1940 Census, Part I: Clarence Durbin and Alvin and Hazel Babb

The 1940 census records were released online by the U.S. National Archives on Monday, April 2, 2012. The records, which include names, addresses, and income and employment information, are rich in personal details. It was interesting, for example, to find my own grandparents listed in the Chester, WV census and to see my father and his younger brother living as independents at ages 4 and 2. We all know our parents were kids once, but seeing this fact on an official government document crystallizes it some weird way. My grandfather’s occupation at the time was “manager retail drug store” and the value of his home was $4,000 or about $70,000 today. (Based on the dollar rate and not reflective of the property’s actual value.)

Fact: Census data for individuals is protected by privacy laws for 70 years after the census is conducted.

The records provide details into family history for genealogists, but they also are an important research tool for historians. By looking for the names of important individuals from the history of Rock Springs Park, I was able to uncover some interesting facts about which I was previously unaware.

One of the biggest surprises was the fact that a lot of folks who were involved with the park lived in my neighborhood. It’s no great revelation that workers in a small town amusement park were my neighbors, but I was not aware that a handful of them lived just a few doors down.

It should be noted that I was raised in the same house in which my father lived in 1940. My grandparents moved out of this house to the suburbs in the 1960s and our family moved in. My father was a pharmacist at the corner family drug store like his dad , and so our experiences growing up were not all that different. We swept and mopped in the store, stocked pill bottles, delivered hot meals to our dad on the job and passed the same houses on the way. And more often than not, these homes had the same families living in them in the 1970s who were listed on the census record in 1940.

Rock Springs Park photographer and the man whose pictures I have been studying and used in the book , Clarence O. Durbin, lived only two doors down. It was his father's house and Clarence, age 40 in 1940, lived there with his wife and son. Clarence’s dad, Elmer Durbin, at age 59 was listed as head of the household and was employed as a decorator and kiln operator in a local pottery. Meanwhile, Clarence worked as a “heater” in the local tin mill. Photography at that time was just a hobby for Clarence.

Two other Rock Springs Park notables were listed in our ward as well. Alvin and Hazel T. Babb rented an apartment around the block on Second Street. They actually met because of the park. The Salem News celebrated Hazel’s 100th birthday two years ago in an article released in May of 2010. She recalled, “I was born on May 22, 1910 in New Haven, West Virginia in a world vastly different from the world as we know it now. England had a king, the United States consisted of 46 states, William Taft was president and the Titanic had yet to sail. There were no televisions or computers. Heck, zippers didn’t exist yet in clothing. I moved to Chester, W.Va. and that’s when I met the love of my life at Rock Springs Park. Alvin was part of an orchestra playing at the dance hall. We spoke when the band had a break and I learned his band was leaving the next day for Spain. I asked if he would keep in touch and he replied that if I started dating him, he wouldn’t go. Needless to say, he stayed put.”

According to the 1940 census, Alvin worked at that time as a motor freight accountant. Alvin passed away in 1998 at “90 years young,” and his obituary tells us that he co-founded Y.E.L.P. Trucking service prior to World War II. A feature story about him appeared in The Youngstown Vindicator. In it, we learn that the Babbs lived and worked for most of their married lives in East Liverpool, Ohio, but in 1940, at least for a short time, they lived just around the corner in Chester.


Next time - The 1940 Census (Part II): The Finley Brothers and C.A. Smith.

Hey, That’s My Car!

Just days before my book deadline in early December 2009, I learned of Rich Brookes and a set of postcard proofs he had in his possession which showed the very early days of Rock Springs Park. I called ahead and stopped by his workplace, Pottery City Antiques in East Liverpool. The proofs were black and white photographs of images I recognized from antique postcards of the park. It was interesting to see the original images which through various artisits techniques became some of the same postcard images I was planning to use in the book, but I was really looking for more pictures of Rock Springs Park's later years.

Rich did not disappoint. He said he also had a book of photo negatives at home that was given to him by Ira Sayre. Ira, as I explain in the book, had a large collection of photographs and postcards of the park. He took many pictures of the park himself but also collected works from some of the older photographers in the area, including Clarence Durbin. Ira used to give slide show talks, and although I never saw one in person, I did see a video of one he gave outside in summer.

When I met Rich later and saw his book of negatives I was truly regretting that I could not use any of them as my deadline was just days away. I drove back to Greensburg and thought about them all the way home. I decided to call my editor to see if I could get an extension. Clarence's photographs, especially the ones of the Cyclone taken a year after the park closed, needed to be shared in the book. Fortunately, I was given ten days and returned to Chester the following week.

Rich was gracious enough to let me take the book back home and gave me as much time as I needed to have the proofs developed. The book was like a family Bible that had been passed down from the original owner to several others before Ira gave it to Rich. I felt privileged to have it, even if it was just for a short time. Each owner's name was written on the inside cover. The original owner and photographer was Clarence Durbin of Chester. He had taken the photographs over the course of seven years (1968 – 1974).

The book was organized in such a way that he could show potential customers the tiny proofs and they could choose from the numbered collection and place an order. Behind each proof was a small hand-folded envelope containing the negative. Most were labeled with the subjects name and the year, which made my job a lot easier.

I gave all of the negatives to a local photographer and she was able to develop about two-thirds of them. They were, after all, 40 years old. While some came out with tiny scratches that look like hair or fibers, most were as clear as if they were taken yesterday.

I scanned the ones I wanted for the book and made two sets of CDs of the rest: one for my family and one for Rich. It took a couple months before I was able to get the collection back to East Liverpool. (Those in the area will remeber 2010 was the worst winter we’ve had since 1978, as far as snow accumulation is concerned.) Eventually, I made it back and Rich and I sat in the backroom of the antique mall and reviewed all of the CD images on my laptop. He was impressed with their quality and grateful to see them finally enlarged.

Rich recognized a lot of the faces in the park and I noticed he took extra time examining many of the scenes along Carolina Avenue taken from the park. When he saw the image above of the Jennings Randolph Bridge under construction, he laughed in surprise and said, “Hey, that’s my car! That’s my Volkswagen” He didn't mean it was a VW Bug like his. He meant the car in the photo was his! Weird, huh?

I had been researching the park and collecting digital images for five years prior to the book's publication. Writing a picture history was not on my radar until Kassy Hand, granddaughter of Bob and Virginia Hand, suggested it on this blog several years ago. The coincidence with Rich seeing his car under the bridge was one of dozens of unusual coincidences which have led me to think that the timing of the book and the events leading up to it were somehow in bigger hands than my own.

I heard about Rich and his collection because Bill Gray of ELO saw an article about my visit with Dick Bowker to the Lou Hotz Museum in the fall of 2009. Bill is an author and collector himself and appears in the final chapter of my book. He came to a book talk I gave at Fox’s Nursing home and invited me to see his collection. Afterwards, he set up the meeting with Rich.

I am now learning that some of the people who shared their stories and collections with me are at this time too ill to have helped me had a waited a year or two to write the book and still others have since passed. Everything seems to have fallen into place just so. Had I waited even a few months I may not have been able to do the book at all.

My editor kidded me about the length of my acknowledgements. She said normally an author will thank one or two people. I chose to thank everyone who gave me even the slightest bit of help along the way as well as those whose work on the park’s history preceded mine. I would like to end today's blog post by thanking all those people again. It has been a wonderful ride! "Punch Buggy!"


Read the "Punch Buggy" rules here.

Leaving Your Mark

All of us, if given the opportunity, would like some version of immortality. Some people have many children, write books, create works of art, or pursue any number of other activities meant to leave behind a legacy that creates some sort of meaning in our lives.

This tree (left), photographed in Rock Springs Park in the late 1800s, is covered with carved initials of visitors past.(Courtesy of Richard Bowker)

Over the centuries, some folks were content with carving their names on cave walls, rocks, and trees. Marks like these were evident in Rock Springs Park before it became an amusement park and during its heyday. It was only when the park was completely erased in 1974 that these initials, names, and pictoglyphs were lost forever. Fortunately, one man saw their importance and recorded them for posterity.

Park photographer, Clarence O. Durbin, understood that Rock Springs Park was not "immortal". He either knew or sensed that the park was in its final years and began making a photographic record in 1968. His images include panoramic views taken from across the Ohio River, detailed images of rides and buildings, candid and posed pictures of workers and patrons, and colorful close-ups of what drew people to the ancient spring grove in the first place, its natural beauty.


George Gardner left his mark (Above) on a lichen-covered rock near the spring on July 14, 1878. (See Images of America: Rock Springs Park p. 99 for more details.)
By the way, I am not recommending that anyone carve his or her name on a public park tree or rock face today. In fact in most places it is a Class 2 Misdemeanor punishable by a hefty fine. Instead check out “Treemail”. It’s an app that lets you “carve” custom messages on a virtual tree and then send them to people via email, Twitter or Facebook.

"The Sweetheart Tree" performed by Natalie Wood.

Clarence O. Durbin

Chaney’s Service Station as seen from the trolley loop entrance of Rock Springs Park in 1970. (From the photographic collection of Clarence O. Durbin, Courtesy of Rich Brookes)

Just days before my December deadline to complete Images of America: Rock Springs Park, I was told about a book of photo negatives which belonged to Rich Brookes of Pottery City Antique Mall in East Liverpool. The book was a family Bible of sorts in that it had been passed down to several different owners and each one had written his name inside the front cover. The original owner, and the man who took all the photographs assembled in the book, was Clarence O. Durbin of Chester.

My father told me that Mr. Durbin lived just a few doors down from our home on Virginia Avenue in the western end of Chester when I was growing up; something I did not remember, but now deeply regret not understanding at the time. I’m sure Mr. Durbin would have had some wonderful and interesting stories about the park, as well as, the pictures to go with them. He did share one dramatic tale with Roy C. Cashdollar who wrote about it in his book, A History of Chester: The Gateway To The West by Roy C. Cashdollar. Roy wrote:

Mr. Clarence Durbin of Chester tells about an event that happened on the day of the “Old Mill” fire. He got on the street car in East Liverpool and the motorman headed for Chester. He made no stop to pick up or discharge passengers and had the car at full speed. He came to a stop on Carolina Avenue, just past Sixth Street near the old Ludovici Service Station, and took off running up over the hill toward the park. He had heard about the fire and the death of some children and his little daughter was at the picnic. Mr. Durbin and the other passengers followed and tell of the terrible sight of the bodies being wrapped and loaded to be taken to the hospital or the morgue.

If you’ve ever lost a child in a department store or at the beach for a brief moment or worse, you can begin to understand the panic and actions taken by the trolley motorman who worried that his own daughter might be among the dead. It’s easy to imagine the trolley racing across the bridge with the driver ignoring passengers and those waiting at the stops. One wonders if he shouted some sort of explanation or just drove on without saying a word. Did they think the driver had lost his mind? Were they angry, before learning why the man had disregarded his duty?

This is an example of one of the trolley cars used to carry passengers to the park in 1915. (Courtesy of Richard Bowker)

I was given a brief extension to my book deadline in order to process as many of the negatives from Rich Brookes’ album as possible. Mr. Durbin had meticulously created little hand folded envelopes for each negative with a tiny proof label including names, dates, and places of subjects. My only challenge was to decide what to cut from the original page layout in order to add some of Clarence’s collection.

This photograph taken by my mother, Margaret Comm, is of a park bench which used to line the sidewalk of our home for many years. The image was cut from the final copy of Images of America: Rock Springs Park to add some last minute images.

One of the things I included on pages 106 to 107, is a series of photographs showing the final turn of the Cyclone. Based on the date and the perspective of the pictures, Clarence must have walked the length of the Cyclone on Memorial Day 1971 to record the view and the condition of the 44 year-old wooden coaster before it was removed. If Clarence was a young man when he saw the accident at the Old Mill in 1915, he must have been in his late sixties or seventies when he scaled the tracks of the Cyclone – a daring prospect, as the photos suggest the coaster was missing sections of guardrail and planks in many parts of the the maintenance walkway.


Some of the other photographs I chose were of park patrons enjoying the park during the years 1968 – 1970. I had many pictures of employees and owners, but was lacking park guests riding rides and eating treats. Mr. Durbin's photographs, courtesy of Rich Brookes, were the perfect finishing touch I had been looking for.

Fans of Rock Springs Park owe a debt of gratitude to Clarence O. Durbin for his years of service to the park and the amazing document he left behind for all of us. This image of the Ferris wheel shows Durbin’s artistic eye.

Mystery Woman at Rock Springs Park Identified

Someone once said, after listening to me talk about the research process involved in writing Images of America: Rock Springs Park, that it sounded a lot like “detective work.” James Rockford or Joe Hardy I am not, but it’s true there have been times when digging up information on the park felt a bit like solving a mystery or cracking a case.


One mystery that I’ve been wrestling with for nearly a year now was the identity of the woman pictured above. Her name is Beverly (Bev) Springer. I first saw her in the photograph below sent to me by Tish Hand last summer. Tish identified herself (left) and her son, Robert C. Hand (center), but wasn’t completely sure about Beverly’s name, thinking at that time that it could be “Ginny.” I planned to use the image in the chapter covering the Hand years, and hoped that someone would be able to identify the “mystery woman.”

Last fall, I gave a slide show presentation to residents of Fox's Nursing Home in Chester, West Virginia. I was hoping someone might recognize Beverly and identify her. Among the 20-30 attendees, no one knew her name.



Then, a month later in December 2009, I was told about a book of photo negatives that once belonged to park photographer Clarence O. Durbin. The negatives had not been developed in 40 years, but Clarence had carefully labeled each proof and included a negative for each one in a tiny, hand-folded paper envelope. He then, meticulously labeled each picture with a date and description of who or what was in the shot. Dozens of visitors and former park employees were named, including an old school friend of mine, but not Bev. I was beginning to wonder if I would ever find out who she was. I realized after developing as many of the photographs as I could, that it must have been Clarence who took the picture of Tish, Robert , and Bev 42 years earlier.


My final attempt to have Bev identified occurred at the Chester book signing and author talk. I created a musical slide show displaying many of the faces of Rock Springs Park to the tune of Dusty Springfield’s “I Only Want to Be With You.” I chose to use the picture of Tish, Robbie, and Bev as the final slide in the montage and mentioned, as a way of introduction, for everyone to look closely at all the faces as they flashed by and to let me know if they recognized anyone. A couple of people saw relatives, but no one knew Bev.


Yesterday, Kassy Hand posted the picture of her mother, brother, and the mystery woman on her Rock Springs Park Facebook page. Within an hour, maybe less, Kassy was talking to Beverly’s daughter and with a quick check it was comfirmed that it was Bev in the photograh. The mystery had been solved.


Beverly Springer passed away recently and, according to messages left on her own Facebook page, was much loved by all who knew her. I only wish I had a chance to talk to Bev, as I’m sure she would have been “tickled” by my “mystery woman” quest.

Beverly Springer seated on the stone fountain which bubbled between the Merry-go-round and Virginia Gardens in 1970. (All images courtesy of Rich Brookes)