Old Man Evans

The growth of cities was a slow change, once. Generations lived and died and the wolves looked down from the hills at night, at the closed gates of the city and its lighted houses or dark streets. Armies rode out and returned, victorious or defeated; plagues descended, disappeared; a king died or a traveler came from far away; gods were discovered and forgotten and the people in the city lived in the same houses, the wolves still stood on the hills at night, looking at the same city, the same walls. Cities are built more quickly now, without walls, in places with no hills.

In Chicago, last week, a picnic was held for the people who have lived longest in the city. These gathered in a park and held contests among themselves to decide which one was the "Oldest Settler," the greatest ancient.

L. S. Oliver and Mrs. Catharine Barry were the oldest continuous residents of Chicago. These two had lived there since 1844 and 1845 respectively.

Mrs. Johanna Aim, 94, said that she had six children, 26 grandchildren, ten greatgrandchildren and one great-great-grandchild. Then she began to dance a waltz which resulted in her receiving great applause and a prize which pleased her.

Otto Wellman claimed without successful contradiction that he had lived longest in the same house--for 66 years at No. 300 DeKoven Place.

The most popular person at the picnic was Richard Evans, 91. A nimble fellow in button-shoes, he shook hands with everyone. It was found that he was the oldest foreign born inhabitant of Cook County; he had been brought there by his parents when he was ten months old. He had a trombone with him which he played at frequent intervals. He seemed eager to tell everyone about the old days when he was a young man and when Chicago was a young city. Said Richard Evans: "I knew Chicago before it had a railroad, a paved street, a trolley car, or a telephone."