Fun Facts about Valentine’s Day

Fun Facts about Valentine’s Day

by | Feb 12, 2026 | General History

Feature Image. An assortment of Valentine’s cards from the Museum collection.

The iconic cupid of Valentines Day, with a cherubic face and angelic wings, began as the Greek god, Eros. He was the son of Aphrodite, the goddess of love and procreation. Cupid is known to shoot two types of arrows, one to cause people to fall in love, and one to make them hate each other. We’ve compiled some fun and interesting Valentine’s Day info from the web!

Food Is the Way to the Heart

Candy hearts began with a Boston pharmacist Oliver Chase. He invented a machine that produced small medical lozenges for the throat. When he saw how popular they were, he turned them into candy with cute messages on them.

Of course, chocolate is a huge part of Valentine’s Day now, but it has a sad beginning. Physicians in the old days would recommend chocolate to people suffering from a broken heart or pining for a lost love. It was Richard Cadbury, a British chocolatier, who invented the first chocolate box. Always the businessman, he realized that he could capitalize on Valentine’s Day by producing chocolate boxes and marketing them as something to be given to your sweetheart.

Valentine’s Day is not celebrated the same way all over the world. In Japan for instance, on February 14th, women give gifts and chocolates to their male companions. The men don’t reciprocate until March 14, which is known as “White Day.” On Valentine’s Day in England, women used to place five bay leaves on their pillows. This was done with an aim to bring dreams of their future husbands. In Norfolk, England, Jack Valentine acts as a Santa for Valentine’s Day. Children anxiously wait for the treats, though they don’t get to see Old Father Valentine. In many places, Valentine’s Day is also celebrated as the beginning of spring.

People Associated with Valentine's Day

Venus, the goddess of love, adored red roses, making them a perfect symbol to express love for another person. To the Victorians, the deeper the rose color, the deeper the passion. A white rose would have been appropriate for a young girl or woman who had not felt passionate love. In a contradiction, the white rose symbolized soul-deep love and marriage. White roses are often referred to as “bridal roses.”

Saint Valentine, for whom the holiday is named, defied the emperor Claudius of Rome. Marriage was outlawed because the emperor believed single men made better soldiers. Saint Valentine performed weddings in secret in defiance of the unfair law. Pope Gelasius later declared the Valentine’s Day holiday in 498 A.D.

Another fun fact. Penicillin, the world’s first antibiotic and one of the greatest scientific discoveries, was introduced to the world on Valentine’s Day. Alexander Fleming was the Scottish physician-scientist who was recognized for discovering penicillin. The simple discovery and use of the antibiotic agent has saved millions of lives and earned Fleming – together with Howard Florey and Ernst Chain, who devised methods for the large-scale isolation and production of penicillin – the 1945 Nobel Prize in Physiology/Medicine.

Sharing Love Notes

In one ironic twist, Alexander Graham Bell applied for the patent to the telephone on February 14th, 1876, never imagining that it would become the biggest medium for sending Valentine’s Day greetings almost 150 years later.

As for sending cards, Valentine’s Day is second only to Christmas in the number of cards sent around the world. Today, most cards are mass-produced and generally the selection is pretty sparce by the 14th. Artist Esther Howland was one of the first American printers to start producing Valentine’s Day cards beginning in the 1850s. Ornate cards trimmed with lace became treasured mementos, but why lace? Lace is commonly used in making bouquets of roses and in other items during Valentine’s Day. The word ‘lace’ comes from the Latin word ‘laques’ which means to snare or trap a person’s heart. Isn’t that fitting?

We sign our valentines with Xs and Os to send kisses and hugs. This is not the letter X’s original purpose. In medieval times, most people could not read or write. If a need arose to sign their name, most would simple mark an X. To show affection and loyalty, the writer would kiss the X on the paper before sending.

The often-heard term “wear your heart on your sleeve” began with an old custom. People would pick a name out of a bowl to see who their valentine would be. They would then pin the paper to their sleeve for everyone to see.

The oldest known valentine still in existence today is perhaps a poem written in 1415 by Charles, Duke of Orleans, to his wife while he was imprisoned in the Tower of London following his capture at the Battle of Agincourt. A lot of his poetry was not so cheerful as he wasn’t released until 1440, and the poem below was written after his wife died.

Let men and women of Love’s party
Choose their St. Valentine this year!
I remain alone, comfort stolen from me
On the hard bed of painful thought.

Lyda Seghetti and Ray Taber leaning agaist tree, ca. 1940. Featured in Plymouth Remembered, page 80.

The Museum is home to a large selection of antique and vintage valentines, although not currently on display. You can still come see our treasures, perhaps as a lovely museum date! The Museum is open from 10 until 4 from Tuesday through Saturday at 123 N. Michigan St., Plymouth. For more information, call 574-936-2306.

Clips from the Argos Reflector

Clips from the Argos Reflector

by | Feb 5, 2026 | Argos

Among the fascinating tidbits contained in our archives are the microfilm editions of the newspapers that once served our towns. The Argos Reflector published all the news that was news in Argos for many years. Below is a selection of the best from 1881 through 1891. Please note that we have re-created as written and no grammar mistakes have been corrected.

1881 – Argos should have 100 new buildings in course of erection inside of the next three months. We must have more business buildings, more dwelling houses, more of an enterprising spirit manifest instead of our usual lethargy. Wake up, crack your heels together and say “I am coming,” and do it.

1882 – A saloon is to be opened in the Curtis building on Walnut Str. by David S. Mann, of Plymouth. It is said that he is a “hard Customer” physically and will run a loud place. Our temperance folks should get up a remonstrance and present it to the commissioners and prevent him from coming here. There is no use in trying to get rid of a saloon after it once gains a foothold. The only way is to tame “time by the forelock” now. A word to the wise, etc.

1883 – Helloa! The telephone is completed, and an instrument was on Tuesday placed in the Smith House, and Argos folks can now “sass back” to their pert neighbors in Plymouth to their heart’s content, provided they pay for it.

1884 – A couple of rowdies created a disturbance at the skating rink a few afternoons since. They were drunk and flourished a revolver, threatening to shoot into the rink. Their destructive propensities were appeased by the breaking of a window light, after which they moved on to seek another field of carnage. They will probably be called upon to pay for their cussedness.

1885 – The Broadway residenters are determined that their thoroughfare of high-sounding pretensions shall at least be equal in appearance to any other street in the village, and as an effort in this direction they have set out shade trees along the north side of the street. Now if those living on the opposite side will supplement this movement, in a few years Broadway will present an attractive appearance.

1886 – The threshing administered to Frank Stafford on last Saturday evening by Isaac Swihart meets with popular approval. Stafford has long posed as a “bully,” and seemingly regarded himself as invincible. He now steps down and out, and to escape the penalties of law it is supposed he “skipped by the light of the moon.” Swihart reported before Judge Wickizer’s court on Monday and paid his fine, amounting to $8. If the episode will only succeed in exiling Stafford indefinitely, the community will be the gainer thereby, and therefore not wanting those who will cheerfully refund the fine in accomplishment of such a purpose.

1887 – About 40 persons convened at the Justice’s office Wednesday evening and organized a prohibition club of about 16 members. The purpose of the club is to further the cause of temperance and prohibition, but not with its political features, so that all may take hold without prejudice and help to crush this monster evil in our vicinity and elsewhere. Come one, come all. We meet again in two weeks.

1888 – There is not a vacant house to be had in Argos, and if any additions are made to the population, it is a question as to where they would reside. New dwellings have been building every year for the past five years, and yet a few more could find occupants were they to be had. It is a settled fact that Argos is growing, and none appreciate the fact more than our citizens who have returned after an absence of a year or more. Let’er grow.

1889 – The cement walk craze has struck Argos, and a number of our citizens have had walks put down with this desirable and durable material, among them being Wm. Schoonover, Robert Railsback, M.L. Corey, and J.G. Alleman. The cost is eleven cents per square foot, or about three times as much as plank. Mr. Railsback will have over 100 feet of sidewalk of this material, abutting his property on Sugar St. The others named are lawn walks. The material makes a smooth walk as hard and durable as stone, and in the end will probably be cheaper than plank.

1890 – In the death of Noah Bartholemew, which occurred on Sunday, February 9, 1890, Marshall County loses another of her oldest settlers. The deceased came to this county from Chautauqua County, N.Y. about 1836, being then a young man, and uniting his means with those of the late Barney Corey, a quarter section of land was purchased in Green Township and held jointly by the two until the former’s death. Mr. Bartholemew remained single until he was nearly 40 years of age and continued to make his home with Mr. Corey until the former’s death. In 1863 he married the widow of the late Ransom Wiser, who survives him. Two children, a son and a daughter, were born to them, the son meeting with an accidental death about eight years ago. The deceased was 75 years of age and had lived for 50 years on the farm where he died, four and a half miles west of Argos. He was not a professor of religion, but his neighbors and friends bear testimony to the fact that a more honest, upright and honorable man was not known in this vicinity. He had been sorely afflicted for a long time previous to his death, and for the last four years had been totally blind. The funeral services were held Tuesday, at Jordon Church, and a large circle of friends by their presence attested the respect in which he was held.

1891 – Butcher’s Notice – In view of the fact that good beef cattle are getting scarce and the price consequently higher, on and after March 2d, the retail price for first cuts will be 12-1/2 cents per pound; other cuts in proportion. H.E. Starke, D. McGriff

These archives are available to the public on Tuesday through Saturday, from 10:00 am until 3:45 pm in our research library. Come in any time! The Museum is located at 123 N. Michigan St., Plymouth. Call us with questions at 574-0936-2306.

A History of Extreme Weather

A History of Extreme Weather

by | Jan 15, 2026 | Argos, Disasters, General History

Indiana has had some really memorable winter seasons, but in 1816, everything went haywire. Snow in June destroyed all of the crops, it was bitterly cold on the 4thof July, and blizzards struck in August! How could that happen? The dust from Mount Tambora, which erupted in early April 1815, had covered the entire globe. With all of that volcanic dust in the upper atmosphere, the sun was blocked and that created a weather phenomenon that led to food shortages all over the world.

The fast forward about a hundred years. On January 11, 1918, Marshall County was hit with a blizzard that created travel mayhem for weeks afterward. The following is an excerpt from The Argos Reflector on January 31, 1918: “Since the big blizzard on Friday, January 11th, undertaker O.L. Grossman has had to use the bob-sleds for all funerals. January 8th was the last time that he was able to use the hearse. The north and south road to the Maple Grove Cemetery has a drift about six feet deep, the full width of the road. The rural mail carriers have been able to make only a part of their trips during the past week or more. Saturday was a hard day to get through and after another snow and heavy wind on Sunday, they decided not to try to deliver on Monday morning.  John Leland brought W.D. Corley and family to town Sunday to attend the funeral of J.S. Wickizer. They started quite early in the morning and did not arrive until about noon. It was a five-mile drive.”

The coldest day in Indiana was recorded on January 19, 1994, in New Whiteland, just south of Indianapolis– a minus 36 degrees, not including wind chill. Just for the record, an easy way to calculate wind chill is if it’s minus 5 degrees outside and the wind is blowing at 25 mph, the wind chill is minus 30 degrees.

Who remembers the winter of 1977-78? It all started on December 29, 1977. Then temperatures started dropping, and Indiana would have 34 days of below freezing temperatures. That figures out to 880 consecutive hours of cold, brrr. The arctic temperatures lasted long enough to usher in the “great blizzard of 1978.”

The first ever Blizzard Warning for the entire state of Indiana was issued at 3:45 p.m. EST on January 25th, 1978.  A heavy snow warning had been issued 12 hours earlier. Winds would approach 50 mph or more by midnight and continue through the 27th. Temperatures would plummet to a low of zero during the storm with wind chills approaching -50 degrees. Snowfall rates of nearly one half to one inch per hour were not unusual, but the duration of the heavy snow was. Significant snowfall for 30 plus hours, followed by continued cold and high winds, was a serious issue. This hampered recovery and relief efforts, leaving much of Indiana crippled for days. In areas, up to three feet of snow fell. The howling winds would push drifts up to as much as 20-25 feet. Visibilities would remain at or below one quarter mile for 25 hours.

Highways were clogged with stranded motorists. Doctors and emergency personnel were forced to reach people on skis and snowmobiles. The governor sent National Guard tanks onto I-65 to remove stranded semis. Indiana Bell was forced to halt all phone traffic but emergency calls. The governor declared a snow emergency for the entire state on the morning of the 26th. During the afternoon of the 26th, the Indiana State Police considered all Indiana roads closed. Seventy people died during the storm.

Hopefully, the winter of 2025-26 will spare us!

Plymouth’s Oldest Resident

Plymouth’s Oldest Resident

by | Dec 11, 2025 | Plymouth, Visitor Stories & Oral Histories

Norman S. Woodward was 83 years old on December 11, 1911. He had lived in Plymouth for longer than anyone else at that time. A Weekly Republican reporter asked him “How does it feel to be 83?”  “Oh, I have no reason to complain” was his reply. The interview that followed was full of stories about the earliest days of Marshall County. I will share just a few.

Mr. Woodward was known to have a mind “as bright as a silver dollar” and was frequently asked to settle disputes dating back before formal records were kept in Marshall County. He knew the given names and initials of men who lived back in the 1830s and 1840s. He knew the first officers of the county, things in the city, the cemeteries, the politics, the markets, the money used, and the facts of every character.

“I came to Plymouth on May 1, 1835, with my father and uncle,” said Mr. Woodward. “I was then only six years old, but I remember everything as distinctly as though it were yesterday.” At the time there were only five houses in the town without a name. Chester Rose ran a little store on the site at the corner of what is now Center and LaPorte Streets. Grove Pomeroy had the hotel at 101 N. Michigan. The hotel housed the Yellow River Post Office. Mail came once a week via horseback carrier, on a route that ran from Logansport to Niles, MI.

At that time, the county was unorganized and there were only a few white people among the many Indians. Five miles north, the first house belonged to Peter Schroeder, who was later elected the first probate judge in Marshall County. A half mile further north lived Adam Vinnedge, the first county treasurer. As Mr. Woodward states, “These people were curious to see us as we were Yankees, having moved to Indiana from Vermont. My uncle and father traded a wagon and some of their horses for 80 acres of Michigan Road lands.”

 “In August of that year was the great Government land sale at LaPorte. Uncle and father went there to buy land. They went nearly to LaPorte before they saw a white man. At the Kankakee River the bridge was gone all but the stringers. Father and Uncle had their money in French francs and Mexican dollars, and it was quite a burden.  The problem of crossing the Kankakee on stringers was a hard one. My father got across with his money, but Uncle could not do it. Father came back and got Uncle’s money and carried it across. Still Uncle could not make it. Father then saw a boat downstream. Leaving the money on the bank, he went and got the boat and took Uncle across. They bought their land for $1.25 an acre. Our home then became the farm now located just a half-mile north of the Brightside Orphanage on the west side of the road.”

“It is hard today to understand the hardships of that time,” said Mr. Woodward. “There was no food, no money, no market for anything if there had been anything to sell. My father went twenty-one miles beyond Logansport to Delphi to get grain ground for corn meal. That was the closest mill. Near there we bought some white corn and had it ground, but they did not “bolt” the meal then as hey do now, and mother had to sift it.” Bolting refers to a machine that had spinning screens that sifts the grain. He continues, “We had some cows, and hogs ran wild and fattened on the nuts in the forest. These pigs were shot for meat and game of all kind was plentiful. Neighbors would kill a beef at different times and divide with each other, trading back and forth. There was no market closer than Michigan City where we hauled our wheat. The price was 31 cents a bushel and later we got 40 cents. In a few years there was a mill at Bertrand, a mile north of South Bend, and people hauled their wheat there to be ground.”

Marshall County's First Election

“The first election was in the fall (1836) to organize the county. They called the town “Plymouth” after the New England Plymouth Rock. All the people of the county voted at Plymouth, though one could vote at any place he could find a voting place. I watched them vote. A man would come to the voting place and be asked how he wanted to vote. He would tell the name of his candidate, and the vote would be written down by the clerk. There were 83 votes in Center Township. In those days it was about an even split between the Whigs and the Democrats.

“A.L. Wheeler was the first man to run a real dry goods and general merchandise store. In the back part of his store were pails of New England rum for voters. In the rum had been put some “Black-strap” molasses, and all who wished, boys as well as men, could go there and drink. But there was never any drunkenness. It seemed that the human system needed whiskey to kill off the malaria so prevalent in those early days, and it being pure whiskey, did not affect them as now.

“The courthouse was at first a small wooden building located where Welcome Miller now resides on Michigan Street. The present site was donated to the county and that is the reason the building stands where it does today.

“On the present site of the Washington School building was the first cemetery. When they wanted to build the schoolhouse, they moved the bodies and made a new cemetery on the spot now occupied by the Pennsylvania Depot. When the railroad came to Plymouth, it passed directly through this cemetery and the bodies were again taken up and moved to the Stringer Cemetery and the present Oak Hill. My father was buried in the cemetery when it was located at the Pennsylvania Depot site.”

Woodward Joins the Gold Rush

In 1852, Woodward joined the thousands of daring men who crossed the plains to California, hunting gold. He and his companions made the trip in a wagon pulled by oxen. “We started in March,” said Woodward, “and on April 24 we crossed the Missouri River. At Fort Carney, we saw the first white people. From there it was 500 miles to Fort Laramie, the next white settlement.”

While crossing the plain, the group saw one of the most thrilling sites on their journey – a huge herd of buffalo stretching as far as the eye could see. The travelers let them pass, as it was too dangerous to get in front of them. “I bought two fine black buffalo hides from the Indians,” said Woodward. “They were nicely tanned and splendid ones in every way. I paid two cups of sugar for them.

“In July we arrived in Sacramento City, and there on Jay Street I met Charles Crocker, a Plymouth man, who afterwards become a millionaire gold miner.” For about two years, Woodward and his companions prospected, and during that time they “struck it rich” and were able to come back home with several thousand dollars in gold.

“Nobody trusted the banks in those times,” said Woodward, “so we all carried our money around our bodies in belts. My companions arranged to come home by way of Panama and had chosen the steamer Yankee Blade from San Francisco. Before we started, we met a friend who was also coming home that way and he advised us to take the steamer Sonora instead, because, he said, there is going to be racing between the boats and it is dangerous to go on the Yankee Blade. We took his advice and luckily so, for the Yankee Blade struck a rock and went down with all aboard on that very trip.

“Arriving at Panama, the ship came to anchor three miles out to sea and natives in boats came and took us within ten feet of the shore, where they stopped, and naked natives came and carried us ashore on their backs. There were 1400 on the boat.

“The first seven miles of the way across the isthmus was as fine as a paved road as I ever saw. Bolivar had made it when the Spaniards were in control, from the pebbles of the seashore. The railroad covered only 25 of the 50 miles across the isthmus, and we had to walk the rest of the way. In rained continuously. Finally, we came to the railway, a little narrow gauge one, but only about 600 of us could get on the train. The conductor promised to come back the next day, however, and take us. He came on the third day, and we were soon at the seashore. Here, the hundreds of passengers went pell mell over each other to see who could be the first to the ship and get the best berths. There was no order or direction of the passengers. Everybody took the best he could get.

“An awful storm overtook our vessel off of Cape Hatteras, and for many hours we saw our ship climb up and down the monster waves, expecting every one to go over her and send us to the depths of the sea. She rode it out however, but even after repairs in dock, sprung a leak on her next voyage and went down with a third of her passengers.”

Personal Life

While in San Francisco, Mr. Woodward met Henry Humrichouser, who would later become his brother-in-law, and they made the trip home together. Mr. Woodward was back in Plymouth in 1854. He became smitten with his friend’s sister, Miss Elizabeth Hunrichouser when she visited from Ohio. They were married on September 1, 1855. In the spring of that same year, he and H.B. Pershing started a drug store on the spot where Tanner’s drug store was at 122 N. Michigan Street. After a year, Mr. Woodward sold his share of the drug store to Mr. Pershing. He then started the first bakery in Plymouth at 106 N. Michigan Street. “One of those who worked for me at that time was H.W. Hill,” said Mr. Woodward. “But I was not long in the business for in March 1856 the whole town burned down, and my business with it.”

He continues “After this I bought the lot where the Star Restaurant is now (116 N. Michigan Street) and opened a little grocery store. In 1857, the Pittsburgh railway was being built through and I sold much supplies to the men. But the company went broke and could not pay its hands, so I could not get my pay, and bankruptcy stared me in the face. The company, however, agreed to pay its men in stock of the railroad. Mr. A.L. Wheeler came to me and said for me to take all the stock I could get from the men, and he would give me 25 cents on the dollar. I did so, and got much of it, paying 20 cents on the dollar. Some of it I kept, but most of it I turned over to Wheeler because I had to have money to buy goods with. Later this stock went up to $1.55 on the hundred and I sold all I had at that price, which made me a neat sum to continue my business. Wheeler, who had a large amount of the stock, sold it at the same price, and made a barrel of money out of it.”

The firm of Hewitt & Woodward built the first brick block in Plymouth at 113 N. Michigan Street, currently the home of Wild Rose Moon. It was three stories high and considered a fine structure. Fire destroyed it in 1866 and the firm lost $15,000, as the insurance company went broke. After the fire, Mr. Woodward rebuilt the entire block.

He was successful in the sawmill and lumber business as well in the firm of Woodward, Oglesbee & Co. He was also in the grain business with Henry G. Thayer. He became a partner in the reorganization of the First State Bank that occupied one of his buildings. The bank was successful for many years and sold to Theodore Cressner in about 1867. After a varied and successful business career, Mr. Woodward retired in 1891.

Mr. Woodward Attends the Lincoln Convention

Early on, Mr. Woodward was a Democrat, but later became a Republican. In 1860 he attended the great Lincoln Convention in Chicago as an alternate delegate. He remembers every detail of what he calls “the most wonderful convention ever held.

“I remember when they brought in the rails and put them on the platform,” said Mr. Woodward. “I remember the moment when Lincoln was nominated. The convention went wild. Hats filled the air and yells were deafening. I assure you there has never been another such convention and probably never will be.”

The rails referred to by Mr. Woodward were symbolic wooden rails carried onto the convention floor. Lincoln was cast as a “rail-splitter,” a home-spun hero full of prairie wit and folk wisdom. People did not see Lincoln as a life-long politician and corporate lawyer with a decent income.

On March 3, 1904, Elizabeth Woodward died at Age 69. She is buried in Oakhill cemetery. 10 years later, in 1913, Mr. Woodward decided to leave Plymouth to live with some of his children, although he kept in contact with his Plymouth friends.

In 1915, he wrote “I am glad to say to all my friends that I am in splendid health and not dependent physically or financially on anyone. I transact most of my own business and hope it will be many years before I am incapacitated.

“I send greeting and good cheer to all of you, and though I am eighty-eight years old I trust the good Lord will spare me many years before I am called to Plymouth to my final resting place. God bless and protect all of you. Very sincerely yours, N.S. Woodward.”

Sadly, Norman S. Woodward died on November 27, 1916, succumbing to apoplexy while taking his morning walk. His obituary ran front and center in the Republican newspaper. Mr. Woodward returned to Plymouth for the final time and was laid to rest next to his wife in Oakhill Cemetery.

Visit the Museum from 10:00 am until 4:00 pm, Tuesday through Saturday to learn about early Marshall County or research your own family. The Museum is located at 123 N. Michigan St., Plymouth. Call us at 574-936-2306.

Culver Man Remembers Pearl Harbor

Culver Man Remembers Pearl Harbor

by | Dec 6, 2025 | Culver, Visitor Stories & Oral Histories, War

By: Bill Freyburg, P-N Staff Writer

December 5, 2024

This article was originally published 30 years ago in 1994. The story of Rinesmith’s stint in the Navy during World War II is interesting, especially as so few people are alive today who lived through that time.

Jim Rinesmith of Culver served on three U.S. destroyers during a 20-year career as a torpedoman in the U.S. Navy. He was blown off the side of one of them, thanks to a kamikaze. The bow of another was practically sheared off  by a destroyer in the U.S. fleet and from a third, Rinesmith loaded shells into a five-inch gun, firing at Japanese planes during the attack on Pearl Harbor.

By now, not as much is made of “Pearl Harbor Day” – December 7, 1941. The 53rd anniversary of the “day that will live in infamy” in the words of President Franklin D. Roosevelt, passed rather quietly this week.

But Rinesmith remembers it vividly. He was a 23-year-old and serving aboard the USS Bagley at Berth 22, across Pearl Harbor from “Battleship Row,” that Sunday morning in the Hawaiian Islands. The Bagley was in for repairs of a keel; it was receiving electricity, steam and fresh water from the dock.

Rinesmith had finished breakfast in the mess hall and was going back to his bunk when he looked out a porthole and saw an airplane strafing the area and dropping a torpedo. “I woke the guys up in the bunks and shouted, ‘There’s a war going on!’,” Rinesmith said in an interview from his home at 423 State St. this week.

“I saw the Oklahoma get hit. We started firing. I was on the five-inch gun, loading shells. I don’t know if we hit anything, but the ship got credit for five torpedo bombers.” The attack came in at 7:50 Honolulu time, and it ushered the United States into World War II.

It took a little over an hour for the Bagley to build up its own steam and get underway. She was not damaged. The crew was relieved to find the Pacific Ocean free of Japanese war ships once the ship cleared the harbor.

During the next 18 months that Rinesmith was aboard, the Bagley provided cover screening for larger ships and participated in a number of big operations including the American landings at Tulagi and at Guadalcanal in the Solomon Islands.

“We never got a scratch in all that time,” despite numerous battle actions, the Culver man said. One of those came in February 1942 as the Bagley helped escort two convoys on their way from the Panama Canal into the Southwest Pacific.

After a foray against the enemy stronghold of Rabaul was aborted when the U.S. task force was discovered, Japanese planes attacked the Americans. The Bagley fired away and as she did so, crew members including Rinesmith watched as one daring U.S. fighter pilot darted about the sky shooting at  and hitting the attackers.

He was Lt. Edward “Butch” O’Hare, and he downed five enemy bombers in four minutes of action, becoming the first U.S. Ace of the war and winning the Congressional Medal of Honor. O’Hare International Airport is named for him.

Rinesmith left the Bagley on May 31, 1943, to attend torpedo schooling in the States. He had served on the ship since October 20, 1940. During part of that period, his brother was also a torpedoman on the ship. Robert D. Rinesmith was a member of the original crew when the Bagley was commissioned in 1937 and served until October 13, 1941. “He left just in time,” said the 76-year -old Jim of his 78-year-old brother, who lives in Phoenix.

In Septembr1943, Rinesmith was assigned to the USS Haraden, another of the hundreds of sleek, fast destroyers that protected larger ships and hunted submarines. He was a crew member until 1946 when the ship was decommissioned. The Haraden saw considerable action, including island landings in the Marshall and Gilbert islands in the Pacific. She wasn’t as lucky as the Bagley. On Friday, the 13th of December, 1944, the Haraden was in a task force that came under attack in the Marshalls. Rinesmith was at his battle station in the No. 1 torpedo mount when a Japanese plane came through a barrage of anti-aircraft fire heading straight for the ship. “We were one of the first ships in the war to be hit by a kamikaze (suicide plane),” said Rinesmith.

The wing of the plane swept the starboard side of the Haraden, and the body of the plane plunged into a smokestack near Rinesmith. “The chief (torpedoman) on the other side of the mount was killed,” Rinesmith said. “I was blown over the side into the water. I looked around for another ship, and there came an aircraft carrier right at me.”

“At the last minute, she did a hard right and threw a lift raft, but I couldn’t get to it. There was a kid with me. We looked around for sharks, but didn’t see any, but we had seen sharks before the battle. We were in the water for about an hour when another destroyer picked us up. We found out later that 14 were killed, and 67 were wounded on the Haraden.”

Rinesmith was hit by some shrapnel and had minor burns. He spent Christmas of 1944 in a Navy hospital on Manus Island, got out on December 26 and rejoined the Haraden. The ship was repaired at Bremerton Navy Yard in Washington state and served out the war in the Pacific.

After the Haraden was decommissioned, Rinesmith was assigned to his third destroyer, the USS Higbee. He said the ship was the only one at the time named for a female, Lena Higbee, a Navy nurse.

It was peacetime, but Rinesmith’s adventures weren’t quite over. The Higbee was bound for China in 1946 when another destroyer cut across her bow. “Three days later, the bow fell off, and we backed 900 miles to Pearl,” he said.

Rinesmith has the Navy to thank for his marriage. He met his wife of 51 years when he was attending torpedo school in Newport, RI, in 1941. She was a civilian payroll clerk there. They corresponded after he returned to ship duty. When he was sent to Newport for more schooling in 1943, he popped the question, and she gave the right answer. They were married on September 14, 1943, with a crewmate as his best man.

Rinesmith attended the reunion of the Haraden in Twin Mountain, ME, last July (1993). Forty-three men of the 325-man crew were there. He says he recognized only two or three of them at first look but remembered many of them by name.

The Marshall County Historical Society & Museum’s volunteers work to preserve articles such as these about local people. Our archives are full of fascinating stories like this one. We are open from 10:00 until 4:00, Tuesday through Saturday, at 123 N. Michigan St., Plymouth. Call us at 574-936-2306. Stop in anytime.