Another thing that surprises me about these old newspapers is how readily people used their shotguns and with what impunity, as in these 1907 incidents.
1.
Glad to Be a Bad Shot
Thomas and Ella Casbon and their children lived on a farm just west of the village of Deep River. During the day on Friday, June 14, they noticed a stranger loitering around their place. They thought he looked like a tramp, or worse, and they told him to get on about his business elsewhere. They had to tell him several times because he kept coming back.
When night fell, Thomas and Ella grew worried that the stranger had been scoping out their place and intended to return under cover of darkness to do goodness knows what — steal something, at the very least. So they decided to sit up and keep watch.
Hours went by and nothing happened. Friday night passed into the early hours of Saturday. Thomas and Ella grew sleepy. Finally they dozed off.
♦ ♦ ♦On Friday evening, nineteen-year-old Floyd Guernsey left his home — a farm just east of Merrillville where he lived with his mother Cora and stepfather Bruno Kleine — and went to a dance, possibly at Deep River, where Dietz hall was a popular venue for dancers.
The dancing went on for hours. It was well past midnight when the merrymakers broke up. Floyd, who had gone stag, climbed into his buggy and set out along present-day 73rd Avenue, heading west.
Tired out from the night's fun, and perhaps with a few drinks in him, Floyd soon fell asleep at the reins, but his trusty horse knew the road and ambled along toward home.
♦ ♦ ♦At the Casbon farm, sometime in the wee hours of Saturday morning, Thomas was wrenched awake by a screech that sounded to his sleep-fogged ears like the barn door hinges. He leapt up, grabbed his shotgun and ran outside. Through the darkness he could just make out the shape of a horse and buggy heading down the road away from his place.
"Stop!" he yelled. But his shout in the calm night startled the horse, who plunged forward.
Thomas raised his shotgun and blazed away.
Inside the buggy, Floyd Guernsey was roused from his little nap by shouts, gunfire and the frightened plunge of his horse. Thinking robbers were attacking him, he whipped up the horse to its fastest gallop and fled down the road.
The buggy quickly outdistanced Thomas. He was disappointed that the thief had gotten away, but at least his family was no longer in danger.
The next day Thomas told the story of his dangerous encounter to some people in Deep River. They, being better informed, told him that he had been firing away at the harmless young Floyd.
Thomas was reportedly "very thankful that his aim was not more true."
2.
The Cow's Avenger
On Sunday, May 12, a couple of Chicago automobile parties went out for a spin in the Indiana countryside. When they decided to head home, they got onto a road through Hobart and traveled west. On the western outskirts of town, they passed by the farms of John Witt and Jacob Kramer.
Jacob and his family were out on the porch of his house, talking to a couple of the Witt boys. They all watched, shaking their heads in disapproval, as the Chicago cars sped by.
John Witt's daughters were just then driving a herd of cows home along that same road. The cars zipped through the herd without even slowing down. It was sheer luck that they didn't hit the girls or their cows.
When the cars came to a bend in the road further west, their drivers must have figured out that they were on the wrong road. They pulled a U-turn and headed back the way they had come — and just as fast.
This time luck was not with them. The first car passed through the herd of cows safely, but the second struck a cow so hard it knocked her into a ditch.
The car didn't stop. As it passed Jacob's house, he heard the driver make "a slight remark about the accident." Jacob's sense of justice was roused.
He ran into the house, grabbed his shotgun and quickly loaded two cartridges. Then he and one of the Witt boys set out running. By cutting north across the fields, they figured they could intercept the car, which had to follow the curve of the road. It had been a long time since Jacob had run so far and so fast, and the first auto passed before he reached the road, but he was just in time to intercept the second — the guilty party.
Standing in the middle of the road, waving his hat in one hand and his shotgun in the other, Jacob gasped out: "Stop or I'll shoot!" The car raced toward him. He again called out the order to stop, and leveled his shotgun straight at the car.
The car came to a screeching stop.
John Witt, who'd been told about his cow being struck, had set out after Jacob, along with one of his sons. They now came running up on the stopped car. The driver was in no position to claim innocence. Not only were there witnesses, but his own car testified against him, bearing some of the cow's hair and skin on its side.
John marched the driver back to the scene of the accident. They examined the poor cow, who was beyond saving. Under threat of arrest, the driver finally agreed to pay John $30 in damages.
The
Hobart Gazette approved:
The actions of Mr. Kramer in stopping the machine and of Mr. Witt in compelling the owner of the machine to settle for the damage done are commendable and may serve as a warning to other reckless city auto drivers.
Sources:
♦ "Auto Held Up." Hobart Gazette 17 May 1907.
♦ "Thought He Shot at Thief." Hobart Gazette 21 June 1907.
