The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1883-09-14
SILENCE IN A CITY.
An Abandoned Oil Town in Pennsyl.
vania, Where a Million and a Hair
Dollars We're Wasted

vania, Where q Million and a Hail
Dollars Were Wasted
'Dull, did you say, stranger? Yes,
Garfield is dull just now. But, stranger,
dull amt the word; it's dead you meant
to say, dead and buried--buried as deep
as though that hill yonder stood over il.
And, stranger, when you are out of this
an this awful stiffness loses its hold up
on you, just sit down and think how
much the Garfield oil territory was like
the man it was named after-short-lived,
you know, and shining on the world for
a few months an then going down to
death an forgetfulness. Why, when sit
heie on this log an listen to the moan
ing of the wind in the pine trees an
it seems that / am in a land that God
Himself has forgotten; a land hated of
nature and stunned of man. But | croak
too much, stranger. Where might you
be going2"
An old man sitting on a fallen tree,
whiting q pine stick, the sun shining
through the trees and playing hide and
go-seek with the shadows on the moss
and pine cones-nothing OF this de-
pressed me or sent a SILVER across my
heated cheeks; but the voice itself the
tone, the gesture of helpless despair,
the very shadow of death in the lap of
life and health, caused me to feel as one
might feel at hearing the cry of murder
at 4 wedding feast. After . few mo-
ments the nan looked up and spoke
again.
l &c v,N,, ill., M ,-nl1. z--.l -----
horse. l don't see many people to tall
to these days. a year ago-just one
short year ago-this whole Township of
Cherry Grove was as lively as q lee.
hive day and night. Work? Why, men
sw lrned in here by the thousand. an
nearly every man had money to invest.
l was at Pithole in IS, but Pithole wasn't
a marker to Cherry Grove in the way
of excitement"
While he talked Of Garfield as it was,
the man seemed to be a different being.
But this enthusiasm fell from him like a
discarded cloak when we came in sight
of the buildings on the outskirts of what
was once the town of Garfield.
"Everything's changed now" he
moaned. ssWhy, the very birds shun
the place. It seems as though nature
had committed some sin against herself.
in covering the grass and the trees with
q black vomit of oil. Wherever a blot
of oil has touched, all vege table life
ceases for years. Alter this spot has paid
the penalty of its sin, nature will be
kind again, and the trees will grow and
the flowers blossom and the birds sing
as of old. But / say, stranger, where
are you going?"
why" I said, "to Garfield, of
conrse.'
"Hold on, then; here you are"
l looked at the man for an explana-
ton.
"Here you are, stranger. This is Gar
field"
And this was Garfield A year ago
only twelve months ago-a city stood
upon the crest of this gently rolling hill;
a city with no room Dr. time for visitors,
and only elbow-room for men with ur-
gent business. A year ago, when I was
here first, slept in a blanket on the
sales counter of q bake shop, and was
glad to pay dollar for the privileges
to-day the bake shop is gone. but I
could sleep in as many empty buildings
as there are days in the month. The
Garfield OF to-day is the poor, forlorn
wreck of a once wonderful giant. A
cluster of buildings turning gray in the
sun and wind;a main street, in which the
grass has begun to grow again; a fitness
that seemingly clings about me like
mist in the valley, and hi'ltops that echo
the footballs OF the impatient horse--this
is the Garfield of to-day. The wide
swinging doors ard broken windows of
the empty houses are as the half-opened
lips and staring, CLASSY eyes of the muir
dered man hv the wayside, and a mon
ster rattlesnake summing himself on the
doorstep seems all that is needed to
complete the scene of neglect and desc.
lution.
Some of the houses of the dead city
were picked up bodily and carried to
Gusher City and to other points in the
extreme front of oil development;
others we're torn down and shipped, no
one knows where. A few houses, a few
stores and a few people are in Garfield
yet to mourn for a glory that was as
brief and bright as the MONDAY SUM-
Correspondence Philadelphia Times.
IH