Monday, December 31, 2007

What the Red Brick Said


Here is a story that appeared in the 1919 WHS yearbook. It was written by Class of 1919 member Isabel Smith. Miss Smith aspired to be an English teacher and the picture is from that year's yearbook. The story was sent to me from Sparky Miller. I'm not sure what building Miss Smith was writing about. The old MacDonald School on 9th St. was dedicated in 1880 according to Edgar Davidson. At that time it was called Central school building and at first I thought that was what she was referring to. She may have been writing about the Brick School House which was built in 1826 at 454 Main St. by Joseph Wells. That would fit into her time reference. I just can't find any reference to a new building that was opened in 1873. Maybe some of you ville historians can help us out. Maybe Miss Smith just got confused about the right year. At any rate it's an interesting read. Sounds like Miss Smith wasn't too approving of make up! Thanks for sharing with us Sparky. Can anyone tell us more about Miss Smith?


What the Red Brick Said

In the dim grayness of a foggy morning, a group of excited school children were hurrying toward a huge, red, brick building, which, with its numerous wings projecting, stood our distinctly in the fog. Young hearts beat swiftly and eyes were bright with enthusiasm as the students hurried up the walk to the new brick building. The year 1873 would always be stamped on their hearts. They thrilled with joy as their feet climbed the stair­way to the various rooms of their grand new building.

Many, many events has the old brick witnessed. Mark you, Heedless Ones, who would lightly enter the new gray brick across the way, for this is what the old building told me in confidence, the other day.

"Once in a lifetime even a brick building is moved to speech, but that once is caused by some terrible event.
"When I was built, 46 years ago, my builders looked at me with pride—the scholars looked at me with pride—the whole city looked at me with pride. They thought, and so did I. that 1 would serve Wellsville for ages. Not so.

I am not complaining, for I have that which your new building can never have; associations. Shall I tell you some of them? I have had the pleasure of seeing- countless boys and girls cross my thresholds, and have sent them out to battle with life, Hilly equipped with experience, knowledge, and all their needed arms. I have followed them with my paternal eyes and have seen them struggling with life and have rejoiced to see them succeed—and invariably they did succeed.

"I have seen girls rosy cheeked and healthy, with hair fly­ing, come tripping gaily into my doors. Girls who were in love with nature and who would be quite shocked could they see the girls who will enter the new building, with their artificial color­ing and powder puffs which are more often in use than in con­cealment.

"I have watched the affections of my children for one an­other. I have helped straighten out boyish and girlish love af­fairs and with paternal watchfulness have seen them mature.

"It has been my privilege and my pleasure to send out the first football team from Wellsville. Year after year the team has grown in power and recognition and it is needless to say, that my old walls quivered with pride when our boys won the victories. When the students cheer and applaud the returning victors, I try to help in every way and my heart beats faster as I think of each added laurel.

My boys have distinguished themselves widely in all ath­letics, and my girls have shown their spirit and make-up and have nearly caused my old sides to burst with pride at the victories they have helped win for me.

"I have sheltered all classes of students and have cherished them all alike, rich or poor, bright or stupid. I have seen the merry pranks carried on behind some teacher's back and have wisely turned away my head and kept silent. I have seen stud­ents discouraged and have encouraged them to try again.

"But I shall never have these experiences again, for my day is past and I must bequeath these pleasures and responsibilities to the new gray brick, and I do it unselfishly, because I know that these associations, these memories, can never be taken from me. They shall always be cherished in my heart until my walls shall crumble in ruin."

"And with these words, the old building ended its confidence and remained in pensive silence, living again the events of the glorious past.
ole nib

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

Happy New Year!

Good historical read. Regarding your blog and the long lost school on 9th Street, I have been told that the old pottery that is now gone was the site of a school years ago. I was also told to look at the front of the building, facing the corner at 9th and Commerce and one could see how that area of the exterior could have resembled a school. I can only guess this was also the main entrance to the pottery, however, as the pottery was long before my time in the area I just don't know. I would suggest you inquire with "Dee" at the Carry Out. Maybe, she may be of some help.

Anonymous said...

For some reason I am reminded of the poet Eugene Field when I read Miss Smith's article. The part about it being told to the building in confidence reminds me of Field's poem, The Duel. 1919 would have seen the end of WW1 and the end of an old way of life and the beginning of a new generation that brought in the roaring 20's. Women would smoke in public and "wear make-up". Maybe Miss Smith was consciously or unconsciously lamenting the death of Victorian times.

Anonymous said...

"It has been my privilege and my pleasure to send out the first football team from Wellsville."

If someone knows the first year Wellsville had a football team, it was apparently the same year this building was dedicated.

************* said...

No Historian - that line was the "Red Brick" talking about the first football team. Maybe Sparky can help us but I think the first football team for WHS was before the new school was dedicated.

ole nib

Anonymous said...

Sorry,I guess I should say subconsciously not unconsciously.