John C. Miller
The Shelbyville Republican
Monday June 9, 1947
Page 4 column 3
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JOHN C. MILLER
[Picture]
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The village blacksmith shop, once an
integral part of every community with its ringing anvil and glowing
forge, exists now in most towns only, as a heart-warming memory. And
with the passing of the horse age, ferriers are few and far between.
The forge at Shelbyville’s lone
blacksmith shop at 33 East Jackson Street, glows fitfully now and
only when ploughshares need sharpening or cultivator shovels have
grown dull.
John C. Miller,
the kindly smithy, works alone now-no one wants to learn
blacksmithing anymore, it seems, although in bygone days a half-dozen
or more young fellows learned their trade under “Uncle John’s”
tutelage. Louis Rosenfield and Leonard Bogeman
were
two of his apprentices.
In the
smoke-darkened shop on East Jackson street, a long row of iron rings
sunk in the brick sidewall is rusted evidence that once horses stood
tied to that wall from the front to the rear waiting to be shod. And
higher on the wall are seven long rows of nails on which used to hang
hundreds of shining new horseshoes.
“Back in the
those days,” said Mr. Miller with a nostalgic smile, “we used to
have good times around here.”
Many Shelbyville
children, now grown men, wiled away pleasant boyhood hours shooing
flies in Mr. Miller’s blacksmith shop. Although “Uncle John,”
as he was dubbed by his youthful following, and Mrs. Miller never had
any children of their own, boys and girls alike flocked to the
blacksmith shop and to the Miller home on Polk street, where they
never failed to find sympathy and understanding.
The smithy had
quite a sideline in curing poison ivy, too. Residue at the bottom of
the “slack tub,” where steel is tempered, is an effective,
although messy, cure for ivy poisoning when applied as a poultice. Many local persons treated by “Uncle John’s” iron-water will
testify willingly as to its success.
John C. Miller was
born December 26, 1864, and brought up in Letts, down below
Greensburg, where he learned the trade from his father, Abe
Miller, a successful blacksmith in that community. When John was
about 17, the board and room he received from his father as wages no
longer satisfied the lad who wanted to try making his own way. So
with his father’s understanding consent, he came to Shelbyville to
work.
It was here he met
and married Miss Ella Moore who died several years ago. Their
meeting occurred at a Christian Endeavor gathering. All his life,
Mr. Miller has been extremely active in activities at the First
Christian Church. He was a Sunday school song leader for years and
years and recently was made a life member of the Board of deacons
after service on the board for nearly half a century. In addition,
he served several terms on the church’s Board of Trustees. Now,
although his voice is cracked with years of use, he still hums a true
tenor as he goes about his work.
After a partnership
with Bill Bassett was dissolved, Mr. Miller opened his own blacksmith
shop and has operated it for more than 40 years. He and his sister,
Mrs. Maude Henry, make their home together on South Harrison
street.
Since his youth, the sturdy little smithy has been a lover of the
outdoors. Some of his happiest times have been spent camping along
streams in Shelby county where he hunted and fished to his heart’s
content. One of his prize possessions is a book, bound in purple
suede, written and prepared for him by a close friend. The book is
an illustrated story of a fortnight’s camping trip more than 25
years ago in a cabin on Brandywine creek near the old Barlow-Hering
grist mill, west of Shelbyville, which served the community for
almost a century.
Mr. Miller says he
has read the book so often he knows it almost word for word-and he
had no intention of breaking the habit.
Contributed by Barb Huff
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