Historic Huffman

Last weekend’s lawn mowing ritual was interrupted when I noticed the plantings around the gate at the end of the street were quite overgrown. Cleaning up the gate isn’t really anyone’s responsibility. Ideally, the city’s street maintenance department would make sure that the weeds don’t overtake the end of our street. But, we’ve sort of commandeered the little bit of dirt around each of the brick gate posts for our own plants. Since we tend to our plants and their surroundings more frequently than the city needs to pay attention to the gate, I suppose that makes us the gatekeepers – so to speak.

It wasn’t just the planting beds that demanded attention. This summer’s hot, wet weather has the weeds growing in the joints between the bricks of the pavement. Since the gate almost completely limits car traffic, no tires, exhaust fumes or automotive fluids stunt their growth. To prevent the end of June Street from being completely reclaimed by nature, we broke out the shovels and brooms. A lightweight aluminum snow shovel slices the weeds off right at street level. The clipped weed piles were so numerous, we ended up filling both of our compost bins with street vegetation and dirt that had collected in the gutters.

So now it’s clean again. In fact, a little too clean. Its appearance is just sterile enough to remind me of an item that had been long forgotten on my to-do list – gate planter boxes! What’s one more project?

Our street is one of the busier streets for foot-traffic in the neighborhood–we have a bus stop at the corner, and Circle K and the Fifth Street deli just around the corner. Although I grew up with my Father greeting anyone and everyone who walked down the street (even while HE walked down the street), I do not possess the same friendly nature and most of the time I assume people would rather be left alone. The friendliness of my father resumed it’s genetic course in my son, however. We spend a lot of time in our back yard, and I’ve been trying to spend more time in the front yard as well. I’ll take some time to read the mail on the porch or weed the curb lane, and Jason will be always greeting those passersby who happen to be within earshot. Mind you, earshot means across the street or a block away, but his intentions are good. If one of the many pedestrians begins a conversation with him that goes beyond the cursory greeting, they always get an earful of Jason’s his latest trip to the zoo, what he had for lunch, or where his daddy is working today. He will not only relate the details of his own life, but will ask them about their own—where they’re going, if they like ice cream, etc.

I used to try to keep Jason’s conversations to a few words so as not to annoy those he was speaking with, but then I realized that most of the people he talks with are smiling as they walk away. Jason does what we all should do with those who we encounter throughout the day: he befriends them and engages them. Be it a familiar neighbor or just someone using our street as a thoroughfare to get to the Circle K, Jason sees everyone as a potential friend and reminds everyone of the basic need we have for companionship and conversation. In a world of isolation and suspicion, Jason is a good example of common courtesy and the way we should value all those walking by, not just those we know. So the next time you see someone walking by with a Polar Pop or just a three-year-old standing on a porch on Huffman, make sure to say hello.

If the thought of careening downhill at an increasing speed with just a few old slats of wood separating your face from the road surface is exhilarating, then keep reading this! If you’re like me and think that scenario sounds terrifying, then keep reading, too.

While the Huffman Historic area is well-known for its roots in the Huffman family of Huffy bicycle fame, there is another wheeled contraption that enjoyed some fame just a few blocks east of the neighborhood. The steep Burkhardt Avenue hill hosted the first official soapbox derby race in 1934. Children from across the U.S. came to Dayton to compete in the race with their hand-built carts made from orange crates, soap boxes, and other salvaged items.

I’ve driven down Burkhardt hill in my car, and gravity does all the work. You could really fly in a soapbox car. Actually, the wind whipping through my hair sounds like a pretty good way to beat the humidity this summer — but I’m not sure I’d trust the brakes on those soapbox cars.

Read more about the soapbox derby history at the Dayton Area Sports History web site.

A stately landmark sits amid tall trees along the south edge of the Huffman Historic Area. The brick Classical Revival building, with wide limestone steps and a tiled roof, was originally a Carnegie Library, endowed by the steel and railroad magnate Andrew Carnegie. In 1912, the city of Dayton received $65,000 to build two Carnegie Libraries, one on the east side of downtown and one on the west side, just over 1 mile away from the main library.

Prior to 1912, the acreage for the east library went through several changes. The land was originally owned by James and Jane Findley and used for farming; it was well outside the city limits then. In 1856 the Findley’s estate transferred the triangular wedge of property to the public for use as a market. In 1876, the enterprising William Huffman made an arrangement with the City of Dayton to use the land for his own business purposes in exchange for the city using some of his land north of the Great Miami River for its water works operation. In 1896 the agreement with Huffman expired and the land came back to the city.

Dayton began building the library in 1912, but the flood of 1913 delayed its completion. The library finally opened in 1914, after receiving additional money to restock books ruined by the flood waters.

Restored interior of Carnegie Library on E. Fifth St.

The building’s tall pocket doors, arched oak woodwork, brick fireplace, large sunlit windows, and airy ceilings are well preserved. It functioned as a library until the 1960s, when a new branch was built further east and the Carnegie building was converted to a community center. In its early years the library lent many books to adults and children as the neighborhoods on the east side grew. Many of the books were in the German language, reflecting one of the immigrant populations in this area. The library also hosted meetings of several clubs and organizations, such as the Boy Scouts and the Women’s Suffrage League, and held music concerts and entertainment in its auditorium and outside in the adjoining park.

Today the building is home to the Southeast Priority Board, an organization which fosters citizen participation in city government. It was dedicated as the Sims Center, for respected community organizer Charles Sims, in 1971. However, the name Carnegie remains carved in stone above the front entrance as a special reminder of his philanthropy and love for books. Carnegie had been a beneficiary of book lending from a private library while growing up poor in Pennsylvania. By the time he made his fortune, he believed that whatever riches you had should be shared with the community. Although the walls are no longer lined with bookshelves, our neighborhood’s Carnegie building fosters collaboration and learning today that lives up to its historic mission.