I have very few things passed down to me from my paternal grandparents except for stories that shape a life.
One thing my father wanted me to have, my most treasured keepsake, is the collection of log books kept by his beloved mother, Helen Young. There is one for each year that she and my grandpa raised English shepherd puppies and sold them to all 48 states.
Within one of those books, a simple entry holds a story. It is the beginning of a story that came to a tragic end.
Two brothers, Joe and Ed Hooker of New London, Ohio, came to my grandfather’s farm in the early 1960s to purchase an English shepherd puppy. It is said, through family lore, that the brothers wanted the smartest dog that money could buy.
Loyal
“Will it be loyal?” my grandfather remembered one brother asking, quite pointedly. “Loyal to the end,” was his answer.
It would be one of the last pups that my grandfather raised, ending more than 30 years of a highly successful business.
They paid their money for the male pup, and quietly went on their way.
Quietly is how the brothers had chosen to live their lives. It would have caused them great pain to know, the day they bought that pup, that the coming months and years were about to cast them brightly into the public eye.
A battle was quietly brewing, as the farm on which they had lived their entire lives was being sought for the New London Reservoir. On the day they bought the pup, they had once again refused to sell their land. It appeared that things were about to get much more public than the reclusive men could bear.
Over the coming months, the battle hit the newspapers. The brothers stood their ground, not wanting to give up the farm that was their home and livelihood. My grandfather read of their plight and fight and empathized, growing to understand why their questions about the pup they purchased from him had been so precise.
At some point in this battle, eminent domain was mentioned. It was the beginning of the end for the two bachelor brothers.
Against their wishes, the brothers were paid for the land. Everyone knew the final dollar amount the men were given, as it was a very public battle. Sadly, it was also common knowledge that the men didn’t believe in placing money in any bank.
A court order was issued, giving the men a set amount of time to get moved off of the farm. Not a single box was packed. The men had no intention of leaving the land they treasured, and not a penny of the money paid out to them had been invested anywhere, or so people said.
The brothers went about their daily chores, their English shepherd always near.
One moonlit night, the English shepherd was shot in the chest with a bow from a silent bow and arrow. A shotgun would have signaled the brothers to bear arms against the intruders.
Crime
Two young men then broke into the home and shot and killed the brothers, taking all the cash they could find after the deed was done. Later, more cash would be found in the home by homicide investigators, taped under tables, hidden under floors.
The murderers took off, heading for Chicago. They were apprehended after bragging about their deed. One of the young men turned state’s evidence against the other, and neither served much prison time, in spite of the fact that the use of the bow and arrow on the dog constituted, in and of itself, pre-meditated murder.
The peaceful existence of the painfully shy men was shattered by a series of fateful events, ending in a very public battleground. They were robbed of so much, including their private peace.
Though it happened before I was old enough to have known it, it is a story forever etched in my heart. I would later marry a fellow born and raised near the site of the murders, and it is a story etched in his, too.
