In my "52 Ancestors" post this week, I mentioned "The Station," once an automobile service station/garage and diner that was owned and operated by my grandparents, Harry and Ola Wherry, and my aunt and uncle, Myron and Jenny Webb (my mother's oldest sister).
The photo above is cropped from a stereograph photo published by the Keystone View Company. Judging that the trees are almost saplings, it probably was taken soon after the station and the tourist cabins were built in 1931 by Noah Poling. They were all huge by the mid-1960s when we were there.
The Wherrys and the Webbs bought the station from Poling in 1946 and operated it until 1966, about the time my family moved from Maryland to Convoy, Ohio, the village just south of the station. I remember that winter very well, probably early 1967; there was an ice storm, and our electricity went out and our pipes froze in the house we just moved into on Tully Street. Dad and Mom brought us all out to the station, where they probably had an oil furnace or something. I was about 4 years old, so I have fuzzy images of that night in my memory.
According to an article that quotes my cousin, Larry Webb, who grew up at the station with his little sister, Rebecca Sue (Becky), U.S. 30 was widened and in the process, the state purchased part of the lot where the gas pumps were, basically bringing the end to that era. It didn't help that in the early '70s, the state built a divided limited-access four-lane highway about a quarter-mile south of the Station as a replacement for what we now call "Old 30," the original part of the Lincoln Highway.
By that time, Grandma had died, so Grandpa moved to the house in Convoy that they had bought and, I assume, had rented out. Aunt Jenny and Uncle Myron lived at the station for a few more years, then sold it and moved into Grandpa's house. They added a great room to the back of the house, with a fireplace and sliding doors to a patio. It was where most of our family get-togethers were held.
But before that, The Station was the family gathering place. My parents held either their wedding rehearsal dinner or reception (maybe both?) there when they married on April 21, 1951.
My grandmother and aunt were known far and wide for their pies. I remember Mom and Dad saying that people from all over the country would make sure to stop in while traveling.
"They'd bake about 13 pies every day," my cousin Larry recalled for an article posted in 2008 on OldGas.com. "We got 15 cents for a huge slice. When we raised the price to 25 cents, customers had a fit."
Many regular customers often called ahead to reserve a whole pie to take with them when traveling north to Lake Erie, he added.
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So many of my earliest childhood memories are tied to The Station. I could probably write a short book about it. I was sad when Aunt Jenny and Uncle Myron sold it and moved into town, although that meant I could now ride my bike to go visit them and Grandpa. And it was a half-block from the high school, where Aunt Jenny worked as a cook in the cafeteria for many years.
Back around 2007 or so, when we had our last Cousin Reunion, the people who now own the station invited us all to visit and tour the Station, which they had completely renovated into a family home. So much of it was different, but so much of it was the same. Bittersweet, but a greatly appreciated chance for some family nostalgia.
Did you inherit the pie baking abilities, Phyllis?!🙂