I found this old photo of the American Red Cross on parade, circa 1918, when I clicked on the link to GreeneConnections.com that Candice Buchanan sent me during her workday at the Library of Congress. I was searching for a photograph to highlight the work she and Glenn Toothman have been doing since 2001 to preserve local family history and events and, more important, make them accessible online.
An old family photo from the World War I era would be a good segue into the research they have done on the 18 soldiers from Greene County who died in battle in Ceirges, France on July 28-29 1918. Their book The Rain Day Boys brings that past into sharp focus. It would be a week or more before the families who were celebrating Rain Day back home would learn of their tragic loss. It would be decades before the living memories would begin to fade. Thanks to the time and research that Buchanan and Toothman put into the book and the World War I Memorial in Greene County Veterans Park on Rolling Meadows Road, the 58 county fathers and sons who died in the “war to end all wars” are not forgotten. Bring your smart phone and link to their lives that can be seen through the Memory Medallions Toothman has embedded in each marker.
When I texted Candice to ask if she had a favorite photo to share, nothing came to mind. Instead, she sent me the link to Greene Connections and invited me to try my own hand at historical sleuthing.
This archive doesn’t need a password and is free for public viewing. Plus, they invite the public to add their family histories to the mix. (If you go online, you can read all about it like I did. Watch out! One click leads to another and…history can be addicting!)
With my first click into the A category, I saw American Red Cross and clicked again.
Pure serendipity!—this snapshot dated c. 1918 is the perfect introduction to the era of the Rain Day Boys. The view is certainly recognizable today. “The brick house in the background was the home of Eleazer Luse Denny.”
This photo is part of the Hoskinson Series, which was originally owned by Nella Sophia (Hoskinson) Baily (1893–1975). She was the wife of Ralford Baily-Purman, daughter of Robert Luther Hoskinson and Margaret Rozella Smith.
The young woman, slightly out of focus on the left, is Nella; the other, more stoic woman remains unidentified.
The details in this “candid” old snapshot tease me with unanswered questions.
Their headscarves are classic Red Cross, white and flowing. Their outfits are modeled after the countless posters made during the war that entreated women to join the cause. There’s no sign that the women are actual Red Cross volunteers, nor is there any way to know if this parade was (remember the circa) from the year before, when the soldiers marched off to do a six-month training in trench warfare before being sent overseas the next May or was it afterwards, as the community mourned them in the next Veterans Day Parade. The sweaters they wear suggest November weather, but….who knows?
I look at the big wheel mounted in front of the poster. What was the meaning of this? I squint at the poster with the wagon wheel shadow cutting through what might be a face. Man or woman? Uncle Sam? Hard to tell.
But something in the rest of the description below catches my eye.
“Nella passed the items to her daughter, Peggy Louise Baily, who later gave them to her friend, Karan Maset. Karen donated the items to Glenn Toothman and Candice Lynn Buchanan for the Greene Connections.”
Karen Maset is a friend of mine! Suddenly, I find myself on the trail of living history. What will Karen have to say about the friend who left her these family photos, a last living link to the life and times of the early 20th century?
Karen certainly remembers meeting the never-married “short, older lady” Peggy Baily at Audrey Huffman’s Corner Shoppe on High Street. It was sometime in the 1980s and they became instant pals. “She had white hair, and she wore it bobbed. We went everywhere together. [Husband] Dave used to say ‘If you two would slow down, I’d put new tires on the car!’“ Peggy’s father Ralford lived in Greene County and was involved in the Armory when it was in Waynesburg. When her parents got divorced, Peggy moved with her mom to Atlantic City and was back and forth between these two worlds for years. “She told so many stories!” Her family had money but lost it. “She knew some incredible people!” like James Mitchner and Chicken Testa the gangster. “She said Chicken was a nice man!” (I looked him up. It’s iffy!) Peggy taught Karen how to drink a martini and “she wouldn’t take any guff from anyone. We’d go into stores in different aisles and she’d run into me with her shopping cart and we’d start yelling at each other, then go sit in the car and laugh and laugh!”
Karen helped Peggy navigate life as she got even older, living on the South Side on the second floor and, finally, in the county nursing home where Karen kept her company. Even there, Peggy took no guff. “She had a red cigarette holder that was like 18 inches long. It was a snake, and it had red eyes. The cigarette fit in its mouth. She told her doctor she wanted one beer a day. I forget his name, but he wrote a prescription so she could have it.” The last details are hazy. “She died, oh, 15, 20 years ago and I still miss her. She’s buried in Rosemont Cemetery.”
I have no luck finding Peggy’s death certificate or obituary online, so I guess Karen’s cheerful, personal memories will have to do for now. (But now I’m curious!) I take one last look at the photo and now I’m wondering who took the picture? I look again at Nella and now I see a smiling, stylish woman of 25 riding in a parade and getting her picture taken, a snapshot that her feisty daughter kept all her life and gave to another feisty friend for posterity. Nella—a post Edwardian woman who dared become a divorcee and move to Atlantic City with her daughter. She’s a little out of focus, but I think I recognize that smile.