We have already established that I am a history geek. I’m constantly fascinated by odds and ends around town, like the WPA insignias on the sidewalks and to discover the Armory was also a WPA project.
But much of my geekiness is focused on earlier days. I love the houses that have seen generation on generation of families. The show barn at the fairgrounds would have some wonderful stories to tell if those old red brick walls could talk.
And there are some odd blobs of concrete around town that tickle me to no end. Many of them are partials, but fascinating artifacts of days gone by none the less.
I believe we owe our wide streets to the town being as old as it is. Back in the day, there had to be room for two wagons or carriages to pass on the streets. There had to be room for delivery drays and parked carriages or hitched horses.
But the animals that pulled those conveyances weren’t likely to stay put all on their own and that’s where these concrete contraptions come in.
They were usually oblong pillars on a foot-high base with a ball on top. The top of the sphere sported a ring that was handy for – you guessed it – tying the reins. I suspect these were more common in affluent neighborhoods, and the concrete forms also came in obelisk shapes as well as elaborate cast iron pillars.
These handy dandy items were often coupled with another accessory, a carriage block. These were essentially steps that ladies could use to climb into buggies or wagons without dragging their hems in the mud near the road or – heavens forbid – showing a bit of shapely ankle. They and their close cousin, the upping block, could each also be used as a ‘leg up’ when mounting one’s saddle horse.
And while they aren’t common around town anymore, they can be found if you look carefully.
That is the secret of towns like ours. The rich history is there if you choose to look. That history is where we came from and tells us who we are. It has molded and shaped the town and the people. It keeps us grounded – and it may use a concrete block to do so.