When I was growing up in Elmwood in the 1940s and 50s, the first week of September was a special time. I argued with my parents that the school board should call off classes so kids could spend as much time as possible on the kiddie cars or merry-go-round. Besides, who wanted to diagram more sentences or fill in more workbooks?
Peoria
Chapter Two Elmwood, Illinois — July 4, 1900 Independence Day Celebration
Since he played the clarinet in the American Band, Nelson Dean Jay, seventeen years old, took his place to the right of the conductor, sitting on a wooden folding chair beside Frank Shively, a skilled carpenter on his right, and Earl Runyon, a butcher on his left. Joking with his friends, Jay placed the music on his stand and opened his instrument case.
David H. Morton: When the Seats Were Empty
It took Dad less than five minutes to reach the physician’s waiting room which, as I recall, was so busy every seat was taken with people waiting to see the doctor even on a Sunday afternoon.
When Flipping the Switch, Thank Mr. Brown
When he was running the mill, he was also thinking about electricity. While he used kerosene lamps in his home and businesses, he was a little jealous of his friends in Peoria and Pekin and decided to build a power plant just south of town on the banks of the Kickapoo Creek, believing electricity was the wave of the future.
Celebrating the Fourth in Small Town America
At the turn of the 20th century, Americans took our country’s birthday a great deal more seriously than they do today, particularly in small towns in the Middle West. Take Elmwood, Illinois, for example, a small country town of 2,000 people, located near the middle of the state, roughly twenty miles down dirt roads to the nearest town of any size. Festivities on the 4th began early in the morning, when the sun was just coming up, and lasted until dark when space above the horizon was brightened by sky rockets just above the tree line
Remembering Merle
The kitchen lights went on at 12:45. Five or ten minutes later, Merle came out the basement door and headed for my car window. There was no shouting. There was no remark about how to improve my driving – not even how late it was. Very calmly he said, “I’ll get my tractor and pull you out.”
Stories From Small Town Illinois 