Oral History of Dan Evans August 27, 2004
Kara This is an oral history interview with Daniel Evans from Vinton, and it is August the 27 th , 2004, and we’re at the Madog Center. So, we’re just going to be talking about you. I’m going to start you off, and I’m just going to let you talk. Can you handle that?
Okay?
Dan
So, you’re going to start it off?
Kara And then I’m going to let you go. When were you born, where were you born, tell me about your family.
Dan Okay.
Kara Okay?
Dan I brought this along, just to get the exact dates, there.
Kara Okay.
Dan So, my great grandparents, are we on?
Kara yes
Dan My great grandparents are buried at (Rehobah) Cemetery, which is, and there was once a church there, but that’s on the farm, and my great grandfather, Isaac S. Evans, was born May 12, 1799. My great grandmother, Mary, was born April 1, 1796.
Kara Where were they born?
Dan You had to be in Wales. They came from near Swansea. ( ? ) was the name that was given to me. I don’t how you spell it, but that’s what they called it, (?), and near
Swansea. My cousin had found the farm when he was over there in the service.
Kara Who’s your cousin?
Dan So that was back a few years ago.
Kara Who is your cousin?
Dan D. Hayden Perry. D. Hayden Parry. P.A.R.R.Y. Not the E.R. way, okay? So, he was in the service, and so he found the farm over there when he was turned loose. Then, that’s on my father’s side. On my mother’s side, which, she also was an Evans, my grandfather, (Evan L.) Evans, was born in 1846, my mother’s father. And then my

grandmother, my mother’s mother, was born, it would have been…she was born in 1846 and he was born in 1844.
Kara In this country?
Dan On my grandfather, I don’t know. But my grandmother was from Llanharan, which is near, well,….tut, tut. Anyhow, it’ll come to me in a little bit. It was in North
Wales.
Kara Is it near where your family is now?
Dan Yes. Near (?). Morgan Evans. Morgan Evans is where she came from and that was back about 1870, that she came to this country. And I think she must have had a brother or something, some place to come to, because there are some relation buried at
Soar Cemetery, which is between Jackson and Oak Hill. And so, that’s …when I could find out something, I wasn’t interested.
Kara No.
Dan Didn’t matter to me where they came from or why they were here. But, of course, the whole story is they came here for survival. It’d have to be either that or an awful lot of courage, because my grandfather, great grandfather on my dad’s side came with four kids, across the ocean, and one story is, they were on the ocean 56 days, and that’s one.
My grandfather was four years old when they settled at the farm. So, he was born in 1835 and they settled on the farm 1839 with the deed that he went to, my great grandfather went to Chillicothe, got the deed for the place, and of course he would go with compass, because there were no trails, really, too much, at that time. You just hunted your own way through. So, anyhow, nothing but forest and (Henry Hoga?) Cemetery, too, there was a girl, a sister, of my grandfather, that was three years old. She was born in 1839 and passed away in 1842, because what they had done, rolled logs together, burning logs, burning good timber, see, so they’d get some open ground and the log pile collapsed, and a log rolled over and killed her.
Kara What was her name?
Dan Elizabeth, I think. Yes, Elizabeth. Born in 1839, passed away March 25, 1842, and so she’s buried at Rehobeth. So, that would have been another Evans tribe, of the S. tribe.
Kara So, there were four?
Dan
Four, besides that, and then, let’s see, there was Evan S, my grandfather was Dave
S., and then there were a couple girls. One married a Reese, and the other, I’m not sure.
Kara What were their names?

Dan One was Mary.
Kara Did she marry the Reese?
Dan
Married a Reese. I believe that’s right. And so, yes, that’s getting back a little bit before my time. I really never knew the, just heard of them.
Kara What was your grandfather’s name?
Dan Grandfather, my grandfather was David S. Evans.
Kara What’s this S?
Dan The S, some people suggested it might have been Simon. They suggested that, they wasn’t sure, because he had a brother Evan. That’ll be the S again. So, what it was, what it stood for, mainly what people went by, though Evan S. *cough* excuse me.
People referred them as Evan S. or Dave S. They didn’t get the last name, didn’t need to.
There were a lot of Evan Evans’ in the area. They all went by a letter. My dad’s brother was Evan A. Evan E. lived up in the hill from the farm, Evan H. was over at Moriah,
Evan L. lived about a mile this side of the farm. Then, of course, there’s Evan S., and that’s, more cousins there. But the people never called a last name, just a first. The name and the letter.
Dan That way, they knew who you were talking about. Otherwise, Evan Evans?
Which one?
Kara *laughing*
Dan
So that’s what it amount to. So, I was raised on the farm and I still have the deed to the place.
Kara Now, where is the farm?
Dan In a frame at the home farm in the valley. The first, probably, was a log house,
I’m sure. After that, in 1900 they got a saw mill in there and they sawed timber and built the house that is there now. That was in 1900. Built the house in 1900 and the barn in
1901.
Kara Is the barn still standing?
Dan Yes, the barn’s still there.
Kara And they farmed?
Dan
On the farm. Home farm in the valley. That’s in Raccoon Township, right against the Jackson County line. So, this, then, is…and I still have the farm, and so many a sheep

that I’ve made and taken on that farm, work and hunting and whatever. And so, it’s, it’s a sentimental thing, actually. So, my dad was born there in “65. 1865, my dad was born.
Kara What was his name?
Dan Dan S. Evans.
Kara Of course.
Dan Yes, of course, Dan S. Evans. And some of the people even call me Dan S., you know, simply because of my dad, Dan S. So, now they, that family, that’d be my grandfather, Davis S., had six children, mind you. They weren’t working that hard, I guess.
Kara Well, his WIFE had six children.
Dan The wife was working.
Kara Uh huh.
Dan
Three boys, three girls. So, my dad’s brother, John D., I don’t know who they got the D there, was a carpenter in Columbus, built lots of houses up there. Evan A. lived in
Lima, possibly because his sister was up there.
Kara Now, Evan A. was your uncle?
Dan That is the uncle. Evan A.
Kara Okay, and he…so you had an uncle and an aunt in Lima?
Dan Had what?
Kara An uncle and an aunt in Lima?
Dan Yes.
Kara When did they go there? Why’d they go there?
Dan
I don’t know. The one aunt, and I’m not calling her name right now, I’m not calling her name because I never knew her, but she was a music teacher and very likely she took the music training here at Rio Grande. But she was a music teacher, and so, and
Lima, where she was working, she would go into a music store and buy music and whatever else, you know, and she also found her a man in there, by the name of Porter.
This was B.S. Porter and Sons music store. And so, she married Ed Porter, who was
B.S.’s son, and so…but, her life was very short. I think she died in childbirth, so…

Kara Did the child live?
Dan And they had two boys, Bill and Dave. As I told Ruth one day, Bill, I said “Bill’s really got a low voice.” She said, “Not as low as yours.” So, you got Bill, Bill’s been down, and…
Kara So it’d be Bill Porter, yeah?
Dan Bill Porter and Dave are both gone, so. Anyhow, I would say through them where we bought the piano after the farm and also a victrola, the wind up kind, and so I’m sure they both came from B.S. Porter and Son. So, that’s, but anyhow, the way they would get that down here was to come on the train to Vinton, in a crate, and then they would load in on a wagon and take it on out to the farm. That’d be, that’d be pretty much an all day work, coming in between eight and nine mile, with horses, walking along, you know, getting at the depot and load it up and take it back to the farm. So, in fact, when the twins were growing up we needed a piano so we just hopped in the pickup one day and went to
B.S. Porter and Son, and Dave was there, and so we bought a piano and brought it home, and now this is one thing, they are, they’re truthful with it. He said, “Now here’s two pianos here.” He said,” One is fancier than the other. It’s got do-dads and all that stuff all over it, see?” But he said, “The sounding board is the same in both of them.” I said,
“That’s what we want, we want the sound. We’re not interested in that fancy stuff.” And so, we took the one probably $100 less. And so, we brought it home, so the girls would have a piano to play, the twins. They both played piano. So, where are we now?
Kara We were talking about your uncles and your aunts at the farm. There was six.
Dan So, yes.
Kara Your dad, your parents that had six children?
Dan My grandfather had six.
Kara Okay
Dan And...
Kara What were their names?
Dan Well, there was Evan, John and Dan. Dan S. And Annie, hm hm hm hm hm ,
Annie Morgan, and then, it might have been Elizabeth Porter, I’m not sure on that. Well, those names are not coming back to me real quick.
Kara Oh, that’s okay.
Dan
So…

Kara So, David was your dad? David S.?
Dan Davis S. Them were the children of David S.
Kara Okay. What was your dad called?
Dan And Uncle Evan S. They had some big boys, like Isaac and Abe, and they weighed about 260, 270. So, oh, a quickie on Abe.
Kara Okay
Dan Lived up here in the country and he went to school at Ohio Northern, above Lima, played on the football team. One game, he went to the opposing party and spoke to a fellow there. He said, “I want to look you over.” He said, “You’re the first man that I haven’t been able to push out of the road, and I just want to see what you’re made of.”
So,
Kara *laugh*
Dan Now, Abe was, as I say, about 270 but he was fast on foot. Even…he went west, to get him a job, maybe teaching or whatever, and he was running our of money and he was on his way home in Montana. He came into a town there that had a street carnival going on and so he said they had a race set up, just a people race, you know, and he thought, “Well, no hurting in trying,” so he climbs into the race and gets in the rest of them, see, and he said he almost lost his stride once because, why, somebody yelled
“Goer Abe”, out in Montana, mind you. You just can’t get away from people that know you. Somebody knows you, someplace.
Kara Uh huh
Dan
And that’s what he said, he heard that guy say “goer Abe”, and he won the race and he got a little bit of money that way, so. Anyhow.
Kara Alright, hold on, the tape just stopped.
Dan Okay.
Kara (?) shut off.
Dan Light’s on.
Kara Okay.
Dan And so, I had a brother and sister

Kara It stopped again. I’m going to shut the tape off here. Oral history of Dan Evans,
October 5, 2004
Kara Today is October 5. I think its October 5, 2004, and this is an oral history interview with Dan Evans, and we’re at the Madog Center. We’re going to start off, Dan, by talking about your family history, when they came from Wales, all that good stuff, okay?
Dan Very good. Good morning. Dan Evans of Vinton, Ohio talking. In other words, I just kind of grew up in the community and I’m still around. Thank goodness for that.
K Thank goodness.
D in fact, I was born in 1920, and that way I’m about sixty-something years old, now, I guess.
K
Yeah, that’s about right.
D Going on something more. Anyhow, my great, great grandfather, Isaac S. Evans, came to America from near Swansea, I understand, (*sounds like “tonyvoyl*), and bringing the family with him, including my grandfather, who, at the time, was about four years old. He had to go to Chillicothe to get the deed for the farm in 1839, with the present signature on the deed, Martin Van Buren, by a secretary, and this was ninety-four and ninety-eight one hundredths of an acre. We understand that they took a $100 gold piece and bought a hundred acres of land, so this is very close to it. As I am aware, there were four children in the family when they came over. There was a daughter born in 1839
, after they were here. I believe her name was Elizabeth, and she was killed in 1842, when she was three years old. When they came here, nothing bur forest, and they had to cut trees, roll them together, burn them to get them out so they could have room to raise some crops, and I understand that what happened was, they had this pile of logs burning and the log pile collapsed and she was down below. The logs rolled over and killed her.
So, she was buried in the little family cemetery on the farm, Rehoboth, where my great grandparents are buried also. Some more of the family, I think there are at least seven or eight graves there, and it’s still kept clean. The trustees are keeping it clean now. My dad used to go up the side and mow it through the summer to keep it clean.
K Where is that, Dan?
D It’s on the farm, just a little – on the farm in the valley. It’s on top of the hill, just a square plot there, fenced in. It’s on the farm itself, where they grew up and raised a family. The whole thing behind it all, they either had to have a lot of frit or survival to come across the ocean, and we understand it took fifty-six days, less one, to come across the ocean. That’s almost two months. I guess the wind would blow them one direction and then it’d take them back the other way, and then they’d turn and the wind would come this way again. Anyhow, this is the net result of getting that family over here.

Another reason they came over, they understood that in America you could own property, where over there they didn’t own property. They worked for the landlord. That’s on my dad’s side. My mother’s side – my grandmother grew up near Pwllheli, near Glanerian, I believe, was the home. She came over in the vicinity of 1870 and married another Evans,
Evan O. Evans. Of course, my great grandfather was Isaac S. Evans, so he was the S tribe. My mother’s folks were of the O tribe, and you have to have the letter. So, there, my mother was born in 1879, I still have both farms and a total of around 500 acres all together. I have cattle on both farms and it gives me something to do. I’ve got to have something to do or go nuts. That’s the main part of this story on the people coming over here. I’ve been told that my brother and sister – my brother was involved in a fatal back in 1992. He lived on the home farm, never married. My sister, Mary Catherine, passed away in March of 1928, when she was a senior in high school, with pneumonia. She would’ve graduated a month later, in April. She would’ve graduated from high school. I don’t remember her that much because in her junior year she went to Columbus, or
Bexley, actually, where my dad’s brother lived, and stayed with them and went to Bexley
High School as a junior, but she wanted to graduate at Centerville, so she came back home and stayed at Centerville with friends, through the week, and she and my brother both, John, both stayed there through the week because there was no school bus and we were five miles from Centerville. So, it would be a little bit rough, walking every day. So, they stayed with their friends, in Centerville, and that’s where she would have graduated.
That’s where she wanted to graduate. She wanted to graduate in the home base. Now, in my growing up years, I graduated from high school. Well, let’s start from the beginning, perhaps. Let’s go to grade school. In my first grade, Clay Chee was the teacher, a good teacher, a very good teacher because he promoted me to the second grade at the end of the year, even though I only attended fifty-two days and missed over one hundred. But the snow was too deep, I think, because I was only five years old when I started the grade school, and we were almost two miles from the school.
K
D
Did you walk every day?
We’d just have to walk. My legs were pretty short at that time. In January I didn’t make it at all, but in April I was gaining speed, because I made twelve days out of twenty, in April. Only eight months of school. Then, I had a very good teacher, Lulu
Clark, after Clay Chee was there three years, then Lulu Clark came up and through my fourth and fifth grade, she, too, was a wonderful teacher. She was retired but the board talked her into coming up there to teach. At the end of the fifth grade, when I got my report card, she had me promoted to the seventh grade for the next year. So, there I was, seventh and eighth grade. I came out of the grade school when I was twelve and went to high school at Centerville, and there I graduated when I was sixteen: salutatorian of the class. And the class was large. There were nine of us: seven boys and two girls. Then, I started to Rio Grande College. It wasn’t a university then, it was just a college that the
Atwoods started here in 1876. So, I started here in 1936, taking a two year course in
Liberal Arts. But if I’d continued going, I would’ve had to go to Athens or Columbus to finish the degree. We had no money and the tuition at the college at that time – well, as I remember, there was a $5 student ticket that we were required to buy. Also, a $5 laboratory fee and the tuition was $35, so I had to pay $45 every quarter, which would be

$135 a year. Then, the third year, I came back here and took Elementary Education, and I just took the necessaries, because I had all the electives I needed. I finished that in one year’s time in the Elementary Education line, after which I received a four year certificate to teach in elementary schools. The first year there was no school available, but the next year I did get a school at Vinton and taught there for two years. The salary was $100 a month for nine months and you got paid when they got money. I got my first check in
December of September. The retirement, four percent, came out, so I got a check for $96, which, I was loaded with money, because, secondly – gasoline was seventeen cents a gallon, six for a dollar. Everything was on the lower level, but everyone survived in good shape. For farm work, a dollar a day and your dinner, and that was all day, hard work, not just loafing around like these county workers do and other people I see and observe.
Anyhow, as we go along, I did teach for almost five years. I would’ve finished the fifth year out except I was called for examination for the army in February and I passed the examination, and I asked them how soon I would be accepted. They said it would probably be in a couple of weeks. So, when I came back from the examination, I called the county superintendent, told him the situation – perhaps you have a substitute in place, just as well keep him on because no need to jump back and forth just every few days, mess up the room. So, he did. Within two weeks time – actually it turned out to be
October from February, so that was about two weeks. I guess they can’t figure time. They called me for induction at that time, so I went to Gallipolis, got on the train with another bunch of boys, and went to Columbus, four days. We got in there the middle of the afternoon on the New York Central, loaded into a truck, went down to Fort Hayes, got our dinner, middle of the afternoon. All those that had had their examination within sixty days will go on to Indiana this evening. All others stay over, examination in the morning.
So, I stayed over and had examination the next morning. Between 11:00 – 11:30, when I got to the end of the line, I put my sheet down, they looked at it, and they stomped on it
REJECTED. So, “go over to the other desk. They’ll give you a ticket back to Gallipolis.”
“Could I sign myself out?” “Yes. They’ll take care of that.” So I did, I signed myself out, got on a street car, up on Cleveland Avenue, went clear to south end of Columbus, as far as it could to, got out and stuck my thumb out. This was right after noon, probably between twelve and one, I don’t remember. First ride, Circleville, next ride, Chillicothe, next ride, Centerville, and I was in there before school was out. My neighbor drove a school bus, so I just got out of the car, walked up to the school, got on the bus and rode home within half a mile of the farm. So, that’s the end of the story, except they called me back for examination again, and I failed them again. They stopped pestering me after that. In due time, I bought the feed mill in Vinton, from Edward Evans. Another Evans, by the way. He would be a cousin because he was out of the S tribe. His dad was a brother to my grandfather. His dad was Evan S., my dad was Dave S., and of course, my grandfather was Isaac S. My father was Dan S. and that’s the way the family circle goes.
I bought the feed mill in Vinton and ran that four about twenty-seven years. In the meantime, I started selling insurance and started an insurance agency in 1966, and in ’91, sold out to Joe Moore. So, I stepped out of the insurance business, although he wanted to keep the name. I said, I don’t care what you do, because I’m not going back in it. So he called it Evans Moore and that’s what it still is, and it developed also into real estate, so it’s Evans Moore Real Estate and Evans Moore Insurance, which ever you want. He’ll take care of it.

K
D
You still have an office there, don’t you?
Oh, yes, the same office that I started. I started the office back – well, right at first, of course, I was working, still had the feed mill, and I was just working part time, and after I sold the feed mill in ’73 then I made an office on the side porch at home until this opportunity came up to buy the building on North Main Street in Vinton, and I bought the building, and refurbished it. I think that’s the word. I dropped the ceiling, put
K a rug on the floor, paneling on the wall in addition to insulation between the paneling and the wall because it was a block building and that way I could heat it. The office is still in operation.
You have a desk, don’t you? Don’t you have a desk?
D Oh, yes. I have a desk back in the corner. They let me have a desk in there to take care of my own personal business, because there again, I’d been secretary – in fact, I was elected as clerk of the township for three terms, for twelve years and three months, in fact. It used to be that the end of the term was January 1, but now they changed it up to
April 1, so that all reports are made by the old clerk, so I served as township clerk for twelve year, three months, and then I didn’t run anymore. I’ve also been secretary of the
Masonic Lodge at Vinton and this is my 25 th
year, which is a swan song because this is it:
I’m bowing out of the secretary job this year. After 25 years, I thought, that’s long enough. Then, I can be myself, because I don’t hear that well either – oh, I probably hear enough, but – anyhow, that’s long enough, and we have a very capable person that has agreed to continue on the secretary job. I certainly, of course, will help him, in any way that I can. Now, let’s step off to the gymanfa, perhaps.
K
Well, hang on. Let’s go back. You just came back from Columbus. What happened when you came back after the second rejection? You went back into teaching?
D
That’s when we bought the feed mill. Of course, I did teach a year or so after that, but during that fifth year that I was teaching, that’s when we bought the feed mill.
K When did you get married?
D
I’ve been married twice, as far as that goes. The first wife decided she wanted to take off someplace. That was back, I don’t know, back in the forties, I guess. The last marriage to Ruth, which was wonderful, was in ’56, an easy number to remember. I could always say four, five, six. The fourth month, the fifth day and the sixth year. So, it was four, five, six when I was married. The twins – she had four children – the twins actually grew up with me because they were in the first grade when Ruth and I were married and they are very supportive, because, like, tomorrow, one of them is coming up from Texas and flying in to Cincinnati and coming up to take me to Columbus Thursday for a check up on the aneurism and the arteries, by Dr. Smeed. So, she’s coming up and when I had the aneurism taken care of on Saint David’s Day in ’04 – everything happens on our anniversary – the one twin, Penny Anne, was here all week. She flew home on Sunday

morning, but Connie Jan came up on Saturday afternoon, so she was with me then. One or the other was always there with me, and like anniversary, Dr. Smeed took care of the aneurism where he put about an 18 millimeter Dacron tube and sewed it up with string, the same thing they make fishing tackle out of. He also took care of this right side artery on Groundhog Day in 2000, four years previous. That was the second day of February.
So, everything happens on anniversary days, and I can remember when they are. Now, let’s see, where are we? Let’s go to the Gymanfa just a little bit.
K
D
Hang on. When you were growing up, did you know you were Welsh?
K
Well, of course. Yes, I knew I was Welsh when I was growing up, but it didn’t matter. The only thing was, when some of the cousins came to visit, I would hear them in the kitchen talking, they and my mother, and they were talking Welsh because they knew
I couldn’t understand it. So, I knew – “colli mol”.I don’t know what that meant or whether it was just a statement, but the one would say, “Oh, golli mol”
What other Welsh do you remember hearing as a child?
D
K
That was when I was a nut, see.
What else did you remember? What about “bachyn drwg”?
D Well, I‘ll tell you about my brother and sister, though. My grandmother lived on the home farm with my folks until she passed away, which was in 1920. She passed away in July. I was born in February that year. I can’t remember her. But, I’ve been told my brother and sister were not able to speak English when they started school, because my grandmother was with them all the time and she was talking Welsh to them, so they could talk Welsh when they started school, but they couldn’t talk English, so, they were strangers for a bit. Anyhow, I’ve heard the different words, like bachyn drwg. I’ve heard that. And then Dr. Valley said, “Well, what’s a good boy?” and I said, “I’ve never had a case to use it.” But, it was bachyn da. So, every time I see Dr. Valley he always wants me to come up with some of those words, and I said “croeso” as he walked in so, yes, it’s amazing and amusing, both. Starting to go to the gymanfa – as I was growing up we would go to the Gymanfa, and earlier than that, the Eisteddfod.
K Tell me about the Eisteddfod.
D The Eisteddfod in Jackson was a very, very high class operation because – this was back in the twenties. I would say about ’27, ’28, ’26 perhaps, in that range – because we would go to the Eisteddfod in Jackson and that last night you couldn’t beat it, because
I remember that last night and I was just a kid, I’ve be six or seven years old, but I still remember the male chorus, and they were fantastic. As I remember, there were choruses there – well, Jackson had one, Columbus, Lima, Wilkesbury, Pennsylvania – they were all there competing for the prize, which wasn’t that much money, but it was an honor and of course, with the Eisteddfod usually you had one song of your own choice and then one song where you’d be adjudicated. To me, they were all winners. I couldn’t tell anything

from one to the other because they were all so good and they really put up a nice picture because they maybe all had dark suits and bow ties, collars flipped down and a black bow tie. Man, they were great.
K How many people went to watch them?
D
Oh, golly, this was a mammoth building and it was full. I don’t know, probably two or three hundred, anyhow, because they just came from all over, and locally they were pretty well loaded, too, because at that time there was lots and lots of Welsh people in the area, unadulterated. They were full. As Bob Evans calls me, he says, “You’re
110% Welsh.” Well, I don’t know about that, but at least 100%, which is just about all you can do. That was the Eisteddfod.
K Did you compete?
D I did compete in one declamation, but I didn’t make it through because – in other words, for memorization, I had it, and they could hear me, but with declamations sometimes you have to make hand movements and everything, displaying what you’re doing and what you’re calling, and I didn’t impress on that much, but I was just a kid, then, too. I don’t know how old, seven or eight maybe. Then, later on, in the 1940’s, the
Eisteddfod was started here at Rio Grande College and it was a one day affair, morning, afternoon, and evening. I don’t remember, the admission was maybe fifty cents, maybe a dollar for adults for all three sessions, but that was back about 1940. I did compete in that, too, by writing a book review on How Green was my Valley by Nelson Llewellyn. I got the prize. Two dollars was the prize, which was great. We had a chorus, Centerville and Rio Grande together. I can’t remember who the others were. We would practice at
Centerville on Sunday afternoon, after church. Reverend Sam Whilding was a preacher and Centerville, at Presbyterian Church. The preaching would be at 2:00, so after the preaching was over, then we would practice for probably an hour. Elias Jones was the conductor. Elias J. Jones. Farmer Jones; a beautiful singer. It wasn’t bass, it wasn’t tenor, it was in between. He had a voice that could carry any direction. Anyhow, he was our conductor. It was men and women, boys and girls, whoever wanted to help out. We just had a great time. But, then the war came along and that stopped the Eisteddfod here at
Rio Grande, the Second World War. That stopped everything, really, at that time. The
Eisteddfod here was sponsored by the Masonic Lodge at Centerville, where, again, Elias
Jones was the secretary and had been for years.
K How many years did the Eisteddfod here at Rio Grande run for?
D It seemed to me at least three years. It was in the community building, which isn’t here now. It’s been demolished. But that’s where the Eisteddfod was held. Of course, when I went to school here there were only three buildings. There was Anniversary Hall,
Atwood Hall and the Community Hall. Three buildings, that was it. So, it was in the community building that the Eisteddfod was held.
K What about gymanfas?

D
The gymanfa? I’ve been going to the Gymanfa ever since I can remember. My parents always went when it was in the local area.
K Where else was it?
D I think there were two other churches, one in Cincinnati and one in Columbus, that were in the circuit. Otherwise, there was Siloam which I remember it being there, which isn’t there anymore – the church down at the junction 75, and then, of course, we’ve been to Brynhyfryd, Oak Hill, Tyn Rhos, Nebo, and that was about the extent of it.
But then, as I say, two years out of the six or seven it had been held away from here, so we didn’t go that time. Always held on the last week of September on Saturday and
Sunday and wonderful, wonderful preachers. There was Reese T. Williams, from
Oswego, New York, J. Vincent Jones from Iowa, another Jones from Chicago, J.
(Tedno?) Williams from Cincinnati, and he was generally the chairman.
K Why go to the Gymanfa? What’s so special about the gymanfa?
D To support the Welsh and to sing the songs of Zion, and to listen to good preaching.
K Was it different?
D I don’t know. It seemed like it had more body to it than present preaching right now. It’s no reflection on the preachers of this age, but I don’t know, it just seemed to have more body to it. They would get in a hwyl. When I was in Wales I went to the church there at (sounds like “Morvyneven”). They preached in Welsh. I really didn’t know what they were saying, but I could almost visualize what they were saying because
K
D they would up going into the hwyl, and really with it. They were in the spirit. When Ruth was living, we went to Wales four years in a row, to visit my cousins and to see the castles and whatever. And to see the sheep, of course.
Ruth was Welsh, too, right?
No.
K No?
D No, she was an outsider. She was Irish. She chimed in very well. No, she was
Irish. She wasn’t Welsh at all. That’s just about the way it ended up there. She really enjoyed it. The only thing that bothered her on the first time over, she knew they would have lamb on a meal, and she didn’t know whether she could eat lamb or not, because in her growing up years, when the neighbors would be thrashing everything, one neighbor always had a sheep and in that case it was mutton, it wasn’t lamb chops, and she said you could smell that mutton all over the house and she didn’t know if she could stomach lamb chops or not. But when she got over there she said it was wonderful. I know a fellow butchered a sheep for us once. He said no matter how old a sheep, it’s always lamb

chops, never mutton. Mutton is a common name we use for sheep, you know, but he said no matter how old, the sheep is always lamb chops.
K When you went to Wales the first time, was it like you expected?
D I had an open mind. I didn’t know what I’d see or find. When we got up in the area of North Wales, we got on a telephone and called a cousin, and we holed up for the night in a bed and breakfast or hotel or something, and then we went out to get something to eat. When we came back, the cousins were sitting there waiting on us – Arthur Hughes and Gwilym Hughes, brothers, and their wives. They were all sitting there, in the lobby, waiting for us to come back. We had a good get-together, the first time ever, and made arrangements to go to the church the next morning, to the chapel, rather, and then after the chapel we went to the one brother for dinner – I suppose, I call it dinner at noon – but, of course, before we had dinner, they brought out a tray with tea cups. Had to have a spot of tea. Of course, we had tea in the hotel in the morning then after the dinner we had tea again. Then, later in the afternoon, we went over to the brothers’ and had tea and sandwiches, and Jenna wanted us out to the farm for supper that evening. So, we went out there and we had tea before supper, and then we had tea after supper. I think we had tea seven times that day, the first Sunday in Wales that we connected with the folks. In other words, if you didn’t like tea, which I do, you’d soon learn to like tea. I know my mother always drank coffee in the morning, but otherwise, tea. Tay-a-brennen, – get the one pound canister, loose.
K Where was that from?
D
I don’t know. The local grocer always had (tay-a-brennen). He was a Welshmen, too. It was good tea. Of course, he would by a pound of coffee, occasionally, because she just had coffee in the morning. My dad, I don’t think he drank coffee; I think he just drank tea in the morning. So, it took a lot of tea, but not too much coffee. But we had a coffee grinder, and I would grind coffee, after she’d get a pound of it. I’d grind it and put it back in the container. That was my job. O loved to do that, to grind those coffee beans.
But there was always this one kind of tea.
K How many times have you been over to Wales?
D When Ruth was living we went four times, and after she passed away, I drifted for awhile, and finally I decided I must go to Wales. So, for three years strait, I went to
Wales. I just went to visit; I didn’t go to castles or anything. I’ve been clear to the top of
(Harling or Harlech) Castle. As I remember, 142 steps down to the bottom and circular steps all the way down. I counted them as I came down: 142 that I remember. I was at the top, looking over top of everything, down into the valley, because we were on a rock cliff to start with, a great cliff, and on the way up and down you could see those holes in the wall where they could shoot out through the how at the invading forces. I still don’t know what they made mortar out of, because (Harlech?) Castle was probably over a thousand years old and the walls are very firm and as I say, I don’t know what they made mortar out of, but it was good, as good as they make right now. I’m sure it wasn’t as handy

because I think in building the Harlech Castle, it said they would have about a thousand people working there, about a month at a time, and then they would ship them home and bring another bunch in, and so they all took turns in building it, and of course, that was rough, rough work. It had to be. Those large stones and taking them right on up, up, up, and look at what it would have taken to feel that many people, one thousand men working.
K They could have mutton.
D think.
It would take more than a University of Rio Grande cafeteria to feed them, I
K How do you describe what it is to be Welsh?
D
It’s an honor, which we have nothing to do about it, as result. We are Welsh. We had nothing to do with being Welsh, but I’m sure glad that I was. And thank goodness everything turned out as it did, because in coming here, the original intention was to go down to Paddy’s Run near Cincinnati, near Hamilton, but at Gallipolis, when the barges dropped in there, I think they were informed, you’d better take the stuff off of there because sometimes the ornery boys will unloose those barges and it’ll float down the river. Then, on the other hand, it’s been told, too, that perhaps it wasn’t the boys, because the next morning the barge was gone and they came inland to try to get some stability of something, because it’s the thinking that perhaps the women were the ones that turned the boats loose, and let it go because they were tired of riding that barge. I’ve been down close to Paddy’s Run. I have friend that live real close to it and they say there are so many Evans’s buried there in the cemetery at Paddy’s Run. They live only a short distance from Paddy’s Run. In fact, they bought some acreage off of me and they built a two story cabin. But they are from Hamilton, right near Paddy’s Run. They said there are lots and lots of Evans’s buried there, which is another stronghold for the Welsh in Ohio, and from there, from Paddy’s Run, then they went to – a historical marker had already been placed there, and up around Van Wert, another colony, Venedocia, those places up there. In fact, that’s where my uncle found his wife, was Venedocia, ad that’s where they were buried, although he lived in Columbus.
K
What makes you Welsh? What’s different about you, that you’re Welsh?
D
Well, let’s say, if you’re true Welsh, generally, a contract by word of mouth is sufficient. You don’t need all that paper work. A man’s word is it. In other words, if somebody told you something, you could depend on it. You might say, you could take it to the bank if they told you something. They were dependable people, caring, always looking out for their neighbors, helping each other out. That’s just about the way I could claim it. They’re just a certain class of dependable people, more, especially, when compared with the folks right now – hit, skip, and run, no stability in the local people.
There’s just a difference in that idea in stability and caring and helping each other.
Anyhow, that’s a lot of the thing, right there.

K What about the future of the Welsh community here?
D I still feel it’s going to be an influence. There’s always an influence when you find a bunch of, let’s say, even half-breeds, which would be half Welsh and half something else. I think there’s a certain amount of stability that you’re going to find there in a community, regardless. They don’t have to be full Welsh, but have enough Welsh influence that they’re going to make a stable community, a place that you’d be glad to call home, a class that you’d really enjoy being a part of.
K
We’re nearly finished here. Let me turn this tape over (cassette). Is there anything you’d like to say to finish, about your Welsh heritage, about this area, the Welshness of this area, about your relationship with your folks back in Wales?
D In the beginning – that’s where we first came into contact with the Welsh, because my grandmother came from Wales, near (Morvanefan?), and my mother and my mother’s sister kept in contact with Mary Hughes, by letter, and of course, not every week or every month, but quite often. They would write a letter and she would always answer.
K Do you have those letters?
D -and Mary Hughes is where we have the connection now with Arthur and
Gwilym. It was their mother that was in contact with my mother and my aunt. They would write back and forth all the time, sending the news back and forth. Sometimes I’m not quite sure of something, and without knowing for sure, perhaps I shouldn’t even mention it, but I’m going to anyhow, that my mother, my grand mother, possibly – yes, sometimes, you know, the emotions get you taken away – that we think that my grandmother left a baby girl in Wales when she came over here, about 1870, and that is a connection there, I think, with my cousins there now. So, we don’t know for sure.
Naturally, it was a “shh, shh” over here, if it were the truth, which, they wouldn’t talk about it, and neither do they talk about age. We went over to my aunt’s on day, Ruth and
I, on a Sunday afternoon, and my mother was over there, John had taken her over, and we took my mother back home, and my mother said, “Why, this is Margaret’s birthday and I baked her a cake.”, and Ruth asked her, “Well, how old is Aunt Mag?” She said, “I didn’t ask, “and so that was the answer right there. Don’t ask age. Naturally, she knew how old she was, but that’s the answer she gave. She didn’t refuse to answer, but she said, “I didn’t ask,” so, that was a smooth way of putting it away.
K Was that a Welsh thing, or just a generation thing?
D
It’s a Welsh custom. Don’t ask age of women. That’s the reason I even hesitate to ask how old you are, Kara. But, you’re another generation.
K Twenty-one. Twenty-one, Dan.
D Twenty-one, now. Okay, that’s wonderful. You are of age, now. I’m glad.

K
Is there anything else you want to add? We’ve got ten minutes left.
D
What else do you want to know? Because, with me, I’m just drifting along, trying to do the thing to keep everything alive here, and I want to leave something, better than it was before, like the farms. I’d like to leave the farms – I try to better the farms all the time with lime and fertilizer and so forth, and that’s what I’m doing right now. The lime and the fertilizer make it grow, greens the hills. In fact, I want to take some pictures of those hills, right now, just to see how they’ve greened up, because I’ve been all over the pasture grounds with either a mower or a bush hog and knocked all the weeds out and nothing but grass now.
K Do you want to go over the Welsh Garden?
D
Well, I use machinery, so the Welsh Garden, I don’t believe, would accommodate a bush hog or a tractor.
K
It’s full of weeds.
D For the weeds? Anyhow, I’m trying to conserve the ground because so much of it in the early years is survival, when they get here. As one fellow said, in the beginning, everybody worked. All hills were cleaned of brush. You had to use all the ground to raise crops to raise a family and there were no fields grown up with brush. It was all kept clean and that’s what I’ve been trying to do in those that are open. I always like to leave some brush, trees and so forth, because after all, you’ve got to have trees and everything to keep balance on everything, but I’m not plowing ground. At that time you plowed ground and come heavy rain a lot of that dirt washed away and you were losing, and I’m trying to build it back. I thin I’m doing a right decent job, because the hills now are beautiful.
They’re green, the green grass is growing and the black cattle on there look nice. So, that’s what I’m trying to do. I’m trying to make the farms better than they were, bring them back to where they were originally, because the original thing, there were huge trees. They would also roll those logs together and cover them with dirt. How, I don’t know, but they would char that wood. They wouldn’t burn it, but they would get the fire through it and char it and then they would take this charcoal and haul it on wagons to
Jefferson Furnace, where they made iron from the iron ore.
K Did they get money for that?
D they’d haul it with oxen. That was a slow process. I know there are two places on one of the fields, there, that there had been one of those pits, because even the last time I plowed it, in the area the soil would turn up black, and, of course, with hay, they hay is waist high and thick. You can always tell. It’s still there, the results of it. And that’s where they would roll those logs together and char them. And they would get a little money out of them, of course, hauling that with oxen, on wagons, to Jefferson Furnace, a few miles away. And the oxen would be walking slowly. Very slowly.

K
Dan, I’m going to finish the interview there, and I’m going to say thank you very much. Diolch yn fawr.
D Alright.
END OF INTERVIEW