The Streets Where We Grew Up

The top photo is of Poplar Avenue about 1918. The first visible house on the right is the Squibb's, one of the first built. Next door is Anne Brown's family home. The bottom picture is of Maple at Woodlawn Avenue. The first visible house would be where the famous Wheeling musician Kim Butler grew up. The house (not visible) with the hedge next door was Goodwin's, my grandparents. How lucky we were to grow up in a neighborhood where the streets were often our playground, everyone knew each other, and crime was unknown. Our neighborhood is now on the Register of Historic Areas.

Good OLD Woodsdale

This is a postcard of Woodsdale as it appeared between 1907 and 1918. In the foreground are the trolley tracks that eventually ran thru what we now call Lovers Lane or the Pig Path. You are looking at the rear of the houses on lower Maple. Woodlawn Ave and the Trolley Station would be to the right of the fifth house. Goodwins, my grandparents, lived across from the Walkers whose house is sixth from the left.

Up on the hill, behind the houses is the Stratford Hotel. It was located just off of Edgwood Street. At the time ,it was one of the largest spas east of the Mississippi. It had 84 rooms, three sun parlors, two dining rooms, a spacious lobby, a tennis court, pool, and a billiard parlor. It had an on site power plant and a phone in each room.

One dining room seated 300 and was the site of many luncheons including one for the WVU football team. Invited guests included the Welty's, Speidels, Eckharts, Hazletts, McLures and Franzheims. Lily List, the manager and Pres. of the Corp that owned the hotel was said to be the most beautiful woman in the city.

The hotel was popular with high society and it was cheaper for them to live there in the winter than heat their houses. They brought their own furnishings, enjoyed delicious meals, drank the spa water, and best of all....enjoyed the many masked balls held there. It cost $15 a week for a suite.

On January 13th, 1918 a spark from a gasoline engine in the ice department set waste nearby on fire. The fire spread quickly, but there was little that the fire department could do as they only had one steamer to supply the hoses and the water froze as it hit the building. Ms. Meek, who taught many of us English at Triadelphia told me that she watched the fire from her bedroom and her father went to help fight the fire. No lives were lost, but the building was a total loss.

I have much more information about the hotel and the springs. If you are interested, feel free to contact me, but be prepared to write a post for this blog spot in exchange.

Oh, and by the way the correct spelling is Edgwood Street...it is a combination of the names Edgington and Wood, the families that owned the properties originally .

Linda Rogers Owen

We mourn the passing of Woodsdale Kid Linda Rogers Owen, sister of Nancy Rogers Rea and Judy Rogers Towns.

Linda Rogers Owen

Born in Wheeling, West Virginia

Departed on Nov. 22, 2011 and resided in Waynesville, NC.

Linda Rogers Owen, age 69, of Allens Creek Road, Waynesville, NC passed away on Tuesday, November 22, 2011.

A native of Wheeling, West Virginia, she had previously resided in Hollywood, Florida before moving to Haywood County in 2006. She was the daughter of the late Edward and Dorothy McColloch Rogers and was also preceded in death by her husband, Don R. Owen, who died in 1995 and a sister, Ellen Tharpe.

Linda worked as a nutritionist and was a professional artist. Linda was devoted to all God’s creatures, especially her cat, Charlie.

She is survived by her daughter, Traci Owen, of Waynesville; one son, Travis Owen and his wife, Carol, of Port St. Lucie, Florida; two sisters, Nancy Rhea and Judy Townes, both of Crystal River, Florida; one brother, Bob Rogers of Plantation, Florida; and two grandchildren, Kyle and Kady.

Memorials may be made to SARGE’S Animal Rescue, P.O. Box 854, Waynesville, NC 28786.

A Quinn Thanksgiving

Gathered around the dining room table, my family would sit down to eat. Usually, the turkey had been won at the Oglebay turkey shoot held at the old carriage barn. One did not shoot turkeys, but targets and the winner would get a turkey. Luckily, my sister Melissa was a good shot and we were able to take home the bird, but one year the prize was a radio....how does one cook a radio?

Because there were nine children, the three or four youngest sat at the "kids" table while the rest of us crowded around the main table. There was always a glass (Fostoria or Hazel Atlas?) turkey that was used in the center piece and of course, all of our school-made decorations lined the mantle. This is the same mantle shown in the movie "Doughboy" as the mother is shown doing situp.

I don't remember any ritual of saying what we were thankful for, but I do remember reading Thanksgiving poems at the table.

In later years, after we "bought the farm" (literally) in Ritchie County, we would go to the farm for the holiday. This was a tree farm of several hundred acres with no animals (except in summer when we might have a horse, some chickens, or a lamb). My dad, brothers and various boyfriends or neighbors were invited to go along to hunt. Game was thick on the farm and you could almost close your eyes and pull the trigger and something would fall. We never failed to get deer and my dad used the hides to have gun cases, vests, etc made. Our freezer abounded with venison....to this day, I can't stand the taste of it. When I lived in New Zealand, I was amazed to find that they farmed deer and knew how to make venison edible!

Huge heaters in each room and free natural gas from the wells on the farm kept us very warm after a snowy hunt. I vaguely remember going bow hunting with my dad...tracking them in the snow. But when it came to killing them, I just couldn't bear the thought of killing something so beautiful and was more than a little hesitant...now crows or snakes....yes, no need to share the planet with them, but Bambi?

Well, so much for my memories....how about you? How did your family celebrate?

The Path

Submitted by Patty Ciripompa

(Dedicated to Patti Berry Robinson, who introduced the path to me…)

Mostly, I remember the path in autumn. The season I used it most on my daily treks to Woodsdale, fall brought every bit of its splendor to this little plot of woods. A mystery to me, the beaten path covered in glorious color and sprinkled with sunlight smelled of hope and anticipation. I often wondered how it got there, about those who had walked through its beautiful woods before me, and why it was formed. A welcome change from the broken sidewalks and steep inclines of East Wheeling, the path felt like home the first time I crossed the tiny bridge over the brook on Elm Street. Though I loved, and shall always love, the neighborhood of my earlier years, the path somehow fit who I, at the age of 14, was becoming.

Having moved to America Avenue from East Wheeling in the summer prior to 9th grade, I was introduced to the path by a friend who lived on Elm Street and had known about it forever. Most who walked the path likely remember it as a shortcut. To Colonel’s for a vanilla coke at the counter, to the glorious plot of green field where we played touch (and sometimes tackle) football on Saturdays in the fall, to home through the snow in winter.

The stuff of poems crafted later from tucked-away memories, the scent of wet autumn leaves, or a glimpse of sun-dappled trees always bring me back to the path. It can’t have been a long path – the geography of the area between Elm Street and Heiskell Avenue dictates the brevity of it. Nevertheless, it was long enough for me.

Long enough to afford time alone in contemplation, or with a close friend sharing secrets and laughs. Long enough to give free rein to our imaginings of what we would someday become or accomplish in life, or do next to entertain ourselves on hot summer days stretching endlessly before us.

Though it wasn’t narrow by any means – two or three of us could walk side by side – the path left no room for fear. When I go there in my memory, I am always guided by light shimmering down through the tall trees, although each and every day, by the laws of nature, could not have been sunny. Yet there it is – the light. From its beginning at the bridge over the brook on Elm, to its ending off Heiskell, the path held no darkness.

Thank goodness those of us who walked it were not privy to all that awaited us on different paths in times to come. Had we known, had we been told the details of future joys and losses, how different the path may have become for us. For me, the path was a beginning. Always walking to, not away from, things to come, following beams of light that bounced joyfully ahead, like promises just beyond my grasp.

I wonder now if the path is still there, and if its light would still warm me if I walked it now. Sometimes, to find my way again, I need to go back there. To retrace those steps again and again – not to remember who I was, but to recognize who I am.

The Great Waldo Visits Wheeling

Submitted by David Bartens

The Great Waldo Visits Wheeling was the headline that ran in the Wheeling newspaper during the summer of early 1960's. Actually it ran every day for about a week and counted down the day until Waldo's arrival.


Waldo toured the country in the summertime, jumping off very high bridges into the rivers and bays below. I believe that Waldo's visit to Wheeling was part of our 4th of July celebration that year. It might have been during Wheeling’s Bi-Centennial or some other local "big deal" celebration. Waldo's famous jump was to be from Wheeling's Suspension Bridge.

Let me set the scene for Waldo's arrival. Wheeling at that time was a vibrant city and a fun place to go and be seen. We were an isolated community in those days. It took the interstate later in the 60's to eventually bring us in touch with the rest of the country. At this time the Fort Henry Bridge had only recently been constructed. I-70 and the Wheeling Tunnel projects were still in the planning stages. Out of state traffic was still very light around Wheeling. The old neighborhoods of East Wheeling, McColloch Street and Goosetown and all of 16th Street were still intact and full of working class families.

The Wharf was nothing like the beautiful waterside park that it is today, but it was the focal point of summertime festivities in Wheeling. There was no park and the view of the river was largely obstructed by that ugly old Wharf Parking Garage that was located on Water Street. I believe that the river at that time was accessible via a concrete boat launch. At any rate, the river area was accessible from Water Street and both bridges were clearly visible.

So here we are....thousands of people downtown and standing along the river bank for the arrival of the Great Waldo and his jump from the Suspension Bridge into the Ohio River. As I said before the Wheeling newspaper had hyped the event and this was to be the highlight of the afternoon's festivities. We knew he had arrived because of all the car traffic crossing the Suspension Bridge had been restricted and Waldo had an escort of police vehicles with their lights flashing in all their glory. There were also all those news vehicles with all their camera men reporting the great event. Wheeling dignitaries were also on hand, all walking with Waldo from the Wheeling side of the bridge to the center. The Great Waldo was easy to recognize from the Wharf area. He was wearing a very loud orange full body bathing suit. The tension in the crowd along the river was reaching a crescendo when the scheduled time for Waldo's jump started growing near. About 2 minutes before Waldo's jump, three teenagers dressed in cut-off blue jeans and white t-shirts left the Yacht Club, located on the Wheeling Island side of the Suspension Bridge and started walking across the bridge from the Wheeling Island side. When they got to within 25 or 30 feet of Waldo and his entourage, the three boys unceremoniously got up on the bridge rail and one by one dove off the bridge one at a time. The first two jumped feet first but the third boy did a beautiful Johnny Weissmuller swan dive into the river. Everyone along the river stood up and were yelling and clapping for the daring feat of those Wheeling Island boys. I don't even recall if the Great Waldo jumped that day, if he did it would have been anticlimactic. That was the last we ever heard of the Great Waldo.

Camping with Dad.

My dad was the ultimate outdoors man. He even met my mother at Boy Scout Camp (she was visiting her brother). So as soon as we could walk, he would take us camping.
Now, my mother's idea of "roughing it" was black and white tv, so she just didn't get what the big attraction was. All she knew is that she had fewer kids to look after around the house when these trips took place.
My dad was a salesman and traveled all the time so really, the only way he could spend time with us was to take us with him. Since every one of us suffered from carsickness, this was a real trial, but he loved it.
We started with a "pup tent" ...vintage WWII small tents that buttoned down the ends and had no floor. I remember my dad making an insulated "frig" to take with us as there was no such thing as a "cooler" in those days. We hit just about every state park in Ohio, Maryland, PA, and West Virginia. We would spend the whole summer this way going from park to park and only came back when we needed to wash clothes. My dad taught us the name of every wildflower, bird, fern, and where to find fossils. He was really into history so each trip always included side trips to such sites. We were expected to LEARN something, and yes, there was always a quiz later.
Next we graduated to a waterproofed parachute which had to be suspended from a very tall tree. Seems we picked up quite a few cots at the army/navy store as well. We often camped out at Senior Nature Camp at Terra Alta and got to meet experts and celebrities (professors, mostly from WVU). From there we would go to Dolly Sods, Seneca Rocks or other cool places for nature study.
Next, my dad began selling those fold-up camping trailers with the slide-out beds so we acquired one of those. By this time he was selling about four different things...figured if you didn't buy one thing, you might want another. This trailer was so popular that even when stored in the garage, we took turns sleeping in it.
Having four teenage daughters in short shorts demonstrating how easy it was to put up and take down, meant we often spent weekends at a local gas station doing just that...increased sales no end.
I have so many stories to tell about those camping trips! But I'll save them for another post.