An Irvington Childhood in the 'Forties

Editor's Note: Today's post was written by Lucia Walton Robinson, who resided at both Audubon Court and at 5840 Oak Avenue. Ms. Robinson's account spans the time period from 1937 to 1950. Her father worked as the sports director for WISH Radio and TV until 1955. He later formed the Luke Walton Advertising Agency. Ms. Robinson provides a wonderful snapshot of growing up in Irvington in the 1940s. You may read her biography at the end of the post. I have placed addresses of the families mentioned next to their names as many current residents will likely enjoy hearing stories about the people who once lived in their homes. 

An Irvington Childhood in the 'Forties

By Lucia Walton Robinson

The Walton family moved into 5840 Oak Avenue in 1946 and remained until 1950. Pictured: (Top) Charlotte Walton, Adelaide Reeves Walton; (Bottom) Lucia Walton, and Luke Walton in 1944 (image courtesy of Nancy Ostrander) 

When I was born at the end of 1937, my parents, Luke and Adelaide Reeves Walton, were renting a house on Johnson Avenue near the Irvington Presbyterian Church while he worked as an announcer for radio station WIRE and finished the last class he needed for his B.A. degree at Butler, which he’d left in 1931. I was six months old when he left WIRE and returned to WBOW in Terre Haute, where he’d accidentally begun his career in broadcasting, I think in 1932, the year my sister Charlotte was born. Then in 1940 he signed on to WISH in Indianapolis and moved us to what is now known as “Historic Audubon Court,” where Mother’s cousins Scott and June Ham were living and I found a playmate in their youngest daughter Priscilla. Their older daughters, Winifred and Guinevere, served often as our sitters, as did Nancy Ostrander and Eva Ruth Ham, daughter and niece of our Great-aunt Guinevere Ostrander (323 N. Audubon Rd.) After retiring from the State Department, The Honorable Nancy Ostrander returned to the wonderful house on North Audubon Road, the “mother house” of our extended family.

My memories of those first few years in Irvington are scant. I recall playing with Priscilla and a boy my age called Jerry Pickard who lived across the court (we made snowmen and played Superman with dishtowels attached for capes), tagging after my sister and the older cousins, sometimes spilling over into the alley between the court and the imposing Second Empire Layman house next door—the name Eleanor Layman sticks in my memory, though not the person attached. Guinnie had a pet worm that she kept in a tiny matchbox and held a funeral when it succumbed, most likely to absence of soil. Another occasional playmate was Cousin Fritz (Fred) Gable (5924 Lowell Ave), who lived near Aunt Guin with his parents Jane Hall and George Gable; we were born within six weeks of each other. I think we both attended the Hibben School, a pleasant preschool run by two kind sisters—but I remember only a pond and ducks. Father at that time had a sports program, possibly news, and the sort of man-on-the-street program he’d had in Terre Haute. He was likely also doing play-by-play of some sports events; I was too young to notice, though I’ve often said that the first time I ever sat up was on a bleacher.

Three weeks before my fourth birthday the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. It wasn’t revealed for a few months that a beloved first cousin of my mother’s, Marine Lieutenant George Ham Cannon of Detroit, died heroically in the concomitant bombing of Midway Island on December 7, 1941. Cousin “Hammy” was the first Marine awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor in World War II—posthumously. His mother, Aunt Guinevere’s sister Estelle Ham Cannon, traveled to receive it, and later to christen a small Navy ship named for him. Then, I think all the men in the family tried to enlist, but they were mostly too old and all except Father were 4-F. He was sworn into the United States Navy on his six o’clock program—his first act of public relations for the Navy—and departed for three months of officers’ training at Dartmouth College in snowy New Hampshire, where he spent his 35^th birthday. Although most “ninety-day wonders” were posted to merchant ships (which German U-boats regularly sank), Father was sent to Great Lakes Naval Training Station where he soon became athletic public relations officer, working with the famed Bluejackets sports teams. Some old friends from Butler were there, including Tony Hinkle who coached the football team that famously beat Notre Dame, Bob Nipper (later athletic director at Shortridge High School), and attorney Harry Ice and his wife Betty. A young Irvingtonian sailor he’d inspired, who introduced himself one day, was Howard Caldwell, Jr. (81 N. Hawthorne Lane), son of a friend of Aunt Guinevere.

Mother sublet the Audubon Court apartment and we were quartered first in the Somerset Hotel in Chicago, then at a house in Lake Bluff where I was allowed into first grade at the wonderful village school, and then a large old house on the base itself. Those were good years for us children. Father was in contact with many famous athletes while being denied the sea duty he so yearned for. Finally, he received orders to go to Pearl Harbor; Japan surrendered almost immediately, and Mother returned with Charlotte and me to Audubon Court, where Charli entered high school at Howe and I third grade at school 57.

Father returned to us in November 1945 with shell necklaces, leis, a minuscule grass skirt for me, and a coconut whose shell no implement would crack—not a hammer, axe, nor hatchet. Finally, it was dropped from a third-floor window, whereupon the sidewalk beneath was cracked but not, alas, the coconut. He returned to work at WISH and in the summer bought the house at 5840 Oak Avenue in south Irvington. It has been changed a great deal but was then a charming Dutch colonial with a screened porch looking out on the side yard with its birdbath surrounded by phlox and back-corner fish pond, which had a lovely brick back wall with copper insert and a number of large gold and speckled fish, one at least a foot long. A doghouse joined them when we retrieved our Cocker spaniel Tony (named for Hinkle) from my grandmother’s, where he stayed while we were in Audubon Court. Father was greatly annoyed every day-after-Halloween when he had to search the neighborhood for the roof of the doghouse. Behind 5840 was a paved area fronting a large brick wall with fireplace where my friends and I roasted marshmallows and hotdogs on occasion and I was tasked to burn the trash--never my favorite chore.

5840 Oak Avenue in the winter of 1946 (photo courtesy of Lucia Walton Robinson)

We’d had extended family close by in Audubon Court, and other connections followed. On my first excursion forth a woman on a nearby porch called to me, asked if I were my mother’s child, and brought out a photograph of my mother at about age three with a little red chair we still had. She was Mildred Rose, a friend of Aunt Guinevere, who lived with her mother Mrs. Emma Kuhn (5808 Oak Avenue) a few houses away. I found other children farther up the block and later met Mrs. George Gill (5908 University Ave.), living with her husband, sons, and Boston bulldog in an arts-and-crafts house next to a small wood on the opposite corner of Oak and University Avenue. Urith Dailey Gill, later an important figure in the Disciples of Christ, was a girlhood friend of Aunt Guinevere. I often had cambric tea with her and the dog and never told her how her younger son George, a few years older than I, tormented me on the way to and from school 85. (George eventually became editor and then publisher of the Louisville Courier Journal and asked the question to which President Nixon famously answered, “I’m not a crook.”) Every Christmas Mr. Gill would bring us a Yule log from his wood, we “Oak Avenue Acorns” would go a-caroling, and Father would take me with him to Clifton Wheeler’s (5317 Lowell Ave.) house to choose a lovely landscape for Mother. A little farther up University Avenue lived the maternal grandmother and great-aunt of my cousin Fritz 

Gable, now accompanied by younger brother Bruce, with an enormous cat that was said to be 21 years old and possessed of false teeth. When the boys visited, we played outside, as Mrs. Caroline Hall (5850 University Ave.) and “Aunt TT” (Temple Tompkins) were rather formidable and averse to noise and activity.

Emma Kuhn and her daughter, Mildred Rose, lived at 5808 Oak Avenue in 1946

Mrs. Kuhn and her sister were featured on their birthday in the Indianapolis Star in 1948. (Image courtesy of the Indianapolis Star, May 24, 1948)

Urith Gill participated in an oral history project for the Brown Library in Irvington in 1982.  The Gill family resided at 5908 University Avenue for many decades. One of the Gill sons, George, went on to become the editor of the Louisville Courier-Journal. (Image courtesy of the Indiana Memory via the Indiana State Library)

Charlotte Walton sat upon a large boulder in front of 5840 Oak Avenue c1946. The boulder sits in the same exact spot in 2018. (image courtesy of Lucia Walton Robinson)

The author, Lucia Walton, with her Louisville Slugger in the side yard at 5840 Oak Avenue c1947. You will note that the home used to have an open side porch. It was later enclosed. (image courtesy of Lucia Walton Robinson) 

Our block was populated mostly by boys; thus, sports played a big part in my life outside school, and not only at home. Fortunately, there was always a girl near my age in the house that had the large side yard where we all played baseball after supper in good weather, and Jane Vogt ( 5733 Oak Ave.) lived with her brother Charles across the street; about once a month the three of us would board a bus for downtown to hear the children’s symphony at Cadle Tabernacle, scowled into silence by Maestro Fabian Sevitzky. Should anyone make a noise, the music would instantly stop and a terrifying frown search out the culprit. Afterward, we had to cross the street to catch the bus home and would visit the fascinating City Market, where I always bought a bunch of sweet peas and a bag of caramels. Next to the Vogts lived the Edward Heckers (5729 Oak Ave.). Eddie was a few years older and David I think a year younger than I; I heard years later that Eddie was with NASA but have no corroboration. Mr. Hecker was a printer, a kind man who wept at the funeral of their elderly cat. He himself died suddenly shortly before we left the neighborhood, as had the father of John Wright (5718 Oak Ave.), by several years the youngest of four who lived on our side of the street across from the Eberts (5715 Oak Ave.). Having four sons within a range of eight years or so, the Eberts gave over their back yard entirely to youthful pursuits; we even rode bikes there, pretending to be 500 drivers. I can still hear Mrs. Ebert calling “Bobby Dicky Billy DAAAveee!” Billy was the one my age. Young Davy was allowed in our confirmation class at Irvington Presbyterian Church because it was the last for Dr. John Ferguson, who had confirmed his older brothers. I remember Dr. Ferguson coming into the sanctuary when we were rehearsing, I looking up and up and up into the benevolent face of a very large man whom Dr. Ferguson introduced as his successor Dr. Howard Stone, telling us we would like him. It was not so much a remark as a command, but we found the order had been unnecessary.

The Vogt Family resided at 5733 Oak Avenue. In this photo, Jane and Chuck Vogt posed next to a new bike in 1948. (image courtesy of Chuck and Joyce Vogt) 

The Wright family lived at 5718 Oak Avenue. 

The Ebert family lived at 5715 Oak Avenue.

Luke Walton frequently participated and narrated a Christmas service for the Irvington Presbyterian Church. Mr. Walton was well-known in the city of Indianapolis as an announcer for both the Indianapolis Indians and for the Indianapolis 500. (image courtesy of Lucia Walton Robinson)

I was taken to the 500-mile race at age eight, to the first race after the war, and would continue to attend through my college years, so I could tell the other children whatever I could learn from a pretty low vantage point. The race took all day in those years; Father would have to get downtown  quickly afterward to make his six o’clock sports program, so he’d follow the police car that was transporting the movie star brought in to kiss the winner. I can remember watching him across the track eating box lunch with Loretta Young, her large white pumps parked on the wall of the pit area, and wondering what my mother was thinking beside me in the paddock. In the late ‘40s Father conceived the idea of the Indianapolis Motor Speedway Radio Network; he shared it with Wilbur Shaw, Wilbur talked Tony Hulman into it, and the 500 went on the air, with announcers stationed at various points around the track and a coordinator in the Pagoda. The broadcast went only to military bases overseas and other places at a distance because Mr. Hulman feared local coverage would lessen attendance, as he did for a long while with television. When I was at Duke in 1960 I drove halfway to Raleigh to be able to hear the race.

Father’s chosen spot for the 500 was at the start and in the front pit, and in opening the first broadcast he christened it the “greatest spectacle in racing,” a phrase reporters are still using. After Shaw was killed in 1954, Tony Hulman, a shy man, had to be persuaded to open the race, and he did so on condition that Father would rehearse him and be with him at the start. Every year they rehearsed “Gentlemen (later, “Lady and Gentlemen”), start your engines,” and after Anton Hulman died Mrs. Hulman rehearsed with Father and held his hand for support while she started the race. Father kept the start and the front pit until at some point in his late 70s he almost didn’t get over the wall in time when a car came rolling in and his colleagues insisted he give it up.

Not long after the war Father began broadcasting the Indianapolis Indians’ baseball games, and baseball became a big part of our lives from spring training until late fall. Being small, I was far from a champ in the neighborhood, usually relegated to boring left field, so Father taught me to pitch a curve ball, which I did with sufficient skill to become a real part of neighborhood games. Still, I spent many evenings and Sunday afternoons in the press box at the old Victory Field, learning to score and fetching the hot dogs that tasted better than any before or since. I remember Donie Bush and Al Lopez and a time when Johnny Mize and Billy Martin, who’d been sent down from the Yankees to beef up—was it Kansas City?--for a short time were in town; they had been on the Great Lakes team (I have a baseball Mize hit a home run with there); they all visited in Mr. Bush’s office after the games, and we drove them to Union Station when they left. Mother and I enjoyed going to Florida for spring training, when Father would tape interviews with the players.

 Luke Walton at Luke Walton Appreciation Night at Victory Field in 1952 (image courtesy of Lucia Walton Robinson)

WISH radio station men gathered c1949. Pictured (left to right) Unidentified, Al Lopez, the manager of the Indianapolis Indians; Frank McKinney, the owner of WISH; and Luke Walton, sports commentator (image courtesy of Lucia Walton Robinson)

Irvington Presbyterian church, where Aunt Guin was a “lady elder” and which my parents joined when Charlotte wanted to be confirmed, began to play a significant part in our lives—mostly mine at first, as my parents were pretty much Christmas and Easter Christians then, while I attended Sunday school, church, vacation Bible school, and later Westminster Fellowship. At some point Father was drafted to narrate the Christmas Eve services, which he continued to do for decades; Mother was a star of the Irvington Dramatic Club, which met at the church. Father’s first baseball sponsor was Sterling Beer, and Dr. Ferguson went to see him about it. “Luke, you don’t drink alcohol, do you?” Father didn’t. Dr. Ferguson pointed out that large numbers of boys and young men were listening to those baseball broadcasts and asked him if beer was really what he wanted to be pitching to them. Father hadn’t thought about that; he spoke with the station managers, and subsequently his sponsor became Stokely-Van Camp, so a lot of “tall cans of corn” were hit and balls batted into “Stokely’s pea patch.”

In 1949, professional basketball came to Indianapolis in the form of the Indianapolis Olympians, with a nucleus of former Kentucky Wildcats whose exciting fast-break basketball lured me to sit behind Father as he broadcast their games in the Butler Fieldhouse. Most of them had nice wives who sat next to us, and I thought I might marry the lone bachelor when I grew up. Father wrote a book about them, Basketball’s Fabulous Five, but sadly some dishonest actions on the part of two of the players while in college came to light after a few years; Father withdrew the book, and the remarkable team was no more. I went on to Shortridge and cheered the Blue Devils in the high school tournaments with friends, no longer sitting with Father.

A few years ago my daughter and I visited our Irvington cousins at Halloween, and I was delighted to see that the old celebration, which in my childhood comprised painting pictures on storefront windows and an evening parade, has not only continued but grown to a full-scale festival. I remembered parading with John Wright as Tom Sawyer (me) and Aunt Polly (John, augmented with pillows and a wig), and reflected that that was far from the only time John wore skirts, as he was spirited away to St. Meinrad’s Seminary after eighth grade, eventually to become a Catholic priest. Finding his obituary online, I learned that he served as a Navy chaplain for thirty years and retired in San Diego with “Monsignor” before his name. Years ago I heard that three of the Ebert boys had also become ministers, another reflection of the influence of John Ferguson and Howard Stone.

Shortly before my friend John left for seminary, our family left Irvington for the north side, where Father was closer to his golf club and Charlotte to Butler, and I found lifelong friends at school 70 and Shortridge High School. I began my journey into Episcopalianism at that time though Dr. Stone persuaded Father to teach the high school class at Irvington Presbyterian, where he became a deacon and then an elder of the church and where all our family weddings, baptisms, and funerals have been held as well as Luke and Addie’s 50^th wedding anniversary party. Of the extended family, Cousins Nancy Ostrander and Bruce and Carol Gable remain in Irvington, and Cousin Fred has returned. Much has changed in the nearly seventy years since we left Oak Avenue, but it is good to see that many of Irvington’s unique qualities and landmarks survive.

The Walton family lived at 5840 Oak Avenue from 1946 until 1950. Five years after their departure, the home appeared in the Indianapolis Star as for sale. Note the lovely stone walkway, the boulder, and the shady lot. (Image courtesy of the Indianapolis Star, July 3, 1955)

One change I was sad to see in Irvington was the absence of the Hilton U. Brown house (5087 East Washington St.) on what used to be Brown’s Hill. Among the first books I ever read was my sister’s copy of his daughter Jean Brown Wagoner’s Louisa May Alcott: Girl of Old Boston in Bobbs-Merrill’s Childhood of Famous Americans series, followed by her Jane Addams. When we returned to Irvington after the war, Mrs. Wagoner, another friend of Aunt Guinevere, had her Martha Washington in galleys and asked if I’d read it, see how I liked it and whether it lagged anywhere. That was my introduction to publishing. Father wrote Basketball’s Fabulous Five about the Indianapolis Olympians later, and I proofread that. I edited the literary magazine and a few professors’ books in college, decided on a career in publishing, and had my first job with Bobbs-Merrill’s incipient college division. My inscribed copies of Mrs. Wagoner’s books are now with the Irvington Historical Society.

Biographical note: Holding degrees from Butler and Duke Universities, Lucia Walton Robinson has edited books in Indianapolis and Manhattan, raised two highly literate people, and taught literature and writing in a Gulf Coast college. Now retired near the Carolina coast and her daughter, also an editor and poet, she has returned to writing and editing. Her work has appeared in The Penwood Review, The Road Not Taken: A Journal of Formal Poetry, Kakalak, Split Rock Review, Indiana Voice Journal, Spirit Fire Review, and other publications.

Patareka Korbly Crawford--An Irvington Artist

Several years ago, I acquired a beautiful painting of the Kile Oak and home by Patareka Korbly. The magnificent tree still stands although the Kile home is long gone. I had wondered about the artist for years. Who was she? I knew from cursory research that she dwelled at 425 North Audubon Road and that she had been a member of the Hoosier Salon, but I knew little else. Then, through a mutual friend, I was able to contact Pat Korbly Dwyer and Carole Korbly Scott, the daughter and niece of the talented artist.

The Kile Oak and Kile Home by Patareka Korbly (undated) hangs in the author's dining room

From these kind ladies, I began to learn the story of Patareka Korbly Crawford. Born to Henry and Hazel Elfner, Patareka was one of three daughters. She spent part of her childhood at 5845 East Michigan Street. Her father, Henry, was an engineer for the International Harvester plant on Brookville Road just south of Irvington. He actually patented a "black-out" light that companies could use during World War II. Hazel stayed home and raised the kids.

Patareka Elfner attended Howe High School. This shot was likely taken in 1941 or 1942. (photo courtesy of Pat Dwyer)

Patareka attended Howe High School and was a member of a sorority referred to as the "Subdebs." At some point, the seventeen-year-old met Bernard Korbly, a newly-practicing attorney. He was 23 years old. They surprised their friends and family by getting married at city hall by Mayor Reginald Sullivan on July 31, 1942. The couple immediately set up housekeeping in the Korbly home at 425 North Audubon Road. They would have two children, Patareka (Pat) and Bernard, Jr. (Bernie).

While she had no formal training other than a sculpture course in St. Louis, Patareka was drawn to her creative side. She loved to decorate; she held elegant dinner parties; and eventually turned to painting. Her favorite subjects included nature, portraits, birds, flowers, boats, and everyday life. In the early years, she painted with oils. Later, she worked almost exclusively with water colors. She would also paint on any surface. Today, her work can be found on canvasses, T-shirts, milk jugs, birdhouses, and even the backs of historic clocks. She loved to go "junking" with friends and family. She would take ordinary items found in thrift shops and turn these pieces into works of art. Later, she jumped in an orange van and drove around the country to paint in plein air settings. Her daughter, Pat, reports that she would sell her art at various festivals. She painted covered bridges, waterfalls, and farm scenes from her portable easel.

Patareka, Pat, and Bernard Korbly posed for this photo most likely in 1947 (courtesy of Pat Dwyer)

Patareka Korbly c1945 (courtesy of Pat Dwyer)

Patareka Korbly frequently painted in the plein air. In these two photographs, you can see her with her easel near a covered bridge in Parke County, Indiana (courtesy of Pat Dwyer)

"The Lighthouse" by Patareka Korbly (courtesy of Pat Dwyer)

Patareka Korbly painted this winter scene on the back of a clock. (photo courtesy of Chris Dwyer)

Market scene by Patareka Korbly (courtesy of Chris Dwyer)

Both the painting and the lamp shade were painted by Patareka Korbly. The subject of the painting was of the author herself as a young girl. (courtesy of Pat Dwyer)

The Korblys later divorced and both remarried. Patareka Crawford, her name after 1980, eventually moved to Florida where she continued to paint for the remainder of her life. She passed away in 2003. Her work still hangs in homes throughout the Midwest and in Florida. The beautiful scene that hangs in my dining room has more meaning now that I know story of this creative woman. I envision her orange van parked along Beechwood Avenue on a sunny day while she stood on the Kile property painting the majestic beauty that still shades a part of southern Irvington.

Artist, Patareka Elfner Korbly Crawford, painting outside. (photo courtesy of Pat Dwyer)

The Korblys of 425 North Audubon Road (1915-1973)

For fifty-eight years, a member of the Korbly dwelled in the lovely home at 425 North Audubon Road. Bernard and Margaret Crim Korbly purchased the house in 1915 from the Kendall family and lived there until their deaths in 1935 and 1942 respectively. Bernard, Jr. and his brother John were raised in the house. At least two different servants also dwelled with the Korblys including Verona Seng. Miss Sing remained with the Korblys for decades.

Upon Mrs. Korbly's passing in 1942, Bernard Jr. and John inherited the property. Bernard Jr. bought out his brother, but John did not move far away as he purchased a home at 5814 Pleasant Run Parkway North Drive.

In 1942, Bernard Korbly, Jr, a newly-practicing attorney, surprised his friends and family when he married seventeen-year-old Patareka Elfner at city hall on July 31, 1942. Indianapolis Mayor, Reginald Sullivan, conducted the service. The couple immediately set up housekeeping at 425 North Audubon Road.

Mr. Korbly was very active in the Democratic Party just like his father. In 1950, he won the Democratic primary for Superior Judge but lost during the general election. Mrs. Korbly stayed home and raised their two children, Bernard, Jr. (the third Bernard!) and Patareka also known as Pat.

Pat Korbly Dwyer and her cousin Margaret Korbly Scott have many fond memories of life at 425 North Audubon Road. Pat's Mom, Patareka, was very artistic and created beautiful tables and elegant dinners for guests. The home was decorated with antiques. Mrs. Korbly later operated an antique store near Irvington. The Korblys hosted large Christmas gatherings. On Christmas Eve, the Korbly clan gathered for a lobster dinner near a giant Christmas tree. Every room in the house was decorated or lit up with Christmas bulbs. On Christmas Day, Mrs. Korbly's family, the Elfners, would arrive.

Much of the furniture in the house had been passed down from the earlier Korblys who dwelled there. Large oriental rugs covered beautiful hardwood floors. In the winter, the home could be quite cool as not all of the windows were air-tight. One night, the family awoke to a large crash downstairs. Mr. Korbly grabbed his gun while the rest of the family stayed upstairs. He crept down and saw movement in the house so he raised his gun and fired. Upon investigation, the family was relieved to learn that a wind had blown open a door and it was the billowing curtains he had seen in the dark.

The Korblys attended Our Lady of Lourdes Catholic Church as did their housekeeper, Verona Seng. They were also active members of the Irvington Historical Society. In 1966, they hosted an ice cream social on their property to help raise funds for the organization.

In the next post, the artist Patareka Elfner Korbly will be featured.

Friends gathered at 425 N. Audubon on January 11, 1936: (left to right) Bernard Korbly, Jr., Tom Harrison holding "Judge," Bob Insley, John Korbly (image courtesy of Pat Dwyer)

Christmases were festive at the Korbly home at 425 North Audubon Road. In this image, snapped in 1957, Bernie, Pat, Patareka, and Bernard Korbly posed near their large Christmas tree. (image courtesy of Pat Dwyer)

Bernard and Paul Korbly inherited their family's cabin in Brown County, Indiana. They later sold it in the late 1940s. (image courtesy of Pat Dwyer)

Bernard and Patareka Elfner Korbly were married on July 31, 1942  (Indianapolis News, August 14, 1942)

Patareka and Bernard Korbly in 1966 (Image courtesy of Pat Dwyer)

In 1959, the Korblys considered selling their home at 425 North Audubon Road, but in the end they remained for another fourteen years. (Indianapolis Star, February 22, 1959)

425 North Audubon Road in 2018

Kendall Home Sold to Korbly Family in 1915

Calvin Kendall, the Superintendent of Public Schools for the city of Indianapolis, built a beautiful home on two acres of ground at 425 North Audubon Road in 1909. Within a year, he had been offered a similar position in Trenton, New Jersey so he put his beautiful property on the market. It took four years, but on May 22, 1915, the Indianapolis News announced that Bernard and Margaret Korbly had purchased the place for the hefty sum of $10,000.

Members of the Korbly family would dwell in the stucco-clad residence for much of the twentieth century. Bernard Korbly earned a comfortable income as an attorney. He first started as a partner in his father's firm. In 1919, he formed a partnership with his brother-in-law, John G. McNutt. He also served as the counsel for the Indianapolis Power and Light Company where he would serve on the board of directors. An active Democrat, Mr. Korbly involved himself in a variety of roles for that party including as the state chair in 1912, 1913, 1914, and 1916. He attempted to run for public office as a judge, but was defeated.

Mr. Korbly married Margaret Crim in 1915. Mrs. Korbly was a very beautiful woman. Her grandchildren still recall her vivid blue eyes. She stayed home and raised the couple's two sons, Bernard, Jr. and John. She was keenly interested in Indiana history and collected items related to the early history of the city and the state. Her obituary noted that she also authored several articles on Indiana history.

The beautiful property was an incredible place for Bernard Jr. and John to grow up along. Pleasant Run Creek abuts the rear of the backyard and tall trees dominated the area. This section of Audubon Road was dubbed "Lovers Lane" by the locals. It was and is a quiet oasis amidst a vibrant neighborhood.

Mr. Korbly died first in 1935. Mrs. Korbly lived until 1942 leaving the property to her two young sons. Their story will be told in the next post.

The Korbly family moved into 425 North Audubon Road in the spring of 1915. They purchased the home from the Kendall family. This image was likely snapped in 1920. 

The Korbly home at 425 North Audubon Road in the winter of 1920 (image courtesy of Pat Dwyer) 

This image was taken on in the winter of 1920. The photographer was standing on North Audubon Road facing Michigan Street. The two houses in the photograph are located at 410 North Audubon Road and 425 North Audubon Road (image courtesy of Pat Dwyer) 

Bernard Korbly was an attorney and active member of the Democratic Party in Indiana. (Image scanned from Fellow Citizens of Indianapolis, 1926) 

Margaret Crim Korbly was a writer and member of the Women's Press Club. She was also interested in Indiana History. (image courtesy of Pat Dwyer)

Bernard Korbly, Jr. posed in  his sled in front of 425 North Audubon Road on January 26, 1920 (image courtesy of Pat Dwyer)

John and Bernard Korbly grew up at 425 North Audubon Road. The image was taken on April 3, 1922. (image courtesy of Pat Dwyer) 

Sources:  Interview with Patareka (Pat) Korbly Dwyer and Carole Scott Korbly, the granddaughters of Bernard and Margaret Korbly, September 21, 2018; Newspaper articles: "Buys the Kendall Home," Indianapolis News, May 22, 1915, 16; "Bernard Korbly Dies at Irvington Home," Indianapolis Star, March 30, 1935, 11; "Mrs. Korbly Dies in Hospital Here," Indianapolis News, April 29, 1942, 22.

New Residence For Sale--1947

Throughout the summer and into the autumn of 1947, realtors advertised the sale of a brand new brick home at 6131 East Tenth Street.  Designed in the Cape Cod style, the dwelling was listed at $19, 500, a large sum for that year. Developers hoped that the post-war real estate boom in Indianapolis would continue as returning World War II veterans married, started their families, and needed proper housing. It appears that the first family to move into the lovely house was Morgan V. and Mary R. Ray. Mr. Ray was a sales manager for the F.S. Royster Fertilizer Company. They had two sons, Phillip and Morgan, Jr. The home went back on the market in 1955 and was eventually purchased by the Epping family. Several others have called the residence "home" over the years.

Little has changed in the seventy years since this attractive brick home at 6131 East 10th Street was constructed in 1947.  Ads in the summer of 1947, touted the home's proximity to the Pleasant Run Golf Course.  (image courtesy of the Indianapolis Star, July 27, 1947)

Bertram Day--A Poet and Businessman in Irvington

Bertram C. Day, a prominent businessman, and his wife, Alice Temple Day, moved into Irvington in 1905. The couple hailed from Tecumseh, Michigan and had only been married for two years. Mr. Day's talent in the business world of Indianapolis quickly materialized in both the insurance and real estate realms. The couple first rented a double at 5446 University Avenue and then at 245 South Audubon Road. By 1910, they lived in one of the most beautiful homes in Irvington, a lovely arts and craft dwelling at 251 South Audubon Road.  At the age of 35, Mr. Day purchased a large tract of land for an undisclosed price at North Audubon Road along the Pleasant Run Creek from the Beveridge family in 1916. The property came with four houses. He and his wife rented a double at 18 North Campbell Avenue while they sold and redeveloped their new real estate. The Days moved into a stunning new custom-built brick home at 46 North Audubon Road in 1923.

While he was busy making money, Mr. Day was also composing sonnets and poetry in his spare time. He traveled on a Chautauqua speaking circuit from 1916 through 1918. His writings and speeches had a Christian slant and were frequently guides for how to live a purposeful life. Some of his earliest works included Song of the Senses and The Secret of Character Building, both published before 1919. The Days traveled the world and even boasted that they had properly been around the world at least once.  Sometimes, Mr. Day gave speeches to local church groups about his travels. In 1931, a writer for the Munster Times in northern Indiana wrote that Mr. Day's speech on Venice "was so absorbingly interesting that the audience felt as if it had actually taken the Italian trip."

By 1931, Mr. Day was president of the Northern States Life Insurance Company based in Hammond, Indiana although he kept his primary residence in Irvington. In that year, he published Sonnets of a Sojourner.  His stanzas were written in the Elizabethan style and he boasted to a reporter that he had produced more sonnets than Shakespeare.

In 1934, residents of Irvington were shocked to learn that Mr. Day had been indicted on charges of fraud in his capacity as president of the Northern States Life Insurance Company. Five other men were also indicted in Chicago and arrested. The subsequent trial made national headlines as the insurance company fell into receivership. Throughout the 1920s, Mr. Day had led camps of YMCA boys on how to avoid temptations and "traps" in life. Now, he found himself in a serious trap.

As the proceedings of the trial dragged on in the winter of 1934, Mr. Day continued to write sonnets. One of his works was clearly written to appease Judge Epstein with the title, "The Honest Judge." He maintained his innocence throughout the proceedings once pleading, "how could a man who writes such beautiful sonnets and teaches Sunday School be convicted?" The jury agreed and on February 2, 1934, Bertram Day along with one other defendant was found not guilty. The Muncie Star Press reported that Mr. Day wept upon hearing the verdict.

Mr. Day never went back into the business world and retired to his home on Audubon Road where he composed more poetry and went back on the church-speaking circuit. Eventually, the childless couple moved to Florida. Mrs Day, an active clubwoman and church soloist, died in 1955. Mr. Day died in 1961 at the age of 89. The couple are buried in their hometown cemetery in Tecumseh, Michigan. Bertram Day's work has largely been forgotten today and his books are out of print and rarely found.

As early as 1910, Indiana newspapers began reporting on Bertram Day as an inspirational speaker. He later toured with a Chautauqua circuit from 1916-1918. (image courtesy of Fort Wayne Journal-Gazette, February 3, 1919)

The Days dwelled in several Irvington homes before settling down at 46 North Audubon Road. In the 1910s, they rented this spacious double at 18 North Campbell Avenue. (image taken on August 23, 2018)

Bertram Day worked for at least three insurance companies. He was president of the Crescent Life Insurance Company and later the Northern States Life Insurance Company. This image was snapped of him in 1926 and appeared in Fellow Citizens of Indianapolis.

Mr. Day became quite popular throughout the state so much so that he frequently endorsed products. This ad appeared in the Indianapolis News on June 9, 1925.

An ad for "The Dawn" by Bertram Day appeared in the Indianapolis News on December 22, 1926. He wrote it as a warning for young men to stay out of crime. Ironically, he would later be involved in his own criminal suit in 1934. 

The Days moved into the beautiful home at 46 North Audubon Road in 1923. They moved away from Irvington in the early 1940s when they relocated to Florida. This photo of the house appeared in the Indianapolis Star on August 1, 1962.

46 North Audubon Road in 2018

Sources:  Bertram Day as a speaker:  "Will hear from Bertram Day This Evening," Fort Wayne Journal-Gazette, February 13, 1919, 6; "Bertram Day Tells Baptists of Venice," Munster Times, March 20, 1931, 28;
     Bertram Day as an Author: "Bertram Day Pens Charming Sonnets From View Point of Sojourner," Munster Times, November 28, 1931, 5; "Bertram Day," Indiana Authors and Their Books, Crawfordsville, Indiana, 1974, 156.
       Bertram Day Biographical Information:  Federal Census records; "Beveridge Property is Bought by Bertram Day," Indianapolis News, April 17, 1916, 14; "Bertram Day Writes Poetry in Jail," Munster Times, January 26, 1934, 37; "Jurors Debate Fate of 6 Men in Fraud Trial," Munster Times, February 3, 1934, 25; "Acquitted Man Weeps," Muncie Star Press, February 4, 1934, 6.