Wayne County the Way it Was - Part 14
- Michelle Wood: SWCD
- May 1, 2010
- 727
A farmer from Doylestown came very near losing his team of horses late Tuesday night on Wooster avenue; but for some reason or other he turned to his right just before he crossed the Wolf creek bridge, and drove off into the trestle of the traction company. By the aid of some of the people going by, he managed to unhitch his team, and pull the wagon back onto the pavement, and get his horses out. After telling some of the bystanders what he thought of the bridge, and the city allowing a bridge that is as dangerous as that one, he started on his way home, saying he would see if he could get some damages from the city.
WAS TRULY DRUNK
Police Officer Warren at 7:30 on Monday evening arrested a “bum” who came in on the interurban car. The man was with a companion, but the second one was not badly intoxicated. The one locked up had so much that the officer half carried him to the police station, and when he put him in a cell, he straightened out and became unconscious. He was fined a dollar and costs Tuesday by Mayor Feeman. The man’s companion went to police court Tuesday morning, and stated that they had secured their drinks at Warwick.
ARE THREE FRIENDS
T. J. Benson, connected with the State Bureau of Vital Statistics, was in Wooster Wednesday morning. J. H. Newman, of the Fire Marshal’s office was also here, so was Judge Mitchell of New Philadelphia. The three men were old friends, and they had a very sociable conversation here. Mr. Benson left at noon for Shreve on business on his department.
MILES FROM IRISH
Hon. J. H. Newman, chief assistant to the State Fire Marshal, who is in Wooster on business connected with the department, is just as full of funny stories now as he was the night he spoke from the opera house stage during the campaign last fall. He was telling one of his campaign experiences. “The Central Committee sent me to a town called McCartyville. I learned that it was up in Shelby county. The name certainly sounded as if some good Irish bits of humor would go good, so I went through my library and committed some choice extracts from every Irish author I could find, ending up with Burke and some poetry. Well, I was feeling sure of doing some good work at McCartyville. But when I got off the train, there was not an Irishman in sight. Every man in the town was a German, and I was told that a fellow named Quinn who lived eight miles out in the country was the only Irishman in the community. Well, I had to change my speech, and do it quick.”