Roots Run Deep in Upper Arlington Home

      

              Libby's "Naked Ladies" bloom and brighten the Berwyn Road garden year after year.

By Debra Dendahl Hadley

My grandparents, Libby and Jim Flanigan, grew up in Newark, Ohio and moved to Upper Arlington early in their marriage. They built one of the first homes on Berwyn Road where they raised my mother and my uncle. My mother moved to Santa Fe, NM early in her marriage, which is where I spent the majority of my childhood. As a result, we didn’t get to see my grandparents more than once or twice a year.

When I was 15, I had the opportunity to get to know my grandparents very well when two of my sisters and I came for a summer visit and ended up staying for the entire school year. I attended UAHS as a sophomore, and my two sisters attended St. Agatha. It was fun for us to “try on” different schools for a year, making new friends, trying new activities and getting to know the wonderful community we have here in UA.  I’ll never forget the day my biology lab partners found out I was from New Mexico - they all commented on how well I spoke English. (Yes, sometimes UA really is a “bubble”.)

That year with my grandparents was unforgettable, and I grew extremely close to my grandmother. Libby kept us busy with activities and it was a very enriching experience. One funny memory I have is when we drove through neighborhoods in UA, she would point out other houses she particularly liked. Nearly always, their exteriors were covered in brick. Her home had brick trim on the front of the house, but was primarily wood siding. She hated that siding because every 8 years or so she’d have to hire someone to repaint it. She had pushed to have the exterior of their home be all brick at the time it was built, but it would have cost my grandfather an extra $300, and he refused!. A big mistake on his part as she always reminded him of his short-sightedness when the painters submitted their invoices for payment.

Little did I know that when I finished college and graduate school, I would return to Columbus to start my career. My happiest and saddest day came about 5 years later when Libby was too ill from breast cancer to attend my wedding. She died less than a month later. My husband, Fred, and I lived in a new home in Gahanna after we were married. Several years later, following the death of my grandfather, my mother asked if we wouldn’t want to purchase my grandparents’ UA home, which we initially declined. Some months later, I had a change of heart, much to Fred’s chagrin (he was an “East-sider”). We hired an architect and got busy redesigning parts of the home to better suit our lifestyle. What a great decision. We have so enjoyed raising our two children in the home my grandparents built. While we’ve made many changes to the home and landscaping, much remains the same – including the phone number! And every August I smile when I see that despite all of the changes, the “Naked Ladies” (official name:Resurrection Lily) planted by Libby so many years ago grace us with their return.

Riding Bess in Miller Park

Esther Miller on her horse with from left, her father, Henry, and brothers Harry and Johnny.

By Esther A. Miller

My father gave me a new horse in 1924 when I was seven years old.

This was no little horse. It was a full size Pinto.  I was used to our family’s Shetland ponies, Jack and Jill, and would ride Jack using just a saddle pad.  We named the new, brown-and-white spotted horse Bess.  

My family and I lived on Cambridge Boulevard on the triangle just south of Miller Park.  The park was donated by and is named after my grandfather, James T. Miller.  My grandfather had a big red barn on what is now Roxbury Road, but that had recently burned down. So we kept Bess in the smaller barn at my grandfather’s farm. (This is where First Community Village is now, and the barn was near the ice house which still stands).

My father was a horse enthusiast and shared that loved with me.  He was eager for me to ride Bess but I was scared for two reasons: one, her size---she was so big!  Secondly, she had a Western saddle which was too heavy for me to lift and properly secure.

One spring morning my father and I got Bess out of the barn and he lifted me up into the saddle and we walked toward Miller Park.  Vic Thompson was in the park exercising his polo pony. 

My father called out to him, “Hey Vic!  Take Esther and Bess down to the circle.”  (“The circle” is how we referred to the junction of Tremont and Stanford Roads, and Arlington Avenue.  The Upper Arlington Company built an office there in 1920, and at the time of this story it housed the village headquarters for police, etc.  It later became Miller Park Library, which is still in the same location today.)

Vic thundered by us and headed toward the library at a full canter.  To my dismay Bess took off after him like a shot and I held on for dear life.

When Vic reached the building he pulled on the reins and his horse slowed.  Bess followed suit and stopped when they stopped.

Out of breath and with my heart thumping I turned around and yelled back at my father across the park, “Why did you do that?!”

“Now you can ride a horse!”  he exclaimed, very proud of himself, and me.