To Our Boy

    With an aching heart, tear-blurred vision and shattered hopes we pen this tribute to our boy.

A.E. Huls

    In his untimely death, we have suffered an irreparable loss and we feel that this loss will be shared with every patron of The (Logan) Republican. 

    Early in life he displayed an unusual interest in the printing business. Before he could read he would pick out and name the letters in the cases, always careful to lay them back in their right boxes. In his early teens he became familiar with the different sizes and faces of type, and learned the many sizes, weights and qualities of paper. For the last four years he did all the buying when he was home.

    During his school career he spent much of his leisure time in the office, where his efficient help and agreeable comradeship were always welcome.

    Long before he graduated from the (Logan) High School, he determined to go into business with "Pop," as he always called his father, and to further that determination he entered Ohio State University in the fall of 1921, where he enrolled in the college of Commerce and Journalism.

    At college he displayed the same traits that contributed to his success in school life, and here he earned honor after honor. May we be pardoned if we make the statement that he held a record in these achievements seldom attained by any student.

    While these honors were a source of gratification, this pleasure was always second to the thought that he would soon be home and the nearer the time came for his graduation the keener grew that pleasure.

    So many things were to be done when Charley came home. His ambition covered everything: the completion of the building, the installation of new machinery and the improvement and beautifying of our home. But his great ambition was to make The Republican a greater and better paper, one that would be an influence for good in the community.

    He was the embodiment of confidence, not an empty confidence, but one born of his determination and ability to do things.

    It was this confidence largely that inspired the erection of our new building. The hard work, the big responsibility, the danger of going too far were all lightened by the thought that we would have the co-worker so abundantly endowed with the spirit of success.

    What a prospect for us all and what a tumbling down of prospects, his loss has caused.

    Without his comradeship, without his counsel, we must bear the burden alone, content to plod along the best we can without his inspiration, his confidence, his ability.

    But the greater loss is in the home. May we be pardoned for saying that not enough families are endowed with the spirit of comradeship that marked our home. Few pleasures were enjoyed that were not shared by all. We were comrades whether at home or away from home. That comradeship is broken, the quartet has lost one of its members. Discord was almost a stranger in our home, and harmony, peaceful harmony, was always present. And while this thought at first seems to emphasize our grief, there is under the clouds a silver lining. Nothing to regret, no harsh words or actions to mar the recollection. It is a blessed memory.

    But even this hour of grief is brightened by the overwhelming sympathy of friends and neighbors and the wide circle of the friends of our boy. From the sunny south to the lakes and from points east and west come tributes of praise for the dead and words of comfort for the living. From the president of the college, his teachers and classmates, from dozens of fraternities and college societies, from friends and neighbors, come the letters, nearly a hundred of them, all breathing a spirit of comfort. As we write this a bunch of unopened letters lies in our desk.

    And the flowers, so symbolic of his short life, what a profusion of them. They were simply wonderful in their beauty and abundance. From sources unexpected came these mute tributes to our boy, these silent messages of consolation.

    Then there were the other flowers, not floral tributes, but the tributes from the hearts of kind neighbors and friends, who seemed so eager to lighten the burden and share the grief.

    The sweet influence of these roses of friendship will linger long in our memories, long after the natural flowers have lost their fragrance and scattered their petals. 

    May the Ruler of all give us strength to carry the load, and, in a measure, reach some of the ideals of our boy. May his example inspire within us a life worthy of the one we have loved and lost for a time, but not forever.

    There is a time coming when this sin-cursed earth will be made new, when such scenes as we are passing through will all be in the past, and where we can renew the companionship of those we have lost. Then and not until then will the heartaches be cured, broken ties reunited and true happiness restored.

--A.E. Huls

The Logan Republican

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