USA > Illinois > Moultrie County > Bethany > A history of Bethany > Part 7
Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8
The Bethany Echo always has been a wholesome paper that doesn't have to be hid from the children. It never deals in the sordid or the profane. Perhaps the tone of the Echo was set in an editorial of Aug. 15, 1912 by J. W. McIlwain. It follows:
"A good many editors are said to 'not know much.' The trouble is they know a lot of stuff they do not tell. They know who drinks the beer, and they know the ladies who deviate from the straight path of rectitude. They know the boys who smoke in the alleys and dark places, and the girls who are out auto riding till the roosters crow for daylight. They know the fellows who are good to pay and they know the fellows who cannot get trusted for a tobacco bag full of salt. They could guess at once why some fellows to go Hot Springs and they guess pretty closely what they do when they get there. Even in a town like this, they know enough to make one of the hottest, rip-snorting, double-geared, back-action, chain-lightning editions ever read but they also know it is best for the community and themselves to let the law take care of humanity's devilment and publish only such news as will do to read at the fireside and in the Sunday School."
102
Chapter 13 Of Teachers and Preachers
Education first came to Marrowbone Township in 1833 when Addison Smith taught the first school in a log cabin.
Later, a Miss Snyder taught in the private residence of Stephen McReynolds in Bethany in 1871. Christopher Beck was the teacher in the next Bethany school, held in the second story of Joseph Smutz' storehouse.
James Robert Crowder in 1837 donated the land for the Crowder School, which later became Pleasant Hill.
The first school house built in Bethany was a frame one- story building with two rooms, constructed in 1874. Two teachers were employed.
D. F. Stearns, county superintendent in 1970-71, reported that 413 students between the ages of 6 and 21 attended schools in Marrowbone Township.
Spelling and ciphering contests were contested between country schools in the early days.
There also were accidents. In 1882, Prudy Richardson, 8, was injured at school when a boy pulled a chair back as she started to sit down. In falling, she hit her head on the chair and damaged the mastoid area. After two weeks of ex- cruciating pain, she died.
Bethany High School graduated its first class in 1890.
In 1887, a two-story frame, four-room grade school was built in Bethany. Atop it was a bell, which called the students to school. Four teachers were employed.
The old two-room school was sold to A. R. Scott, who moved it to 209 W. Main Street for storage of grain. Later, it was torn down to make for a firehouse.
The new school building provided steam heat in all rooms. And there was a bridge across the branch that flowed across the school yard.
As country school population declined, it became dif- ficult to finance any of them. By 1937-38, Pleasant Hill and Lake Scheer were closed. In 1943, there was no school at White, Bushert, New Hope, American, Younger and Center. New Hope later reopened.
103
-
1
Lois Coombs taught this class in 1909 or 1910.
Back row: Katharyn Bone, Pearl Smith, Della Smith, Noble Scheer, Orville Cunningham, Frankie Kennedy.
Front row: Marjorie Wilkinson, Marjorie McGuire, Frankie Redman, Rollo St. John, Felecia Guar, Daisy Parker Eskridge and Marjorie Hogg Low.
Back row: Porter Wilkinson, Fred Ward and the teacher, Dora DeBruler. Middle row: Scott Wilkinson, Fred Livesey, unknown, Ruth Bankson, Mary Crowder Clark, Mable Rhodes.
Front row: Margaret Starr, Marie Armstrong Rhodes, Melvin St. John, Bon- nie Warren Foster, Mildred Hudson Mathias, Thelma Parker, Carl Gerard.
104
By 1946, only two rural schools were operating in Marrowbone Township - New Hope and Cropper.
The country schools have had some notable teachers. The Rev. Raymond McAllister, the popular young bachelor then, taught at Cropper School from 1931 to 1934.
Mrs. Scott Dalton was recognized as one of the best country-school teachers in the state. She started teaching in the new King School, one mile east of Dalton City, which had an enrollment of 42 pupils. Her first salary was $50 a month. On her retirement, the Moultrie County News gave her quite an accolade.
The article quoted her as saying: "You think you can't have a spelling class in three minutes. Well you can. Another thing: you can have two spelling classes at the same time - one seated and another class at the blackboard."
The county superintendent of schools said of Mrs. Dalton: "She's worth a million dollars with a bunch of kids."
While Bethany High School was under construction at a cost of $40,000, classes continued to be held in the old grade school and the Methodist Church across the street. A two-year high school course was introduced in 1900, and, in 1913, four years were offered.
The grade school was razed in 1926, and a new four-room brick building was erected the same year. The structure had a full basement; one half used as a play room and the other half as a rest room for girls on the south and for boys in the middle and west side. It was built by O. E. Wheeler and Sons.
The high school gymnasium also was built by O. E. Wheeler and Sons, at a cost of $35,120 and was dedicated April 1, 1939.
It was financed by a $50,000 bond issue, which also took care of conversion of the old gym into four class rooms at a cost of $8.000 and an electrical contract for $1.529.40.
In 1960, the high school needed more space, and the ad- ditional work was awarded Mark Wheeler, O. E. Wheeler's son, on a bid of $205,709. It was financed by a $15,000 bond issue.
Country schools were hard hit in the Depression years. In 1930, Lake Scheer School had only five students. In 1933, there were four students, all children of Jesse Dick.
105
Despite heated protests from farmers, the Bethany Com- munity Consolidated School District No. 68 was formed in 1945 of these districts: Pulltight, White, Bushart, American, Bethany, Pleasant Hill, Center and Cook. In 1948, the grade school building was remodeled and enlarg- ed to care for the new influx of rural pupils.
In 1969, the West Hudson school building was torn down to make way for the Shelbyville Reservoir project. It was the school that produced V-Roy, the Magician.
Homer Keown bought the first school bus in 1942, which was used to transport pupils from their homes in the coun- try to schools in Bethany.
In 1975, the district had five drivers and an alternate. Overall, the district employed 67 persons.
A big help to all students is the Bethany Library, started modestly in 1926. For some 30 years, Cora Hudson was the driving force behind the library, long operated on the sec- ond floor of the Scott State Bank Building.
The Library is now more conveniently located on Main Street, across from The Echo office.
The new librarian is pretty Joann Groves, a skilled librarian and the most helpful one you will find in the na- tion.
Joann has expanded the library and is constantly add- ing new magazines.
The first church in Bethany was the Cumberland Presbyterian, organized May 14, 1831, by the Rev. James David Foster in the home of Capt. James Fruit.
In 1832, a log cabin was built where the Soldiers' monu- ment now stands in the old section of the Bethany Cemetery. Called the Bethany Cumerland Presbyterian Church, the structure stood until 1854, when it was re- placed by a frame building costing $2,200.
The Rev. James N. Hogg, an early minister of the church, is buried on the spot where the pulpit was located.
The frame church lasted until 1884, when a brick struc- ture replaced it.
Dissension broke out among the members of the Cumberland Presbyterian Church, and the C.P. flock broke away from the others and held their services in the Vadakin Opera House until their present building was erected in 1911.
106
The Presbyterian Church, founded July 3, 1906 by G. H. Silvius, built its present brick structure in 1916.
St. Isadore's Catholic Church was founded Aug. 14, 1863 by A. Voghl; the Oak Grove Baptist in 1868 by Joseph Perryman; the Methodist in 1870 by Joseph Shartzer; Christian in 1875 by Elder Orgot; Free Methodist June 30, 1890 by Edward Cryder.
Bethany early in the century sent two missionaries into foreign fields. Miss Jennie Freeland went to Japan, where at first she was considered a white devil and not permitted to land.
Sunday School class at the Methodist Church, early 1900's. Back row: Glenn Brewer, Ava Mckinney, Madge Mclaughlin, Melva Hoskins Snyder. Front row: Nita Niles Reams, Ella Shep- herd, Daisy Parker Eskridge, Russell Wright.
Dr. O. T. Logan went to China. After arriving, he suf- fered an appendicitis attack. He told his wife how to operate on him, and she did it successfully. He later was shot by an insane Chinese.
Katharyn Bone of the remarkable Bone family taught for years in country schools and in Bethany Grade School, and later did substitute teaching.
Many wonderful teachers, as well as preachers, have come and gone, touching the lives of Bethany youngsters in such a way as to make them better citizens.
107
I should know for I am married to a former Bethany High School teacher, the erstwhile Kathleen Smith, who taught home economics.
Every person who attended Bethany High School or Grade School has his own favorite teacher, as I have mine.
In grade school my mind was on sports and other things. In Bethany High School, Lola Peterson, who later became Mrs. Clifford Smith, also a Bethany teacher, gave me a firm understanding of English grammar in her Latin classes.
And so many boys and men have told me that Loren Brumfield, long principal at Bethany Grade school, "had straightened them out."
108
Chapter 14 Some Left to Achieve Success
Bethany has sired several successful men who followed diverse trails, most riding their boyhood hobbies to the promised land.
The prime example is Jim Wilkinson, a 1931 graduate of Bethany High School, who made his avocation his voca- tion. Wilkinson, who lives near Prescott, Ariz., has become America's No. 1 big game hunter and, at the same time, he operates a lucrative gun shop, attached to his palatial home.
Wesley Jones, who grew up in Bethany, later became a Senator from Seattle, Wash.
Will Guthrie, another son of Bethany, rose to one of the West's most successful lawyers, working out of Twin Falls, Idaho.
Another Bethany boy, John R. Fitzgerald, blossomed out of as one of Decatur's leading lawyers.
Bob Crowder, a 1929 graduate of Bethany High School, rates as the leading interior designer in the sprawling Los Angeles area. He stresses the Japanese motif.
Crowder, well-known for his exquisite murals and screens, began studying and painting with the Japanese masters when he first went to the Orient as an instructor in the Imperial University. The paintings from Crowder are distinctive works of art, treasured by their owners.
Jim Ashmore became a big-time college coach of football and golf. Late in life, he was elected Macon County clerk and died in office. His sister, Lillie Ashmore, was ap- pointed to finish his term.
As a boy in Bethany, Virgil Hampton became enchanted with magic. And it was to be his life's work. Today, known all over the nation as V-Roy, he is a worthy successor to Harry Houdini. Blackstone, Thurston, et al.
But Hampton considered Ed Reno, the best all-around magician, and he patterned his career after Reno's.
109
V-Roy grew so skilled and adroit with his hands that in 1971 CBS did a documentary on him.
He suffered a setback in 1974 when one of his lungs was removed, and V-Roy was hospitalized for two months. The operation reduced the volume of his voice, so needed in his profession.
On the road, V-Roy carries a staff of six. Paul Watson and Maurice Minor, both of Bethany, work for him.
Hampton is now teaching two of his grandchilren, Lisa and Kimberly Tomlinson, magic so they can join his act.
V-Roy quit Bethany High School before graduation, for he had so many offers and he felt that a diploma wouldn't help his presentation.
As a youth he frequently was used by Dr. James H. Vadakin in his Opera House.
"I became a good friend of Doc," said V-Roy. "In those days he wore a red toupee."
He first hit the road in 1926 with the John Robinson Cir- cus, in which he served as a sideshow magician.
A fine musician, V-Roy played with the Bethany Concert Band when home in the summer. And in 1928, he performed with the Al Flosso Carnival Band.
V-Roy had his most amusing experience in 1950, when he was called to perform in Alberta, Canada.
"Eddie and Ruth" were supposed to be the act but they couldn't make it. So Irving Grossman, the booking agent, wanted V-Roy to use that name, so familar in Canada.
Naturally, V-Roy didn't like it.
Then so many persons seemed so thrilled to see V-Roy that the promoter found out that he was better known in Canada than he realized. So he let him use his own name.
Wherever he goes, V-Roy usually runs into someone from Bethany. Playing Oklahoma City once, he was met back stage at performance's end by Mr. and Mrs. Chase Coffey, who had driven in from a nearby state.
Chase, well-groomed and polite, is the well-respected son of Dr. and Mrs. R. C. Coffey, the doctor who so long served Bethany so well.
But, for thrilling experiences, no other Bethany man is in it with Jim Wilkinson.
Take the time he was in Rhodesia, Africa, for the Big Five, and he caught sight of rhinoceros tracks in the heavy brush.
110
With him was the white hunter, Andrew Holmberg, a Britisher, plus three spear-carrying natives from the San Buru tribe.
They rode for three hours, under a blazing sun, and now they could hear the beast going through the brush. They dismounted and crept slowly through the thickets, aware that the rhino has good hearing. A rancid odor of decaying vegetation, crushed berries and bodies of small animals distrubed the stillness in their advance.
As they drew near, Wilkinson's jacket caught on a branch, and it made a noise as it snapped back after he had disengaged the garment. They were near a clearing and the rhino heard them.
The monster turned around, snorted and, with head down, raced toward Jim, who was in the lead. Wilkinson wanted one with a big horn but one on this whopper was short. So he didn't want him. He thought the rhino, like other animals, would charge and then stop.
Holmberg cried out from the rear: "Shoot, you damned fool."
The enraged animal was now 10 yards from Wilkinson as he raised his custom-built 458 Magnum and fired at his head. The rhino staggered but still started to come on again. Then Wilkinson killed him with a shot into the heart.
"I didn't want this one," Jim told Holmberg.
"You had no choice, buddy," replied the Englishman. "If you had waited three seconds longer, we'd all be bloody dead."
Wilkinson, who has hunted all over the world, got his Big Five on that trip: elephant, rhino, cape buffalo, lion and leopard.
Before Wilkinson killed his lion, it almost frightened the natives out of their skin. The lion had been killing cattle in the area, and the natives warmly greeted the hunters.
Jim killed a zebra, and it was suspended from a tree near where the lion had appeared, so that the lion could only nibble at it and not drag it away. They then dug a blind near the tree and crawled into it. Luckily, the native helpers covered it well with brush.
They were in the blind for only a few minutes when Wilkinson noticed the eyes of the natives had become as
111
large as saucers and that they were trembling. This puz- zled him. When he started to ask what was the trouble, Holmberg put his finger over his mouth to indicate silence.
The lion was sniffing around the blind, and the natives had looked squarely into his eyes. Fortunately, his scent is poor and, since vultures were circling the zebra, the lion moved on to feed, As he jumped up to drag down a piece of meat, Wilkinson raised his 284 Magnun and brought him down dead.
They also put out bait for the leopard and constructed a blind in a nearby tree. Wilkinson then left to hunt other game after telling the natives to let him know if the leopard returned.
It was mid-afternoon when he received word that the leopard was back. As they entered the blind, birds were chirping and a monkey was scampering around the hide- out, and Wilkinson feared it would tip off the leopard.
Lying still on the boards, the men waited for several hours. Twilight had now arrived. Wilkinson kept his rifle trained on the bait. Suddenly a paw appeared in the darkness, and Wilkinson fired his magnum.
"What in the world were you shooting at?" asked Holmberg.
"I killed the leopard - a big one," Jim relied.
"How could you see him? I couldn't see a damned thing in the dark!"
"Through the scope," said Wilkinson. "You can see better through it in the dark."
"Well, I bet you didn't hit anything," rasped Holmberg.
Slowly they approached, and their flashlights showed that Wilkinson had indeed killed a large leopard.
For the cape buffalo, they built a blind near where the herd came to graze. A few hours passed before the buffalos returned.
With the fastidiousness of a bibliophile picking precious books from a shelf, Wilkinson sorted out the herd in mind's eye till he finally found the biggest bull with the biggest horns. He fired at the heart. The buffalo ran for a cluster of trees nearby and disappeared. Jim waited to hear the death bellow they always make before dying. Once he heard it, the men moved in and took the head, leaving the rest of the carcass for other animals to enjoy.
112
He went on to get his Big Five.
One of Wilkinson's most tiring hunts came in 1974 in the Caucasus Mountains of Russia. This time he was after the tur, which has characteristics of both the ibex and the stag. The mountains rise 15,000 feet, and, after Wilkinson and his friend, Jim Turner, had climbed 6,000 feet, they caught sight of a herd of some 25 turs. Frightened, the turs took off toward the other side of the mountain.
Immediately, Jim raised his magnum, focussed his sights on a big one and, from 600 yards, hit him on the rear end before he could scamper around the corner and out of range. Because of the steepness of the mountain, the two men had a struggle in the cold holding onto the 200-pound tur as they descended.
Wilkinson rates as one of 50 men in North America to perform the Grand Slam by killing four species of North American sheep: dall in Alaska, stone in British Columbia, Rocky Mountain big horn in Idaho and desert big horn in Arizona.
In India, in 1970, Wilkinson and his Shikar went after a ferocious tiger that had been killing the natives' bullocks.
Jim and his aides constructed a machan in a tree near the field where the bullocks grazed. The tiger has excellent eyesight but is weak on scent.
After waiting patiently on their stomachs for more than an hour, Wilkinson saw the tiger slipping through the high grass about 50 yards away. Since the birds were making a commotion in the trees, Jim decided to try for him right then. He fired a bullet into the heart. Enraged, the tiger sprang forward, but a second shot to head dropped him.
On one trip to Alaska, Jim brought home a 69-inch horn spread of a moose, and it gained him a mention in the Boone & Crockett Big Game record book. He also bagged a dall ram and a Yukon grizzly.
The goatee-like clump hanging under the throat of the moose is known as a "bell." It appears in both sexes and sometimes reaches the length of 36 inches in a young male.
Wilkinson was a whiz in manual training at Bethany High School, and he later worked several years in the Wilkinson Lumber Yard in Bethany, where he gained a knowledge of carpentry.
113
Near Prescott, he built his own home and gun shop, which is attached to it. And there rest all the main trophies of his worldwide hunts.
The gun shop is dominated by a hugh white polar bear, rising 12 feet on his hind legs. It was shot in the Berring Straights between Alaska and Siberia, after Jim had tracked it for 40 miles through deep snow and tempera- tures 30 degrees below zero. Behind the bear on the wall ; are the heads and horns of his Grand Slam in mountain sheep.
Entering Jim's den, you are shocked by the size of the moose head, as well as of the water buffalo, about the toughest animal to take.
Looking as if it is strolling across the room is a 550-pound black-maned lion, which Jim killed in Kenya. He was old and smart and tough to find, even though he crept in at night to eat the ranchers' cattle.
Looking even more menacing is the man-eating tiger Jim brought down in India.
Wilkinson makes all sorts of rifles to the specifications of the buyers. He uses fine California walnut and choice wood from all over the world. The wood is then sent to his friend, Bob Hopper, of Decatur, Ill., who creates the rifle stock to the weight and size preferred by the client.
Jim also uses engravings on the metal of his rifles. For example, one of his rifles carries the likeness of his Grand Slam in sheep.
In the fall of 1974, Wilkinson because the first American to hunt in Mongolia, controlled by Russia.
He first had to fly to New York to secure a Russian visa, and then to London for a Mongolian visa.
Jim got Mongolia's permission, for the government is anxious for tourist trade, and officials felt hunting to be the principal attraction.
With him went two of his Arizona friends.
"The forest trees were so close together, it was difficult to hunt," said Wilkinson. "And the game doesn't venture into the open spaces."
The Mongolians in charge knew little about hunting. The Mongolian interpreters became drunk and delayed the trip more than a day.
"We had flown into Ulan Bator, the capital of the
114
Mongolian People's Republic, from Frankfort, West Ger- many. The flight, made in a Soviet prop jet, had four stops in Siberia and took 11 hours.
"I didn't realize the vast scope of Siberia before. They have new cities, hydroelectric plants, steel mills and vast wheat fields. They have at least 15 Alaskas worth of resources."
On reaching Ulan Bator, the men were put in charge of the Mongolian Intourist agency, which puts strict limits on what they could see. Each hunter was assigned an inter- preter, all well-versed in Communist propaganda.
Ruby Wilkinson, Jim's wife, is a stamp collector, so Jim brought home many stamps. Some contained photos of Lenin, others of wild game.
The hunters were put up in a good hotel in Ulan Bator, where tourists always are assigned.
After two days there, the hunters and their interpreters boarded a single-engine bi-plane for a small village near the Russian border.
There they were picked up by a Russian-made four- wheel drive truck and driven another 30 miles over open countryside to a small town where they met three horsemen and three local guides, one for each of the hunters.
The men slept in Yertas, portable huts used by native Mongolians. Each contained enough for three persons to sleep, plus a stove and table for eating.
Jim's most vivid memory of the trip came the night he and his interpreter, guide and horsemen were separated from the others.
It began raining that night so Jim's interpreter moved his sleeping bag into Wilkinson's tent, bringing with him a stack of food, including onions and raw meat.
"The combination of the food odors and the snoring of my interpreter, in the tightly zipped tent, made sleeping difficult. It seemed strange to me to be in a strange tent with a snoring Communist," Jim mentioned.
The hunt was for five animals: bear, boar, moral deer, roebuck and giant Mongolian moose. Together, they ac- counted for only two, a roebuck and a moral deer, despite the thickness of the forest.
The interpreters had doubts about the visit for the
115
government didn't want America to know how the Mongolians live.
However, Wilkinson's horseman invited him to spend a day in his home, a log cabin such as existed in America in its early days. The cabin had one room with a board floor. The only light was provided by candles. The furniture con- sisted of a primitive iron stove in the center of the room, three single beds along the walls and a cabinet where horse milk was stored for fermentation.
The Mongolian made every effort to make Wilkinson welcome. He gave him a cup of tea, seasoned with salt. Jim managed to get it down. Then came the fermented horse milk, even harder to swallow.
And, when Jim left the next day, the horseman presented him with a pipe. Jim gave him a fresh pair of his thermal underwear.
The hunting party was the biggest thing that ever had happened in the village. Everyone - some 50 - gathered to look at the hunters and their guns before they departed. It was the first time they had seen white men.
There's no part of the world in which Jim Wilkinson has not hunted, so no other Bethany resident gets around as he has.
Born and reared in Bethany, Jim started going to Arizona in summer as a youngster, after his father had purchased land there. His brother, Jasper, was the rancher.
In the early morning Jim would ride out into Lonesome Valley and watch cowboys working their herds. And in the evening, he would sit by the fireside and read the most ex- citing hunting stories he could find. As a teenager, in 1933, he started hunting in earnest.
Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.