Pataskala Cemetery

This summer, while visiting my family, I went to Pataskala Cemetery to find Eleanor's headstone.  The family marker stands in the southwest quadrant, halfway between the earliest graves and the most recent.  Eleanor's is the last in a line of four granite blocks memorializing--from right to left--Eleanor, her husband Brigg, her son William, and her daughter-in-law Helen.    

 

Two obituaries appeared in the Standard following her death on October 8, 1968, forty-two years ago today.  The first, a brief notice, is from 10 Oct. 1968, page 10A:

Mrs. Eleanor Youmans, 92 of East Atkinson Street, Pataskala, passed away Tuesday. She had been at the home of her son in Plain City for several weeks. She was a member of the Plain City Presbyterian Church.

Surviving are the son William C. Youmans, a grandson Richard Youmans and two great-granddaughters, Suzanne and Sharon Kay of Plain City. She was the widow of Brigg Youmans.

Services will be held at a Plain City funeral home today (Thursday) at 1 o’clock. The Rev. Charles Stenner officiating. Internment Pataskala Cemetery.

The second ran a week later, on 17 Oct. 1968, page 8A, and includes a poem she composed in 1933, for her son:

Eleanor Youmans, daughter of Dr. Charles and Missouri Harbison Williams, was born near St. Louis, Mo, Sept. 7, 1876, and died October 8, 1968.

She married Brigg M. Youmans, April 30, 1900, who died in 1927.

She was the author of twelve published books and numerous short stories and poems. Her interest lay in nature. She was a member of the Plain City Presbyterian Church for many years.

Survivors are a son, Wm. C. Youmans, Plain City, one grandson, Richard A. Youmans of Plain City, and two great-granddaughters. Burial, Pataskala Cemetery, Thursday, October 10.

The Long Tryst

Eleanor Youmans / To my son

Weep not for me –
I go where Love is waiting
When Mother Earth enfolds
me in her breast,
‘Tis but my form she takes.
My spirit, eager, restless,
Yearning to be free
Goes not to rest.
Though tired hands
And weary head lie sleeping,
Pillowed in Nature’s warm embrace,
My soul the long, long tryst
Of love is keeping.
Waiting, waiting for you.
In that far place –
Where dear ones keep the tryst with me.
Until you come –
Until you come, there shall I be.

June 24, 1933
Pataskala, Ohio

Mack Comes Marching Home

A recurring character in the Skitter Cat books is Aunt Maud, who lives just down the street from Skitter's family, next to the train tracks that divide the town in half.  Like Skitter (and the train tracks) Aunt Maud is real, based on Eleanor's friend and neighbor, Maud Mauger Mead.  Maud Mead (pictured left) was wife to Brigg's nephew Merrill Elmous Mead (the son of William Mead II who co-founded Pataskala Bank with his brother-in-law Jacob S. Youmans, and whose family home in Pataskala is now the Kauber-Sammons Funeral Home).

Maud's granddaughter, Barbara Spears, very generously gave me a few pages from an original manuscript of Eleanor's eighth novel, Little Dog Mack.  The editorial marks on the pages are definitely Eleanor's, as the handwriting matches that of letters she composed prior to the 1960s (when failing eyesight presumably lead her to write in a larger, rougher script--a sharp contrast to the tight curly-ques punctuating a typed, yet hand-corrected letter to her sister, dated 1944).  The manuscript is typed on bonded paper, now yellowed.  If you turn the pages over, her editorial pen strokes have bled through to the back and turned oily brown from eighty-years of oxidation.

According to the manuscript, Little Dog Mack was once titled Mack Comes Marching Home, and his given weight went from seventeen to fifteen pounds.  (If only weight loss were so easy in real life)!  Other changes seem mostly to pare down her wordage, sharpen their meaning, or lend to more standardized speech.

In reading over the sheets--comprised of the title page and first and fifth pages of what remains of the original 61 page manuscript--I realized that I have several photos of Mack.  The story begins with Mack's naming, no easy process for his ten-year-old owners, twins Rachel and Ralph.  Whereas Rachel wants to call him "Toodles,- 'Because he is so little and cute,'"  Ralph "chose MacGregor,- for the hero of a book he liked."  Their ensuing argument is settled by their father, who suggests "MacToodles, which satisfied Rachel but left Ralph doubtful."  In the end, the dog "grew so fast, and became so valiant, that, before a great while, the latter half of his name sounded silly," and "Ralph shortened it to Mac."

When I read Little Dog Mack last winter, I hadn't yet viewed the glass plate negatives the West Licking Historical Society owns, so this passage at the time didn't strike me.  But now having viewed the collection, I realized that the handful of dog portraits labeled "Toodles" are also pictures of Mack!

You can also see Toodles in the photo of Eleanor's home on Main Street, where he is seated on the chair in the front yard!

Don't Be Evil, Google--I Love You Too Well to Give You Up

Putting it mildly, the recent Google Book Settlement is certainly not all rainbows and butterflies for the publishing world--or for authors who want to retain control over their writing (read an excellent break-down of the settlement and its troubling repercussions here).  But, I confess the immediate payoff of having access--even in "snippet" form--to otherwise unsearchable data is remarkably useful to an individual researcher like myself.

"Don't Be Evil Google" image by Buddy Duncan, as posted on The Boston Phoenix "Phlog"

When I began graduate school, I enrolled in a required course that covered the basics of advanced library research, and of course I've picked up a trick or two along the way as a paid research assistant and scholar-in-training conducting my own thesis / dissertation driven research, so I know my way around print / online bibliographies and the like.  But there are, of course, always limitations to what gets recorded in the first place, or in figuring out the most useful search terms to find what is documented.  Like it or not, the Google Book Settlement has cleared a few more pathways as I recover the writing of Eleanor Youmans, and I can't help but feel excited about these new discoveries.

For months, I've been looking for her entry in Who's Who, unsuccessfully, though our university library has rows upon rows of shelves housing copies of several of its imprints.  And, just a month or two ago, I'd thoroughly exhausted all "Eleanor Youmans" searches (and its variants), including those within Google Books.  Now, seemingly overnight, there is a whole host of hits that never surfaced before.

Turns out, Youmans first appears in a 1937 volume of American Women: The Official Who's Who Among the Women of the Nation.  From this entry, I learned the titles of two other magazines in addition to Child Life in which she published short stories, one being Junior Home, and the other The Animals' Magazine (based in London, and which I'm fairly certain is the title of the English magazine that "copied" her early Cat Courier stories, inspiring her to pursue novel writing).  The Who's Who blurb also narrows her location during her year-long residence in California specifically to Santa Barbara.  Other "snippet" references lead to an article she wrote for The Writer in 1928, several more book reviews, quite a few mentions of her work in curriculum guides, and three more short stories anthologized in two Bobbs-Merrill readers.  

I'm taking an Electronic Texts course this semester, and about to begin a research assistantship with UNL's Center for Digital Research in the Humanities, so I'm looking forward to learning more about the moral and technical issues implicit in the Google Books Settlement--and in digital archiving in general.  Though I have a deep enthusiasm for Eleanor and her writing, enjoy creating a space where I can bring together the information I'm discovering about her, and hope to make her work more accessible to a larger audience, I'm often dubious about revealing too much on the web.  I don't want to infringe on any copyrights of book reviews or library holdings, or make public that which should be kept private.  Plus, if I've just spent hours, months, or even years talking with people in the know, applying for competitive library residencies, trekking cross-country to view elusive materials, scanning rare documents and images, do I really just want to give it up to the public realm so easily?  And yet, isn't sharing and disseminating knowledge--especially if it fosters greater enthusiasm and appreciation--the whole point?  Whatever the answer, in an ever-increasingly online world, the ease of posting otherwise hard-to-find material sometimes feels to me a bit slippery.

The Alward School

See this house?  It wasn't always a private residence.  Until 1928, it was a one-room school house!  It also just so happens to be the childhood alma mater of Eleanor Youmans, who attended the school from 1881 to 1886.

The Alward School, one of nine former sub-districts of the Harrison Township School District, was built in the triangular shaped lot formed by Beecher and York Roads and State Route 16 in Pataskala.  It began as a log building called Nichols School, which was replaced by a frame building in 1845.  Thirty-eight years later, in 1883, the frame structure was torn down, and a third, brick structure replaced it.  The new school, renamed Alward, cost $2,157 to construct.  Today, the original brick hides under contemporary white siding, several porches have been added to the exterior, and an inviting tire swing sways under massive trees.

Youmans composed a history and poem commemorating the school for a 1924 Alward School reunion, both of which appear in a the 7 May 1936 special "Golden" edition of the Pataskala Standard.  She writes:

Three schoolhouses have stood on the triangular field formed by the crossing of York Street and Old Columbus Road and another road which intersects Columbus Road and York Street from the north, three miles east of Pataskala.  Only the last building, built of brick in 1883, by a man named Stothard, supervised by Bert Alward, bore the name Alward School.

The ground on which the three schoolhouses stood belonged to the late Benjamin Nichols and his father before him, and was donated for the use of a school by them.  The first building, of logs, was named the Nichols School, and stood opposite the farmhouse now owned by Curtis Bowlby, facing south toward York Street, on the southwest point of the triangle.

The second building (also called Nichols School) was frame, built by B. F. Sutherland, sometime in the fifties (as the writer's father was born in 1845, attended there with his numerous brothers and sisters.)  It may have been the late forties.

No copy of the old registers is available, to ascertain the names of early teachers.  Mrs. George Nichols was a teacher there, Mrs. Ella Martin, Martha Clark; the last person to teach in the old frame schoolhouse was the late Fred Thomas, beloved by all who knew him.  He also taught the first term in the new brick schoolhouse, and subsequent term; he was followed by Elmer Morrow, Margaret Forsyth and Rosa Rogers, during the time the writer went to that school.  A list of all the teachers of these schools, which endured for over sixty years, would fill the column of a newspaper.  Sometimes there were two teachers in one year; for example, Martha Clark taught the summer term in the frame building, in 1882, and Fred Tomas taught the winter term.

It is a striking commentary upon the times, that, in the present day, when thousands of country schools have closed for lack of funds, we descendants of those who attended the Nichols School, and who ourselves attended the Alward School, can find no record of the district.  And yet we like to believe that we live in a more enlightened age.

Where we first went to school, three roads
Spread wide inviting arms,
Beckoning travelers onward,
Through hills, to peaceful farms,
A stream ran not too far away,
Forming a quiet pool
And skating pond, for childish play
Where we first went to school.

Bobolinks sang on the fence;
Bees hummed in jimpson weeds;
The air was filled with thistle down
And shining milk weed seeds;
Along the hedgerows, rabbits hid;
Green pawpaw bushes, cool,
Held nests of tiny feathered things,
Where we first went to school.

No other skies have been so blue;
Nor sunshine beamed so bright;
Birdsongs were always sweeter there
And clouds more billowing white.
No teachers ever were so kind--
Indeed, that child were fool,
Who could not learn contentment
Where we first went to school!

In addition to the school's history and the poem she wrote in its honor, there is also an image of the Alward School in the collection of glass negatives taken and owned by Youmans, which shows the structure's original brick facade.  Who knows, but maybe it's Eleanor herself posing on the front steps!

My thanks go out to Martha Tykodi for supplying a copy of the original article, and granting me access to the original glass plate negative!

Top Image: Photo of former Alward School building, now a private residence, July 2010
Bottom Image:  The Alward School, courtesy of West Licking Historical Society, from Eleanor Youmans Glass Plate Negative Collection

Tour of Homes

The landscape of Pataskala, Ohio, has changed quite a bit since its official establishment in 1851, and especially over the past decade, expanding from a rural village of 3,000, into a growing city of over 10,000, with a geographic range that quadrupled to its current approximate 40 square miles following a merger with Lima Township in 1996.  Every time I visit, it seems another half-dozen businesses and housing developments have popped up out of nowhere.  With this in mind, I thought I'd post some before and after photos of Eleanor Youmans' homes in Pataskala. 

Youmans was born in Maxville, Missouri, in 1876. When she was about five, she and her younger sister moved to Licking County, Ohio, to live on their grandfather's farm. The Williams homestead was located on the corner of St. Route 16 and York Street in Pataskala.  Here it is, off the "old mud pike," circa 1900:

Today, the Williams family farm has become the site of the Jefferson Ridge Condos, as pictured below:

Eleanor and her sister returned to Missouri in 1886, where she finished school and then taught for a year.  Back in Ohio in 1895, she lived with cousins in Celina, before moving to Canton.  She frequently visited her family in Pataskala during these years, and married Brigg Youmans in 1900. 

As newlyweds, Eleanor and Brigg moved into the house on the corner of Willow and Main Streets in Pataskala.  They spent their entire married life in this home, raising their son William, here.  If you look closely at the photo below, taken around 1900, you can see their dog Toodles sitting on a chair in the front lawn:

The house still stands, but the exterior has undergone a transformation, as has the street name (it was North Main when the Youmans' lived there, but it is South Main today).

William was married in the spring of 1927, and Brigg passed away that fall.  Eleanor spent a year in California, and when came back to Pataskala in 1928, she moved into the Redhead property, located on what was then North High Street, just north of the Railroad tracks, staying there until 1938. [Sorry, no before photo for this property].

After her decade in "the little five-room cottage" on High Street, she moved to a house on East Atkinson Street, which she cheekily nick-named "Grey Shingles."  According to an article by Carolyn Bentz, "the house was built by James Coons, the grandfather of Florence Coons Wilson and Aimee Coons Atkinson.  In fact, a niece was born in the house.  She was the wife of Charles and mother of Stanton and Ewing.  The house was over a hundred years old [when it was torn down]."  Pictured below circa 1945 and 1950:

Youmans resided on Atkinson until October 1968, when failing health prompted her move to the home of her son and daughter-in-law in Plain City, Ohio.  William sold the property in 1971 to the local fire department, and the house was torn down to increase the size of the fire department's parking lot:

Images from top:  Williams Farm, located on St. Rt. 16, photo courtesy of West Licking Historical Society, from Eleanor Youmans Glass Plate Negative Collection; Jefferson Ridge Condominiums on St. Rt 16, east of Pataskala; Brigg and Eleanor Youmans Home on southeast corner of Main and Willow Streets, from Eleanor Youmans Glass Plate Negative Collection, courtesy of West Licking Historical Society; House at what is now 245 South Main Street today; 291 South High Street today; East Atkinson Street house, circa 1945 courtesy of the Ohioana Library; East Atkinson Street house, circa 1950, courtesy of the Ohioana Library; Old Pataskala firehouse today, side view

Two More Short Stories!

After accidentally finding "Cinder and Inky Again" in an old issue of Child Life through a random ebay search, I had a hunch there was probably at least one other Youmans story published in the periodical.

When I attempted to locate older editions of Child Life through Interlibrary Loan, I learned just how rare this serial is.  Many facilities retain current editions, but only one library in the U.S. has copies available during the years Youmans would have been publishing.  Lucky for me, it is the Minneapolis Central branch of Hennepin County Library, a forty-minute drive from my in-laws'.  The trip was worth it, because among the dusty pages there were two more stories by Youmans: "Cinder" (1931) and "Cinder and Inky" (1932).  Unlike "Cinder and Inky Again" (1933), these two stories are taken directly from the published version of the novel Cinder (1933).

My husband wasn't exactly psyched about being dragged  into downtown Minneapolis to flip through old children's magazines by my side, but with his help, the hunt took little more than an hour, and he was the one to find both stories.  (I don't know why I'm surprised; when my contact lens fell out on our lawn earlier this year, he was the was the one to find the tiny shard of plastic embedded amongst hundreds of stems of grass long after I'd given up!)



Click on the page images to enlarge:


"Cinder." Child Life 10.6 (June 1931): 270-271. Illustrated by Ruth Eger.

"Cinder and Inky." Child Life 11.9 (Sept. 1932): 426-427. Illustrated by Ruth Eger.

Glass Plate Negatives, A Beaded Bag, and Pink Ladies

I knew I was in for a treat when I saw a small cardboard box labeled "Cat Pictures" in large, chalky script resting on the dining room table of West Licking Historical Society president Martha Tykodi.  I return to Ohio every summer, and this trip would include research on my writerly cousin, Eleanor Youmans.  Appointments were scheduled for the Billy Ireland Cartoon Library at Ohio State (more about that later); with Tykodi--a lifelong resident of Pataskala who, as a child, knew and admired Youmans and as an adult preserves her memory; and with Julie Brown--the daughter of Pataskala historian Carolyn Bentz, who also knew and wrote about Youmans.  

Next to the marked box containing seven glass plate negatives of Skitter, his brothers, and William, was a wooden antique cigar case holding several dozen more 4 x 5 emulsion coated plates, donated to the historical society by Bruce Baird, and a second, slightly larger, light gray metal case storing another sixteen 5 x 7 glass plate negatives given to the historical society by Virginia Gakle, a friend of Eleanor in her later years, whose husband purchased the negatives at her estate auction in 1968.

The images captured on the negatives are simply amazing.  To name but a few, there are snapshots of the elaborately furnished interior of the Youmans's Main Street home during their newly-wed years; candid shots of Eleanor's husband lounging on a chaise, cigar in hand and toddler son perched on his father's belly; photos of her son, William, with the mischievous Skitter cat as a kitten; poses of Youmans and her female friends dressed in their husband's suits and tuxes; and even an Art Nouveau inspired composition with a tastefully bare-bosomed Youmans cradling a bouquet of flowers.  What an absolute treasure this collection is.

Another rare item shared during this visit belongs to Julie Brown: a beaded leather drawstring pouch she inherited from her mother that was originally given to Youmans in 1902 or 1903 by her friend Dora Jones (pictured right), along with a long strand of blue beads.  A handwritten letter inside the bag, addressed to Lena Fravel--another of my Pataskala cousins on my mother's side and friend of Youmans--explains that the bag once belonged to Sitting Bull's wife, and came from Canton, Oklahoma Territory.  The bag, however, tells a different story.  Inside, someone hand wrote the following:  Mrs. Geronimo, Apache, Canton, OT., Sept. 20, 1903.  The letter Youmans wrote to explain the bag was composed in her final weeks, and contradicts what is written inside the pouch in several ways (the fact that anything is written inside at all; the name of the Native American to whom the bag supposedly belonged, and the year Youmans obtained the bag).  Whatever its true history, the bag is beautiful.  It's clear why this artifact was so dear to Youmans.   

A huge thank you goes out to Martha, Julie, and my mom for encouraging me to study Youmans and for sharing these treasures with me!


Pictured Top Left: Judy Cruikshank, Julie Brown, Jackie Cruikshank Vogt, Martha Tykodi
Middle Right Photo: Courtesy of West Licking Historical Society, from Eleanor Youmans Glass Plate Negative Collection

Artifacts Housed in Pataskala Public Library

Pataskala librarian Cathy Lantz is the resident expert on Eleanor Youmans at the local public library.  She was kind enough to allow me to photograph several artifacts donated by the author.  See pics below:

According to the card inside the frame, this large weaving is a Tapa Cloth, "made of Mulberry Bark and decorated by the natives of the Samoan Islands."  Youmans donated the cloth to the library in 1968, most likely as she was discarding many of her belongings before moving in with her son and daughter-in-law in Plain City, Ohio, where she passed away just a few weeks later at the age of 92.

The Tapa Cloth is mentioned in Skitter and Skeet, as part of the collection of "curious things brought from many parts of the world" displayed in the home of the family's well-traveled Santa Barbara cousins (26).  I'm not sure if the trip taken by Mother, Father, Little Boy, and Skitter to California detailed in Skitter and Skeet is more fact or fiction.  The book was published in 1928, following Youmans' year long residence in California, newly widowed, empty-nested, and without Skitter, so it could be a fictionalized memory (as many of the Skitter stories seem to be), but I do wonder if it might instead be a fantasy constructed on the page, created as she worked through the dramatic changes re-scaffolding her personal life.

~ ~ ~

These three framed pieces are original illustrations by the famed dog portrait artist, Will Rannells, appearing in two of the three works on which he collaborated with Youmans, including Waif: The Story of Spe (1937), The Great Adventures of Jack, Jock and Funny (1938), and Timmy: The Dog That Was Different (1941).  West Licking Historical Society president Martha Tykodi recalls attending an event hosted by the library in the late 1930s / early 1940s—when the library was still located in its original home in the Pataskala Town Hall—featuring Rannells and Youmans together.

The images are on display in the children's section of the library, where they've been housed ever since I can remember.  Labels on the backs of the frames offer a date of 1976, but this was the year the library began a new inventory system, rather than the year in which the art pieces were obtained.  I suspect the portraits were probably gifts to the library from Youmans, perhaps the same year as the Tapa Cloth, as she gave away many of her possessions at that time. 

I hope these mementos will not suffer the same fate as the collection of books authored by Youmans once owned by the Pataskala library—they were donated to the Granville Historical Society.  Youmans lived all but eighteen of her ninety-two years as a Pataskala resident, and the traces of her legacy belong in her home town.

A Horse is A Horse of Course of Course, Unless...

When I saw the cover of Teddy Horse, I thought I would hate it. Despite my childhood love of Hasbro’s line of My Little Ponies and a penchant for reading, the two did not mix in my mind. However heart wrenching the life of Phar Lap or enduring the tale of Black Beauty, I read their stories with forced interest. To my initial dismay, then, not only is Teddy Horse equine inspired, but the cover art also boasts a red-suited monkey riding the Shetland pony. Now, I know D-list moviegoers may disagree, but performing monkeys do not to me spell comedy, fun, or quality (and please forgive me as I lump together monkeys, gorillas and chimps for the sake of argument here). Gorillas in the Mist (1988) aside, if there is an ape involved, I want nothing to do with it, thanks to the monkey hijinks smeared across the big screen by the likes of Matt LeBlanc’s Ed (1996), Clint Eastwood’s Every Which Way But Loose (1978)—it’s sequal Any Which Way You Can (1980)—and Annette Funicello’s The Monkey’s Uncle (1965), to name just a few. That Teddy Horse’s Jimmy is outfitted on the cover in gold-studded quasi-military-inspired attire that would arouse jealousy even from Bubbles—the late Michael Jackson’s ever-faithful companion—doesn’t help.

What I discovered when I actually read Teddy Horse, however, is that the story has very little to do with monkeys, and everything to do with pulling the heartstrings in all the right ways. No, Youmans isn’t inventing the wheel here. Teddy Horse is yet another tale of separation from loved ones, a menagerie of domesticated and barnyard animal friends, and survival in unfamiliar territory—all of which are familiar themes in her string of novels and short stories. Such themes are central not only to her writing, but to Youmans’s own life as well, as she bounced back and forth between relatives in Missouri and Ohio in her youth, and surrounded herself with constant cat and dog companions throughout her adult years. She writes honestly and with only a little pandering. I knew I was being manipulated as Teddy Horse faces danger looming large, but enjoyed the emotional response the words on the page evoked in me as the pony deftly clears the hurdles blocking his safety. Teddy Horse is a sweet story that far exceeds the ridiculous connotations brought to mind by late twentieth-century popular culture. I guess the old adage still holds: Don’t judge a book by its cover.

A Celebrity Cat

Skitter Cat (1925) was Youmans's first novel, launching a series of four tomes about the feisty white Persian kitty, three of which were reissued in The Skitter Cat Book (1947). The characters are: Aunt Maud (based on Maud Mead, wife of Eleanor's husband's nephew), who owns Fluff, a pedigreed Persian. Fluff is mama to four kittens. Three are timid, brothers Jack Frost and Snow Ball, and their sister Snow Baby. The fourth, more adventuresome brother cat they name Skitter (because of the sound his claws make when he runs across the floor, like a skittering dry leaf). Mother, Father, and Little Boy (based on Eleanor, her husband Brigg, and son William) adopt Skitter, who joins Major, their Airedale. Other supporting characters include husband and wife neighbors who own the chickens Skitter loves to chase, a friend in the city who is willing to house Skitter until he outgrows his kitten-aged urge to frighten chickens, a "big girl" and her father who live across the Pike and help return Skitter to his family after he escapes a moving car, and Minnie, the live-in maid. [A 1910 Census record lists Sadie R. Givner [Gieseck] born about 1888 (age 22) living with the Youmans family as a servant—perhaps she is the real life model for Minnie].

The hero of the story, Skitter, of course, is based on his real life namesake:

Photo of Skitter courtesy of Charles O. Davis.

The inscription Eleanor wrote in my mother's copy reads, "Skitter lived to be almost sixteen, and Major lived to be twelve. Little Boy was my son William. Eleanor Youmans, Pataskala, Ohio. Dec. 20 1944."

Pics of my very beat-up dust-jacketed edition:

Text of Front Flap (apparently aimed at the child reader):

Skitter Cat's big adventure was getting lost for five months in the woods, and that's some adventure for a home-keeping Persian kitten.

Here were dangers the little thing had never dreamed of, but he had a lot of courage and he made up his mind that he was going to live and get back home to his warm firs and his saucer of cream.

Instinct—the head of the family can tell you what that means—comes to his rescue. He learns to hunt for his food, to know the birds and the wild animals, and all about woodcraft; the fact is, he becomes a sort of kitten Boy Scout.

Text of Back Flap (presumably aimed at the adult reader / parent buyer):

If you are unfortunate enough to dislike cats don't take this little volume into your family circle. For this is the intimate life story of a Persian kitten, a new kind of biography which you can't read without seeing Skitter Cat before the fire, without hearing his plaintive voice, without feeling his silky coat as he curls himself up in your lap.

This warning is addressed to the head of the family, for of course there isn't any child who dislikes cats, and Skitter Cat is by first intention a story for children. But you, head of the family, may have to read it aloud six nights out of seven and so we tell you it is biography of a new kind; that you won't find any nature faking in it, but animal life as it really is along with a lot of fun and some interesting information.

What I really enjoy about the story, however, is that it gives insight into early twentieth-century small town life. The location of the story is based on Pataskala, Ohio, Eleanor's hometown. Geographic clues fit the village's profile. There is the pike on which Skitter escapes the moving vehicle that sounds a bit like the viaduct just outside of town on West Broad Street crossing into Summit Station (although he is supposed to have gotten lost twelve miles from town, not two, so maybe this is just imaginative thinking on my part). The city Skitter is in transit to is presumably Columbus. Father comes home for lunch and a nap from his downtown business, an easy feat in real life, as Brigg and Eleanor lived just two blocks away from Brigg's store; and Father in the story spent his youth trapping with his brothers in the rural landscape surrounding the village—and landscape that is quickly eroding today, but nevertheless still exists.

Downtown Pataskala, circa 1910, looking North toward railroad tracks. The two story brick building with the flat front and three windows across the top is the Standard building. The building just north of it is the Youmans' Store, which burned down in 1914.

I also love that Youmans isn't afraid to "tell it like it is." She doesn't hold back from presenting cats as carnivores in her honest portrayal of survival in the woods, nor does she refrain from showing child readers the harsh realities of neglected animals. Stray cats are routinely dropped off in the alleyway beside the family’s house because, "Mother was convinced, people knew she’d see to them being put to sleep painlessly." (In other texts she is even more up front about animal life and death—and the violence inflicted on them by humans).

The best story about Skitter, though? That he was a celebrity among his child readers, receiving hundreds of requests for "Skitter-graphs," prints from Skitter's paw dipped in ink. One summer when Eleanor took an extended trip to California and Skitter stayed behind with a friend, she kept up with demand by forging skitter-graphs by borrowing a neighbor's cat and some purple ink. Skitter didn't mind too much, as he didn't like ink anyway.

How Not to See New York

Manhattan skyline at sunset. Photo credit: Pixabay

Found such an unusual article authored by Youmans and appearing in the 5 Dec. 1934 edition of the Berkeley Daily Gazette, page 4. It's a jam-packed, rather cheeky imagined itinerary for a hypothetical trip to New York, a location which, in the end, she advises the aging and contemplative against visiting. Not sure why the write-up's in a California newspaper (since she was located in Ohio)—though she did stay with a friend for a year in Cali, between 1927-1928, following the death of her husband and marriage of her only son, so perhaps there's a connection there. Also not sure why she's writing about what to see, if she'd never been!

Manhattan Tour

From Pataskala, Ohio, comes the following prescription for the ideal New York visit. Eleanor Youmans sends it:

“Having been to Atlantic City, but never to New York, I suspect I’d spend the first hour riding miles in a taxi to reach a hotel three blocks from the station.

“The first half day, I’d made inquiries as to what has been done with the Poe cottage that stood
at Fordham. And the afternoon, going to the various places to which I had been mistakenly direct. Incidentally, you might tell us: What has become of the Poe cottage?

Poe Cottage, Bronx, New York. Photo credit: JHSmithArch

“Having seen greater New York and the water front, the Brooklyn and Washington bridges, Central Park, Broadway, Forty-Second Street, and the Goddess of Liberty, while hunting for the Poe cottage—I’d spend my second and third days in the Metropolitan Museum art Gallery. The fourth day, if possible, I’d visit Radio City music hall, the Capital Theater, and the Theater Guild. In the evening, I’d go to Madison Square Garden, to see the Canadian Mounties ride.

Metropolitan Museum of Art. Photo credit: Arad

“The fifth day—a farewell ride up Broadway on top of a bus, in the morning. A matinee performance of the Phil Harmonic, and that night, to the Metropolitan opera, to hear Richard Crooks and Rosa Ponselle in—was it?—‘Peter Ibbettson.’ Between times, a stroll up Fifth Avenue, to peer into shop windows. But no time wasted going inside. We have shops, at home, stuffed with New York and Paris goods.

The Metropolitan Opera. Photo credit: NARA

“No night clubs—‘My New York,’ and a lively imagination is sufficient for them. No visit to the Empire State tower—pictures show more than I could see on a smoky winter day. I’d be taken to my train in an ambu’ance, likely, after such a whirl. And, it would be a relief to return to the Welsh hills country, in Central Ohio. New York attracts youth. It is the place for sharp, brilliant work. When you come to write your 1200 page novel, try the meditative hills.”

Welsh Hills of Licking County, Ohio. Photo credit: GranvilleNative