Tuesday 29th September 2009 - Another Dark Satanic Mill

          In 1871, The Port Washington Coal Company, saddled with a loss-making mine, producing poor quality coal, sent their Mr Cherry to Glasgow, in Scotland with samples of local iron ore.  This induced a number Glasgow Capitalists (afficionados will know that Glaswegians put the emphsis on the second syllable, which allows you to spit while you're saying it) to part with very large sums of money indeed.

          They set up the Glasgow and Port Washington Iron and Coal Company, sending over three Scots to build quite a large Ironworks.  In the end, they spent three-quarters of a million dollars.  Goodness knows how much that would translate into in today's money.  They built a bridge over the Ohio Canal, and added a spur to the Pittsburg, Cincinnati, and St Louis Railroad (known as the "Panhandle Road").  They started production in 1874.  It was not a success, and sputtered to a stop in 1880.  Local history has it that the failure was due to poor dividends on the vast amount spent, and "mismangement in Scotland".

          In 1873, a local landowner, Robert Hill, laid out the village of Glasgow next to the furnaces. 

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While the furnaces were operating, the village prospered, running to a population of about 450, with two stores.  But when the works failed, the village followed it, although there are still a number of houses there, and it still retains the name.  There was still a school, up to about 1920.

          So this Glasgow, very definitely, was named for Glasgow, Scotland.

          Where one usually identifies land by its township and range number, this land was known as the "Salem Tract", having been leased to Moravian Missionaries working with the Delaware Indians.  An atlas of 1875 even shows a "Glasgow Station" on the main line, where the spur comes off.

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The present township (district) is known as Salem.

 

          Later that night, everyone seemed to be watching poker on the TV.  Why would you do that?  If you wanted poker, you could invite some friends round and do it yourself, in your own front room.  You can't do that with football: even one dad and a small boy would be a risky proposition playing American football in the front room.  It must be to do with the very large amounts of money involved.

          I wanted to compare some of the beers, but it required the help of a grown-up lady.  The young barmaid was prepared to indulge me byheating the glasses , but she was very unwilling to let me have two at the same time.  "This is a family restaurant", she kept saying.  I couldn't imagine what sort of obscenity she thought I could indulge in with two beer glasses (and if you can think of one, I don't want to know).  The grown-up barmaid gave her blessing.  Turns out they're afraid adults would buy beer for minors.

 

Monday 28th September 2009 - On the Road Again

          Microsoft once again saves the world!  It seems to me the mission of microsoft is to save us from ourselves.  When I turn on my computer every day, a veritable street market of hucksters pop up out of my taskbar, offering all sorts of services to save me from myself.  I expect they have to pay Microsoft for their pitches, because Microsoft steadfastly refuses to show me an easy way to close them down.

          Even more, when I'm typing something in Word, it sneakily corrects my spelling when I'm not looking.  There are usually ways round this: I can stop it capitalising a word by mispelling it then correcting the spelling, or I can spell words my own way by doing the opposite of that.

          When I was reviewing yesterday's little oeuvre, as I always do to get up to speed for today, I noticed that my "plentiful supply of nubility" had become microsoft's "plentiful supply of nobility".  Now I accept that this is much higher-toned, but it's not what I said.  And I know I didn't do it by mistake, because I had to check the spelling.  I wonder if that's happened anywhere else and I didn't spot it?

          It is usual, when publishing, to put in a preface thanking everyone who helped, and to end by saying "but, of course, any errors remaining are my own."  I guess we should now add "or Microsoft's"

 

          Today was a travelling day.  But the distances are no longer vast.  Within a couple of hours,I was across the mighty Ohio River, and stopped for breakfast.  The Weather Channel last night had been threatening terrible rain, but it was a lovely clear blue sky, which set off my last views of the wonderful hills of West Virginia nicely.  I'm sure you're aware that "over the Ohio River" means into the state of Ohio.  Ohio rapidly gets more cultivated and less hilly.

          Dulcie had used her plentiful prep time well, and took me straight to Glasgow Ohio.  Actually I should say Glasgow, Tuscarawas County, Ohio, because Ohio boasts two Glasgows.

          Although no longer in its heyday, Glasgow Tuscarawas County still exists:

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           Then I had time to decide between staying at Newcomerstown (which is nearer) and New Philidelphia (which is the county seat, and so has the Courthouse and central Library).  The price and quality of motels, and availability of other services come in to consideration, and N Phil is an easy winner.

 

          Later that night, I realise I have to wear a pullover to go out.  And turn off the air-conditioning and turn on the heating.  And I remember that I drove all the way here without air-conditioning.

          It's that time of year.  The trees were definitely changing colour as I came north, even in just two hundred miles.  The clocks will soon be going back (I wonder if they do it at the same time here?)

Sunday 27th September 2009 - Go on, Spoil my Day!

It's off to Ohio tomorrow. So there is a bit of preparing to do. Rozie needs fed and watered, and tidied and packed; and Dulcie needs to be instructed, so that she can get down to her calculating (and, no doubt, recalculating).

Everything went smoothly: I must be getting good at this. I even went so far as to reveal to Dulcie both Ohio destinations, and all three Pennsylvania ones. That should give her lots of time to make mischief. Perhaps there will be a Canadian diversion in the middle.

At the lunch counter, I had my day thoroughly spoiled. A truck driver sat beside me. I only knew he was a truck driver because he told me. He surveyed the scene, and launched into a conversation. He had a real, attention-grabbing, show-stopper of an entrée.

There was a plentiful supply of nubility on display, particularly among the serving staff. You could just imagine it was one of that kind of owner or manager.

Anyway, our truck driver catches my eye and launches: "How would you like to be twenty-one again?", he says. Twenty-one? No, not never: twenty-one was the worst year of my life! "Not much", I say, "these years have been hard earned. I wouldn't give them up easily. Anyway, being twenty-one was awful. I'd be gaping at these girls, wondering which one I could pull, and knowing it was going to be none of them."

I could see he wished he hadn't asked. Or, at least, not asked me. He must have had a better twenty-one than I had. Mind you, that wouldn't be so difficult: almost everyone on the planet must have had a better twenty-one than me.

I wonder if he'll use that conversation-starter again? Probably not with grumpy old men, anyway.

Later that night, (Well, they don't really have "later" on a Sunday in this part of the world), I was watching the NASCAR racing. Now that the football (American, that is) season has started, baseball has been edged off the screens, and I have decided that NASCAR racing is the next best thing.

I think American Football has a lot in common with cricket. It's lots of shuffling about, setting up to do something, and when they've managed to lull you into a false sense of boredom, they do something you miss. It's what action-replay was invented for.

NASCAR, on the other hand, is magnetic, it's a sort of ballet with death. They're travelling inches from each other in really confined spaces at frightening speeds. It has all the old motor racing spirit of mad daredevils. The fact that the cars look, superficially, like normal cars, gives me the feeling that I could be doing it.

American footballers wear skin-tight pants, probably to stop the other side getting a hold of them. Perhaps it attracts an audience of ladies, who, I'm told, like to look at gentlemen's bottoms. Although they don't seem to me to be those kind of bottoms. But what do I know about that?

Saturday 26th September 2009 - The Glass Museum

          In one last attempt to find out about the Kanawha Glass Company, I drove up to Weston.  It's about a hundred miles north of here.  Actually, Americans say about an hour-and-a-half.  I'm quite surprised at myself driving that distance just on the off chance.  I must be getting Americanised.

          Actually it turns out to be more daring than I intended, beacause the weather is terrible.  There is really, really heavy rain, like I had in Iowa in the remains of a tropical storm: which results in a fair number of accidents.  Someone went spinning off the road just in front of me.  He lifted a road sign right up in the air and it came spearing down onto the road.  Actually it was all just close enough to frighten me, and far enough away to stay in control.  The car in front of me, which he just missed, kept on going, but a lot of people stopped to help.  Being on T-mobile, the first thing I did was to check if I had a signal to phone 911, but I could see a number of other people already doing that.  The young man seemed unhurt: "The steering-wheel just whipped out of my hand", he said.  The whole thing was a a testament to how much space is left round the interstates.

 

          The West Virginia Museum of American Glass (and, a new addition, Marbles) is fascinating.  It's one of those places where grown-up ladies go to be useful.  I had a long conversation with the Director.  He had heard of the company, but only knew of one reference.

          I swopped my information with him, sitting at the desk of the President of the American Flint Glass Workers Union, which was formed in 1878.  I had thought that since one of the maps revealed my company had a flint department, it might have produced fancy glasses, but he said flint just meant clear.  It looks like it was just a bottle factory, producing milk and beer bottles.

          Stimulated by the age of the Union, and puzzled by there being no incorporation papers for my company, I asked if it was possible that it had been there since before the Civil War (when there was no West Virginia).  He thought that very amusing.  "They couldn't have got in, and they couldn't have got the glass out", he said.   So it must have arrived after the railroad, whenever that was.

          He promised he would email what he had on his database.

 

          The weather cleared briefly, so I had a walk round Weston before the drive back.  It has a typical 19th century main street, mostly of brick with fancy work at the top.  The bank at the main junction is very large, and used to be a hotel, so it it must have been a busy town.

          Driving out I notice what I consider to be rows of neat little houses, but, of course, they're not really that small.  It's just that almost all American house are detached, and they are actually small for the sort of detached houses I'm used to.

 

          Then it's back to Charleston in another bout of terrible weather.  There are several accidents to see on the way.

 

         

Friday 25th September 2009 - Glasgow under the Glass

          I picked up some music books at the festival week before last.  I thought it was time to see about shipping them home.  I pass a Post Office on the way to Charleston, so I thought I would take them along and see if I could get a box for them, and post them home.  When I got there, it seemed like a good idea to check for the cheapest way to send them.  The clerk weighed them and started stabbing buttons on his computer.  He concluded that $35 was the cheapest way. And I can put them in one of these boxes?", I asked.  "No", he said, bending down below the counter: "put them in this one".  And he produced a common-or-garden empty box which turned out to fit them exactly.  I wasn't sure I wanted to spend that much, but he let me keep the box.

          While all this was going on, a queue was building behind me.  Being British, I was sure they were forming a lynch mob.  But when I sneaked a look, they were all beaming at how helpful the clerk was being: a definite cultural difference.

 

          I was on my way back to Charleston for a repechage of the maps and pictures.  I hadn't taken enough notes, and couldn't remember some things.  In the process of doing this, I discovered that I could download pictures from the computer to my new pocket camera, and use it as a viewer.

          So I was able to look at the maps in the courthouse, and compare them with the picture from the book at Glasgow Public Library.  And what the maps describe as "Kanawha Glass Company", the picture caption describes as "Thatcher Glass Company".  And one of the maps made it clear that there was a "Flint" and an "Amber" department, and a "Blacksmith machine shop" which matched the buildings in the picture.

          The Secretary of State, on the other hand, couldn't find any incorporations for any of these names.  But the Historical Society found me a West Virginia Museum of American Glass, just up the road in Weston.  So I'm not at a dead stop.

 

          Later that night, with only that tiny crumb to celebrate, I discovered that almost everybody in the motel I'm in decamps to the Saloon across the way.  So we had a party.

 

Thursday 24th September 2009 - A Wild Glass Chase

          Google is supposed to 'alert' me whenever "Glasgow" is freshly mentioned in the vastness of the World Wide Web (Have you noticed that "WWW" has twice as many syllables as "World Wide Web"?  So why do people say it?).  I always make a point of using the word "Glasgow" in these pages, but Google almost never finds them.  Anyway, it does find some interesting stuff. 

          Today it told me that the Sheriff of Barren County, KY, has added some Glasgow people to his 'most wanted' list.  One of them was a lady of 38, wanted for 58 counts of theft by deception.  Her address was given as "Good Folks Road, in Old Lovers Lane".  You couldn't make that up, could you?

          Another was wanted for "failing to report change in order to collect benefits", so they're not exactly up there with Al Capone, are they?

 

          I'm now trying to chase a company, this glass company which shows up on the original plat map of 1911.  Glass is the third most important industry in West Virginia (after coal and steel).  I think a visit to the WV Historical Society, at the Capital, might yield some interesting history.  But it doesn't.

          There is a Kanawha Glass Company mentioned.  It's quite famous.  People collect its output.  But it was created in 1952, so it's not the one.  There is no mention of any of the other names, and hardly any mention of Kanawha County.

          It's crystal clear that local historians don't devote much time to industry.  If I wanted to chase some ancestors, or find out who was mayor of where, or who got killed in which battle, I'd be there by now.  But a company based quite close to the capital, in one of the most important industries in the area?  Not a word.

          I do know quite a bit now about how window glass was made.  Did you know they made big cylinders, then split them and flattened them?  So they were never ever quite flat.  They had to be sure to pack them the same way up, or they got broken.

          Because of the very high skill levels involved, quite a number of the companies, were workers' co-operatives, with the workers holding all the stock, and electing the company's officers.

          And quite a lot of workers were Belgian.  There is a whole book of Belgian Glass workers.  It reminded me of Beachcomber's "Anthology of Huntingdonshire Cabmen".  When fans of Agatha Christie's Poirot tell you there are no famous Belgians, you can take them to the West Virginia Historical Society Library, and read them a whole bookful.

         

          Later that night, I nearly met an American I didn't like.  He swept into the bar in 'take over the room' mode.  He remarked on my book.  Wanted to be told which teams were playing on the television, and what stage the game was at.  My hackles really, really hacked.  Fortunately, he was with a lady, and had to pay her most attention.  From what I could hear of their conversation, he didn't seem to know her very well: despite the wedding rings.  Maybe he spent his life stuck in 'take over the room' mode.

Wednesday 23rd September 2009 - Duller and Duller

          It's all getting very dull, isn't it?  Its all these small towns with no bars.  And today is courthouse day, so I'll be trekking through reams of hundred-year-old papers.

          Well, after I'd been to court, since this is also the state capital, I thought I'd trot over to the Capital, have a word with the Secretary of State, see if she could tell me anything about the incorporation of the Glasgow Development Corporation: which she could.

          And as I was wandering out through the magnificent marble halls, idly eyeing the portraits of past governors, a name caught my eye: William Ellsworth Glasscock, Governor from 1909-13, the very years I'm interested in.  The name caught my eye because it was the one next to "Glasgow" in the Deed Book index for those very years at the county courthouse.  He'd been pretty active in the property market around that time.  He had also, the little bio by the portrait told me, declared martial law and sent in the troops in his last year of office.

          But what really caught my eye in the bio was the statement that he had "risen quickly in the Republican Party as attorney of US Senator Stephen B Elkins".  Because the Glasgow Development Company acquired its land from its president, George E Thomas, who had, in turn got it from a special commissioner on the order of a chancery court judge acting in the cause of D B Elkins against H P Thomkins.  The Thomkins are the original landowners from way back in 1815 (a date every British schoolboy knows!).  H P Thompkins is the Secretary of the Glasgow Development Company, according to the signatures on the plat map, but not listed as a stockholder.

          Now, I don't know if these Elkins are related (when I went to the Chancery court and asked to see the order book for April 5th 1913, they took my details and said they'd get back to me).  And I don't know if Governor Glasscock was buying land in any close proximity to where he was sending troops.  But it makes for a thickish plot, wouldn't you say?

          And to cap it all, after the town is incorporated (in 1920), the President (Thomas) closes down the company (in 1922) and buys back all the remaining assets.

 

          The first map they submitted, in 1911, had the name as "Glas=gow" (a large 'equals' sign in the middle), both in its title and the company name, but that was the only time it appeared in that form.  Everywhere else, it's simply "Glasgow".

          The attorney who acted for the company in its formation, and who was an equal stockholder (there were five), was called Donald O Blagg.  In the midst of this thickish plot, I'm not sure what a Londoner would make of his second name, but his first name certainly marks him for some Scottish ancestry.

          So let's get to the point.  It seems likely the name is a corruption of "Glass Company", because this part of the world was littered with Glass Companies, two of them figuring in the plat maps of Glasgow, one of them appearing to predate anything else there.

          But my thesis is that someone, with Scottish ancestry, said "OK, let's call it "Glassco", but let's at least spell it properly".  So, in that sense, it really was named after Glasgow Scotland.

 

          Later  that night, I saw an advert for Yeungling Lager, "America's Oldest Brewery - since 1829".  Now I'm sure you're as familiar with human nature as I am: the oldest American Brewery must have been about 1492, mustn't it?  And that's only thinking of European breweries.