Edison's Pedigree - 4
Edison had himself more than one narrow escape. Of course he fell in the canal and was
nearly drowned; few boys in Milan worth their salt omitted that performance. On another
occasion he encountered a more novel peril by falling into the pile of wheat in a grain
elevator and being almost smothered. Holding the end of a skate-strap for another lad to
shorten with an axe, he lost the top of a finger. Fire also had its perils. He built a fire in a
barn, but the flames spread so rapidly that, although he escaped himself, the barn was
wholly destroyed, and he was publicly whipped in the village square as a warning to
other youths. Equally well remembered is a dangerous encounter with a ram that attacked
him while he was busily engaged digging out a bumblebee's nest near an orchard fence.
The animal knocked him against the fence, and was about to butt him again when he
managed to drop over on the safe side and escape. He was badly hurt and bruised, and no
small quantity of arnica was needed for his wounds.
Meantime little Milan had reached the zenith of its prosperity, and all of a sudden had
been deprived of its flourishing grain trade by the new Columbus, Sandusky & Hocking
Railroad; in fact, the short canal was one of the last efforts of its kind in this country to
compete with the new means of transportation. The bell of the locomotive was
everywhere ringing the death-knell of effective water haulage, with such dire results that,
in 1880, of the 4468 miles of American freight canal, that had cost $214,000,000, no
fewer than 1893 miles had been abandoned, and of the remaining 2575 miles quite a large
proportion was not paying expenses. The short Milan canal suffered with the rest, and today
lies well-nigh obliterated, hidden in part by vegetable gardens, a mere grass-grown
depression at the foot of the winding, shallow valley. Other railroads also prevented any
further competition by the canal, for a branch of the Wheeling & Lake Erie now passes
through the village, while the Lake Shore & Michigan Southern runs a few miles to the
south.
The owners of the canal soon had occasion to regret that they had disdained the overtures
of enterprising railroad promoters desirous of reaching the village, and the consequences
of commercial isolation rapidly made themselves felt. It soon became evident to Samuel
Edison and his wife that the cozy brick home on the bluff must be given up and the
struggle with fortune resumed elsewhere. They were well-to-do, however, and removing,
in 1854, to Port Huron, Michigan, occupied a large colonial house standing in the middle
of an old Government fort reservation of ten acres overlooking the wide expanse of the
St. Clair River just after it leaves Lake Huron. It was in many ways an ideal homestead,
toward which the family has always felt the strongest attachment, but the association with
Milan has never wholly ceased. The old house in which Edison was born is still occupied
(in 1910) by Mr. S. O. Edison, a half-brother of Edison's father, and a man of marked
inventive ability. He was once prominent in the iron-furnace industry of Ohio, and was
for a time associated in the iron trade with the father of the late President McKinley.
Among his inventions may be mentioned a machine for making fuel from wheat straw,
and a smoke-consuming device.
This birthplace of Edison remains the plain, substantial little brick house it was
originally: one- storied, with rooms finished on the attic floor. Being built on the hillside,
its basement opens into the rear yard. It was at first heated by means of open coal grates,
which may not have been altogether adequate in severe winters, owing to the altitude and
the north- eastern exposure, but a large furnace is one of the more modern changes. Milan
itself is not materially unlike the smaller Ohio towns of its own time or those of later
creation, but the venerable appearance of the big elm-trees that fringe the trim lawns tells
of its age. It is, indeed, an extremely neat, snug little place, with well-kept homes, mostly
of frame construction, and flagged streets crossing each other at right angles. There are
no poor--at least, everybody is apparently well-to-do. While a leisurely atmosphere
pervades the town, few idlers are seen. Some of the residents are engaged in local
business; some are occupied in farming and grape culture; others are employed in the
iron-works near-by, at Norwalk. The stores and places of public resort are gathered about
the square, where there is plenty of room for hitching when the Saturday trading is done
at that point, at which periods the fitful bustle recalls the old wheat days when young
Edison ran with curiosity among the six and eight horse teams that had brought in grain.
This square is still covered with fine primeval forest trees, and has at its centre a
handsome soldiers' monument of the Civil War, to which four paved walks converge. It is
an altogether pleasant and unpretentious town, which cherishes with no small amount of
pride its association with the name of Thomas Alva Edison.
In view of Edison's Dutch descent, it is rather singular to find him with the name of Alva,
for the Spanish Duke of Alva was notoriously the worst tyrant ever known to the Low
Countries, and his evil deeds occupy many stirring pages in Motley's famous history. As
a matter of fact, Edison was named after Capt. Alva Bradley, an old friend of his father,
and a celebrated ship-owner on the Lakes. Captain Bradley died a few years ago in
wealth, while his old associate, with equal ability for making money, was never able long
to keep it (differing again from the Revolutionary New York banker from whom his son's
other name, "Thomas," was taken).
