04-16-2020 Tri-City Area History Page

Learning the steps, Butch Clabaugh attempting to teach Pugs the proper steps. Did you know Butch Clabaugh? What was your pet’s name? Have you danced with your pet? If you have any information on this photo or a story to share, please contact North Berrien Historical Museum at 269-468-3330, info@northberrienhistory.org, or facebook.com/ NorthBerrienHistory/. The museum is closed until further notice. From the photo collection at the North Berrien Historical Museum 300 Coloma Avenue, Coloma

The Paw Paw River Journal



The last time I saw Theodore S. Scott, Ted or Scotty, was in the summer of 1942. We had both just been graduated from Hartford High School, and the draft board was surely to get us before very long. Our country was at war, and not exactly winning at that time. Gas rationing in effect, with every car displaying a letter on the lower right windshield… A for just the regular allotment, B for extra gas necessary to carry on a business, and C… I have no idea, except that it probably meant unlimited gas for who knows what reason. There was also a nationwide 35 mph speed limit. I can remember driving my dad’s car to deliver floral orders… he had a B sticker. I owned a little ’36 Ford coupe with nothing but an A stamp on the windshield. A lot of petroleum products went toward the war effort, but the real problem was getting tires. Rubber came from plantations in the South Pacific, and synthetic rubber was not yet available in large quantities. If people didn’t drive much, they would not wear out tires. If they drove slower, they would conserve tires also. Ted Scott came from a well-known Hartford family. His dad, Dr. Henry Scott, had a chiropractic office in their home on South Center Street. I remember going there with Ted as a kid. He had a bedroom in the back part of the house, which was quite a large old structure. They had a hot water system for heat, and in Ted’s room the temperature did not get up to a comfortable point. Having a scientific turn of mind, Ted rearranged the heating so hot water passed through a radiator mounted on the wall. Behind that radiator, a fan was connected to the clock with little metal plates a couple of places around the dial. When the minute hand brushed across the metal plates, it made a connection and turned on his fan. Thus, a couple of times an hour the fan came on and blew heat out into the room… it worked quite well. Doc Scott had been a fixture in Hartford for a long time. On the school playground, sometimes kids would gang up on one of their number, take him down and rub vigorously the back of his head. It was called a “Dutch rub.” That was also known as a “Doc Scott Treatment!” I believe it was Ted’s electrical interests that got us into trouble one time in the sixth grade. The fifth- and sixth-grade rooms were connected by a sort of work/supply room. Sometimes kids went in there to eat mint-flavored library paste. It was also used for working on various projects. One time several of us were in there conducting electrical experiments with a Ford coil and a magneto. Cranking the handle boosted the current to the point we could get a fat blue spark to jump across a gap in two wires. Someone, alas, then got the idea of hooking the whole contraption to the doorknob into our sixth-grade room. We did. And then we waited for an unsuspecting victim to grab the door knob… waited… waited… then we heard footsteps approaching. “Crank away,” someone said… and one of our group did. There was a scream, and we could hear heels stamping up and down. The door flew open… there stood our teacher, Miss Zielke, whom we dearly loved, with a horrified look on her face! I will, mercifully, draw the curtain over the rest of that unfortunate incident. The end result was, “NO MORE EXPERIMENTS IN THE WORK ROOM!” Ted was an odd-job man for