Flint, Indiana by Edyth Waite Courtright

 Flint, a village tho’small in size has put forth men both dumb and wise.  The Town was platted in 1887.  But long before that some thought it was heaven.

Back in the year 1831 there came the family of Gideon Langdon, John and Jacob Stayner, pioneers true, came to the praire to make their home too.  Since Andrew Jackson was a man of fame the land around Flint was to bear his name. 

The first little schoolhouse wasn’t red at all, but made of tamarack straight and tall.  Hanna Davis, the first in this land to marry taught the lads and lassies on the Jackson Prairie.

The sawmill was built in ’34.  Where Flint has stood a hundred years ago and more the streets are crooked, that everyone knows.  But there’s a good reason, as the story goes.  “The Indians who live here were good friends to make but the trails they traveled were crooked as a snake”  So to this day we go this way and that to get to the place where the old sawmill sat.  The sawmill was built by Edward Griswold then after four years the business was sold.  Dr. Alonzo Clark tho’t he’d take a fling and after two years he sold the thing. John Thompson came from Canada in 1838.  The way he improved that mill was certainly great.  After that it was run by many a hand.  In 1902 it was taken over by a very good man.  Allison Smith now owned both mills, worked hard and paid his bills.  The gristmill was built just south of the there.  Many visits I made down there with my brother.  How well I remember the night it burned down. It lit up the country for mile around.  

Now, if  you are not tired, past the mill lot we'll go and up past the stores that are not in a row.  For one stood on this side and one on that.  And here is the barber shop where my grandfather went.  He could get his hair cut - play pool too and buy a loaf of bread when the game was through.  Jim Denman and son ran this place.  You see, one job wasn't enough, they had to have three.  Arnold brother's store stood in this vacant space.  We've never found anyone to take their place.  John Cobert, our blacksmith always came in handy.  His pockets were lined with winter green candy.

Twas eyes on that hill where I was born early on a summers morn.  grandpa bought the house of old Doc Blue.  The house has set there a hundred years, but when I was little and grandpa was old he'd set by the fire.  If he was cold he'd poke at that fire till it got to hot, then down to the barber shop he'd trot.

The old east church is gone for sure but the things I learned there will long ensue.  I can remember my mother as she walked up the aisle.  If the chairs were well filled, she walked with a smile.

The Methodist church has stood here for years, heard lots of laughter and seen plenty of tears.  Twas here we learned the golden rule.  And right next door we went to school.  The red brick school house looks just the same as when I moved away and changed my name.

By Edyth Waite Courtright  Written in 1942