The Hastings Banner — Thursday, June 10, 2021 — Page 7
Compulsory draft, world news foretold impending war
Conclusion
Kathy Maurer
Copy Editor
A month after President
Franklin D. Roosevelt authorized
the first peacetime draft in the
nation’s history in mid-September
1940, hundreds of local men
filled out registration cards. Their
assigned numbers were printed in
the Oct. 31, 1940, Hastings
Banner – all 2,287 of them.
The calls to service were
sparse over the next several
months, with quotas requesting a
few men at a time. The Aug. 14,
1941, Banner reported that three
recent inductees from Hastings
had been transferred from Fort
Custer: Jean England (No. 1920
on the local registration list) to
Camp Grant, Illinois; Leon “Bud”
Flynn (1539) to Camp Lee,
Virginia; and Dwight Chase
(1709) to Chanute Field, Illinois.
That same Banner announced
that the Barry County Draft Board
had received notification of a
tentative call for 12 selectees to
leave for training camp in
September.
However, the Sept. 11, 1941,
edition listed just eight selectees
who were to leave Sept. 22: Floyd
Winfred Culver, Route 6, Battle
Creek (2166); John Russell
Bulling, Woodland (1855); Lloyd
Ellsworth Linsley, Route 3,
Nashville (946); Dennis Otto
Allerding, Route 2, Woodland
(1067); William Clair Hiscock,
Route 7, Battle Creek (2091);
Kenneth Clinton Burpee; Route
1, Dowling (1679); and Joseph
Oscar Merchant, Cressey (2249).
A ninth man, V. Harry
Adrounie (1732) volunteered to
join the group, which was to
depart from Hastings at 7 a.m.
Monday, Sept. 22.
Despite the lower number
than had been anticipated a month
earlier, the paper warned that
heavier calls were probable in
October and November.
The reprinted list, which
began with the May 20 Banner ,
continues:
- John James Witters
- Lynden Robert
Johncock - William Rush Kyee
- Gerald Russel
Thompson - Fain Samuel Williams
- Raymond Anders
- Peter Ulrich Fedewa
- Robert Melvin Rhodes
- Merle Grayden Tasker
- Maurice Earl Burchett
- Maurice F. Cogswell
- Carl Albert Ward
- Arthur Cecil Skidmore
- Raymond Leon
Wisnewski - Rozell Parker Stanton
- John Duane Lammers
- Benjamin Andrew
Adcock - Lloyd Weldon Steeby
- Howard B. Watson
- Norman C. Hall
- Radford Hamlin
Stidham - Garold Richard
McMillen - Richard John Powers
- John Homer Ingram
- Frankie Byron McNutt
- Robert Bruce Mackinder
- Arthur Shirley Freese
- Marion Francis West
- Clair Franklin Barnum
- Harold Barnum
- Donald Ora Moore
- Donald L. McDonald
- Joseph Patrick
Armstrong - Charles Stanton
McNulty - Clarence Ember Pixley
- Rankin Frank Hughes
- Richard Stiles Cutshaw
- Wayne Edger Williams
- Voyle Woodrow Benner
- Robert Gordon
Thompson - Lawrence Wesley
Payne
- Neville Charles King
- Lester H. Larabee
- Lloyd Paul Towns
- Lynn Otis Lawrence
- Victor Voelker Eckardt
- Francis Edward Lowry
- Leslie Fredrick Steeby
- Claude William Miller
- Maurice Howard
Houvener - Richard Clare Chaffee
- Franklin Charles
Beckwith - Theo Max Kennedy
- Ernest John Ball
- Ray William Lumbert
- Walter Henry Mapes
- Linwood Elijah Angus
- Leon F. Thomas
- Charles Wendall Potter
- Chester Laurence
Arehart - Stewart Charles Reigler
- Norman Todd Barry
- William Hugh Sprague
Earth Day co-founder lived
in Hastings at time of draft
Kathy Maurer
Copy Editor
Credit for the motivation and efforts that
led to the first Earth Day in 1970 remains
unclear. One name associated with its
founding is Morton S. Hilbert.
Online resources such as Wikipedia and
the Bentley Historical Library at the University
of Michigan fleetingly mention that Hilbert,
born in Pasadena, Calif., graduated from the
University of California in 1940 and began
his career as a public health official and field
engineer in Michigan.
What such sources don’t say is where in
Michigan he first lived: Hastings.
The recent college graduate had been
working as a student engineer with the Barry
County Health Department, which, as this
column recapped earlier this year, had been
developed and funded by W.K. Kellogg as a
model for public health. Perhaps the
department’s distinction is what drew the
lifelong Californian to Michigan.
Hilbert’s name is one of 2,287 on a list of
men who registered for the nation’s first
peacetime draft in the fall of 1940. The day
before Congress passed the draft registration
law, the Battle Creek Enquirer mentioned
Hilbert in its updates on “Professional
Activities.”
“Morton Hilbert of the University of
California has had as his territory Middleville,
Yankee Springs and Thornapple townships,
where he has done work with creameries,
sewage disposal, water supply, resorts and
homes, mapping the various activities,” the
Sept. 15, 1940, Enquirer reported. “Much of
the construction of the new Middleville
creamery and the new sewage system has
been under his jurisdiction. At the close of the
season, he was transferred to Battle Creek to
work in one of the laboratories in the ‘health
games.’”
He must have remained in Hastings and
commuted to Battle Creek, since his draft
registration card, which he signed Oct. 16,
1940, listed 118 W. Walnut St., Hastings, as
his address.
Hilbert was still living in Hastings when
he married his first wife, Doris Smith, a
teacher from Fremont, May 24, 1941.
Shortly after, he enrolled in the U-M
School of Public Health and earned a master’s
degree.
The Wyandotte News Herald Nov. 16,
1944, reported that Hilbert, then director of
engineering with the Wayne County Health
Department, declared a public health hazard
in many areas with open drainage ditches
transporting wastewater. A law banning such
practices had been enacted two years earlier,
and Hilbert asked that violations of the law be
reported to the health department.
Hilbert returned to the University of
Michigan, beginning a 25-year role as a
professor. While teaching in Ann Arbor, he
helped organize the 1968 Human Ecology
Symposium, an environmental conference for
students to learn from scientists the
connections between environmental
degradation and human health. From that,
Hilbert worked with graduate students
nationwide, ultimately organizing the first
Earth Day in March 1970 at the U-M Ann
Arbor campus.
He also served as president of a variety of
state and local public health organizations,
was a member of the president’s Task Force
on Urban Problems and helped relocate 1
million refugees in Vietnam.
Hilbert lived for a time in Brussels, before
eventually returning to the West Coast. He
died in Bellevue, Wash., Dec. 24, 1998, at age
81.
For a while though, this Earth Day
co-founder was a fresh-faced college grad
who lived on a tree-lined street in Hastings.
Sources: Hastings Banner , familysearch.
org, findagrave.com, ancestry.com,
chroniclingamerica.loc.gov, Bentley.umich.
edu, newspapers.com and Wikipedia.com.
Jeffrey A. Keessen
AIF®
Karen Hayward
Administrative Assistant
Taking care of what's important to you
so that you can focus on what matters most to you
Jeffrey A. Keessen, AIF®
(269) 948-
525 W. Apple St. Hastings, MI 49058
http://www.watersedgefinancial.com
Securities offered through LPL Financial, Member FINRA/SIPC
PART TIME-Caregiver for Elderly
Provide care, comfort, safety and general supervision to residents by
partnering with them in activities of daily living, administering medications
and tending to their individual physical, social and spiritual care needs.
- Partner with residents to provide assistance with activities of daily living as
outlined in care guides/service plans - Provide residents with memory impairments appropriate memory care
support communication/interventions based on types and stages of
impairment - Administer medications/treatments to residents according to policy and
procedure - Complete daily charting and documentation as required
- Must be 18 years or older
- Must have High School Diploma or GED
Please apply in person at
Woodlawn Meadows: 1821 N. East St Hastings, MI
Lengthy draft list stirs memories
Kathy Maurer
Copy Editor
As I scrolled through fuzzy images on
microfilmed reels of the 1940 Banner at
Hastings Public Library, a list of names
caught my attention. I had been looking for
information on the county’s last Civil War
veteran, Truman O. Webber, hoping to find
him listed among special guests at what
would be the final Veterans Day ceremony of
his life.
The normal blocks of text, headlines and
advertisements haven’t changed much in 80
years. As I fast-forwarded through the pages,
columns and columns of short text suddenly
broke the familiar arrangement. Zooming in, I
saw a numbered list with names – local
names, surnames inherently connected with
certain parts of the county – Leinaar, Durkee,
Stanton, Garlinger, Finkbeiner and more.
I recognized No. 78 Homer DeWeerd.
Better known as “Dee” DeWeerd, he operated
the Standard gas station in Middleville and
sponsored my brothers’ Little League team.
Chester Geukes, No. 550, owned the meat
market on Main Street and probably likewise
supported the Little League program.
And No. 81 Earl VanSickle, the superinten-
dent who died when I was in first grade. One
of his grandchildren was a classmate. I didn’t
know what a superintendent was then or how
to spell the title, but I remember the signifi-
cance of the teacher gathering us in a circle to
talk about Mr. VanSickle’s death.
What was this list, I wondered. Why is it so
long? Why are no women included?
I had to scroll backward to get my answer:
A draft list of local men, ages 21 to 35, from
the Oct. 31, 1940, Banner.
The men whose names I recognized were
gray-haired by the time I knew them. Decades
before, however, as World War II loomed,
they eagerly or uneasily made the obligatory
trip to town and filled out the little card, pro-
viding name, address (many were still RFD,
or rural fire department, addresses; RR, or
rural routes, had yet to be adopted), telephone
(if they had one), birth information, citizen-
ship, “Name of person who will always know
your address” and relationship to that person,
employer’s name and address (some listed the
Works Projects Administration, part of
Roosevelt’s New Deal, established five years
earlier).
The back of the cards, filled out by a regis-
trar, asked for weight, height, hair and eye
color, complexion and “obvious physical
characteristics that will aid in identification.”
As I skipped backward and forward through
the list, random names continued to pull me
back to my childhood:
No. 1353, Carl Seger, a soft-spoken man
with a weathered face who drove the after-
noon kindergarten bus I took to school. I
specifically remember the time he stopped the
bus on a gravel road and half-whispered,
“Look at that, kids,” directing our 5-year-old
eyes to a whitetail deer grazing in a clearing
(back when they were scarce).
No. 1765, Simon Maichele, a 4-H leader
whose voice seemed to carry for miles and
whose enthusiasm was without end. And No.
179, Bill Kirkpatrick, the county’s long-serv-
ing 4-H Extension agent.
Archie Burd, No. 1046, and Marshall Tripp,
1040, who married sisters Ester and Alberta
Green, friends of my aunts since about 1930.
The Burd and Tripp lawns were always neat
and tidy; their homes, like some preserved
museum models, rarely changed over the
decades.
No. 754, Joseph Fiala, who lived not far
from the Burds. He was the husband of my
third-grade teacher. He frequently helped her
out by filling in for recess duty.
Charlie Townsend, No. 1853, also married
to a teacher, was likewise a familiar helper at
school.
Our family attended the same church as
Carl Hula, No. 1206. With an ever-present
twinkle in his kindly blue eyes, he couldn’t
help but play peek-a-boo with little ones or
pretend to “steal the nose” of a toddler.
According to his draft registration card, he
was working at Bliss Manufacturing in
Hastings. Five months earlier, he had married
Eva Strumburger, his lifelong counterpart,
and 11 days before signing the card, he’d
turned 25. The card lists him as 5 feet, 8 inch-
es tall, with brown hair, blue eyes and a ruddy
complexion. The card left no room to indicate
whether his eyes had a certain sparkle.
I hadn’t thought about Mr. Hula in quite a
while, but I was grateful the unusual and
unexpected collection of names had stirred
the memory of that sweet, smiling (sometimes
mischievously), soul. I found myself smiling,
too, at the thought of him.
The familiar names were not just from my
childhood.
No. 922, Mel Jacobs, a former boss who
was patient but firm, a great teacher in his
quiet way. Scarlet fever would prevent him
from serving. Ultimately, he and his wife
would buy the Reminder publication from
Fay and Mae Green, parents of No. 242, Winn
Delos Green. A U.S. Army technician fifth
grade, or Tec 5, Winn Green died shortly
before Christmas 1944, lost at sea near the
Philippines.
No. 1424 was Ernie Belson, whose story
I’d just learned in 2019. Also an Army Tec 5,
Belson died of malaria in the Philippines two
days before the Japanese surrendered. In his
final letter home, he wrote to his mother about
being excited to soon see “that little girl,” his
new niece. That same niece, Linda, was at a
memorial ceremony on Sept. 30, 2019, along
with a few other family members, and Jim and
Ted Dibble, grandsons of a neighboring fami-
ly.
A few years earlier, the Dibble brothers had
learned that Belson’s name was not on a
memorial plaque at Hastings High School.
They learned that his education had ended at
Edger School; he was not able to attend high
school because he needed to work to help his
family. The Dibbles recalled a certain sadness
when their grandmother spoke of the neighbor
boy who, like her own son, never returned.
The Dibbles also came to realize that no for-
mal memorial service was conducted for
Belson, so they set out on a mission to make
sure that, after 75 years, Ernie Belson was no
longer “a missing man.”
Not every name has such a sad association.
Howard Ferris, No. 152, had a picturesque
farm on the edge of Hastings. I encountered
him only a few times, yet he’s the person who
immediately comes to mind when I hear the
term “gentleman farmer.”
Paul Gibson and Russell Solomon – gentle-
men and farmers – also raised horses and had
wagons with which they provided hayrides at
the fair or on country roads. They, too, were
married to teachers from my elementary
school days.
Les Raber, No. 786, was a Michigan
Fiddlers Hall of Fame inductee who also per-
formed at the Smithsonian Festival of
American Folklife in Washington, D.C., and
was known in the Midwest for his fiddle-play-
ing. He was kind enough to lend me a spare
fiddle once after I showed interest in playing.
Awed by his kind offer, I enjoyed running the
bow over the strings, but ultimately decided I
would rather listen to someone else play.
Seeing his name again reminded me of his
generosity – and his musical gifts.
Names of others pop up frequently in sto-
ries about the city in decades past, such as No.
127, Cedric Morey; No. 75, William J.
Schilhaneck; No. 234, Norb Schowalter; or
No. 675, Ken Laberteaux. I can’t remember
their roles, but their names, in my mind, have
a direct connection to the city.
Some surnames seem to firmly place the
individual in a certain part of the county.
Perhaps their families were early settlers,
lending their surnames to nearby road:
Whitmore, Brumm, Enzian, Gackler, Tischer,
Kingsbury and Cogswell are, literally, just a
few.
Besides the generally common names like
Smith, Williams or Johnson, many local sur-
names are recurrent in the list, such as
Allerding (12 times); Belson (10); Johncock
(8); Babcock, Barnum, Slocum and Tobias
(7); Demond/DeMond, Ferris, Hammond,
Kidder, Peake and Swift (6); Barry, Foote,
Kenyon, Lester and Roush, (5). Other local
surnames appearing three or four times
include Bender, Bowman, Brodbeck and
Burdick; Case and Chase; Lammers,
Laubaugh and Lechleitner; McKelvey,
McKeown and McKibbin; Pufpaff and
Pennock; as well as and Stamm and Stanton.
Obviously, much more could be said about
this collection of names – occupation, age,
common first or middle names (the frequency
of Raymond, Burdette and Kenneth surprised
me – as did the multiple spelling variations of
Merl/Murle, etc.), hometown or rural school,
or even who ultimately was drafted and who
died while serving (more than 80).
Regardless of how it is scrutinized,
researched or fashioned, this list is a perma-
nent snapshot of the young men living and
working in Barry County in October 1940.
I knew only a small fraction of them, but
I’m thankful for the unexpected discovery of
this list and the memories it has stirred of
some from “the greatest generation.”
I hope others, too, in scanning these names,
have found similar satisfaction in remember-
ing a former neighbor, business owner, teach-
er, farmer or acquaintance from years ago.
Morton S. Hilbert, who became an
accomplished engineer, professor and a
co-founder of Earth Day, lived in Hastings
in the early 1940s and worked for the
local health department. (Wikipedia.com)
All men between the ages of 21 and 35 were required to register for the draft
October 1940. That included Morton Shelly Hilbert, a sanitary engineer who lived on
West Walnut Street in Hastings. He was No. 1921 out of 2,287 in the first draft.
(Ancestry.com)
Continued next page