Marie and David Bryan Eltzroth are hard at work helping me to tear out the old front porch in 1984.
By Jerry Eltzroth
This old house came to life because of a tragedy. The Smithers homestead that was built next to the branch in the holler in the early 1900’s was destroyed as a result of a chimney fire in the 1940’s. Gus Smithers said he could have saved many of their possessions but his mother, Eliza (Floyd) Smithers, kept trying to run back into the burning structure; thus he had to restrain her to keep her safe. It must have been devastating to be unable to quench the flames that were destroying all your possessions and many of your memories. A small amount of their cash was about all that was salvaged from the ashes. Since they still had one serial number intact, my grandpa, Bill Dickerson, took the bills to the bank for replacement. Ed and Eliza Smithers had raised 12 children in that house. I have been unable to find a picture of the original Smithers house. Jake Rose is one of the few people who can remember this old Smithers homestead. The house where his mother was raised had 2 rooms downstairs, 2 rooms upstairs and a kitchen offset in the back of the dwelling. A porch ran across the front, down the left side and across the back until it met the kitchen. Jake drew me a sketch of the layout of the house. Whenever the ground was plowed where the old house sat we would find bits of melted glass, pottery/dish pieces, chimney bricks and remains of metal objects. We have stored these keepsakes.
The house was built not long after Ed and Eliza Smithers bought the farm from Zachariah and Millie Dennis in 1904. There was a log cabin on the farm in the middle of the pasture beyond the branch, perhaps built by the Dennis family. Without a doubt it was the first dwelling on this property. No one alive today ever saw the old log cabin. The only evidence of the log cabin’s existence is from verbal descriptions passed down and a hewn entrance step stone that we found half-buried by the branch. Eliza had just lost her home and all her possessions. A few years prior to this she had mourned the passing of her husband, Edward Smithers, in 1936 as a result of a stroke. My great grandmother had only one place to turn—her children. Eliza and Gus moved in with her daughter, Lilly Rose, who lived on Rice Station Road (now Blackburn). Aunt Lilly never turned anyone away who was in need, especially family. Jake Rose said it made things a bit crowded at their home for awhile. Plans were immediately formulated to build a new house on a bank overlooking Sand Hill Road. Gus commented they should have built a house near the road long before this. The Smithers were very isolated when living in the holler near the barn. Word was sent to Ruby Dickerson, another daughter, who was working in Dayton, Ohio to come home and open her house. Eliza ordered my Grandma Ruby, “You’ve got to help me feed these men who will be building our house.” In those days you did what Mama said without questioning.
Preacher Fore was commissioned to help log the timber on the Smithers farm and convert it into lumber at his sawmill. According to Jake Rose the majority of the timber was downed on the hillside that borders with the current Charles Begley property with crosscut saws. The larger white oak and Virginia pine logs were snaked by mules and horses down the hill, crossing the branch behind the barn and up the lane to a bank where my house stands today. Jake said they had difficulty getting the logs across the branch. At the bank the logs were rolled onto awaiting trucks for delivery to the saw mill. Jake was about 10 or 11 years old at the time he helped drive the horse/mule team as they pulled the logs to the loading point. Some of the white oak logs were so big that at times it took 4 mules to pull them. Jake’s brother, Ray Rose, told me years ago that the white oaks on that hillside were some of the best still in this area. Preacher Fore received the white oaks for his effort and he delivered a pattern of pine lumber with which to build the house.
The lead carpenter in the building of this double-box house was Millard Lutes, Eliza’s son-in-law. Millard is remembered as being an excellent carpenter, an all around good fellow and could tell some entertaining tales. The Smithers sons and other family members living nearby were drafted for this seemingly Herculean task. Gus, Aaron, Leonard Smithers, Morris Rose and neighbors, like Everett Richardson, were certainly involved in the house raising effort. Everett told me that he and Leonard Smithers dug the well on the back porch. Everett added that he was the last one out of the hole after setting the flat rock in the bottom of the well.
The double boxed 28’x28’ house had 4 rooms of equal size downstairs that were all interconnected by doorways. The upstairs was unfinished, had a front and rear dormer, but was floored. It was built much like a double in that each side had a front and rear entrance. Aaron Smithers dug box elders on the farm and replanted them all around the house. They have provided excellent shade to help cool the house. Three of these trees are still surviving after 70 years. Eliza took her last breath of life in 1948, thus she received only a few years of enjoyment in her new home. Although Aaron and his family lived in the house for a time, Gus was the last Smithers to occupy the house. When he passed away in 1982 I bought the farm at auction. After I came here to live in 1984 and began renovating the house a new chapter in the history of this house began to be written. The house was well built, sat on a post/pier foundation and still seemed to be very square. The framing lumber had hardened to the point that I had to drill pilot holes to attach nails and screws. There was no wall studs, plumbing, electric or insulation. The only protection from the elements was the double boxing, a thin layer of drywall and wall paper. People were hardier years ago. The Home Comfort kitchen cook stove was the only immediately noticeable possession left in the house. Uncle Aaron had bought the stove when he lived there and wanted it to remain with the house for the new owner. I was thankful he did, because I used it a great deal for heat and for cooking my first couple years in my ‘new’ home. I acquired a used cast iron wood burning stove for the living room. I had to keep both stoves going full blast those first couple winters to keep warm.
Even with both stoves fired at night my buckets of water from the well would freeze over with ice and I could see my breath when I stuck my head out from under the covers in the morning. The chimney was a very unique design in that there was a thimble for each of the downstairs rooms. After the chimney reached the upstairs it corkscrewed around until it was aligned with the roof.
Mary Eliza (Floyd) Smithers is sitting in her rocker on the front porch of her new home in the early 1940’s. The asphalt simulated-brick siding was added shortly after this photo was taken. Bonnie and I are reluctant to change the siding because it would change the character of the house.
I was unemployed (by choice) my first year after coming to Witt Springs so I could work on the house. However I spent a good deal of my time repairing my Grandma Ruby’s place. Grandpa had been gone for nearly 20 years and a lot of home repairs had been neglected. I stayed with my Grandma the first few weeks until I could acquire some basic supplies—like a bed. My first night in the old house was spooky. I kept hearing a noise that made you want to hide under the covers for fear of seeing a ghost. This thought came to mind, “Great Grandma Eliza had died in this house and maybe she had come to welcome me.” After gathering all my courage, I tracked the fluttering noise to the chimney. Some swallows had taken up residency in the chimney and made an eerie sound as they fluttered their wings. Once the source of the ghost was identified, I returned to my bed and slept soundly.
When I started modernizing the upstairs I realized there was a storage area in the corner of the upstairs that had no access. It seemed strange that it had never been utilized. Gus had been known to hide his money. Maybe this was a hiding place. I was told they found a $1000 in cash in the house after Gus passed away. He had a jar full of money buried in the back yard at one time and in the barn. I pried some boards off and peered inside this lair in hopes of finding a treasure. There it was, and a big pile of it! But it was not money. It was a small mountain of dirt, leaves, sticks, etc. There seemed to be an entrance to this mound on the far side. Without knowing what I might encounter, I was reluctant to venture any further. I enlisted the aid of my son’s cat, Tiger. She stealthily crept to the mound entrance. Like a bolt of lightning something shot out, through the opening in the wall and past me. Tiger captured the critter before it scampered 10 feet. I pried the prize from Tiger’s clutches, which caused Tiger to emit a frowning meow. It was a flying squirrel! I released it outside. That nest must have been there for years. Gus certainly saw them sneaking into the eave under the front porch but left them in peace. I found one other possession that belonged to Gus that was well hidden, but at the ready. Above one of the front porch posts I discovered lead knuckles. I wonder what stories it could share.
My children, Anna Marie and David Bryan stayed with me the first couple summers. At the tender ages of 11 and 12 years old they shared my experience of living a more primitive lifestyle. They soon got accustomed to the outhouse. Our bathing was accomplished by utilizing a 5-gallon shower bucket I had engineered and hung off the back porch. Marie was not too keen on this shower arrangement even though there was enough foliage around the back porch for privacy. In fact Marie welcomed her return to the civilized ways of Dayton, Ohio. I remember her commenting, “There are too many bugs and too much mud here!” After the old house acquired modern conveniences (electric, indoor bathroom, etc.) the children were more comfortable. They helped me a great deal in my renovation of the house during their visits– rebuilding the porches and building a new outhouse. The outhouse is still standing on the site where the Smithers first built it. I kept using it for many years even after acquiring an indoor ‘outhouse’. You can meditate better in an outhouse and it uses no water; however, it is a chilling experience in cold weather. After Bonnie and I married she barred me from using it.
The Smithers’ chicken house was vacant. My cousin, Jennings Adams, supplied me with a few chickens and a rooster to bring life back to the chicken yard. Doug Lay provided me with additional chickens. My son, Bryan, was my ‘chicken man.’ He would catch the chickens and load them into my cap-covered pick-up truck bed. Once we arrived home with our load of feathery egg-producers he would crawl into the truck bed and grab the chickens by the legs and release them into the chicken yard. Jennings was overrun with kittens in his barn. Being the wise man that he was, he said, “You children each need to pick you out a kitten.” Jennings knew I could not say “No” and erase the joy that came to my children’s faces. They named them Velvet and Tiger. I have never been much of a cat lover, but they were good company. I had the vet give them their shots and spay them since Marie and Bryan had picked sisters out of the litter. The cats were to stay outside but occasionally sneaked into the house. I had my extension ladder placed against the upstairs window while preparing the window facing for a new coat of paint. When I came down the ladder to retrieve a needed tool from the upstairs, Tiger was nosing around up there. I asked, “Tiger, how did you get in here?” After placing Tiger outside, I retrieved the needed tool and headed back to the ladder. That’s when I discovered Tiger’s ingenious method for entering the house. She had already climbed up the ladder and was about to go through the open window again, putting one of her 9 lives at risk.
The interior of the house is very modern now. Still, when I walk into the house I can feel the presence of those who put so much labor, sweat and care into the building of this dwelling. Bonnie and I have contributed our own share of effort, expense and love into renovating the house in order to prolong its life. Perhaps when the time comes to downsize we will live out our days here. One day, if the house can survive, a new owner will care enough to add to the cherished memories embedded in these timbers.
Velvet and Tiger pose on the back porch of the Smithers house in 1984.