BIO: S. M. Sellers, 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 Druggist Jeweler and Sportsman "DOC" SELLERS Was Guide, Philosopher and Friend to All His Patrons - He Healed Their Bodies, Improved Their Minds and Taught Them Sound Politics FIFTY years ago every boy in Tuckahoe Valley - at least, within a radius of three miles around Elizabeth Furnace, or "Sabbath Rest" - knew "Buzzy" Sellers. There were few men of high or low degree in that time or place who were best known by the names that had been given them at their christening, and he was no exception. A week after the nickname was applied no one knew or cared about its origin and it generally stuck. Like the cognomens applied by primeval peoples, the name was supposed to signify some characteristic of the man and did not carry with it any assumption of disrespect or irreverence. In the case of Mr. Sellers, the last thought of any boy in the valley would have been to offer anything that savored of levity or lack of veneration in his presence, or out of it, for that matter. For the storekeeper and postmaster was, in their estimation, a much bigger man than the ironmaster; for did he not immediately control all the treasures of the storehouse, besides determining who should have a letter and who should not? Of course, the kids of that day were always on the alert in their effort to get the best of the situation and the sharp-eyed old gentleman was kept buzzing pretty briskly to hold his own with the swarm of barefoot urchins who besieged the store from morning till night on real or pretended errands, ever ready to take advantage of the inattention of the storekeeper and his assistants by grabbing anything that was edible about the premises. There are still a number of gray-haired men about the city who think of those days with loving remembrance and find no other spot on earth so dear as the old charcoal furnace and its rude environment. Like father, like son, and Dr. S. M. Sellers, has been for many years known to his cronies by the familiar title of "Doc," but he acquired that legitimately by a sheepskin from his medical alma mater. "Doc" got his first "larnin" and the healthy exercise that produced his wiry frame about the old school house at Sabbath Rest; likewise he acquired the sturdy character and sound morals that still keep him a shining light in the First Baptist Church from the men who gave the postoffice its name by insisting that the fires of their furnace should be banked every Saturday night, whether it paid to do it or not. The doctrine of "business necessity" was not sufficiently strong with them to overcome the old-fashioned notion that the command, "Remember the Sabbath Day to keep it holy," could be repealed by the invention of a charcoal furnace that had to be kept running seven days in the week in order to keep the cupolo hot and avoid financial loss. While other furnaces of the time kept running, Elizabeth Furnace kept "Sabbath Rest," and the population went to church, and woe betide the lad who tried to evade his duties of that sort. While some of them went wrong in later years, there were not many who ever so far forgot the precept and example of those days as to subsequently find their way behind prison walls, or do much that discredited their upbringing. The truth is that most of them developed into fairly good citizens, and "Doc" Sellers has, through all the intervening years, comported himself as became his ancestry. After graduating as a doctor of medicine, for some years he was associated in its practice with the late Dr. Christy, on Eleventh Avenue, when Altoona was a very small place. But the majority of old citizens now living will remember him best as the druggist on the corner of Eighth Avenue and Twelfth Street. With the single possible exception of the late George Kessler, he was by far the best-known druggist of this section, and his neighbors came from far and near, not only to have prescriptions filled, but to insist that he prescribe for them without the intervention of a doctor. Besides being the best-known drug store of the East Side, his place was also a great social and political centre in those days. The town was rather heavily Democratic, and the particular bright and shining light of Republicanism in that neck o' timber was the doctor himself. He was too busy selling drugs and ministering to the physical needs of his neighbors to seek political preferment himself, but the Twelfth Street Drug Store was a constant source of political wisdom. "Doc" never underestimated the strength of his opponents and his voice was always for aggressive cautiousness. Some of his political cronies of the time will doubtless remember a sample of his wisdom in a certain story of his, while illustrating a situation, about some "cats on a back fence." It is the recollection of the writer that he never tried the hustings but once, as a candidate for council, and then he was defeated. But if you really wanted to know Mr. Sellers as he was, you had to go gunning with him. He never forgot the days of his boyhood spent on the slopes of the Brush Mountain, and when, with dog and gun, he took to the woods, he was at his best. He was a trifle quick on the trigger in more ways than one, and under the strain of business or political argument grew peppery sometimes, but in the wildwood he was all geniality unless some fool amateur spoiled sport by transgressing the rules of the woodsman's craft. The kindred spirits who have had the privilege of camping with him while in the pursuit of small game will tell you that a better or cleaner sportsman never squinted along the brown tubes of a shotgun or told a side-splitting story at the campfire. Though for some years past he has been selling jewelry instead of drugs, and the primitive conditions of his boyhood and early manhood have somewhat changed, there is no perceptible difference in "Doc." Though his hair has whitened and the finger of time has drawn seams in his rugged and kindly countenance, to his old friends he is always the same and he still finds the same joy when in pursuit of the simple sports of his boyhood. His life has never been spoiled by participation in doubtful joys and he has not traveled at the pace that kills. He will go on to the end in an equitable division of work and play, enjoying the respect and esteem of all who come within the circle of his influence. #