Remembrances of Tolono, Illinois

The Orchard

I spent a lot of time in the old apple orchard on the north side of the house. In 1960-1961 we lived on the corner (southwest side) from Uncle Pat. Grandpa had the best yellow delicious apples and fruit in this orchard patch; I would climb the tree and choose a stout limb where I could select amongst the most perfect of the apples. I will never forget how sweet and perfect these were. Two rules applied and Grandpa Joe enforced these with a bellowing growl. “Stay out of the Cherry Tree and stay away from his Bee hives“!!
The Orchard was plotted like a mystical Black forest from some fairy tale, long narrow pathways with a dark canapé where everywhere you looked, there was another treat.

The Front Porch

The honeysuckle, the pungent wafting of this fragrance and the bees that were continually buzzing around the white porch. The vine was so prolific it was tearing the trellis from the side of the porch rails. I still remember Grandma Agnes pan-frying a chicken in a black iron skillet, and a fresh baked apple pie cooling on the porch! Small white clapboard siding that sported many years of white wash and repairs. A white wooden screen door that had a small metal hook for a latch. Many years later I have learned that this covering of Honeysuckle was a necessity by the location of the old cistern, it gave off a terrible odor and was located on the east side of the porch just north of the old garage.

The Old Garage

Many times I would visit the old garage with Grandpa, he had almost every small item you can imagine stored and sorted into small glass baby food jars. These were secured to a wood board by a nail through the metal lid. A dark black dirt floor and the smell of old motor oil. I do not remember a car ever being stored there though I do remember his old glass oil bottles. His were not the fancy station type; Grandpa had old fruit jars with the metal spout screwed to the top. (I have one of these; my dad gave it to me). I remember the old Walnut tree located by the garage at the edge of the property, knotted and leaning to one side. Silent witness to the family and all of the activity that occurred their through the years. Its fruit was spread down the long cinder covered driveway with high hopes to uncover its reward by shelling the hulls. The drive carried the pungent odor of green walnut hulls, freshly crushed by the comings and goings. When this tree was felled my father gathered some cuttings, he stored these in his yard shed for some time. I had taken up woodworking as one of my many hobbies and sliced up one short limb into strips. I made a little jewel box from it and presented it to Uncle Tim. Today I have this box made from the old Tolono Walnut tree; I think it is all that remains.

The Barn

It seemed so large, a monolith on the northwest side of the pasture, testimony to a working farm from many years past. It still had a inner crib that was full of seed corn still on the cob, left over from some past harvest and now made home by the mice of the field. Faded barn red wash and the color of rust. The interior was littered with old machinery and brightly colored bottles. These bottles would become the focus of a later tale. At one gathering of the cousins, led by John Boland, we climbed into the loft where we could exit the top area through a small door. The ladder was an integral part of the structure with old well-worn cross rungs. Square nails and the smell of an old animal barn. We could climb onto the east side sloping tin roof. I was wearing a rather newer pair of jeans, we took turns climbing and sliding down the tin roof. You would hear a loud ripping sound upon occation from the protruding nails in the tin roof. We were not very popular with the adults that day and I had made short work of my jeans. The hay loft on the west side had a large door that swung away and a rusty pulley with a short piece of rope remaining from hauling in the bails. Several wanted to swing on this but I do not remember anyone getting the courage to do so, I am glad they didn’t.

I remember Chucky and I both had received BB-guns for Christmas, we were out in the field shooting at tin cans and whatever crossed our path. We made our way into the old barn, drawn by the brightly colored bottles. We would line them up on a stall brace and pick them off one-at-a-time. This was all in great fun and we made a huge mess of broken glass on the floor of the barn, it was not long and here he came. Grandpa Joe was livid; I think I remember a well-placed boot on my hind end over this one!

Now in later years I discover these were bottles from the Gunning restaurant (1915) and soda fountain that was located in down town Tolono. I have described some of these early bottles to a collector friend of mine; I think we destroyed several thousand dollars worth of rare blob top, aqua and lavender soda bottles.
Ah, the innocents of youth!

Grape Arbor

Old twisted wood post supported the ends with several large diameter steel wires crossing the center for supports. A very old vine, possibly planted by the original Dennis himself, surly over one hundred years old during my youth. Here the largest, darkest, deepest purple grapes grew, probably the best in the county. I remember making grape jelly with Grandma, she would melt down the bees wax and pour a covering on the top of the jars to seal the jelly. Uncle Ed made grape wine one year, we were in the dinning room when we heard several explosions in the basement, and the wine had fermented and was exploding all over the basement. Ka-boom, ka-boom! What a mess! If I recall there was an old chicken coup located back here, I cannot remember if it was located to the left or to the right of the grape arbor. Maybe to the rear?

Old Cars & A Milk Truck

Hours of fun were spent behind the wheel of these; they were openly stored on the edge of the pasture north east of the garage and still further east of the arbor and house. An old milk delivery truck, a 1937 Ford business coupe and several others. The Ford has a story, Ed bought this one new in 1937 he could not afford the payments and Grandpa Joe assumed the burden. Here is a man with a family of ten kids and he is driving a 1937 Ford Business coupe with no back seat!! Well, I remember lots of great times fighting off the new inhabitants of the old cars; a coon and some wasp nests. We had hours of fun playing cops and robbers, the un-touchables and the like. Wish I had this one today!

During the depression Grandpa would deliver ice in the area, they owned a 1927 Chevrolet truck (I have the title) that he had purchased. Dad has told me several stories where they would go to Champaign to load the truck; he normally would take the Boys with him. He also took the Boys with him when he performed Electrical work in the area. Dennis Joseph Gunning was issued the very first Electrical license in Champaign County; it now has a place of honor in the Brotherhood of Electrical workers hall in Champaign. I have still not been able to obtain a copy. Serial number one!

Dennis Joseph Gunning

A proud man, a very mechanical man with great inner strength. He could repair or rebuild most anything that would trouble most others. He had a propensity toward organization but had a strange way of achieving it. He collected everything and almost never discarded the most common of things. I was amazed by the items that he had stored in old coffee cans and jars in the basement of the home. Things were everywhere! I know my father today has a yard shed full of these treasures and some day I too will be sorting and gazing upon these items from the Gunning basement. Grandpa always wore those old type long johns with the trap door in the rear, I can still see him rising early in the morning and scratching his rear looking for his glasses. Funny, I find myself doing this today! He kept a bottle of Old Granddad whiskey in his bedroom closet, when things would get out of hand or he was troubled-off he would go to have a taste. He loved to watch Paul Harvey on TV, later he could only get him on the radio and I recall setting with him by his large soft chenille covered chair, I still enjoy Paul Harvey’s programs today.
He had an old bronze finish lamp and ashtray stand. He would smoke Camels or Bull Durham and mostly rolled his own cigarettes. In the living room in a very proud location hung the painting of a large bold stag.
This painting reflecting his own pride in life and family. I have this painting and I am awfully grateful that I have it! His sister Mabel Gunning painted it in 1913. When he would dress he would wear a dark suit and upon occasion a bow tie. He was fond of thin suspenders as apposed to a belt. He would look very dapper in his broad brimmed fedora hat. He would take me to the basement first duty of the morning was to light the old large iron boiler that would heat the water for a hot shower. He kept a small axe next to his kindling on the floor. We would twist old newsprint and wad it into balls, splitting the kindling and adding it to the cast iron stove that was located at the base of the tank. Striking a wooden match he would light the fire and close the old hinged front with a whack! Up stairs we would go where he would prepare for his morning shower. I will never forget the sound of the water bouncing off the shower base as it was made of galvanized tin. After his shower I would watch him stand at the old streaked mirror wrapped in his towel and shave with a straight razor. No foam for Joe, it was a soap cake and a boar bristle brush to apply the shaving cream. I too have that strong straight grain beard that is a Gunning trait, my father used to get us on the floor and rub his beard against our belly. Tickle, tickle!!

On to breakfast, I had eggs and toast; Granddad had oatmeal sprinkled with brown sugar and a glass of buttermilk.

Off for a day of chores, he would fire up the Massey Harrison Model 44 tractor and attach the sickle. He would drive the tractor and I would ride the iron seat on the wooden sickle. If you came upon a fence post or other obstruction you would pull up the cutting arm with a rope that was attached to it. Many hours I spent riding the antiquated wood & iron cutter. I also enjoyed riding the planter one spring; it was something that Henry Ford would have been proud of. It had wooden hoppers for the seed and again an iron seat and large paddle lined steel wheels. One would pull the rope to let the seed fall to the planting heads and riding the planter made me very proud for it was an important job. He never had many words for me other than those of instruction, guidance he freely offered if it had anything to do with something mechanical. He would explain to me the complete workings of the sickle or the planter and let me ride on his lap and operate the throttle of the tractor. This old tractor was the very first thing I ever drove, I also was privileged enough to ride on the crown of one fender.

He took myself and I believe several other male cousins to the basement, he unscrewed the light bulb, wetted his finger and stuck it in the socket. He extended his finger and said, “Here grab this finger”, well we all know the results as the electrical charge bypassed him and led right to us! This was my introduction to Electrical work and Gunning Electric. We all had a good laugh! Sadly, today I could spend many hours with my grandfather learning of his Electrical experiences. I have spent eight years working as an Electrician as a side job with my good friend in Champaign. He held my finger when we walked, he would reach down with his large hands and raise me into the air with a large broad grin. I had never felt this loved. I miss him so much, time will not heel this loss, I should hope to enjoy these visits that I missed in my youth some day. We surly will enjoy this reward!

Agnes Craig Gunning

My father was born in the upstairs bedroom in October of 1928. One clear beautiful summer night I was fortunate enough to spend the night with Grandma and Grandpa Gunning. I will never forget her gentalness and the care in which she tucked me into that iron bed, with many blankets and comforters. The windows were open and I layed in bed feeling a security that I do not recall enjoying since. I will never forget the sight and sound of the Wabash railroad to the south, the loan whane of the train whistle as they made there way east at night. The cool clean crisp air that permeated the room that took me gently to a sleep that was so sweet and peaceful. She had a way of conveying love; that only a Grandmother could. It is no wonder most of the boys were spoiled brats; they were spoiled by her care and love. They grew up void of many of the material items that we enjoy today, my father has told me of the Christmas in which they received an Orange for Christmas. And how they would hunt rabbits for dinner. Simple times, made enduring by her talent in the kitchen, making a great meal from simple stock to feed such a large family. What the family lacked in substance they were endowed with her loving care. She wore a pretty print apron and had the softness of satin in her touch. She wore a large bonnet when she worked in the garden. She was a strong woman, strong in will and conviction. She had a twinkle in her eye that conveyed an assurance to anyone entrusted in her care. She would well up with tears over any disruption; she would let the tears roll over any joy. This is a Craig trait and one that my father has, and I have as well. I am proud of my sensitive nature and inheritance; I credit my loving Grandmother for this blessing.

I was complaining of a toothache one day. She tied one of my baby teeth to the basement doorknob with a string, wham they would slam the door! Still my tooth did not fully come out, after several try’s it came out on its own a few days later. I remember this was great entertainment for all those that were present. This had been a tradition of pulling teeth at the home. One that I don’t care to relive.

When I think of her I am brought to her Lilacs that she loved so much. On the southwest corner of the house were several large Lilac bushes. They would bloom and fill the air with the sweet smell, wonderful! Dad still has a growth from the originals growing in his yard.