Category Archives: Oswego

My generation and how we came to view the Civil War…

Over at Lawyers, Guns & Money, one of the blogs I read semi-regularly, Eric Loomis posted an interesting piece back in the summer of 2017 entitled “Trump’s Generation and Civil War Education.” Loomis was trying to get a handle on where the current occupant of the White House got his strange views of the Civil War by looking at how U.S. history was taught in the 1960s when Trump—and I, for that matter—were getting our basic educations.

Frankly, I don’t think looking at how history was taught 60 years ago has much bearing on how Trump views the topic. Trump is astonishingly incurious about virtually everything except himself. His elementary and junior high and high school education is not to blame for the bigotry, ignorance, and racism he displays for all to see. That can more easily be explained by looking at how he was raised—which was not well.

But recently I got to thinking about that again as I did research on how the Civil War affected Kendall County in general and Oswego in particular. The war had a huge impact locally. For instance, it was probably responsible, at least in part, for Kendall County’s long-term population decline. Kendall did not reach its 1860 population again until the 1920 census was taken.

And those thoughts, in turn, got me to thinking about that article I’d read back in 2017 and how the history of the Civil War was taught when I was in junior high and high school, which was schizophrenic at best and outright racist at worst.

1859 john brown

John Brown, who attempted to start a rebellion against the U.S. Government, could reasonably be declared a terrorist. He was executed after his raid on the federal arsenal at Harper’s Ferry, Virginia in 1859.

We were told John Brown’s raid on the U.S. Arsenal at Harper’s Ferry was bad and he was a murderous lunatic; the Underground Railroad was good. Secession was bad, but the North’s lording it over the South created a conflict driven by trying to curtail the rights of the Southern states. Oh, and slavery was sort of an issue, too. Abraham Lincoln was a saint. Robert E. Lee was likewise a saint, a kindly, dignified, honorable man who bravely chose to fight for his home state of Virginia instead of for those ruthless northern invaders. Ulysses Grant was a grim, alcoholic butcher. Confederates were wonderful soldiers. Yankees reveled in attacking Southern civilians. John Wilkes Booth was bad. Reconstruction was a terrible burden on the South, which was ravaged by Yankee carpetbaggers and the Southern scalawags who supported them. Freeing the slaves was a good thing, sort of, but left them pining for their old plantation homes. The Ku Klux Klan was a clearly bad, but it was an understandable reaction to the depredations of those corrupt carpetbaggers and scalawags. President Andrew Johnson was not as well liked as President Lincoln had been, but he was afflicted with Radical Republicans who were clearly unreasonable in their hatred of the South.

It wasn’t until I got to college that these truths I had been taught during 12 years of elementary and high school started to unravel. And it took years of self-education before I came to the conclusion that the Civil War was plainly a war of Southern aggression, not, as generations of Southern apologists had claimed, a war caused by the Northern invasion of a tranquil South.

Actually, some of those truths learned long ago turned out to be true—John Brown was a homicidal maniac who, just like today’s anti-abortion fanatics, saw terrorism as a perfectly defensible political tactic and murder of certain people entirely reasonable.

1859 underground railroad

Some of the local stations on the Underground Railroad just before the Civil War. From the 1914 history of Kendall County.

Andrew Johnson, a pro-slavery Democrat, was a personally unpleasant man who, if not hated, was roundly disliked by almost everyone with whom he came into contact.

And the Underground Railroad was a good thing, indeed, a perfect example of effective non-violent protest against a great moral wrong. But almost without exception it left those whites who acted as the conductors feeling forever after uncomfortable that they’d broken the law in helping enslaved Americans escape to freedom. I’ve often wondered whether their discomfort with what they did during that era had an impact on why so many in the North were so ambivalent about the terrorist Jim Crow regimes the southern states developed.

Other truths I learned so long ago were either outright lies or shadings of the truth so extreme as to make them lies. The South did not secede over any state’s rights issue other than slavery. They, in fact, said so at the time in the resolutions of secession their state governments passed. Slavery was not AN issue for secession; it was THE issue.

Southerners were good soldiers, but so were the boys in blue; they all did their jobs, the difference mainly being the unfortunate selection of military leaders the North found itself saddled with as the war began. It took two or three years for the North’s officer corps to rid itself of raging incompetence, and when the winnowing process was finished, the North found itself with a top command that was probably the best in the world at the time.

lee, robert e

Robert E. Lee, while he was still a loyal U.S. Army officer.

Then there was Robert Lee, who seems to have neither been an honorable man, nor particularly kindly. He was a slave owner who had no compunctions about the practice. His former slaves had nothing good to say about a man who repeatedly violated his moral duty to those he held in bondage by continually breaking up slave families, something that had not been a regular practice among his Custis family in-laws until he took over the operation of their plantations.

Lee violated his oath of office as a U.S. Army officer and committed treason on behalf of maintaining the South’s system of human bondage. He was a pretty good tactician who was fortunate in his opponents early in the war, but he was a terrible strategist who never figured out the South’s very limited material and human resources had to be conserved at all costs. Instead of fighting a defensive war, he determined to fight a ferociously offensive one, almost guaranteeing his defeat. Lee enjoyed war, famously quoted as remarking “It is well that war is so terrible – otherwise we should grow too fond of it.”

1864 grant at cold harbor

Gen. Hiram Ulysses Grant photographed at Cold Harbor, 1864. Grant later said Cold Harbor was the one battle during the war he’d rather never to have done.

Grant, on the other hand, was a pretty good tactician who had a brilliant grasp of grand strategy. Finally convinced after the battle of Shiloh the South would never accede to a voluntarily return to the Union, Grant grimly went about the task of forcing them to surrender by destroying their armies and their capacity to wage war. Unlike Lee, Grant was under no illusions about war. “Although a soldier by profession, I have never felt any sort of fondness for war, and I have never advocated it, except as a means of peace,” Grant explained in a speech in London two decades after the Civil War.

What about the idea that Grant was a clumsy butcher who only won because he was indifferent to the numbers of Union casualties he caused? Modern research suggests that’s simply not true. Using actual casualty figures, historians have now concluded that the term “butcher” might better fit Lee. In Grant’s major federal campaigns, he suffered just a bit more than 94,000 killed and wounded. Meanwhile, in Lee’s major campaigns, he suffered more than 121,000 killed and wounded. Lee continually dismissed the strategic fact that he couldn’t afford casualties at all; he was badly outnumbered by the American military.

murdock, a.x pooley

Oswegoans Alfred X. Murdock (left) and William Pooley were two of the young men who died during the Civil War, killed in action at the Battle of Ezra Church in 1864. More than 200 Kendall County soldiers died during the war.

Immediately after the war, there was no doubt here in northern Illinois about what the war had been fought over. Immediately after Abraham Lincoln’s assassination in April 1865, Record editor John R. Marshall commented about the recent conflict and the Southerners who conducted it: “The great and final act of the accursed slaveholders’ rebellion has culminated in this one outrageous, dastardly, and hellborn murder.”

There was even more general outrage as it became clear the former Southern power structure was behind the formation of terrorist groups, primarily the Ku Klux Klan, formed to terrorize freed African Americans and to deprive them of their rights as American citizens. To the rescue there came U.S. Grant once again, but this time as President. The series of laws he got Congress to pass, the three Enforcement Acts in the early 1870s, provided legal tools to successfully suppress the Klan and it’s imitators.

Unfortunately, those tools were largely eliminated following the political deal that led to the election of Republican Rutherford B. Hayes in 1877 over Democrat Samuel Tilden. The deal, known as the Compromise of 1877, directly led to the removal of U.S. troops from the South and the gradual institution of what became known as the Jim Crow laws that violently oppressed millions of Black Southerners until the civil rights era of the 1960s at least restored their voting rights.

But even so, federal laws were still enforced for a while there, the Kendall County Record reporting on Nov. 1, 1884: “Some first families in Georgia have come to grief. A number of their young men belonged to the Kuklux gang and committed horrible outrages on negroes; a number of them were arrested, tried, and to their great astonishment, eight of them were convicted and go to the penitentiary. The young men wept when the verdict struck them. This is no Northern campaign lie.”

But unreconstructed former Confederate soldiers, officers, and government officials soon regained political power throughout the Old South, putting in place systematic oppression of black citizens.

When I think back on it, the casual racism of my childhood seems almost unbelievable (we still did musical minstrel shows, with end men in blackface through my high school years), racism that was reinforced by what we were taught as U.S. history. The remnants of that history still have a negative affect on the way far too many of us view race relations and sectionalism today. So I suppose it may have had a negative affect on Donald Trump’s outlook on those issues, too.

Except that I don’t think it would matter in Trump’s case one way or another, especially since his father was apparently at least a Klan sympathizer and at worst a member of the group. Trump’s a person who simply doesn’t see it as his responsibility to learn anything about anything unless it will have a positive personal effect on him. His Trump National Golf Course on Lowe’s Island at Sterling, Va., near Washington, D.C. features a historical marker explaining about the “River of Blood,” a Civil War battle he insists took place on the land along the Potomac River now covered by the course. No battle happened there; it’s simply all made up. That’s not something he can blame his junior high history teachers for.

So while our educations concerning U.S. history were definitely lacking as children of the 1950s and early 1960s, it’s a stretch to blame Trump’s ignorance of the topic on that. After all, he’s had more than 60 years to educate himself.

 

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Filed under Civil War, Education, Government, History, Kendall County, Local History, Military History, Oswego, People in History, Semi-Current Events

How places in Kendall County got their names…

Last fall, the University of Illinois Press had a truly can’t miss sale on electronic books. For $5 you would download any ebook in their entire catalog, which gave me the push I needed to read some good Illinois history.

I chose three books on subjects that looked interesting to me: Illinois History: A Reader; edited by Mark Hubbard; Illinois in the War of 1812 by Gillum Ferguson; and Place Names of Illinois by Edward Callary.

Illinois HistoryI picked the Illinois history reader mostly because it had a piece by my good friend Ray Hauser, formerly on the history faculty at Waubonsee Community College. Ray is THE expert on the Illinois Confederacy, and is a good and entertaining writer to boot. I’d been interested when Ferguson’s volume came out back in 2012, and had actually corresponded with her, promising I’d buy a copy—better late than never, I guess. I was finally prompted to buy the book because last fall I’d bought a copy of The War of 1812 in Wisconsin: The Battle for Prairie du Chien by Mary Elise Antoine while we were visiting the fascinating Apostle Islands Booksellers up in Bayfield, and was interested to see how the stories in the two books meshed. Because, after all, during the War of 1812, Illinois Territory included all of what became the state of Wisconsin, so I figured it would be hard to separate the two stories.

I’ve been reading all three as the mood strikes me. Lately I’ve been concentrating on Place Names of Illinois, which is a fascinating read. And that prompted me to take another look at the place names right here in Kendall County. Given the explosive population growth during the past several years, lots of county residents probably have no idea why Oswego, Yorkville, or even Kendall County have the names they do. There is, of course, a story behind each one of them.

Almost everyone, I suppose, at one time or another, has looked at a map or a road sign and wondered, “Where did that name come from?” Kendall County has more than its own share of places with names that probably sound obscure to those newer residents noted above. I’ve no doubt some may even be puzzling to those who’ve lived here their entire lives.

Judson, Lewis B

Lewis B. Judson and his partner Levi F. Arnold, laid Oswego out early enough in 1835 that it is the oldest town in Kendall County. (Little White School Museum collection)

So let’s take a look at some of those names, starting right here at my home. Oswego Township and the village of Oswego both carry the Mohawk Indian name that literally means, “place of the flowing out,” or more familiarly, “the mouth of the stream.” The village was first named Hudson by the two men who laid it out back in 1835, Levi F. Arnold and Lewis B. Judson. Both were native New Yorkers, and picked a familiar name for their new town. When the village was awarded a post office in 1837, however, the government decided to call the post office Lodi. Two names for on the same town was clearly confusing, so later that same year, the four or five property owning male residents of the tiny village gathered and voted (no women allowed to vote back then, whether they owned property or not) on a permanent name, deciding on yet another familiar New York name, Oswego, by a margin of a single vote. When the Illinois General Assembly established townships in 1850, residents sensibly decided to name the township after the village.

Little Rock Township and the village of Little Rock are named after the creek over that direction. The City of Plano was laid out by early settler and businessman Lewis Steward, who told the CB&Q Railroad he’d establish a town if they’d run their line through his property. Which they did, and which he did. John Hollister, one of Stewrd’s associates gave the new town the Spanish word for plain, because, the town’s founders decided, it accurately described the new community’s site.

Bristol Township and the current village of Bristol are both named after early settler Lyman Bristol. In terms of area, Bristol is the smallest among Kendall County’s nine townships.

The modern village of Bristol was originally called Bristol Station because of the depot the CB&Q established there in the early 1850s when the railroad’s main line extended west of the Fox River. During that era, modern Yorkville was separated into two villages, Yorkville south of the Fox River and Bristol north of the river. The two communities finally merged into a single city in the late 1950s, and the “station” was finally dropped from today’s Bristol’s name.

1844 Amos Kendall

Andrew Jackson’s political fixer and postmaster general, Amos Kendall, in an image created n 1844, just three years after Kendall County was established by the Illinois General Assembly.

Kendall Township, and the county as well, are named after Amos Kendall, journalist and political crony of Andrew Jackson. Kendall was Jackson’s primary political hatchetman and as Postmaster General, handled passing out thousands of postmaster patronage jobs throughout the nation. Jackson basically invented the spoils system, and made sure the postmaster in every town was his personal representative. We might cringe a bit at that today, but at least it gave the White House a direct line into every community, large and small, in the entire country.

Yorkville was named after the village in New York from which some of the early residents came. The north side of modern Yorkville, as noted above, was first known as Bristol and was a separate village until 1957 when Bristol and Yorkville merged.

Boulder Hill, the huge unincorporated subdivision between Oswego and Montgomery east of the Fox River, was named after the Boulder Hill Stock Farm owned by the Bereman Family. The Beremans were famed for their thoroughbred Percheron draft horses and prize cattle. Developer Don L. Dise bought the stock farm, which covered more than 700 acres, in the early 1950s to develop his new community. Bereman once owned more than 1,000 acres of land in Oswego Township. Bereman’s sprawling farm was merely a hobby; he made his fortune manufacturing and selling freckle cream, which was advertised to eliminate skin blemishes and give women smooth, white skin so prized during the Victorian era.

NaAuSay Township was given a made-up name that some of the earliest township residents insisted meant “headwaters of the AuSable.” If it means what they thought it meant, it’s a fitting name since at least one branch of AuSable Creek starts in the township before flowing to its mouth on the Illinois River. AuSable Creek carries a French name generally said to mean “Sandy Creek.” It was a major landmark from colonial times until the 19th Century and is mentioned in many 19th Century Indian treaties.

Big Grove Township was named after the large grove of trees in Sections 9, 10, 15, and 16 of that township when settlers arrived in the 1830s. Newark was first called Georgetown after its founder, George Hollenback when Hollenback laid it out in 1835. Because of a conflict with another Georgetown elsewhere in Illinois, the General Assembly approved renaming it Newark on Feb. 16, 1843, after Newark, Ohio, which had been named after Newark, New Jersey.

Platt_s Tavern

Daniel Platt built his second stagecoach in at Plattville from limestone he quarried himself a few miles away. It replaced his first log tavern (Little White School Museum collection)

Lisbon Township and the Village of Lisbon both carry the name of the city in Portugal. According to early histories, settlers wanted to give their new home a different name from any of the county’s other towns. Plattville was named after its founder, Daniel Platt. Platt hailed from Plattsburg, N.Y., which his ancestors also founded.

Waubonsie Creek is named for the well-known Pottawatomie war chief who lived in the area. Waubonsee also gave his name to Waubonsee Community College in Sugar Grove and Waubonsie Valley High School in Aurora. Note the different spellings—since the chief could neither read nor write English, feel free to spell it however you like. Waubonsie was also the name of a large reed marsh extending over some 350 acres near the intersection of U.S. Route 30 and U.S. Route 34 in Oswego and Montgomery. The marsh was drained in the early 1900s, but still reappears after heavy rains.

Morgan Creek is named for Ebenezer Morgan, an early Oswego Township settler and millwright. Hollenback Creek is named for the Hollenback family, early settlers and business leaders, noted above.

Bartlett Creek, also called Bartlett’s Run, which snakes through Oswego and crosses Main Street in downtown Oswego a block south of the old village hall, is named after the Bartlett family, early Oswego settlers. The small house on the west side of Main Street where it crosses the creek was built by the Bartletts when they came from New York in 1837, and may be the oldest house in Oswego.

Seward Township is named after New York Gov. William H. Seward, later U.S. Secretary of State under Abraham Lincoln and Andrew Johnson. The township was originally named Franklin, after Benjamin Franklin, but the name had to be changed after it was discovered another Illinois township already carried that name.

Fox Township is, of course, named after the Fox River. Millbrook is named for the mill that used to be there back in the 19th Century.

1838 Waish & moah close

The Mo-Ah-Way Reserve in the far southwest corner of Oswego Township and the Waish-Kee-Shaw Reserve in the far southwest corner of Oswego Township and extreme northwest corner of NaAuSay Township as drawn on the original plat map of Oswego Township published in 1842 from a survey taken in 1838. (Little White School Museum collection)

In the Treaty of 1829 signed at Prairie du Chien in Wisconsin, the U.S. Government granted reserves of land to two Indians then living in Kendall County. The larger Waish Kee Shaw Reserve went to the Indian wife of fur trader and businessman David Laughton and to her son, Joseph. The other reserve was granted to an individual named Mo-Ah-Way, of whom little else is known. Reservation Road bisects the two reserves, thus the road’s name. And the Oswegoland Park District’s Waa Kee Sha Park was named after Waish Kee Shaw. There is no evidence either Waish Kee Shaw or Mo-Ah-Way ever lived on their reserves.

Montgomery, which now extends well into Kendall County, was originally named Graytown after its founder, Daniel Gray. But again, a name conflict required a change, so it was renamed Montgomery after the county in New York many settlers came from.

The names of roads, towns, and streams can be a sort of guide to the history of an area. In our own area, Indian, French, and early pioneer influences are all evident. Knowing the origin of local place names is one way to make local history come alive.

One of these days, I’ll take a look at the names of the rural post offices that used to dot the landscape until the U.S. Postal Service initiated Rural Free Delivery, because that’s another fascinating look at a time so far in the past nobody remembers it any more.

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Filed under Business, Fox River, Government, History, Illinois History, Kendall County, Law, Local History, Montgomery, Oswego, People in History

Trying to stay one step ahead of destruction in the Machine Age

When Czech science fiction writer and playwright Karel Čapek used the word robot (its root goes back to a term for “serf labor”), invented by his brother, Josef, he had human-shaped machines in mind that would do man’s bidding, for good or ill.

Image result for tobor captain video

65 years later, Tobot doesn’t look nearly as frightening as he did to my 7 year-old self.

Today, millions of robots are quietly and industriously going about their business but, alas, few of them look like the classic robot of SF literature or the robots we grew up watching on TV and in the movies. I recall being scared to death of the Tobot character (“robot” spelled backwards) when I watched “Captain Video and his Video Rangers” as a little kid. Robbie the robot in “Forbidden Planet” was a good-natured mechanical man, as was Robot, the combination nanny and straight man on “Lost in Space.”

But instead of humanoid machines mingling in modern society, these days robotic carts deliver parts from storage to machine in factories all over the world; robotic arms help build most kinds of trucks and autos these days; and deep space robots land on distant planets, tool around for years over the surface or dig around a bit and then return their finds to Earth. Robots even mow our lawns and vacuum our living rooms.

In short, robots are replacing people in jobs that are either too dangerous or too costly or too repetitive for humans to perform if industry, government, or ourselves are to be freed up to do other things—or make even bigger profits without all those pesky union contracts to deal with.

On the plus side, machines have made humanity’s physical burden lighter from the time the first cave man found a long enough lever could move a giant boulder. At the same time, those same machines have sometimes caused huge workforce dislocations.

No one knows what the first machine really was. It could have been that rock-moving lever noted above. Or it could have been the inclined plane used to help a group of Paleolithic hunters move the carcass of a large animal up to their cave.

The simple machine that probably had the most impact on the earliest civilizations right up through the present was the wheel, which allowed all manner of things to happen, the consequences of which we are still dealing with today. Even as the first crude wagon led to the automobile, the first war chariot led to today’s tanks, effects I am sure the inventor of the wheel could not imagine.

Image result for Ben Hur chariot race

No wheels, no Ben-Hur chariot race. Bummer.

But far from being simply a troublemaker, the wheel has also, over the course of history, been the greatest labor saving device ever invented, and may well have led to the invention of civilization. Wheels allowed larger cargoes to be carried from the countryside to the cities that grew into the Urs, Babylons, Romes, and other great capitals of the ancient world. And something as simple as a wheelbarrow lighten the workload on generation after generation of workers.

When put to work properly and with some innovation, wheels made manufacturing possible on large scales for the first time.

The water wheel was probably invented in the Far East, but it eventually became the foundation on which the West’s Industrial Revolution was built. Once the power of water was harnessed and put to productive work, all manner of things became not only possible but practical.

Gears and pulleys—also wheels—allowed the power of falling or flowing water to turn millstones to grind grain into flour, and to make saw blades first travel up and down and then round and round to saw trees into lumber.

At some time or other, an inventive person invented the trip hammer, a particularly useful machine. A trip hammer is lifted by a cam—basically a bulge—attached to a shaft turned by waterpower. As the bulge of the cam passes, the hammer falls. Of what use is an endlessly rising and falling hammer? Let us count the ways.

Image result for water powered trip hammer

Water-powered trip hammers made work from blacksmithing to dye making much easier.

In olden times, dye was made from vegetable substances that had to be pulverized, and that pulverization was all done by hand. With a water-powered trip hammer, dye stocks could be made much more cheaply because machines did not get tired and cranky. They just went on pounding and pounding all day every day without complaint. As a result, dye prices fell, and even common folks were able to afford colorful clothing.

Water powered hammers were also useful to folks who wanted to make a lot of metal items. Blacksmithing was an art, and a hard one at that. But trip hammers could be used to automate the tiresome process of hammering larger pieces of steel or iron to flatten or weld or shape them, making workers more productive.

In addition, falling or flowing water could also power all manner of other complicated machine assemblages from textile mills and elaborate looms to irrigation pumps to those sawmill blades mentioned above.

Indeed, when the first settlers began arriving here in Kendall County, pioneer millwrights were among the first wave of settlement in the 1830s. Ebenezer Morgan, John Schneider, Merritt Clark, Levi Gorton and the others found likely sites along the county’s creeks and rivers and built their dams and mills.

1900 (abt) Parker Mills

Levi Gorton built the gristmill on the riverbank just north of Oswego at left, and Nathaniel Rising added the sawmill in the right foreground, while George Parker added a furniture factory wing to the sawmill.

Gristmills were usually the first mills to be built to allow farmers to grind their com, barley, oats, and wheat into flour. But sawmills were almost as quickly built, and lumber for homes for the county’s growing population was soon available.

All manner of water-powered factories followed, and even the water behind the numerous mill dams itself was soon sold in the form of ice, harvested during the winter and stored for sale later in the warm months of the year.

The steam engine—which also relies on wheels to operate—gradually put the county’s water-powered mills out of business, since steam engines require no expensive, maintenance-intensive dams, they aren’t affected by low or high water levels, and they don’t freeze up in the winter.

Besides revolutionizing milling, steam engines installed aboard boats opened the Midwest’s extensive river system to trade, while other steam engines equipped with wheels and pulling cars over a network of rails changed the nation forever by revolutionizing transportation.

Today, we are facing another revolution almost as great as the one occasioned by the invention of the wheel. The combination of powerful computers and a worldwide communications network is bringing people together as nothing else ever has. The old totalitarian nations were unable to stand against the communications revolution as fax machines and computer networks spread the truths they had been suppressing for generations.

Now, however, the social media that toppled dictators is being used more and more to promote new dictatorial and hateful propaganda to a credulous citizenry. As we face the same messy ethnic and territorial problems the world has been dealing with since civilizations arose, our immediate challenge is trying to figure out how to use all this new technology in the service of rights and freedom of civilization before it destroys both.

 

 

 

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World War I soldiers deserve our President’s recognition and respect…

So last week, Donald Trump flew over to France to represent the U.S. as the rest of the world, especially the European powers, commemorated the 100th anniversary of the end of World War I.

During its brief participation in the conflict, the U.S. suffered 53,402 combat deaths and a grand total of 116,708 deaths from all causes. Another 204,002 soldiers, sailors, and marines were wounded. As things go, that wasn’t an overwhelming total of fatalities—more than 600,000 died during the four years of the Civil War and the nation would suffer 407,300 total deaths during the upcoming Second World War, along with another 672,000 wounded.

But the U.S. only participated in World War I for 19 months, and suffered about the same casualties as in the war in Vietnam, which lasted 18 years, 10 months and 23 days between the first death on April 8, 1956 and the final two men killed in action on April 29, 1975.

World War I really ushered the U.S. onto the world scene, and while our nation’s part of the conflict was relatively brief, it also involved brutal, fierce combat. In Europe, the war resulted in an entire generation of young men being killed, maimed, and mentally injured. For them, it was a horrific, seemingly never-ending series of battles that gained no ground and resulted in no resolution. Not until the fresh troops supplied by the U.S. arrived at the front did the Germans and their allies finally come to the conclusion they could not win the war. And so at the 11th hour on the 11th day of the 11th month, the Germans capitulated, finally ending the horrific bloodshed.

For our current European allies—and even our foes during that long-ago war—this centenary commemoration was a major event. Which made it doubly disappointing that our current President found it inconvenient to attend solemn ceremonies honoring all the war’s dead, including those tens of thousands of young men and women from the U.S. who served. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, he likewise found it inconvenient to attend ceremonies here in the U.S. marking the 100th anniversary of the end of the war. Which made it seem an awful lot like he simply didn’t care about those who paid the ultimate price in defense of their nation—including the three men from Kendall County who were killed in action.

burson marker

Plano resident Leon Burson was the second Kendall County resident killed in action during World War I.

World War I, it seems, is no more familiar to most Americans—including, it seems, the current President—than the Civil War. Those of us who grew up in the 1950s remember elderly World War I vets riding to the cemetery on Memorial Day—still called Decoration Day by our grandparents—escorted by the color guard of young World War II and Korean Conflict vets, much like those World War II and Korean Conflict vets are escorted today by honor guards of Vietnam War and Desert Storm vets. Armistice Day—today’s Veterans Day—was an even more somber celebration, originally commemorating the service of those who went “over there” to fight the Kaiser.

It was hoped World War I would be the “War to End All Wars.” Several Kendall County residents lost their lives during the conflict, most dying from disease including the devastating worldwide Spanish Flu pandemic. But many others were killed in action during the conflict, including three county residents, one each from Plattville, Oswego, and Plano.

After the U.S. Congress declared war on Germany on April 6, 1917, Fred P. Thompson, a 34 year-old Plattville blacksmith, was determined to do his part. He enlisted in the U.S. Army at Aurora on May 28, and was assigned to the 16th U.S. Infantry Regiment, one of four regiments comprising the 1st Expeditionary Division, later renamed the 1st Infantry Division.

Thompson, in fact, was among the first U.S. troops to land in France. Though virtually untrained, they were enthusiastically welcomed by the French people, who were exhausted after years of seemingly unending war. On Independence Day, July 4, 1917 the 16th Infantry’s 2nd Battalion paraded through Paris, where one of General John J. Pershing’s staff is said to have announced, in a reference to France’s assistance during the Revolutionary War, “Lafayette, we are here!”

On Oct. 21, the 1st Division was assigned to the Allied line in the Luneville sector near Nancy. Two days later, Corporal Robert Bralet of the Sixth Artillery fired a 75 millimeter artillery round at the German lines, the first U.S. soldier to fire a shot in the war.

It was while the 16th Regiment was in the Luneville sector trenches on Jan. 22, 1918 that Thompson was killed in action, among the first to fight, and the first Kendall County soldier killed in action during the war.

burson post american legion

Plano’s American Legion post is named in Leon Burson’s honor.

Leon Burson, 26, a lifelong Plano resident, was drafted in 1917. He left from Plano in September for Camp Dodge, Ia., then on to Camp Logan at Houston, Tex. to join the Illinois National Guard’s 1st Infantry Regiment. The 1st Illinois had served in the Spanish American War and later had helped U.S. Gen. John “Black Jack” Pershing chase Pancho Villa along the Mexican border for three months in 1916. With the declaration of war, the 1st Illinois was federalized. Redesignated the 131st Infantry at Camp Logan, they were assigned to the 33rd “Prairie” Division.

At Camp Logan, Burson was assigned to the Medical Corps. In early May 1918 after finishing rigorous training, the regiment traveled to New Jersey, boarded the ocean liner SS Leviathan, and sailed for France on May 22. Arriving at Brest on May 30, the regiment entrained for Oisemont, where they underwent combat training under experienced British officers before joining the 3rd Corps, 4th British Army.

The 131st helped capture Hamel on the Fourth of July then helped reduce the Amiens salient. There, on Aug. 9, the regiment lost nearly 1,000 men at Chipilly Ridge and Gressaire Wood before advancing to help take the Etinchem Spur on Aug. 13.

Burson, behind the lines, was stocking an ambulance for the front a day later when he was killed by an artillery shell, the second Kendall County man killed in action in the Great War.

“It is my sad duty to write you of your son Leon’s death, the evening of August 14, 1918 due to the explosion of a shell,” Lt. Herbert Pease wrote to Burson’s parents. “Death no doubt was instant. He was on duty, having talked to me only two or three minutes before. He was buried today at Vayux, France under the direction of our Chaplain, Lieut. Egerton, in the American cemetery.” Years after the war, Plano’s American Legion Post would be named for Leon Burson.

Archie Lake grew up in Oswego but the young man and his family traveled to find work, eventually winding up in Hinsdale. When the U.S. entered the war, Lake, then 22, enlisted in the U.S. Marine Corps. He was assigned to the 97th Company, 3rd Battalion, in the newly formed 6th Marine Regiment.

Lake, Archie KIA 97th 6th retouch

An Oswego native, the U.S. Marines’ Pvt. Archie Lake was killed in action on July 19, 1918.

In France, the 6th Marines, the 5th Marines, and the 6th Machine Gun Battalion were formed into the 4th Brigade of the U.S. 2nd Division. Nicknamed the “Marine. Brigade,” the unit was assigned to the Toulon Sector near Verdun in March 1918. There, the 6th Marines lost 33 men, most killed when the 74th Company bivouac was attacked with poison gas on April 13.

In late May 1918, the Marine Brigade was ordered to help shore up crumbling French lines near Château-Thierry. On June 6, southwest of Belleau Wood, the 6th Marines were ordered to seize the town of Bouresches and to clear the southern half of Belleau Wood itself. The push started a bloody 40-day struggle in which the 6th lost 2,143 Marines. For their effort, the Marine units were all awarded the Croix de Guerre with Palm. And the French renamed Belleau Wood “Bois de la Brigade de Marine.”

Lake, Archie marker Osw Cem

Pvt. Archie Lake, U.S. Marine Corps,  is buried in France where he was killed in action, but his family placed this marker in the Oswego Township Cemetery in his memory.

But bloodier fighting loomed when the Marine Brigade was ordered to counterattack near Soissons in mid July. The 6th Regiment was held in reserve during the initial July 18 assault, but on July 19, they advanced alone through heavy artillery and machinegun fire from Vierzy toward Tigny suffering catastrophic 50-70 percent casualties in most units. First Lt. Clifton Cates (a future Marine Corps commandant) reported only about two dozen of more than 400 men survived: “… There is no one on my left, and only a few on my right. I will hold” he reported to his superior office at headquarters.

One of the Marines lying dead on that battlefield was Archie Lake, the last Kendall County man to die in combat in World War I.

World War I and its heroes have largely faded from modern consciousness. But brave men and women did great things in our country’s name in the muddy, bloody trenches of France. It’s a shame–bordering on a national disgrace–that, on this 100th anniversary of the end of that devastating conflict, our nation’s elected leader decided to disregard his duty to honor of all those who perished during the conflict—including three young Kendall County men,.

 

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The story of an Illinois cavalryman’s surprising World War II service

The annual Remembering Our Veterans exhibit down at the Little White School Museum opened Saturday morning for an eight-day run. This year, we’re doing a bit more commemorating World War I, since this month marks the 100th anniversary of the armistice that ended the conflict.

As usual, my buddy, Bob Stekl, the museum’s assistant director, has done a great job mounting the exhibit—which completely fills the museum’s main room—with the help of a great group of volunteers (including Stephanie Just and Sarah Kimes) that operate like a fine-tuned watch, setting the exhibit up during a single day.

Also this year, like every year, we have a few new and upgraded exhibits featuring recent donations to the museum’s collections. This past year, my high school buddy Jim Yuvan and his brother Jerry donated some photos, battlefield souvenirs, and other materials that tell the World War II story of their dad, Louis Yuvan.

1941 12 Yuvan, Louis J

Pvt. Louis Yuvan, fresh from basic training as a cavalryman in December 1941, in a snapshot taken at his home in DePue, Ill. (Little White School Museum collection)

Louis J. Yuvan was born February 12, 1915 in DePue, Bureau County, Illinois. Like so many of his contemporaries, he was drafted and entered service with the U.S. Army five months before the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. He arrived at Camp Grant, Rockford, on June 30, 1941 where he was officially inducted into the Army.

From Camp Grant, he was immediately sent to the U.S. Cavalry School at Fort Riley, Kansas, where he received his basic training. Although World War II is usually considered a mechanized war, at the beginning of the conflict, the U.S. Army still employed horse cavalry, and Pvt. Yuvan was trained to be a trooper in the U.S. Cavalry.

After graduating from basic training, he was assigned to the Machine Gun Troop of the 112th U.S. Cavalry Regiment, one of the last two horse cavalry regiments to serve with the U.S. Army.

The regiment was stationed at Fort Bliss, El Paso, Texas and in February 1941 was sent to Fort Clark at Bracketville, to relieve the 5th United States Cavalry on patrol duty along the Mexican border and to receive further training.

Louie on horse 1

Pvt. Louis Yuvan at Ft. Riley, Kansas in 1941 during basic cavalry training. (Little White School Museum collection)

The regiment shipped out for the South Pacific from California in August 1942. Originally equipped with Australian Waler horses, they were ordered to New Caledonia to serve as a horse mounted security force.

Walers were developed in the Australian state of New South Wales and were a very hardy breed that had proven their merit in the Boer Wars in South Africa as well as during World War I. Given their hardiness—they were sometimes nicknamed Water Horses—it was hoped the breed could cope with jungle conditions on New Guinea and New Britain. But it was found horses of any kind were not suited to the physical conditions of jungle warfare, and so the regiment’s horses were withdrawn and they served the rest of the war as light infantry.

1942 Yuvan on outpost duty

Pvt. Yuvan at the trigger of his .30 cal. water-cooled machine gun while on Mexico border overwatch with the 112th U.S. Cavalry Regiment in 1942 as his sergeant supervises. (Little White School Museum collection)

In an interesting side note, after the regiment’s horses were withdrawn, the troopers of the 112th had no need for their sabers, either. At that same time, the Marines who were desperately fighting the Japanese in the jungles of Guadalcanal. The 1st Marine Division’s Gen. Alexander Vandegrift made an urgent request for machetes so his Marines could cut their way through the impenetrable jungle. The campaign’s overall commander, U.S. Army Gen. Alexander Patch, hearing of the sudden supply of cavalry sabers, ordered them cut them down for the Marines’ use as machetes and sent to Guadalcanal.

After extensive amphibious warfare training the 112th the former cavalrymen made their first landing as part of Operation Chronicle on June 30, 1943, establishing a defensible perimeter to protect Seabees building an airstrip on Woodlark Island. In their second amphibious operation, the regiment went ashore at Arawe, New Britain. After linking up with the 1st Marine Division, the Regiment was sent to Aitape, New Guinea, and attached to the 32nd Infantry Division, where it fought in heavy combat along the Driniumor River. The regiment suffered 61 percent casualties during the Battle of the Driniumor River, one of which was Corporal Louis Yuvan, who was seriously wounded on July 10, 1944, ending his career as a combat cavalryman.

1944 Corp Yuvan at base hospital

Corporal Louis Yuvan hams it up just a little while recuperating at a base hospital after being wounded on Sept. 3, 1944. While he was done as a combat soldier, he served with the U.S. Army through the end of the war. (Little White School Museum collection)

After being hospitalization for three months he was transferred to the 127th Quartermaster Bakery Company, a mobile unit that followed the troops when they departed New Guinea for the invasion to liberate the Philippines from Japanese occupation.

Corporal Yuvan’s unit came ashore hard on the heels of the Allies’ invasion of the Philippines at Leyte Gulf, where they supported the invading troops. From there, it was on to the invasion of Luzon, where the 127th supported troops fighting Japanese occupiers. The war finally ended in the Philippines on Sept. 3, 1945—two weeks after Japan itself surrendered—when General Yamashita Tomoyuki and Admiral Denshichi Okochi formally surrendered all Japanese forces in the islands to allied forces.

During his World War II service Corporal Yuvan earned a number of decorations including the Good Conduct Medal, the Purple Heart Medal, the American Defense Ribbon, the American Theater Ribbon, the Asiatic-Pacific Theater Ribbon with five Bronze Battle Stars, the Philippine Liberation Ribbon, the Bronze Service Arrowhead and, ironically given his cavalry training, the Infantry Combat Badge.

Corporal Yuvan was discharged on Aug. 22, 1945 at Fort Sheridan. Illinois.

Yuvan WWII decorations & ribbons retouched

Louis Yuvan’s World War II decorations include, ironically for a cavalryman, the Infantry Combat Badge at top center. (Little White School Museum collection)

Returning to his hometown, DePue, Illinois, he started a family after marrying Dorothea Deihl. The couple and their two young sons, James and Jerry, moved to Boulder Hill, Illinois in 1961, where Dorothea taught elementary school, Louis worked as the head of the maintenance department for the Oswego School District and his sons went to school with me. Their oldest, Jim, graduated from Oswego High School with me in 1964. And that’s where I got to know Louis Yuvan, with his distinctive smile and trademark cigar. But I got to know him as my buddy Jim’s dad; I had no idea he had served in World War II, much less that he’d been a cavalryman who morphed into an amphibious warfare specialist.

Louis Yuvan died March 13, 1981 in Aurora, Illinois, after serving his country, his family, and his community far better than so many of his neighbors and friends ever realized.

So stop by the Little White School Museum this week and take in Remembering Our Veterans as we remember all the men and women who’ve served their country so well over more than two centuries. Hours are 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. daily. The exhibit closes Sunday, Nov. 11.

 

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Tiptoeing perilously close to self-praise…

Self-praise, my mother used to say, stinks. Earthy, but descriptive, and it’s something that’s stuck with me all my life. So it’s probably not an accident that I view the current occupant of the White House with more than a little disdain.

And then, as if my mother’s stern injunction wasn’t enough, I married someone who has a lot of Quaker in her background, and who is so opposed to blowing her own horn that she’s still never even read two local history booklets the two of us wrote back in 1975.

All that said, I now intend to blow my own horn a little, although I’m not ready to go so far as to call it self-praise because, you know, that’s bad.

Here it goes: I earned a first place in the Northern Illinois Newspaper Association’s 2018 Newspaper Contest for the best local column in the non-daily paper classification. The awards were announced Oct. 18 at NINA’s annual awards dinner at Northern Illinois University.

1893 Hughes, Nathan & Wife

One of the columns that proved to be NINA award-winners concerned discovering the exact date of this photo of Mr. and Mrs. Nathan Hughes. An original copy of the photo is in the collections of the Abraham Lincoln Library in Springfield and Oswego’s Little White School Museum.

My “Reflections” column has been appearing weekly in Oswego’s weekly paper, the Ledger-Sentinel (corporate changed the name back to the Oswego Ledger a while ago, but I like the old name), since July 1980 when Jeff and Kathy Farren talked me into becoming the editor of the newly combined Oswego Ledger and Fox Valley Sentinel. Although I retired as the editor (and also a beat reporter—weekly newspaper folks do everything from photography to writing obits) of the Ledger-Sentinel back in 2008—I agreed to continue doing my weekly local history column, because it’s fun and I always enjoy a chance to talk history, even if I’m only talking to myself. It now also appears in several other Shaw Media newspapers on an irregular basis as well as the four papers they own here in Kendall County.

For the annual NINA contest, several columns have to be submitted written during the contest year, and this year, my editor, John Etheredge, sent in four of them including the Feb. 1 one on George Washington’s slave wedding gift and a similar one affecting a local family; the Jan. 29 piece on the Great Millbrook Bank Robbery; my May 25 update on the Nathan Hughes photo (he was a black Civil War veteran of the 29th U.S. Colored Infantry Regiment); and my Sept. 14 piece on how standardized testing in in public schools is virtually eliminating the study and appreciation of local history.

The contest is judged (mostly) by the profs in the journalism department at Northern Illinois University, which gives it a nice academic aura. The person who judged the non-daily column entries had this to say about “Reflections”: “Writing about history is one thing, and writing about now is another, but tying history to the present in a compelling way is a tall order, and Roger Matile does this very well.”

Which made me feel pretty good, because that’s what I try to do just about every week. It’s good to know that a disinterested third party thinks what I think I’m doing seems to be working. And I also get a spiffy framed certificate to hang on my brag wall here at History Central.

Hope you didn’t get too upset, mom…

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When it comes to school districts, the name’s the thing…

So we had a big hoohah going on here in my once little town of Oswego a few years ago. This post is going to be super-local, so if you’re not interested in really, really local history and want to go somewhere else today, I completely understand.

Hoohahs come and go, of course, and there are lots of them in any community. But here I’m specifically talking here about a former school superintendent’s brainstorm that changing the school district’s name by leaving “Oswego,” “school,” and “district” out of it would be a boffo idea.

Of course, the district’s official, legal name—Oswego Community Unit School District 308—did not change. So what the superintendent was really talking about was a school district nickname. What that meant in practice was changing the name atop school district stationery, on school buses, on the district’s web site, and the like. Things that cost money to change.

The preferred new nickname? SD308.

One school board member, a newcomer to the community like most all board members in recent years, announced at back then that Oswego had never been part of the district’s name and that “‘Oswego’ got interjected somewhere in there.”

Well, no, that was definitely not the case. Let’s get into the Way Back Machine and figure out what actually happened, shall we?

Back in May 1961, voters living inside the boundaries of Oswego Community High School District 300 voted to consolidate with Oswego Community Consolidated Grade School District 8, creating a community unit school district educating children from first through 12th grades. That fall, kindergarten would be added, but at the time of the referendum, it was just first through 12th.

According to the June 22 Oswego Ledger:

“An election will be held Saturday, June 24, to select seven members for the board of education of the newly formed Oswego Community District No. 308. Four of the members of the new board must be from Oswego Township and three members must be from the other townships–Wheatland, Bristol, and NaAuSay.”

But wait…what was the deal with that “Consolidated” word in the elementary school district’s name? Did the 1961 election consolidate a consolidation? Why, yes, yes it did.

1880 abt Old Stone School

Oswego’s Old Stone School at Tyler and Monroe streets was built about 1855, probably with some of the first real estate tax money levied for education purposes in the community. The building was gutted by fire in 1885. (from a stereopticon view in the Little White School Museum collection)

To explain that, we’ve got to delve into the Illinois public education historical weeds.

School consolidation in Illinois has a long history, and Kendall County’s communities and myriad school district’s followed the statewide activities in that regard.

The earliest schools were formed by subscription during the pioneer era of the 1830s and 1840s. Groups of farm neighbors or village residents would take subscriptions to build and otherwise maintain a school building and hire a teacher. In 1855, the Illinois General Assembly passed legislation allowing levying property taxes to finance the cost of operating public schools.

Small rural school districts proliferated, each supporting a single, one-room school that educated students in first through eighth grades. In general, taxpayers’ farm homes were located no farther away from these rural schools than about a mile and a half (which sort of puts the lie to great-granddad’s claim that he walked 10 miles to school, barefoot, through the snow, uphill both ways).

In towns, elementary (or common) schools were often combined with “academies,” which were the name for high schools of the day. Academies were also the junior colleges of the era. About the only students who went on from elementary school to the upper grades were those who were planning to teach or the vanishingly small number of students who planned to actually attend college.

1894 Grove School

One of my all-time favorite school photos is this 1894 image of Grove School, located on Grove Road south of Oswego, with the kids dressed for a Mother Goose play. (Little White School Museum collection)

But times changed, and gradually it was realized that more education was a better, not to mention increasingly necessary, thing for all concerned. High schools replaced academies in the 1880s, and very gradually the numbers of students going on beyond eighth grade began to climb.

None of my grandparents, for instance, attended high school, and only two even graduated from eighth grade. My father graduated from eighth grade, but my mother graduated high school. Both my sisters graduated high school and went on to attend nurse’s training and became registered nurses, and both of my children graduated college—they’re all sort of a microcosm of how education has evolved since the early years of the 20th Century.

But back to consolidation. Here in Kendall County, Yorkville was the first area to consolidate some of its schools, and that in 1919. Consolidation bubbled under for several years, inhibited by the Great Depression. But after World War II, with the county’s population rising in some areas and the need for better education prompted by the new Cold War, nuclear weapons, and (literally) rocket science, consolidation began in earnest.

1925 abt Walker School

Walker School, at Plainfield and Simons roads southeast of Oswego, was consolidated with the nearby Marysville and Gaylord schools in 1941, the first consolidation in the Oswego School District. The building, converted into a private home, still stands. (Little White School Museum collection)

The first consolidations of the 1940s involved one-room school districts. Many districts only enrolled a handful of students each year, sometimes less than a half-dozen. That made hiring a teacher and maintaining a building expensive for local taxpayers, as did complying with new rules and regulations concerning such things as state-mandated courses of study and facilities requirements.

In 1941, the voters living in the contiguous Gaylord, Walker, and Wilcox one-room school districts voted to consolidate into a single district, to be called Consolidated District 5, with all the students moved to the Walker School. The other two buildings were closed and sold. The Gaylord building was moved into Oswego and remodeled into a private home, while the Wilcox School was moved a few miles away to Wolf’s Crossing Road and also turned into a private residence.

Then in the summer of 1948, a further consolidation took place in the region inside the Oswego High School District, a 68 square mile region extending from the Kane-Kendall line north of Oswego south all the way to Caton Farm Road. As the Kendall County Record reported:

“Voters yesterday in the Oswego-NaAuSay area approved the establishment of a community consolidated grade school district consisting of all of Oswego township, about two-thirds of NaAuSay, and four sections of Kendall township. There were 270 votes for and 178 against the proposition. The voters in the Village of Oswego approved the proposition 94 to 16, and those outside the village 176 to 162.

“The new district combines the Oswego, Squires, Wormley, Willow Hill, Walker, Harvey, Russell, Cutter, McCauley, Grove, Union, and Marysville districts. The assessed valuation will be $12 million and the grade school enrollment is 343. Board members for the new district will be elected July 17.”

1958 East View School cropped

The first new building constructed by Oswego Community Consolidated Grade School District 8 after the district’s creation in 1948 was East View School, opened in Oswego in the fall of 1957, originally housing students in grades 4, 5, and 6. Eventually, the building was enlarged to house some 1,400 kindergarten through fifth grade students. (Little White School Museum collection)

Eventually, a few more parcels were added to the elementary district from Bristol Township, which borders Oswego Township to the west, Aurora Township in Kane County, which borders Oswego Township to the north, and Wheatland Township in Will County, which borders Oswego Township to the east, creating the entire “consolidated” elementary district, mirroring the bounds of the high school district.

The Oswego districts, of course, were far from the only ones consolidating during the 1940s and 1950s. Starting in the 1920s, a series of state laws and regulation changes began forcing one-room school districts to merge to create larger tax bases to permit better facilities and more advanced curricula.

First was the “Standard School” drive of the 1930s. According to the Oct. 8, 1930 Record:

“A standard school is one which meets the requirements for a good school with the sanitation requirements met and with the right kind of a [school] house, the right kind of furnishings and equipment, the right kind of teaching, and the right kind of behavior and work by the pupils. A superior school is one which has gone farther in its efforts to offer something better to the community.”

The Record noted that only six county schools had been awarded the “Standard” ranking that year: the Squires, Millbrook, Kendall, McCauley, Fourth Ward, and Jones schools, adding that:

“Several other schools are very close to meeting the requirements. Among them are the Wormley, Boomer, Needham, Union, Bronk, Weeks, Scofield, Naden, Keck, Stephens, Pletcher, Plattville, Cassem, Brown, Wynne, Bell, Fox, Cutter, Walker, Willow Hill, Bethel, and Lisbon Center. Some of these schools lack only a well or some equipment, which will be secured this year.”

By the late 1940s, the costs of operating one-room schools with tiny enrollments led to the closure of many with their students transferred to adjoining districts. As the Record explained on Sept. 11, 1946:

“Thirty-three Kendall county one- and two-room schools opened their fall terms last Tuesday. Teachers have been provided for all pupils only by closing the doors of 17 buildings and transferring the children from these districts to neighboring schools. As a result, school enrollments are much larger. Schools which formerly had only enough pupils for a game of marbles will now be able to choose up sides for a ball game. One school, in district No. 5 south of Oswego, has 28 enrolled and half of the schools operating have 16 or more pupils. Three schools have but eight, the smallest number this year.”

1957 Church School exterior

Church School, where the author attended grades 1-3, was the last one-room rural school to close in the Oswego School District. It closed in the spring of 1958.

In 1947, the Kendall County School Survey Committee recommended that the county’s 54 existing school districts be consolidated into just four unit districts based around the county’s four high school districts that would educate children from elementary through high school.

In June 1948, building on the county survey committee’s recommendations, 11 rural districts, plus the district in Oswego announced plans to ask voters to consolidate, as noted above. As the Record pointed out:

“Present limitations in taxes would require tax rate elections in some of the present districts before they could operate another year.”

Voters throughout the county were engaged in similar consolidation elections in Yorkville, Lisbon, Newark, and other communities.

The era of the one-room school was dealt a further blow with new requirements mandated by the Illinois School Code requiring that after June 30, 1949 public schools have at least 10 pupils in average daily attendance; after June 20, 1951, at least 12 pupils, and after June 30, 1953 at least 15 pupils.

By the late 1950s, the era of the one-room school in Kendall County was over. The last one-room building in the Oswego Elementary School District closed in 1957.

1961 Sept BH School

Boulder Hill Elementary School, whose construction was partially financed by Boulder Hill Subdivision developer Don L. Dise, was the first school built under the direction of brand new Oswego Community Consolidated Unit District 308. The new school opened in the fall of 1961.

And then in 1961, voters approved consolidating Oswego’s already-consolidated elementary district and its high school district, to create Oswego Community Unit School District 308.

So what was the deal with changing the district’s name? Well, according to those new school board members and the new (at the time) superintendent, it didn’t seem fair to have “Oswego” in the name when students from several other municipalities attend the district’s schools.

But that has always been the case. Starting with the high school district’s establishment in the 1930s, folks with Aurora, Plainfield, Yorkville, Oswego, Minooka, and Montgomery mailing addresses sent their kids north, south, east, and west to Oswego to school, depending on where their homes were located. It’s hard to see how much has changed today, even though now we’ve also got kids with Joliet addresses coming to Oswego to school.

After a relatively short time of anger simmering under the surface, a group of local residents, including a retired school superintendent and a retired varsity coach, got together to agitate for changing the district’s advertised name back to one with “Oswego” in it. And in that effort, they were recently successful. Adding “Oswego” back to the district’s identity has begun, and it’s gradually come to the point that now when you drive around the community and you pass a school bus, it will likely have “Oswego” in the name on the side.

The schools here have had a long and winding, but interesting, road from yesterday to today. If the district’s name does anything, it anchors the schools in a region of the Fox Valley, which provides a sense of identity that SD308 (two other Illinois school districts have the same numerical designation) did not.

For this long-time community resident and 1964 OHS grad, it’s good to see “Oswego” back on the district’s buses.

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