Denman was a mechanical "wonder." There were few, if any, things that he could not fix. On his corner property were many old rusty cars, buried in long grass. His house was wall worn, on his front porch, which faced the road, an old upright piano, and some other assorted items that were stored there. It all looked uninhabited, but actually, Denman, his wife, Mary, and back in the 60's, two daughters that I know of. I think each daughter graduated from high school with honors. Appearance wise, it was junky, dilapidated and dirty looking. It was Appalachia personified, so to speak.
Early on, when my folks would drive my the place, generally comments of "how anyone can live there, like that." Then, one day, my Mom and Dad were on a drive with a neighbor, and cousin, and when driving by the Denman place, Mom made her comment, and Ray Shannon said, "Jess, you better not say too much about them, I think they are distant cousins." From then on, they were our "distant" cousins, who could afford a piano on their front porch.
At the side of their house, in the yard, was a rather large Oak log, on end, about three feet in length, and this was his work bench. Dad had a Sears chain saw, a big old hard to start one. I gave up trying, one day, had daughter Melissa and son Brad and the chainsaw accompany me, to Denmans. He lived on our road, maybe three miles away. We parked and the kids and I, and the saw got his attention and I placed the saw on that old stump. He had worked on it before, picked up his tool pouch. It was a leather pouch, I think made from an old postmans mail bag. It had all the tools he needed. Many of the tools he had made himself and each had a specific use.
At the side of their house, in the yard, was a rather large Oak log, on end, about three feet in length, and this was his work bench. Dad had a Sears chain saw, a big old hard to start one. I gave up trying, one day, had daughter Melissa and son Brad and the chainsaw accompany me, to Denmans. He lived on our road, maybe three miles away. We parked and the kids and I, and the saw got his attention and I placed the saw on that old stump. He had worked on it before, picked up his tool pouch. It was a leather pouch, I think made from an old postmans mail bag. It had all the tools he needed. Many of the tools he had made himself and each had a specific use.
He started tinkering, loosened some things, took off some things ... before I go any farther, the house had no running water, and in close proximity to Denham, you always wanted to stand "upwind." He tinkered some more, we were all watching him ... and looked around, and realized, there was Brad, head on his knees, intently, quietly watching, and next to him Melissa, who was generally fighting with her brother, and she, too, was intently watching. I scanned the rest of the group, there was Denman's wife, and next to her, three or four people or neighbors who also had brought something for him to work on.
They were all, sitting and watching, engrossed, almost reverently, intently watching Denman, dirty old smelly Denman ..... it was so quiet .... I thought to myself, in this unusual setting, God had us all in the palm of his hand, just sitting and watching Denman perform his minor mechanical miracles. From that moment on, I looked at that piece of property and those that lived there, in a different light.
One of his "stories" I have never forgotten. He, his Father and his Grandfather, I think were of the same "ilk," whatever that means. They were all history buffs, I think. Denman had heard many stories of the Indians in the area, or that had lived in the area. As we know, Indians came from far and wide to acquire flint. We were talking about flint and Indian items, etc., he told me, "Always look for an area that has high ground and water. He said the Indians would come to the area, find such a spot. There was a circular area around the Flint area that was neutral ground, no weapons allowed, so they would find such a spot, bury their weapons and valuables, then go in to the area for the Flint, then go back to their camp, dig it up, and head for home. I guess he had quite a collection of artifacts, I never saw them, but I knew where to look.
Another of his stories. Many years ago, a wealthy family, lived on Dayton Road. They would occasionally throw large parties and Denman's Grandmother would help out with the cooking and cleaning, etc. He said on special occasions, the family would "bring out" their large German Silver Service, which would be used for dinner. Later, they would be washed and dried, counted, and then the Lady of the house, after everyone had gone, take them out and bury the entire service in the yard, wrapped in heavy oil cloth. I have not heard of anyone digging them up, so somewhere, on Dayton Road, is a treasure of silver, buried.
Later on in life, his wife Mary became diabetic, they disposed of the farm and moved into East Newark in a trailer park. I doubt that anyone will believe this, but it is true. Denman's Brother lived on the property, out in back, in a cave. He occasionally drank, and on occasions, late at night, a piano, which was on their front porch, could be heard, being pounded, no played, the keys pounded.
There were many "treasures" on that property, always wondered what happened to them. One, I saw, a leather mailman's bag, full of his slides and other treasurers.
One of his "stories" I have never forgotten. He, his Father and his Grandfather, I think were of the same "ilk," whatever that means. They were all history buffs, I think. Denman had heard many stories of the Indians in the area, or that had lived in the area. As we know, Indians came from far and wide to acquire flint. We were talking about flint and Indian items, etc., he told me, "Always look for an area that has high ground and water. He said the Indians would come to the area, find such a spot. There was a circular area around the Flint area that was neutral ground, no weapons allowed, so they would find such a spot, bury their weapons and valuables, then go in to the area for the Flint, then go back to their camp, dig it up, and head for home. I guess he had quite a collection of artifacts, I never saw them, but I knew where to look.
Another of his stories. Many years ago, a wealthy family, lived on Dayton Road. They would occasionally throw large parties and Denman's Grandmother would help out with the cooking and cleaning, etc. He said on special occasions, the family would "bring out" their large German Silver Service, which would be used for dinner. Later, they would be washed and dried, counted, and then the Lady of the house, after everyone had gone, take them out and bury the entire service in the yard, wrapped in heavy oil cloth. I have not heard of anyone digging them up, so somewhere, on Dayton Road, is a treasure of silver, buried.
Later on in life, his wife Mary became diabetic, they disposed of the farm and moved into East Newark in a trailer park. I doubt that anyone will believe this, but it is true. Denman's Brother lived on the property, out in back, in a cave. He occasionally drank, and on occasions, late at night, a piano, which was on their front porch, could be heard, being pounded, no played, the keys pounded.
There were many "treasures" on that property, always wondered what happened to them. One, I saw, a leather mailman's bag, full of his slides and other treasurers.
