The downfall of one turn-of-the-century American family
Martin L Callin (1853 – 1889) was born in Weller Township, in Richland County, Ohio, and grew up working on farms near Olivesburgh. His father was a shoemaker, Thomas Jefferson Callin, a respected businessman well-known in the town of Mansfield.
Martin was this Callin family’s oldest son, though he was the third child born to Thomas and Susan Callin. Alice had died in infancy in 1850, and Martin’s older sister, Mary, died at age ten in 1861. Martin grew to healthy manhood, though, and showed promise as a businessman early on.
You might recall me mentioning Martin’s younger brothers not long ago – Fred and George were named in A Tale of Two Mildreds, and their youngest brother, Delbert, was the father of “Pretty” Paul Callin.
On 11 March 1876, Martin married Mary Elizabeth Rearick (1854–1913). Elizabeth’s father, Christian Rearick, was born in Prussia and came to the United States in his youth. He served as a private in the Union army during the Civil War – a conflict Martin was too young to fight in.
Martin and Elizabeth built a family and a business for a dozen happy years. Martin ran a dry goods shop, and earned appointments as a U.S. postmaster, first in Olivesburgh and later in Tiro. They had a daughter, Pearl (b. 1877), and a son, Ben Frank (b. 1878), and they seemed happy and successful. Around 1884, they made the move from Olivesburgh to Tiro, a growing town in Crawford County, Ohio, and they had two more sons there: William Jefferson (b. 1885) and Gaston N. (b. 1888).
But in February of 1889, tragedy struck – literally.
Train vs. Sleigh
On the morning of 13 February 1889, a yard engine for the Ohio Central Railroad pushed three gondolas carrying railroad ties out to the north of Tiro and distributed the timber along the tracks. The engineer needed to get his cars back to the city before the southbound passenger train came in that morning, so he sped back to the yard – witnesses differed on his estimated speed, ranging from 8 to 20 miles per hour. “As the train approached the pike road, the whistle was sounded and the bell was rung continuously. A second whistle was sounded for the Annapolis road crossing, and a third for the station,” according to the Bucyrus Telegraph-Forum.1
Jacob Bloom was driving a sleigh carrying himself and Martin Callin toward Bucyrus at about 11:30 a.m. Witnesses testified that Bloom noticed the approaching engine, but due to the high embankments, he could not see the three gondola cars in front of it. He prodded his horses into a gallop, trying to beat the train at the crossing, and his horses had just crossed the track when he saw the danger and arose to leap out of the sleigh.
It was too late.
The horses were unhurt, but Bloom and Callin were thrown violently from the sleigh and killed instantly. Martin was propelled over a fence some 45 feet away; Bloom was thrown against a fence adjoining the cattle guard with enough force to break some of the boards. The coroner determined that the signals required by law were sounded, but that the train was traveling at more than ten miles per hour, and that the crossing was too dangerous not to have a flagman on duty.
A year later, the family won the resulting lawsuit:
A Taste For the Good Life
This lawsuit judgment was no small thing for a grieving family. $4,000 in 1890 is equivalent in purchasing power to about $138,753.41 in 2024.2 Compared to his working-class brothers, Martin was already doing very well for himself at the time of his death, and while it is good that his widow and small children were not left destitute, that kind of wealth comes with its negative effects.
The two older children turned out alright. Pearl Blanche Callin (1877 – 1951) was 12 when her father was killed, and she married ten years later, probably after completing her education. Her husband was Robert Lester Todd (1873-1956), a school teacher who moved up to become a superintendent of schools. They retired to Lakeside, Ottawa County, Ohio, about 1940, and lived out their lives there in relative comfort.
Benjamin Franklin Callin (1878 – 1953) served in the Ohio National Guard in 1899 and soon established himself as a traveling salesman. In 1905, he married Virginia Daisy White (1878 – 1966), and they raised their daughter, Virginia Lee (Callin) Knepper (1911-1999), in Toledo.
However, William Jefferson Callin (1885-1949) and Gaston N. Callin (1888-1925) had different experiences shaped by lawsuits, fights over money, and a difficult relationship with their mother.3
A Picture of Privilege
The widowed Mary Elizabeth Callin did remarry at some point – her husband’s name was William Harrison Carlisle, but we don’t know much else about him. Judging from the evidence we have, she resided with her sons and depended on them for her care.
William married in 1907 at age 22. His wife’s name, like his mother’s, was “Mary Elizabeth” – Mary Elizabeth Zeiters (1890 – 1970). It’s hard not to read into that coincidence when the news of their acrimonious divorce was reported in 1910:
The article recounts Elizabeth’s accusations: “…that her husband has been guilty of habitual drunkenness covering substantially the whole period of their married life; that during the times he was drinking he was neglectful of his duties toward her in that he remained out late at night and repeatedly ordered her to leave their home. She says that for some time he has caused her to live in the same house with his mother, Mrs. Harrison Carlisle, who has urged and increased the trouble between them.” She also stated that “by reason of her present physical condition is unable to maintain herself and child” – suggesting she was already pregnant with their second child, a daughter whom she named “Virigia Alice”.
In 1916, Elizabeth remarried, and her second husband, Carl Don Lindsey, adopted Joseph and Virginia. They were raised with the surname Lindsey, and may not have known their biological father.
William married a second time in 1915; this wife’s name was Pleassia Wallet, and they seem to have divorced sometime between 1920 and 1930 – though without any apparent headlines. William moved to Toledo, living with his brother Ben for a time, and he died in 1949.
Gaston married Evelyn Jessie Purvis (1894–1976) about 1912, and it seems that it fell to them to care for his mother. Gaston was a traveling salesman, like his older brother, and his work seems to have kept him away from Ohio for extensive periods.
In 1914, Jessie and Gaston sued his stepfather’s estate after his mother’s death, claiming $378 (worth about $11,500 today) for her board, washing, and a trained nurse. Whatever the outcome of that lawsuit, it does not appear to have improved Jessie and Gaston’s marriage, and five years later, she sued for divorce. At the time, Gaston’s last known address was in Holyoke, Massachusetts, so the notice for the divorce was published in the newspaper, giving him until March 1919 to respond.4
Jessie remarried the following July to Raymond L. Williams, and they went on to raise two daughters of their own. Gaston died in Plattsburgh, New York, in 1925, and was brought back to be buried in the Shelby-Oakland Cemetery in Richland County, Ohio.
The End of a Line
If we consider the order of events, it appears that Martin’s traumatic death sparked a chain of events that resulted in the decline of his family. Of course, had he not been killed by a train, things might have played out in roughly the same way.
If you take a patriarchal view, this Callin line ended with his three sons. Between them, they only gave Martin three grandchildren, two girls and a boy who did not carry on the Callin name. But if, like me, you take a broader view, it is good news that there are an unknown number of cousins out there who might like to know where they came from.
Even if the story is a sad one.
Newspapers.com, “An Awful Fate,” Telegraph-Forum, Bucyrus, Ohio, Friday, 15 Feb 1889, page 3.
“$4,000 in 1890 → 2024 | Inflation Calculator.” Official Inflation Data, Alioth Finance, 19 Nov. 2024, https://www.officialdata.org/us/inflation/1890?amount=4000.
William Jefferson Callin’s Find-A-Grave update was the subject of the post, “Using Find-A-Grave” and prompted me to tell you his story.
Newspapers.com, “NOTICE. In the court of Common Pleas, Crawford County, Ohio.”, The Bucyrus Evening Telegraph, Bucyrus, Ohio, Sat, Feb 15, 1919, Page 4
Mightier Acorns 