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. 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 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 remains 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

—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 ti their home.

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