Ohio Turnpike Opens Tonight at Midnight – 1955

The Ohio Turnpike opened 70 years ago tonight at midnight, marking October 1, 1955 as the official day that it opened. 

As the article below from the Lorain Journal of Sept. 30, 1955 notes, "The longest stretch of highway ever opened at one time anywhere – the 219 remaining miles of the Ohio Turnpike – will begin receiving traffic at midnight tonight."

"At that moment, the linking of the entire Ohio Turnpike (241 miles) with the Pennsylvania Turnpike (360 miles) will enable motorists and truck drivers to travel between the Ohio-Indiana line and the Delaware River just north of Philadelphia over the greatest mileage (601 miles) of continuous modern toll road in the world.

"Thus will come into being the major portion of the all-turnpike route between New York and Chicago. Already another 67 miles of that route is in operation south from New York City via the New Jersey Turnpike.

"Until the Indiana Toll Road is in operation travelers can gain access to the western end of the Ohio Turnpike by way of a direct connection between the turnpike and U. S. route 20 just east of the Ohio-Indiana line."

The Portland Cement Association took out a nice ad in that same edition, congratulating the Turnpike Commission, the highway engineers, the contractors and the public officials who made it all happen, and on time too.

I think it's pretty nice to live so close to the Turnpike. I can access the Baumhart Road interchange in a little more than 10 minutes from my condo.

While I often enjoy a leisurely, scenic drive on the old federal or state highways, sometimes I just want to get somewhere quickly and with as little hassle as possible. And that means jumping on the well-maintained Ohio Turnpike.

I just wish that more of the booths were staffed. 

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The Ohio Turnpike has been the subject of several posts over the years, including this two-part reminisce (here and here) by our pal Rick Kurish.

Hamster Hijinks

Did you have a favorite pet when you were a kid?

I remember wanting a dog very badly. But Mom (who had a dog when she was growing up) said they were too much work. Plus, she was not the type to have a dog running around the house making a mess, or even out in the yard for that matter. So a dog was out of the question.

Consequently, I ended up with a hamster.

It's interesting that hamsters were first discovered in 1930, in the Syrian desert. They became popular as laboratory animals because they bred so quickly and were disease-free. 

Hamsters were first introduced into the United States in 1938. Ten years later, they made it to Lorain. Below is an article that ran in the Lorain Journal on June 30, 1948. 

As the article notes, "Animals whose bodies will be testing grounds for cancers, brain surgeries and fatal diseases are being raised in Lorain.

"Some 40 of the rat-like animals called hamsters are being bred for just that purpose in cages at 314 13th-st.

"But I. M. Eno is having his headaches with the brood. For one thing they multiply every six weeks and are in constant demand from laboratories around the world. Eno has shipped some to Maryland, others to Spokane, Washington and the labs, he says, pay $3, $4 or sometimes $6 for two or three hamsters."

With hamsters reproducing like crazy, within a few years the surplus was apparently being marketed as pets. Below is a Mary Lee Tucker column from the January 14, 1953 Lorain Journal that mentions two "cunning six-month old hamsters" that were being offered free to a good home.

Perhaps one of these hamsters was the one that won a prize at the Lakeview Park pet show that was the subject of the article below from the August 19, 1953 Lorain Journal.

Hamsters were still in the early years of being accepted as pets, as noted in the article below from June 23, 1955. 

"In recent years, hamsters have become popular. In many homes they are kept simply as pets. Others are kept for breeding purposes – but only where the owner has a ready market for them in pet shops or laboratories," noted the article.

"Many children first encounter hamsters in school, where they are often kept as class pets. A hamster is also a fascinating animal for a child to have at home. He looks like a small bear with his sleek, dense fur and deep gold color."

As the 1950s gave way to the 1960s, hamsters began to gain in popularity and become more well-known. A hamster named Humm was the subject of a Top Top Tales children's book published in 1961.

And even Mister Magoo had a pet hamster (Hamlet) in those early 1960s made-for-TV cartoons.

As with many pets whose popularity is not yet widespread, there can often be misunderstandings about them. Apparently the well-known advice columnist Ann Landers had written a column mistakenly claiming that hamster cages gave off an odor. An irate hamster (who read the column when it was part of the newspaper used to line his cage) fired off a missive to the columnist. 

It's not too surprising to me that my parents bought me a hamster in 1970, since the intriguing pet seemed to make the Journal a lot that year. Hamsters were the subject of a "Tell Me Why" column on Feb. 19, 1970.

On March 16, 1970, the "Business and Industrial Review" page featured an article about hamster breeder Chuck Russell of Chuck's Rock & Pet Shop.

And Penneys ran this huge ad for Golden Hamsters on April 30, 1970.

We ended up heading out to Chuck's Rock & Pet Shop, which was located at Beulah Beach, to buy my hamster. I named him Rufus. I can't remember if I named him that after the goofy Rufus character in the comic strip Gasoline Alley or Rufus Butterworth (played by Bob 'Gilligan' Denver) on the TV show The Good Guys.

A copy of this book (purchased at Midway Mall) helped me learn how to take care of Rufus.

And here he is with Mom, circa 1970.

I remember one time Mom was holding him and he bit her real good, drawing blood. Mom reacted accordingly and Rufus briefly became a flying hamster. He was none the worse for his tumble, however, and I was more shook up to see Mom cry while she was bleeding.

Rufus' cage was kept in the basement, since he ran in his squeaky exercise wheel all night. Strangely enough, my younger brother had a Tumble Stones Rock Polisher Kit about the same time, which was set up near Rufus' cage. (I don't know if we bought it at Chuck's Rock & Pet Shop.)

Rufus was quite the escape artist; he made a break for it a few times, pushing out the removable tray that served as his floor and squeezing out from under his cage bars. We ended up buying a bigger, escape-proof cage.

But Hamsters don't live very long (a couple years) and Rufus didn't either. I don't remember being particularly upset when he died. It was just too long ago.

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When my last cat passed away a few years ago, I decided that I wasn't going to get another one. It was just too hard to deal with their inevitable demise. Plus, there was the possibility that a young cat might eventually outlive me.

But I missed having a pet. So what did I get? You guessed it – a hamster! And I bought a copy of Enjoy Your Hamster on eBay – the same edition I had in 1970 – to 'raise' him by.

Meet Hamlet.

I bought him this summer at one of the few local family pet stores still in existence. During both my visits to the store, he was shacked up with a hamster harem of young lovelies in a paper towel tube. "He's been here forever," said one of the employees. So he's no kid.

But I'm afraid his playboy days are over. 

He's a lot different than Rufus. He hardly ever runs in his wheel. (He's done it twice.) But like Rufus, he's already tried to bite me about three times. He hates being picked up and isn't likely to ever be trained.

But he's good company and a lot of laughs so far.

State Route 76 Relocation Plans Unveiled – Sept. 1965

Sixty years ago, the state highway presented its plans for the relocation of State Route 76 (today's State Route 83) through Avon Lake, Avon and North Ridgeville. The front page above of the Sept. 1, 1965 Journal tells the story.

The 'new' Route 76 would be a limited access highway, cutting through several Avon Lake neighborhoods as it swung north in a gentle curve from State Route 2. This is interesting (to me, at least) because it shows exactly when the idea of relocating the road known today as State Route 83 was hatched. 

The idea was not met with rousing cheers in Avon Lake. A day later, the article below ran in the paper, noting the affected residents' displeasure with the plan.

As we know now, the relocation never happened. A somewhat ludicrous short, right-angled shortcut was built later to channel Route 83 traffic north from State Route 2 instead.

I don't blame Avon Lake residents for their lack of support for the relocation. I'd have felt the same way if I lived in the area that was going to have to accommodate a new highway through it. But it's too bad the relocation didn't happen, as it's a slow go north today on the narrow, congested Route 83.

Anyway, longtime blog contributor and tireless researcher Dennis Thompson wrote a great article about State Route 83 back in 2020. Click here to revisit his well-written post about this important main road.

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Seeing that front page is a sad reminder of those days when the Vietnam War was in the news daily.

Lorain's Own Mermaid at Weeki Wachee, Fl – Follow Up

Debby Circa 1961 at Florida's Treasure Island
(Photo courtesy Florida Memory)

Remember when I wrote about Debby Poore, the former Lorain County resident who in the early 1960s fulfilled her goal of becoming one of the performing mermaids at Florida's well-known Weeki Wachee roadside attraction? 

Since that post, I've wondered how long she had worked at Weeki Wachee and if she had enjoyed her experience. While I was unable to track her down and interview her, I was happy to find an article that she wrote for the P.E.O. Record Spring 2024, the newsmagazine of Philanthropic Educational Organization (P.E.O.) of which she is a proud member. Her well-written article (which I transcribed below and appears courtesy of P.E.O.) tells how she became acquainted with Weeki Wachee and how she ended up working there. It provides a fascinating inside look of what it was like to be a mermaid and perform for the public. I'm happy that Debby (now known as Debbra Kaufman) thoroughly enjoyed her experience!

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The Magic of Weeki Wachee Spring 

By Debbra Kaufman

In 1953 my family moved from Ohio to Florida; I was eight years old. We were exploring tourist attractions and went to Weeki Wachee Spring, the home of live mermaids. After watching the underwater performance, I was mesmerized by the beauty of the “underwater Grand Canyon,” as the spring is known, and the beautiful athletes that seemed so at home 16 feet below the surface. I told my family that I would “be one of those girls someday.”

The name Weeki Wachee is a Seminole word meaning “Little Spring” or “Winding River.” Of the 700 springs in Florida, Weeki Wachee is a prime example. The Spring is the surfacing point of a huge underground river. It measures 100 feet across and has been explored to the depths of 400 feet. Divers still have not found the bottom of the body of water that pumps out 170 million gallons of water at a constant temperature of 74.2 degrees, every 24 hours.

In 1946, a man named Newton Perry, who had been a frogman and swimming instructor in the U.S. Navy, conceived the idea of staying underwater and breathing through an air hose supplied with air by a compressor. The first underwater show was seen by the public on October 13, 1947, making Weeki Wachee one of the oldest natural attractions in Florida.

Debby performing at Weeki Wachee

Ten years after my first visit to the Spring, I was 18 years old and applied for a job as a mermaid. I had always loved the water; I learned to swim in Lake Erie and had taken water ballet classes. I was hired in 1963 and worked at Weeki Wachee for three wonderful years. I trained for six weeks, learning how to hose breathe and to eat bananas and drink grape soda underwater. Drinking underwater is one of the most difficult things to learn—you take a breath from your air hose and blow it all into the bottle which forces the liquid into your mouth. I drank so many grape sodas trying to complete my training—I think that is why I prefer white wine today! 

The underwater shows had lots of props, costumes and music and were choreographed by Marilyn and Jack Nagle, a professional dance team from New York City. “Alice in Waterland” and “The Wizard of Oz” were two of my favorite shows. We entered the water through an underwater tube—like a sewer pipe. It led to an underwater air lock that held two to three people. There we would wait for the show to start, listening for the music cues. There were usually five girls swimming per show, we were graded at each show and if you didn’t perform exactly as expected, you were back in the water on your free time, relearning the routine. 

To become a full-fledged mermaid, you had to complete a deep dive into the boil of the spring, 112 feet deep. When you arrived at that depth, you either put a mermaid tail on or took one off, depending on the storyline of the show. Once you had the tail on, you would pull on your air hose to signal the mermaid spotter above, she would pull your hose up and we would drift up and perform ballet. The head mermaid would time us to see how long we could hold our breath. My best time was three and a half minutes. I can remember performing the deep dive at night shows and seeing a full moon reflect off the water above me—what a magical sight it was! I still dream about it. 

Weeki Wachee is a state park now and the rules have changed. There is no tube to enter the water, no deep dive and only three shows a day instead of six. The mermaids now wear two-piece bathing suits, which was unheard of back in the day! Mermaids are not “show girls” but some of the worlds most accomplished athletes. I am honored to have been a part of this history. I have stayed in touch with the girls I lived and swam with and have attended many mermaid reunions. We affectionately refer to one another as “mersisters.” When we talk about being in the water and the taste, smell and feel of the Spring, it is with a reverence that borders on spiritual. We worked as a team to make each show we performed not only beautiful, but safe. Our lives depended on each other. We could always depend on those three little words  – “I’ve got you.” Another slogan we shared is “Once a mermaid, always a mermaid.”

Little did I know that in 2006 I would join another Sisterhood called P.E.O. and what a blessing it has been in my life! My dear friend, Dorie Rorich, invited me to join Chapter BF, Hendersonville, North Carolina, and I will be eternally grateful for that invitation. I have served in every office except recording secretary, and as president of my chapter for two years. My daughter received a P.E.O. Program for Continuing Education grant and was invited to speak at North Carolina State Convention. P.E.O. has a heartfelt way of expressing a loving concern for us all. Once a P.E.O., always a P.E.O.!

 

On Area Movie Screens – Sept. 1954: "Dragnet"

I'm a big "Dragnet" fan, so I couldn't resist posting this ad from the Lorain Journal movie page of Sept. 17, 1954. The big screen adaptation of Dragnet was the first movie based on a TV show (paving the way for countless others over the years, including 1960s big screen versions of Batman, and The Munsters.

Dragnet was a pretty big deal, as was it was one of the top-rated TV and radio shows at the time. If you're only familiar with the 1960s TV version with Officer Bill Gannon (Harry Morgan) as Sgt. Joe Friday's partner, you 're in for a big surprise. There's very little comedy or camp in the movie, and it's played pretty straight. It's practically a film noir.

It's odd seeing Jack Webb so young (and thin) and with Officer Frank Smith (Ben Alexander) as his funny, likable partner. But it's a great movie, one of the few non-Westerns in my DVD collection.

Here's the rather faded movie trailer.

And here's the rest of the movie page.

Lots of interesting movies playing back then: On the Waterfront with Marlon Brando at the Tivoli; Seven Brides for Seven Brothers at the Ohio; and Monster from the Ocean Floor at the Dreamland.

And of course there is the very timely imported epic, The Marihuana Story (1950).

What, no Bowery Boys?

Ah, at least there's Border City Rustlers at the Lorain – basically two episodes of the TV show Wild Bill Hickok (with Guy Madison and Andy Devine) strung together to make a movie. "Hey, Wild Bill! Wait for Me!"

Nickoloff Builders "Heavenly Home" Ad – Sept. 11, 1965

 

Longtime readers of this blog know that I like to post old model homes ads. They're usually interesting because they provide a snapshot of what was important to home buyers at that time in history.

As you can see in the nearly full-page ad above for the well-known Lorain-based Nickoloff Builders, in this case it's the promise of a better lifestyle that's for sale. Remember, this was still a period of postwar prosperity with a lot of veterans working, earning a good wage and with young, growing families.

"'S Wonderful," reads the headline (channeling a bit of Gershwin) to describe two "Heavenly Homes" under construction on French Creek Road, just west of Abbe Road. It's a nice, rural area, close to French Creek Reservation, one of my favorite Lorain County Metro Parks.

The 5182 house still looks great. 

However, there is no 5172 French Creek address, so it's unclear just which home is the one in the ad. It's not the homes on either side of it.

But the rural lifestyle must have been appealing, since my parents almost built on Linda Lane just to the west. I often wonder what it would have been like living out there. But my parents weren't crazy about having a septic tank, and there was some confusion as to what school system we would have been part of. So they built on Skyline Drive in Lorain instead – and I'm so glad. It was a great house, perfect for our family (and even better for my parents when they became empty nesters). We had wonderful neighbors on both sides and my siblings and I were able to walk to school. 

I still dream about our house on Skyline Drive and probably always will.

99 Years Ago Today – Sept. 22, 1926

I was going to do one of my standard "What was going on in Lorain 100 years ago today?" posts, but the Sept. 22, 1925 edition of the Lorain Journal wasn't available. But the same day in 1926 was – so we'll go with ninety-nine years instead. 

Thus above is the Wednesday, Sept. 22, 1926 issue of the Lorain Journal.

It's a good reminder that hurricanes were big news back then too. 

"With relief pouring in from other cities, southeastern Florida today was rapidly recovering from the effects of Saturday's hurricane," notes the lead article.

"Rescue workers searching ruins and wreckage left by the storm found additional bodies of dead, which brought the death list in Miami to 135.

"The known dead in the storm area today totaled 407. It was believed that by tonight practically all of the dead would be identified and the casualties definitely known."

It's interesting that Miss Harriet Root was heading to Florida to help. "Miss Harriet Root, Lorain Red Cross worker, left at midnight Tuesday for Jacksonville, Florida, where she was ordered to report for duty by National Red Cross officials in Washington," an article reported. "She will assist in the rehabilitation of the storm-swept district of Florida, working under the direction of Henry M. Baker, national director, who was in charge in Lorain after the tornado two years ago.

"The Florida hurricane will be the third major disaster in which Miss Root has served with the Red Cross. Lorain was the first."

The other night national story was the Dempsey-Tunney championship fight scheduled for Thursday morning. "Radio parties" at which to listen to the fight were to be held by various organizations, including the Elks, Masons, Knights of Columbus, Moose, Eagles and International Order of Odd Fellows. (I guess my Grandpa was going to be listening to the fight, as he was both an Elk and a Mason.)

Locally, we get stories on "the loot of the phantom burglars" (sounds like a good name for a Don Hilton crime thriller); a soft drink parlor accused of being a bootleg establishment; the conversion of Lorain High School's Scimitar into a real yearbook; a hat pin attack on a deputy sheriff lands two women in the hoosegow; and the Lorain County crop report.

Reddy for School – Sept. 1940

Before I dismiss blog class this week, let's pay a visit to our favorite electrical sprite, Reddy Kilowatt. Reddy's here with a special back-to-school message in an ad that ran in the Lorain Journal back on Sept. 4, 1940.

Reddy's concerned about children having enough light to study by, so he was offering the services of "a competent, thoroughly trained Home Lighting Advisor" to parents.

"This young woman can tell you quickly and accurately whether or not the lamps by which your children study provide sufficient light to protect their bright, young eyes," Reddy explains.

It's not particularly difficult to see that this is a clever gimmick to get an Ohio Public Service Company representative into your home to do some selling. 

But there is some value in it. I seem to recall Mom being concerned about my siblings and me hurting our eyes when reading in insufficient light. (I also remember her telling us not to sit so close to the TV set.)

As for Reddy, you can see it's a pretty early version of him. Within ten years, he had transformed into the Reddy we know and love, judging by the two ads below that ran in the Journal in September 1950.

Sept. 8, 1950

Sept. 16, 1950

One-Room Schoolhouse Clippings 1921 – 1951

As noted in yesterday's post, many of Lorain County's one-room schoolhouses (brick or stone) dated back to the 1870s. But we weren't too far into the 20th Century when the handwriting was on the wall (or blackboard, if you prefer): the days of those one-room school houses were numbered. That was a consistent theme in the newspapers that ran concurrently with Lorain County's effort to keep many of those schools open.

This selection of news clippings tell the tale. The Amherst News-Times of November 17, 1921 made an early prediction about the "little red school" becoming obsolete.

This item from the Lorain Journal of Nov. 14, 1922 agrees, noting "The little brick school house, along with other one-room institutions of learning, is gradually becoming a thing of the past in Ohio."

By 1928, some of the people that attended those one-room schools were getting up in years. This article from the March 3, 1928 Lorain Journal tells of the newly organized McGuffey Readers club and their meeting in the new Lorain Hotel.

The demise of the one-room schoolhouse was being anticipated on a national level as well, as noted in this nostalgic piece from the May 6, 1929 Lorain Journal.

Meanwhile, in Elyria a fire mysteriously struck one of the still-surviving one-room schools, as noted in the article from the Sept. 15, 1931 Lorain Journal.

My current home city of Vermilion sold two of its three one-room school houses as reported in the Lorain Journal of April 5, 1935. One was the Joppa school house; the other was the West Lake-rd schoolhouse.

The Elyria-township board of education moved to close its one-room Maplewood school as noted in this piece from the May 3, 1935 Lorain Journal. 

A small blurb in the March 14, 1936 Xenia Daily Gazette noted that an upcoming meeting in Elyria would decide the fate of many of the county's one-room schoolhouses.

And this March 21, 1936 article reports on that fight to keep many of the Lorain County one-room schoolhouses open. It provides a nice listing of which ones were still in use, including one on Gulf Road, two in Amherst Township, and several in Russia and Pittsfield Townships.

This small filler item from the July 3, 1936 Lorain Journal noted that that the "Midwest is the last stronghold of the one-room school."

This item from May 6, 1937 provides a nice snapshot of the status of little one-room schoolhouses in Ohio at that time.

Amherst Township was fighting to keep its two one-room schoolhouses (one on Middle Ridge, one on South Ridge) in this piece from the August 8, 1937 Lorain Journal.

The closing of three one-room schoolhouses in Russia Township is mentioned in this news item from the April 6, 1938 Lorain Journal.

Another filler piece (from April 25, 1938) notes the dwindling number of one-room schoolhouses in the U. S.

The one-room Murray Ridge schoolhouse got a reprieve from the state and re-opened, as noted in this article from the Sept. 3, 1938 Lorain Journal.

One-room red brick schoolhouses were rapidly becoming nostalgic fodder for advertising, as seen in the ad for Lorain Banking Company that ran in the Lorain Journal on Feb. 13, 1939.

Sadly, it was reported that Florence's one-room schoolhouse in Erie County would not be open in the fall of 1939, as reported in this article from the August 29, 1939 Lorain Journal. 

A wistful essay by Edwin C. Hill on the passing of the little red schoolhouse ran in the Lorain Journal on Feb. 29, 1940.

Avon looked back at the 17 years that has passed since its last one-room schoolhouse had closed in this article from Sept. 5, 1940.

But surprisingly, the Middle Ridge one-room schoolhouse in Amherst Township was still open – and winning an award for high attendance – in this small article from De. 9, 1940.

But the state of Ohio put its foot down on the subject of one-room schoolhouses, as noted in this article from June 3, 1948.

The two one-room stone schoolhouses in Amherst Township lasted – amazingly – until 1951. This story from the Sept. 7, 1951 Amherst News-Times explains.