By Herman Wrede
Tale of a deathbed homecoming
Harriet Urich turned 13 on May 3, 1880, and Sam Bailey escorted
her to the ice cream parlor in the small Ohio community where they
lived to celebrate.
By Herman Wrede
Tale of a deathbed homecoming
Harriet Urich turned 13 on May 3, 1880, and Sam Bailey escorted her to the ice cream parlor in the small Ohio community where they lived to celebrate.
They had been fast friends since his family moved there from their native Ireland a year earlier. At 15, he was nearly six feet tall and had an engaging way about him that captivated all her girl friends.
Harriet, or Hattie as she was called, had eyes only for him. They were accepted as a couple at the social functions the town offered, and he sometimes persuaded his father to let him use the horse and carriage to take Hattie to an idyllic spot near a riverbank for a picnic.
After keeping company two years, they had a falling out. No one knew what it was about, but soon Sam and Hattie were going to functions with other partners. Frank Evans, a law school student, and she were seen together often and Sam had his pick of any number of young women to escort.
Her father died a few months before her 16th birthday and Frank came to the house often after that. He was well regarded by her mother and by Hattie’s older brothers, Will and Ezra.
On Nov. 11, 1884, Frank and Hattie were married in a double ceremony that included her brother, Will, and Frank’s sister, Clara Belle.
Frank was seen as a comer by the civic leaders and became interested in politics. Marcus A. Hanna, later adviser to President William McKinley, introduced him at a political rally as “a future member of the state Supreme Court.”
But the years passed and Frank turned more to farming than law to sustain himself and his family, which eventually included four sons and five daughters. He and Hattie often saw Sam and his wife.
One summer day in 1909, Frank’s second oldest son, Ben, didn’t return from an errand in town. Frank went looking for him until one of Ben’s friends told him he had left with the circus. Sure enough, a postcard from Ben said he was going to spend the winter in Florida and would see them in June when the circus visited.
When the day arrived, Ben pulled up in a rented carriage and came in with a double armload full of presents. After giving one to every sibling and his mother, he said, “Here’s one for you, Dad.” Frank said, “I have something for you, too, Ben,” and put his arm around him. He pulled out his razor strop and began beating him across the shoulders. Ben fled down the steps to the carriage.
Hattie cried, “Come back, Ben!” until he was out of sight. Frank said, “Don’t worry, he’ll be back. He got a lesson he needed.” They never saw or heard from him again.
Frank died at 60 in 1923 after all the children were grown. Soon after, Sam’s wife died and he began calling on Hattie again. After two years, he said, “Let’s get married; we shouldn’t be living alone.”
They were married for 18 years until his death in 1943. Hattie lived for a time with one daughter or another until she came to stay with her youngest daughter, Cora, my mother. She died on Dec. 2, 1950.
When my mother went to the hospital to pay the bill, a nurse told her, “Just before she passed away, she sat up in bed with her face aglow, held out her arms and said, ‘Oh, my darling, come to me.'”
My brother, Larry, four of our cousins and I were pallbearers. Before the funeral we discussed her last words. Two cousins thought they were meant for Frank, and another for Sam. But Larry, our cousin Merrill and I were sure they were intended for Ben alone.
