Camden Courier-Post, February 22, 1928View transcription
ALONG MEMORY LANE
By Ben Courter
Tinkle, tinkle!
Clippety clip! Clippety clip!
And the old one-horse dinkey ambled along South Second street years and years ago, the wheels frequently striking comparatively large spaces between the rails with bumps and bangs. The iron shod hoofs of the nag more frequently struck the big and little cobbles that decorated that thoroughfare, at night drawing many a spark as from flint and steel.
Doggone, we used to feel sorry for those poor old hosses of the Camden Horse Railroad Company. They stood patiently enough around Second and Kaighn avenue for changing as the cars made round trips from Kaighn Point to Federal street—patient and docile and evidently without a bit of spunk left.
But the recent death of "Joe" Hackney recalls at least one old hoss that evidently concluded he was young and spruce and full of the pep of yesteryear. Hackney, long before he was in the oyster business, was a "horse car driver" on the old Second street dinkey line.
* * *
A herd of long horn steers were being driven from the Kaighn Point ferry to the old abbatoir at Sixth and Kaighn avenue one dismal night in the '90s. The fitful glare of gas lamps threw an uncertain light over the long lane of cobbles so that when Second street was reached one of the steers was invested with the spirit of adventure.
With a roar and a prodigious leap it left its fellows moving along to sinister fate. It bounded into Second street, clattered along and the few belated citizens yelled and shouted and scampered in terror.
Since it was about the midnight hour and Camden, then provincial enough, snugly tucked away in bed, it may be imagined the bellowing bull and the shouts of the frightened citizens developed enough commotion to bring a brigade of night-capped curious ones to the windows.
Yells of advice were given, but all from those safe inside. Those on the outside were not so certain.
Since the steer became more frenzied with the increased racket, occasionally narrowly escaping a dodging wayfarer a posse was formed. And then appeared in the picture the game old hoss of the Second street car line with Hackney at the end of the reins.
Rifles, muskets, revolvers of all vintages were displayed by a dozen doughty Kaighn Point citizens who boarded the car and proceeded to chase the steer.
They stood at the doors on either end of the car, at every window while old faithful jogged along in quest of the fiery bovine. Up and down Second street Hackney drove his equine charge and the hoss seemed to take as much enjoyment out of it as the hunters. Not for a moment did he stop even with the load, even with the reverberation of guns and the shouts of the citizenry.
A dozen such trips along the cobbled way and finally, under a fusillade, the bovine expatriate from Texas was bowled over.
It sure was one exciting night and perhaps there are some old-timers who recall Hackney and that episode of the faithful old nag that was young again, just for a night.
And the old one-horse dinkey ambled along South Second street years and years ago, the wheels frequently striking comparatively large spaces between the rails with bumps and bangs. The iron shod hoofs of the nag more frequently struck the big and little cobbles that decorated that thoroughfare, at night drawing many a spark as from flint and steel.
Doggone, we used to feel sorry for those poor old hosses of the Camden Horse Railroad Company. They stood patiently enough around Second and Kaighn avenue for changing as the cars made round trips from Kaighn Point to Federal street—patient and docile and evidently without a bit of spunk left.
But the recent death of "Joe" Hackney recalls at least one old hoss that evidently concluded he was young and spruce and full of the pep of yesteryear. Hackney, long before he was in the oyster business, was a "horse car driver" on the old Second street dinkey line.
* * *
A herd of long horn steers were being driven from the Kaighn Point ferry to the old abbatoir at Sixth and Kaighn avenue one dismal night in the '90s. The fitful glare of gas lamps threw an uncertain light over the long lane of cobbles so that when Second street was reached one of the steers was invested with the spirit of adventure.
With a roar and a prodigious leap it left its fellows moving along to sinister fate. It bounded into Second street, clattered along and the few belated citizens yelled and shouted and scampered in terror.
Since it was about the midnight hour and Camden, then provincial enough, snugly tucked away in bed, it may be imagined the bellowing bull and the shouts of the frightened citizens developed enough commotion to bring a brigade of night-capped curious ones to the windows.
Yells of advice were given, but all from those safe inside. Those on the outside were not so certain.
Since the steer became more frenzied with the increased racket, occasionally narrowly escaping a dodging wayfarer a posse was formed. And then appeared in the picture the game old hoss of the Second street car line with Hackney at the end of the reins.
Rifles, muskets, revolvers of all vintages were displayed by a dozen doughty Kaighn Point citizens who boarded the car and proceeded to chase the steer.
They stood at the doors on either end of the car, at every window while old faithful jogged along in quest of the fiery bovine. Up and down Second street Hackney drove his equine charge and the hoss seemed to take as much enjoyment out of it as the hunters. Not for a moment did he stop even with the load, even with the reverberation of guns and the shouts of the citizenry.
A dozen such trips along the cobbled way and finally, under a fusillade, the bovine expatriate from Texas was bowled over.
It sure was one exciting night and perhaps there are some old-timers who recall Hackney and that episode of the faithful old nag that was young again, just for a night.
