the proprietor may have been to their other performances 
he always noticed things at two stages of the game. When the oratory became 
too perfervid, he would pause long enough to ejaculate:
  "Hey there, Musser, steady down a little; don't blow the gas out, the 
pressure ain't strong tonight."
  The other occasion when he sat up and took notice was when the collection 
was being taken up. He said that he had been early taught that that was the 
most essential feature of a methodist meeting.
  And ever since that time about every movement of an altruistic or social 
nature that is promoted in his neighborhood elects him treasurer and expects 
him to finance the scheme and he never falls down.  If responses come too 
slowly he always knows what to do.  He puts up himself.  
  Because it was not his habit to take part in the abstract discussions of 
his grocery congress it is not to be supposed that he did not entertain 
clear-cut and well defined opinions on any matter of human interest.  And he 
usually gave expression to them with terseness and vigor, mixed with 
scintillating wit that was illuminating.
  One evening questions of caste and lines of social demarcation were under 
discussion.  The relations of patrician and plebian, of Baron and serf, or 
aristocrat and proletariat were being defined by one of the learned 
assemblage.  This gentleman was laboriously getting himself entangled in the 
brush of verbosity when "Durb" cut in with a luminous declaration.
  "Oh! Shucks, that's easy.  It is simply the difference between apple butter 
and molasses.  I learned that when I was a kid.  When I went to school at 
Pennsylvania Furnace, it was war time and wheat was three dollars a bushel.  
This made aristocrats of the farmer boys.  They had apple butter on their 
'pieces' at recess.  I belonged to the furnace gang and had my buckwheat 
cakes soaked with black strap molasses.  There was never any difficulty in 
telling 'who was who' there.  All you had to do was to look over the line of 
grub laid on the log while we were playing town ball."
  This acute discrimination, ability to size the situation and harmonize 
antagonistic factions afterward made him sheriff of Blair County with a large 
political majority against him.
  Though not so earnestly engrossed in the retailing of groceries as he once 
was, he still goes about with the old debonair air and easy swing that opens 
his path through all sorts and conditions of men, nothing affected, simply 
himself and none of his friends would wish him any other than he is.

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