The Paw Paw River Journal

Published February 26, 1986

A bit of old Hartford history

The following article originally appeared in the Hartford Day Spring on Aug. 6, 1941. It was copied by Mr. J. F. Potts of Sedona, Arizona, on Feb. 1, 1958, and was sent to the Record, the local newspaper. Thereafter, it fell into the hand of your Paw Paw River journalist.

This reporter fervently hopes that the somewhat indelicate subject matter will offend no sensitive reader’s taste. An explanation must be attached for modern readers who have never used a “Chic Sales,” and have probably never even heard of one. This is an outhouse or outside toilet and was given the title after an American writer named (of course) Chic Sales had written a humorous book about that American fixture of early times.

FIREMEN SAVE PART OF OLD LANDMARK IN SOUTH ALLEY

But autographs of Hartford notables are lost to prosperity (posterity) in tragic blaze

“Prolonged blasts of the fire siren Monday afternoon brought Hartford firemen scurrying to give battle to the first menacing blaze of its kind in Hartford’s loop district for many a year.

“It was a downtown alarm and aboard the big, red truck Chief William N. Smith and his men sped westward along the south alley to find the seat of the blaze as well as the SEAT ABLAZE. Billows of smoke were pouring from an old-time edifice, one of the few remaining relics of pre-plumbing days.

“True to the tradition that makes the rescue of the perishing the first obligation of fire fighters, firemen broke open the closed door of the structure, only to find that there was no one to rescue. The building was untenanted, except for wasps that lay in waiting to attack the unsuspecting, and they had already been overcome by smoke.

“Streams of water played in and upon the burning structure soon brought the fire under control, but not until the roof had partly burned away and the undecorated interior blackened by smoke. Contents of the building were, except for the Sears-Roebuck catalog, completely destroyed. Even said catalog was only a partial loss inasmuch as transient guests had already consumed the catalog over to the harness pages which were well toward the back of the book.

“Much of Hartford’s antiquity was lost in the conflagration, however, names of both prominent and obscure members of successive generations of Hartford citizens who had subscribed their signatures on its historic basswood walls were all but effaced by the smudge. Some of them had never written their names boldly into any other phase of local history and they may now be forgotten.

“The structure, built of the clearest softwood from the virgin forest, was of pioneer design with the then popular crescent-shaped opening at eye level, in the door, and is said to have been the model from which the famed Chic Sales developed his popular three-holer.

“Hurried feet, i.e. Hartford feet, for over a half century had beaten a well-worn path to its door, and over the years some of the best people in town had enjoyed its welcome shelter.

“Fire Chief Smith, whose intuition in determining the origin of fire is usually uncanny, is at a loss to ascertain the cause of the blaze. He is uncertain whether some guest, who had gone there in quest of seclusive comfort, while smoking a cigarette, had dropped his butt, or whether boys playing in the alley had set fire to paper that littered the site.

“The locale of the charred building is at the rear of the Frank Ansteth beer tavern. Chancey Conklin, who occupies an apartment about the tavern, was also a fire loser. He not only lost his accommodations, but his tomato crop was destroyed. Chancey had planted rows of tomatoes in the enriched soil around the ancient edifice. The green vines gave it a pastoral setting and enhanced the economic beauty of the spot. But, firemen and fire fans who chase the fire truck trampled the tomatoes and Chancey’s garden is a wreck.

“Despite all this, Hartford’s firemen did noble work. They saved at least a semblance of one of the last of these alley landmarks that are representative of a type of architecture now rapidly passing from the American scene.”

And, dear readers, that’s the way it was in Hartford, on Aug. 6, 1941.