65

Life Was Unhurried When—

Only Horses' Hooves Broke Quite at 20th, Dodge

By Margaret H. Doorly

Even as today's traffic
zips past Twentieth and
Dodge Streets, I can remember
how peaceful it
once was.

We lived in that neighborhood
in the years after
my father, Gilbert M. Hitchcock,
founded The Omaha
Daily World in 1885.

Then there was little traffic
—an occasional horse-
drawn streetcar and, later,
the trolley. Instead of the
whiz and roar of hot tires
and engines there was the
gentle clop-clop of saddle
or carriage horses on the
wooden block pavement.

High on the northwest
corner of that intersection
stood the red brick high
school building, formerly
the State Capitol.

And across the street
from the school was the
Lewis S. Reed home. One
of Mrs. Reed's sisters, Mora
Balcolm, was an early society
editor of this newspaper.
When she faced a
dearth of social events, she
occasionally brightened her
columns with accounts of
the De Peysters, a delightful
imaginary family of her
own creation.

High Ceilings

Many of the houses in
that neighborhood were
pleasant ones, their high
ceilings and spacious rooms
offering gracious hospitality.
Among the finest was
that of Judge Goerge B.
Lake. It so impressed one
prospective home builder
that he told his architect:
"I want a house just like
Judge Lake's, only cheaper."

The house on the northeast
corner of Twentieth
and Dodge Streets belonged
to a woman physician, Dr.
Burroughs. The neighbors
loved to repeat the tale of a
tramp who came to the
front door to ask if the doctor
had an old pair of pants
to give him.

Downhill and to the right,
between Capitol Avenue
and Davenport Street, was
the George Lininger home
and art gallery. It was quite
an art gallery for a private
venture in a young city. At
one time it contained the
famous "September Morn"
painting.

Low Prices

A little farther away was
the home of Edward Porter
Peck, his wife and their
four children—who used to
remind other children that
"four pecks make a bushel."
Living with them (in
those days most families
counted with them a grandparent
or perhaps some uncles
and aunts) was Mr.
Peck's mother. She wore
the white cap, the customary
badge of middle or old
age, a custom which is happily
no longer observed.

Farther down on Dodge
Street was the home of
Samuel S. Burns, owner of
a china shop on Farnam
Street. He possessed a dry
sense of humor. One day a
woman customer, determined
to get the lowest
price possible on a certain
piece of china, had managed
to reduce it to nearly
nothing. When she asked to
have it delivered, Mr. Burns
sighed, "Madam, if you will
take it with you, you can
have it for nothing."

Others in the neighborhood,
many of whom
passed Twentieth and
Dodge Streets each day,
were the Horbach Bourkes,
the Thomas Kilpatricks, the
B. B. Woods, Dr. W. O.
Bridges and District Judge
Cunningham Scott. Captain
Bourke much of the time
was away in the Mexican
border fighting.

Black Beard

So many of the men of
that day wore beards, some
blunt, some long, some
short and pointed. The
blackest beard of all was
that of Robert Peattie, then
a writer for this newspaper.

Talking part one time in
private theatricals at the
home of a friend, Mr. Peattie
had to make his entrance
through a window,
there being no stage door,
and he was temporarily detained
by a passing policeman
who took him for a
burglar.

Mr. Peattie's wife, Ella
W. Peattie, author of several
books including "The
Children's Crusade," was
also on the staff of The
World-Herald.

The times were generally
peaceful. There were no
automobiles, no airplanes.
But there were thrills such
as the terror of runaway
horses racing through the
streets, the carriage bouncing
and sway behind
them, or the stirring sight
and sound of the horsedrawn
fire engine, the driver
braced in his high
seat, leaning forward, with
a mighty grasp on the reins
that miraculously controlled
the hard-galloping horses.

The social life of the city
showed an elegance much
diminished today. People
dressed up for parties. The
graceful sweeping trains of
the women had not been
cut back to nearly knee-
length skirts. They dressed
for daytime luncheons and
teas (cocktail parties were
then unknown) in a manner
to give even small occasions
a festive appearance.

White Canvas

Dances were often given
in the home, sometimes
with white canvas laid on

(IMAGE)
—World-Herald Photo
Mrs. Doorly . . . It was peaceful.

the floor. Invitations were
generally delivered by hand
instead of over the phone.

Music was important, and
as it was necessary to "do
it yourself" it was an important
part of children's
education.

New books appeared by
fine authors and were eagerly
read.

The theater in Omaha
was visited by many excellent
traveling companies,
and great plays were presented
by distinguished actors.

Most of the streets were
safe after dark for the
strolling pedestrian. Even
women and children ventured
out on them without
fear.

Rosy Cheeks

And in the winters there
was snow. It was not then
regarded with the dismay
and dread of last winter
here. Gay sleighs appeared
with horses wearing jingling
bells, and children
got out their sleds and
were rosy-cheeked and
warm in their many layers
of woolen clothes. And
when the trolleys passed
pushing ahead of them their
great snowplows, children
stood at the windows to
watch in fascination the
churned-up clouds of snow.

There was not much
worry about overcrowded
hospitals. Most illnesses
were cared for in the
homes, the homes where
people were born and generally
died.

Fortunate indeed were
they who lived in those
days.

Honeymooners Have
Plenty of Company

Feb. 14, 1889, Omaha Daily World

A. E. Luke and Miss Ella
Tremaine were married in this
city on Saturday evening and
leave today for Chicago to
make it their home.

They will be accompanied
by Mr. and Mrs. O. T. Rounds,
Mrs. Rounds being a sister of
the bride.