There is a statue in the Troublesome Municipal Park (also known as the Troublesome Vacant Lot.) The statue is of a smallish man by the name of Major Abner P.Trumble. It stands as a monument to misunderstanding. As the leader of the first European settlers, Trumble naturally thought it a grand idea to have the settlement named after him. Unfortunately for the Major, he could not be bothered to do the paperwork required and delegated the task to an aide who managed to misconstrue Trumblestown as Troublesome. That or the aide's handwriting was so atrocious as to render it virtually illegible. Indeed, some sources claim that a clerk, upon seeing the document, exclaimed, "this is most troublesome!" then bowed to the suggestion that within his words lay a solution. "Just drop the Most."
Whatever the case, the damage was done and Troublesome was born, though in what year remains unknown for the same aide who wrote out the documents was not big on matters such as dates. And so it is that in the Troublesome of today, there stands a statue of a man named Trumble and a WELCOME TO TROUBLESOME sign that bears the notation: Est: ____.
Both sign and statue continue to sow seeds of confusion. For one thing, as mentioned early on, Trumble was a smallish man and the statue created years later was life-sized. On its original base, it stood perhaps 5'6". Moreover, while the statue was originally to be solid, money was tight and the statue is hollow. This meant that for several years, a game of “kidnap the Major” became popular both for locals and for members of rival communities. Subsequently, the Major appeared in corn fields, on the platform of the local railway station, balanced upon the railing of the Rye Creek Bridge as though contemplating a leap, and, most tellingly, in the cheering section of hated rivals the Keaneyville Comets at an away basketball game.
Troublesome town fathers (and maybe mothers) arrived at a solution. To keep the Major from roaming the countryside, they had a sizable boulder hauled in and set in place in the Municipal Park/Vacant Lot. They then replaced pedestal with boulder, bolting the Major into place up top. Voila! No more roving icon.
Only belatedly did anyone notice two problems with the solution. For one, the boulder was set in front of a fan-shaped iron bench that was anchored to a concrete slab. For another, just forward of where the Major stands atop the rock is a roundish hole. The result is a monument of a man who seems to be standing on the back of a whale, this in a community well inland from the ocean. Worse, the statue depicts the Major pointing with his right hand and holding a map in his left as though guiding that wayward beast. Regrettably, he is pointing westward, even farther from the ocean and in the general direction of the WELCOME TO TROUBLESOME sign.
There is another curiosity. Given that most visitors (aka: lost tourists) arrive from the east, why has Troublesome seen fit to place its WELCOME mat at the back door or western end of the village?
In so many words, the answer is rivalry and no little jealousy for the sign not only bids WELCOME TO TROUBLESOME, but proudly proclaims: HOME OF BELTIN’ BUTCH BRADLEY. And who is or was Beltin’ Butch?
He was and is the son of Harold “Hal” Bradley of Bradley’s Auto Repair, Martin Newly’s rival for the trade in towing wrecks from scenes of accidents, (a lucrative business, given the sorry condition of area roads.) So the sign bearing the name of one of Troublesome’s most famous native sons stands opposite his father’s auto repair shop and junk yard.
But who in heck is Beltin’ Butch Bradley and what did he do? For those guessing: a boxer, wrong. Beltin’ Butch was a baseball player and local legend who became the first Troublesomeite ever to sign a professional sports contract. Indeed, if not for a tragic collision with an outfield wall in Cincinnati’s old Crosley Field, he might well have ended up in the Hall of Fame. That collision though effectively ruined both his right arm and his blossoming baseball career, forcing him to turn to his sideline career as an advertising pitchman for a local car dealer.
The rest, as the saying goes, is history for Bradley parlayed that start into ownership of a string of used car lots across the Midwest thereby marking his old hometown as probably the only PROUD HOME of a used car salesman anywhere in the civilized world.
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When I read the CROSLEY field remarks above, I immediately harkened back to the day of MARGE SCHOTT. WINK.
MORE than a few miles over 100,000 on HIS odometer yours,
TallPockets.
Crosley field was in the OLD days but RIVERFRONT STADIUM of the BIG RED MACHINE baseball players and one time ONWER, MARGE SCHOTT and her St. Bernard and OTHER personality 'oddities' just came to this old man's mind. GRIN.
TallPockets.
How well I remember The Big Red Machine, Marge Schott, and the mutt named Schottzie (Schottsie?) By the way, isn't Cincinnati a Native American word meaning Land of the Orange Barrels? I don't believe I have ever driven in or around the Queen City when the Interstates were not under some construction.
Many a town here might have been named Troublesome had the founding father been a tad more honest.
Sherry
So far it hasn't been troublesome at all! Keep up the good work.
How funny, but when your name is trumble there is bound to be trouble!!
Can not wait to read more!
Please forgive the delay in responding to your comment. Other commitments have proven most troublesome in continuing the saga. At any rate, if a community 150 or so miles inland from the ocean can have a statue that resembles a man standing upon a whale's back, I see no reason why another town could not have a statue of a yellow rubber ducky. Even if there is no pond nearby.
And now Madonna has other problems than what to do with her abandoned bras. It seems she has branched out into mind control of at least one professional baseball player and shall be the player-to-be-named later when divorce papers are filed.
Indeed I were from New York State and the community of Troublesome is loosely (very loosely) based upon my old home town.
I hope soon to continue Troublesome's most troublesome tale. However, life continues to conspire to keep me away.
Soon, very soon, I hope to continue my Troublesome tale. There is much more to tell.
Abner P. may indeed be hanging from a branch of your family tree, though I don't believe he ever favored paper bags. Back then, his identity concealment would probably have been a burlap sack.
Hope to see you back blogging soon!