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Remembrance of Sand Brook

(Attributed to Clint Wilson, probably from a newspaper column in the Beacon circa 1970's)

At the annual Sergeantsville Volunteer Fire Company banquet. I had a long conversation with Elmer Yard reminiscing about Sand Brook where he has lived all of his life and where I once lived for four years. Elmer had played with me in two different orchestras, and his four children were in the Sergeantsville orchestra that I conducted. Two of his children were former pupil of mine. He and I have made many trips together deep sea fishing and he reminded me of a trout fishing outing when we both fell in.

Elmer recalled and incident of long ago that I had forgotten about dating back to my school days. During a misty, foggy noon hour at the Sand Brook School, an airplane swooped down low out of the foggy sky just above our heads and landed nearby. Seeing an airplane in those days was a great event and a topic of conversation for days. For one to land nearby was just about the most exciting thing that could happen.

When the plane landed, all the excited boys on the school ground forgot the rule of leaving without permission and rushed toward the landed plane. We ran pall mall down the road past the village store and blacksmith shop, and after rounding a bend, we saw people gathering around an airplane near the peach orchard and barn of John Burmester.

The plane had landed because it was lost in the poor visibility. It was a single engine mail plane with a pilot out in the open far fetched from the modern craft. Aviation was then in its infancy and flying was hazardous especially in bad weather.

Very shortly the plane was surrounded by most of the people in the neighborhood. Us boys from school forgot all about the end of the noon hour. When the pilot decided to wait for better weather after finding out his whereabouts, we all tagged after him. A crowd gathered out of the drizzle in the huge Burmester barn where the pilot decided to wait. Boxing gloves appeared from somewhere, and the crowd was entertained by several of the kids giving fist cuffs a first try. Several of us boys late in the afternoon realized we belonged in school so we decided to return in a group. Mrs. Perigo, our teacher, let us off after a warning that such a thing must never happen again.

In connection with the airplane incident, Elmer told me of an occurrence that I did not see that happened after I returned to school. He was reminded of this by my previous story of Simeon Switt, my trapping partner. Simeon who had not made out too well boxing didn't return to school with the rest of the boys. As he was taking the long walk home across the field where the plane was, the pilot decided the weather had cleared up enough for him to take off. The plane took off in the direction Simeon was walking and he started to run. As the plane neared him and swooped up over his head, he fell flat thinking his day had come.

Elmer Yard also reminded me of a Strawberry Festival the school P.T.A. held on the Sand Brook church grounds to raise money for a piano for the school. During the strawberry season, a strawberry festival was a common event in those days in many villages, with strawberries the main attraction being served in many ways especially with cake and ice cream. Joseph Johnson, brother of the village storekeeper, had a large patch of strawberries and produced the berries for the occasion.

Beside the food, the usual festival was simply a social visit of neighbors. An eccentric local fellow who pictured himself a great singer who really couldn't carry a tune volunteered to sing for this occasion much to the amusement of everyone. Elmer said that a number of young men from Locktown were present including Tony Olenick and the Godell boys. The eccentric fellow nicely got started to sing when the Locktown boys pelted him with strawberries. He angrily quit singing and after much coaxing, he tried again and was pelted again. Elmer's father, John Yard, had worn a costly, new Sunday straw hat to the festival and one of the strawberries hit his hat making a red stain the hat forever bore.

Reminiscing about the early days in Sand Brook of skating, sledding, swimming, fishing, music, etc. one realize that long ago before radio and TV, one had genuine good times.

End of Article

(Attributed to Clint Wilson, probably from a newspaper column in the Beacon circa 1970's)