Editor’s note: This is another column in Bill Boyd’s new series, “The Way It Was,” about growing up in Marysville. Bill continues to work with the Union County Historical Society to obtain information for his stories. With Marysville and Union County celebrating Bicentennial anniversaries in 2019 and 2020, respectively, these articles help depict what life was like in those early years.
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During the 1930s, my grandmother, Hettie Tracy, always kept a few chickens in our back yard. She didn’t raise them for their eggs. She raised them for “emergencies.” You see, it was pretty common for us to have some of our relatives visit us unannounced on Sunday, maybe uncle Jake from Bradford, Ohio, or Aunt Goldie from North Lewisburg. Or it might be Aunt Berna and Uncle Guy from Columbus.
No matter who it was, Hettie always insisted that they stay for supper. All the stores in town were closed on Sunday, including the grocery stores, so my grandmother would just go into our backyard and select a bird. Then, you wouldn’t believe how quickly she could have that chicken dressed and ready for her big iron skillet.
She bought a few chicks every now and then throughout the year and watched over them like a mother hen while they were small. She bought the chicks at Smith’s Hatchery, diagonally across the street from the fire department on South Main Street (now the parking lot adjacent to the Pavilion at Partners Park).
In 1937 or maybe 1938, she made her first chick purchase of the year, some time in early spring. She brought several baby chicks home in a basket and let me hold them in my hand. I thought that was great. Because it was bitter cold outdoors, she placed the basket on a heating register. She often did that for chicks she purchased in cold weather. It was the warmest register in our house because it was directly over our coal furnace. It would keep the baby chicks nice and warm.
That night, Hettie and her friend, Anna Liggett, went to a movie at the Avalon Theater. They went there every Tuesday night along with several of their lady friends. I think they not only went to see the movie, but also to participate in “BankNight,” a weekly drawing in which they might win $100. Seldom did any of those ladies miss a Tuesday Bank Night movie.
Shortly before Hettie left the house, she heard on the radio that temperatures were falling fast and it was going to be bitter cold that night. So Hettie turned up the heat a bit on our furnace. Then she covered the top of the basket with a towel. She had never done that before, but in that bitter cold weather she wanted to make sure the little chicks didn’t get cold.
Some time around 9:30 that night, my grandmother got home from the movie. She hung up her coat and then warmed herself in front of our fireplace. Then she went directly to check on the baby chicks. I went with her.
When she took the towel off the top of the basket, she said, “Oh, dear,” and I could see a look of concern on her face. She picked up one of the chicks, and it lay almost motionless in her hand. A couple of the other chicks were having trouble standing.
I could tell that my grandmother was upset. She said the chicks were suffering from “heat stroke.” I didn’t know what that meant, but she immediately went to our icebox in the kitchen. She used an icepick to chip out a few chunks of ice, which she wrapped in a cloth. She placed it in the center of the basket and put the chicks around it.
When I went to bed that night, she told me not to worry. She would put the basket next to her bed, and she would check on them throughout the night. And that’s what she did. She watched over those chicks all night until she got up at 5 a.m. That’s when she got up every morning.
I later heard her tell my mother that during the night, she thought she might lose a couple of chicks. But by morning, they were all back to normal. In fact, I was able to play with them all. I’m telling you, my Grandmother Tracy really knew how to take care of baby chicks.
Those wishing to contact Bill Boyd can e-mail him at bill@davidwboyd.com