Lakewood Lore

Diary of early resident tells of babbling brook in city

In early Lakewood, up until 1922, a babbling brook ran through out city.

It started south of Madison and meandered northward. It crossed under Detroit in a culvert at what is now Waterbury and then continued to Lake Erie.

It was known merely as "the creek" to Jeannette Stranahan, who lived near the limpid waterway during her teen-age years. She and her friends would delight in holding wiener roasts on its banks and in watching the pollywogs in a deep pool that had formed in that section of the rivulet midway between Detroit and the Nickel Plate Railroad.

Jeannette, who graduated from Lakewood High School in 1922 and died last Feb.15 at 90, referred to the creek in her daily diary -- in the Lakewood portion she wrote for four years, starting in 1918. Her local entries recently were published in book form by her daughter and presented to Lakewood Public Library.

When the city's plans to cover the stream were announced, Jeannette was saddened.

"Our beautiful ravine and the creek are to be filled," she chronicled on Dec.12, 1921. "It is breaking my heart as well as Mama's."

John Scofield, retired superintendent of the Lakewood Water Department, confirmed that sometime after that date the creek indeed was enclosed in an underground storm sewer pipe.

"About 25 years ago, as assistant city engineer, I crawled through part of the 4-foot-diameter pipe with a flashlight to check its condition," he commented. "It was in good shape then," he recalled.

An entry made months after the close of World War I indicated there were still war wounds to be healed. On May 17, 1919, Jeannette told of visiting a cousin, Johnny Moran:

"He was a sergeant in French and went over the top nine times. He got shot and may lose an arm."

In the first World War, going "over the top" was a frightening phrase that meant one's unit had been ordered to climb from the safety of a trench with drawn bayonets and charge into the enemy's position. It signified the ultimate risk and at the same time the matchless opportunity to display valor.

On Sept. 19, 1919, Jeannette reported getting out of school at 2 p.m. because of the funeral of Lakewood Mayor Cook. Byron M. Cook died three months before his term expired, but he made many vital decisions, including the sanctioning of the city-owned Rhodes home in Lakewood Park as a supplementary hospital to care for the scores of victims strickened by the flu epidemic of 1918-20.

Two other Lakewood High references in the fall of 1919 read: "Oct. 16 -- Three girls were expelled from school for smoking cigarettes" and "Nov. 11 -- (a year after armistice) -- Everyone was asked to stand at attention and face east for two minutes in honor of our soldiers who lost their lives in Europe."

On Monday, Dec. 15, 1919, Jeannette wrote: "Some people in the newspaper made the prophesy that the world will end Wednesday."

(Actually, some of the believers had sold their homes and businesses, and fled to high ground.)

On the designated day, Dec. 17, Jeannette dismissed all the hullabaloo with a terse entry: "The world didn't end today."

In 1920, the flu scourge flared up again. On Feb. 3, she noted, "The flu is worse. Papa says there are 10,000 cases. The hospitals are so full they use the corridors."

In 1921, Jeannette told of going to a dance at the Kundtz mansion at 13826 Edgewater Drive. The Kundtz mansion was a baronial-type manor, replete with ballroom and bowling alley, and was recognized as the most elegant residence in Lakewood before it was torn down in 1961 for new smaller homes development. It was the home of Theodore Kundtz, a manufacturing tycoon who produced the cabinets for White Sewing machines.

An entry dated Feb. 17, 1922, revealed that the city of Cleveland was going to demolish Jeannette's father's six story business block at 421 Superior Ave., N.W., headquarters of Stranahan Bros. Co., caterers, bakers and confectioners, "to make space for the new tracks and buildings for the new depot."

"Papa says he is too old to rebuild," she added. On June 1, 1922, Jeannette Stranahan, papa Frank, mama Agnes and sister Maryon left Lakewood for a new life in California. Hooked to the Stranahan's new early-model car, a Willys Knight, was a folding, pioneer-version camp trailer, rough hewn but a much-appreciated cross-country accessory in those pre-motel days of the '20s.

This article by Dan Chabek appeared in the Lakewood Sun Post July 15, 1993. Reprinted with permission.

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