I remember Jennifer Littlefield first approaching me, right after the COVID-19 scare. In her diligent and thorough manner so appropriate of Huron’s long-time reference librarian, she wondered if I had “old family photos” in my possession from Huron’s past. Like many others she asked, I eagerly wanted to help with her project - our very own Huron chapter in the distinguished “Images of America” series - a pictorial story-telling of Huron’s history.

I personally had a stake in Huron’s history. My mother’s family were original wagon-train settlers here, arriving in 1880, even before the town was incorporated. Growing up, I heard stories about our family building the first school in Huron. A Bloodgood plat to the city still exists in what was once vast grassland. On my father’s side, generations of Pownell farmers dot the rural cemeteries from here to Hitchcock with red granite stones pronouncing eternal love and my ancestors’ birth and death dates.

Even with this extensive history, my desire to assist Jennifer was greater than my actual result. Over years, the bulky family photo albums once so relevant to these stories were missing, misplaced, lost. And the people who owned the Polaroids that shot those photos were gone too. Jennifer told me that she heard this excuse many times over. In an era of online clouds and hard drives, the tangible seems unnecessary. Yet, here in my hands, I have one of the first hard-copies of “Images of America - Huron.”

The book’s introduction seems so relevant the sunny autumn day I first look at it: “This book aims to capture the history of Huron, a town currently in the process of growth…what began as a modest settlement…has evolved into a thriving community and the echoes of those early days still resonate in the fabric of Huron’s present.”

With anticipation, my 81-year-old mother and I begin our short walk down main street to the library where our copy of the book would be waiting on its first day available to the public. Our family lives downtown Huron on Dakota Ave., in the second-floor loft of a magnificent depression-era commercial space, the former Habicht’s Department Store. Filled with glossy terrazzo floors, unreachable high ceilings, glowing original light fixtures and a beautifully inviting store-front, I’d like to think that local founder Helen Habicht would be proud that we resurrected her retail store into a unique family-friendly ice cream shop, and home. It is a historical image of Huron as if lifted right from the pages.

Just outside our front door, Mom and I are immediately greeted with current history in the making. The rhythmic sound of concrete jackhammers, sirens announcing the backward movement of dump trucks, and at least twelve men in yellow Department of Transportation (DOT) safety vests curiously staring at a single freshly-dug hole.

The four-block expanse of downtown Huron is a dirt road not exposed in 100 years. With the concrete pavement and sidewalks removed, the old brick buildings lining Dakota Ave. look like a wild west movie set, missing only the hitching posts and horses. Life downtown has been a real challenge this year as the state DOT and the city replace much of the original sewer, water and electrical infrastructure built during Huron’s commercial-growth era pictured throughout the book. I remember as recent as five years ago, most downtown storefronts were vacant, vehicle traffic was given priority over pedestrian safety, critical sidewalk maintenance was neglected, and downtown appeared mostly unloved.

We walk south along a construction-narrowed temporary sidewalk for a brief friendly stop at a locally-owned flower shop. I look upward at the original tin ceilings in this spacious place and then down to the neatly-organized and well-stocked inventory of plants and home goods. The meticulous owner obviously works very hard to be there for the community, and her passion shows. My great grandmother worked here cutting plants in 1923. Being a small community florist, I think, is like being a doctor or policeman or plumber, or even an ice cream shop owner. It’s a personal service the community needs, not readily displaced by the internet or fashionable trends. Easily taken for granted when it’s there, but quite sorely missed when it’s gone… I’m glad it’s here. Small business is a tough business.

As the wind picks up, we are steps from the Huron Public Library, a beautiful 1960s structure planted as the north bookend within historic Campbell Park. It seems to be more than coincidence, and somewhat ironic, that the library in front of me is where I will pick up my new history book. You see, in 1908 Huron was the recipient of a distinguished Carnegie family library, but we eventually tore it down for modernization. Nearby Redfield has maintained its Carnegie Library in continuous use for over 120 years now. Our current library, with its distinct mid-century styling, bright floor-to-ceiling windows and comfortable atmosphere is “new.” Should we have torn the original down? Most residents today it seems don’t have an opinion on this significant event, now 50 years in the past; they just love our library.

So many photos from “Images of America – Huron” show lost architecture…which begs the question “Why?” A recent example, the old Chicago & Northwestern train station. Was it right that it was torn down because its historical significance was overshadowed by the economic value of the land it was on?

But here we are. I grab my mom’s arm and point to the nearby boulevard leading to the bandshell, our brains needing a moment to process the shocking scene. A torn plastic bag, along with several used white sandwich napkins, and an empty plastic water bottle blow across the scattered remains of not fewer than a dozen downed, formerly mature and majestic trees. Where to start… the abundant trash in the street, or the lack of recycling, or the predestined destruction of nature. They truly seem related here. Without debating national environmental regulations or the legitimacy of global warming, unfortunately, the local impact today is we lost those 50-year-old trees. The environment can’t talk back and defend itself and now they’re gone.

By contrast, within the pages of “Images of America – Huron”, it shows an 1880’s Huron situated on a prairie, a beautiful prairie, a vast desert of prairie, a prairie with, well, no trees - and also no trash. What part of that past do we want for our community’s future?

While I love architecture, community is really about people, and “Images of America – Huron” is mostly about the unique people who made it. An 1883 photo of the Depot Hotel employees preparing elaborate banquets making Huron the finest stop on the rail line west of Chicago, a 1920 photo of our elected sheriff who within two years was convicted of embezzlement and then murder, and a headshot of Marvin Hughitt, a city founder and namesake of the tallest building in Huron. With his stern jawline and commanding eyes, Hughitt was a man that knew today was rough, but tomorrow could be better, a man whose actions would ultimately define Huron’s future, even today. If still alive, I wonder if Marvin Hughitt would be on main street in a yellow safety vest repairing the sewer, or maybe chained to a tree in defiance, or maybe...?

As we enter the library, my mom is immediately greeted with a polite hug from a long-time local resident Stan who has in his hand not fewer than six signed copies of “Images of America – Huron.” In the library’s lobby, he and I briefly catch up on current events as if we were on bar stools at Hurst’s Corner. We each have a different perspective on local events, but share a mutual respect that only happens when you get out in the community and get involved.

I look over to the checkout counter and see three employees offering their sincere condolence to Mom on my Dad’s recent passing. They are much younger than her, most having met Mom through the ice cream shop. We always ask people to “bring a friend” or “make a friend” at the ice cream shop. Watching my mom being warmly welcomed, I realize they must have adopted the same motto here. Someday, I imagine these librarians will have their photo in “Images of America – Huron,” volume two.

Finally, I get to Jennifer with her box of books. For the record, I asked Jennifer to sign my copy, and with a laugh, to sign it “better” than what she did for Stan. I don’t know if my signed copy is really better. Kind of like… was it better to demolish Huron College for a water park (see Chapter 5 “Huron was a college town” in “Images of America – Huron”), but let’s not go there now.

So here is my book review. I did finally make it back home to read the book “Images of America – Huron.” My opinion is… “go buy the book as I highly recommend it.”

But don’t listen to my opinion, make your own opinion, and then act on it. This book is full of photographic narratives of people - real people like me and you, who are out doing something for the community as part of living our everyday life. People who “flocked to Huron in hopes of finding land” (page 11), “took care of women and children and made travelers feel welcome” (page 13), “stopped a train before it met with disaster” (page 18), “became world champions” for quickly dousing a fire (page 25), and installed sewer drains in the town as early as 1883 (page 31). One final note - that 1883 sewer pipe in the photo on page 31 may be the exact same sewer pipe sitting outside my front door today!

Thank you to both Jennifer Littlefield and Louise Van Poll for this book.