No. 106 August, 2009
Another of Max's sidelines was that he owned a junk yard of old farm equipment, located further west on Ramsdell Street in an open field, on the south side of the road. I believe it was about where the Medical Clinic is located now. I remember going there with my Dad when he needed a piece of iron or a part to fix something on the farm. It worked on the honor system, so Dad would find and remove the piece he needed and take it to the store and Max would quote a price. It worked out very well.
Max also ran some kind of a truck route business out in the countryside when my Uncle worked for him, but I don't remember the purpose of the business, except to make a buck..
The bottom line of course, was that Max worked very hard to raise his family and educate his kids, and all of his sons finished college as Doctors or Lawyers. This was back in the days when higher education was not considered as important as it is today, and most folks in a farming community couldn't
even dream of making enough money to send their kids to college. What a guy.
Once a week, every Saturday afternoon and evening if I remember correctly, a "Market Day" was held in Marion. The market place, (as my 80 year old memory remembers,) was held on a then vacant lot, kitty corner across the intersection from Dapin General store, right where the Marion Hardware Store used to be. It was a weekly local social event when the farmers could come into town for their weekly shopping and it gave them a chance to visit and have a shot and a beer with old friends from the other side of town.
Us farm kids enjoyed the visits to town but we were always kinda in awe of the city kids cause we thought of them as much more worldly and smarter than us shy farm boys.
In addition to the regular churches in town, Marion had a self appointed minister by the name of "Kenitz" (if I remember right,) and one of the Market Day events was a fire and brimstone sermon from Mr. Kenitz from a soap box on one corner of the Market Place. I don't know how many souls he saved, but he certainly gave it his best try, and he could certainly thump a bible. The only way NOT to hear his sermons was to leave, Ole Kenitz was determined to save all the people in his part of the world from the fires of hell, and nobody confronted him, that I know of, and asked him to save his breath.
And then there was Frank Springer's Tavern, on the South West corner of the intersection, opposite Dapin's store and the Market Place. The tavern was there for many years, and my memories are of sometimes getting an ice cream cone when I came into town with Dad and he stopped at the tavern for a shot and a beer. The cones were five cents for a single dip and ten cents for a double. Times were tough, and us kids usually got the nickel size, if any.
Springer's tavern had two rooms, the Bar room where all the men hung out with their male friends, and a back room with booths where a man could bring his wife and family for a snack and a drink. The bar room got a heck of a lot more business than the back room
Springers tavern also displayed for a while, the two taxidermist mounted bucks with locked horns that Manfred Krueger bagged on a deer hunt. The mounted deer were a great curiosity and people came from far and wide to look at them, and of course have a little liquid refreshment while they were there. I wonder whatever happened to the unusual trophy bucks and where they are today.
After I wrote the story above, I tried to check my facts by looking through that great book, "The History of Marion, Part 1". It appears that Part 1 covers the history of Marion up to 1930. My written memories above, I believe, occurred in the early to middle 1930's, about 75 years ago when I was about 5 or 6, so if my facts and figures are a little shaky, you will hopefully understand.
If anyone feels that I need to be corrected, I have no problem with that. I would love to hear from you by a letter to me, or even better yet, write to Dan at the Marion Advertiser. Or call me, and I will write up our discussion for the paper. A lot of ole Marion folks would be interested to hear it.
I hope some of the other old Geezers like me out there have enjoyed this little walk down Memory Lane. Just remember the Old Geezer Battle-cry----- "STAY VERTICAL"
Best Regards to All,
Harold Ratzburg
copyright 2009, Harold Ratzburg
Early Marion
By Harold Ratzburg
I have been told by my loyal and devoted readers, (all BOTH of them) that they sometimes actually enjoy reading about this old geezer's memories of when I was a kid way back when. In this particular story, I am gonna go way back about as far as I can remember what I think I remember that far back.
One of the first things that comes to mind was the old general store, on Lot 8, located at the SE corner of Ramsdell and Waupaca Streets and run by Max Dapin. It was one of the first stops when my folks came to town and I looked forward to stopping there because that store held the most candy in town right out there on the store counter.
Max Dapin was an entrepreneur, who dabbled in anything that would turn a buck. His store was where my parents would bring in a crate of eggs from our laying chickens on the farm and Max would count them out and give my Mother credit for them so that she could buy the things she needed.from the store. It almost always included a small 5 or 10 cent bag of candy for us kids from the glass containers on the counter. She would take the bag home and carefully hide it behind the cups or somewhere else in the pantry and it took us kids no more than 30 seconds to find it and liberate a piece or two.
Max also dabbled in the fur trade. It was back in the days when running a trap line for muskrats and other animals would bring in a little extra change for the farm boys. Skunks were also rather smelly fair game in the trade as I recall. Max paid pretty much a price determined by the size and condition of the skin and after buying it, he would put it in a shed behind the store until a fur dealer came by and bought him out.
A uncle of mine who worked for Max for a time, used to tell us the story of how some times a local trapper would come in and sell a fur to Max and then, at night, would sneak into the shed behind the store and steal back the fur and sell it back to Max a day or so later and Max never caught on. It sounded kinda funny at the time the way my uncle told the story, but I don't think I would feel it was that funny if I heard the story nowadays. It certainly was not fair to Max and it was sure enough breaking and entering burglary.