Dr. Hand formed a boxing club for boys in the early 1920s. They met at the BPOE hall just north of the then-new post office. People who’ve lived here very long probably know the exact room I mean.
The boys met at the BPOE club next to the new post office.
People who’ve lived here very long probably remember this room.
In all likelihood all people in this photo now are dead. My father was a wee rascal in this photo, perhaps seven or eight years old. He died on Election Day 2008 at age 92.
I knew some of them as old guys. One was my dentist. Another was my neighbor up the block. Both were fine fellows, well-regarded in the community.
Dr. Hand is the fellow standing, bow tie, white shirt, boxing gloves, at the extreme left.
My Dad is the little guy at the other end of the photo, wearing bib overalls.
Dad’s in the middle. Perhaps you can see him a bit better here.
Dad came into this photo late in life. One of the surviving people in it found it in his photos and had enlargements made for each of those men still alive at the time.
Dad prized the photo though he admitted he didn’t last long in boxing. “I had one match,” he said, “but I didn’t like getting hit.” LOL! He quit, of course.
On October 13, 1978, Dad had a retirement dinner from a lifetime in the police department in the same BPOE hall. I didn’t want to go since I didn’t really know many of the people who’d be there, but I survived. Now, of course, I’m glad I went, mostly because it was that important to Dad.
what wonderful memories complete with old photos. I love old photos and the knowledge and memories that come with them.
Me, too, and I regret so many of those I have are mysteries. That doesn’t make them any less interesting!
Marvelous photo and story but please, what on earth is a BPOE?
Sorry: Benevolent Protective Order of Elks, AKA Elks Club.
https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=5&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwjsjPbF77jJAhUFPiYKHaGhCZoQFghGMAQ&url=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FBenevolent_and_Protective_Order_of_Elks&usg=AFQjCNFm5S04ruWsnCQMf5LDJfB7_Flzuw&sig2=sk-4SzJZhjToCqXoY5aMVQ&bvm=bv.108194040,d.cWw
Marvelous story and photograph. I boxed in school and was only successful due to being a foot taller then everyone in the class. (They couldn’t reach up high enough.)
As you can probably see in the photo, my Dad had the opposite problem: He was too short!
My brother had the same affliction. However he went on to be a wonderful soccer player and played for Austria back in the thirties.
Cool! Of course, that game can get pretty rough, too. I guess he found that out! LOL!
Those are great photos. I don’t think I would like getting hit either, I don;t even like watching people box on tv.
Me either, to both watching or being hit!
What a lovely treasure. It must have been quite a place in it’s time to have attracted so many boys. Is there perhaps a historical society nearby that might have information?
I volunteer at a military museum on Wednesdays, and it is associated with another local museum that deals with local history. I’ve thought about taking this photo in in case they don’t have a copy or they have one and have identifications.
This recalls to me old memories when I ws 11 §!
In friendship
Michel
I think there still is a small group of young guys from this town who compete in Golden Gloves competition. I am like my father: I don’t like pain, so I never was interested in boxing!
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Golden_Gloves
Oh, what sweet memories. We just inherited a lot of photo albums from Jim’s late mom. There are many pictures of his two brothers, who had Muscular Dystrophy. Bittersweet.
I hope you have more information about them than I do of the photos in our pile. Everyone who might know who the boys in the photo are is dead and I don’t know if anyone has that information.
Fortunately, Jim has quite a few stories about his brothers. Maybe something at your library might give you some clues as to the other peoples’ identities?
I am sure many of them are know n to someone. Part of the problem will be they are mostly young children, not the mature fathers most of us knew them as.I recognized Dad mostly because I looked a lot like him at that age.
Woof!