Written by: Lynn and Claudia Hoefer

“Arriving in the Dever Conner Community on June 3, 1926, the day of my birth, I was just in time to grow up in the Great Depression of 1929. A trip to Albany down an old gravel country road in the Model T Ford car without a top was seldom and an ice cream cone was a real treat. Coming home by Bob Groshong’s house was steep drop off in the road, not a gradual grade as it is now, and my father would try to slow the Model T down with one foot on the brake pedal and one foot on the reverse pedal and would would still gain speed down the hill.

“There are many memories of my early days in Dever Conner such as fishing in Wilson Lake, riding on my father’s old horse-drawn water tanker on a hot afternoon down to Blackdog Landing where river boats landed and brought and loaded much of the things needed in the community. Blackdog Landing reportedly got its name from an old black dog that would lay in the landing and greet the boats when they came in. The tanker was to haul water for spraying pesticides on my father’s hop field and we had to run a pump by hand with a 4 foot wooden handle which we pushed back and forth for about an hour to fill the tanker. Going back to the farm, we would stop in the shade of an old plum tree and let the horses rest while we had our fill of plums.

“I attended Dever School which was heated by a very large wood stove, kept full of wood by one of the boys. This was a privileged job as it broke the monotony of school each time it needed fuel. There was usually only one teacher in the two-room school and 25-30 students in 8 grades and several subjects: recitation, spelling, flash cards. The teacher did it all, and even had time to read for 10 minutes or some other interesting book, which we all looked forward to. Our teacher was also the chief disciplinarian and I remember well one young lady who on more than one occasion would test the teacher’s patience and authority with argument and stubborn rebellion until she would be forced to stay in at noon recess to continue her punishment. Being boys with inquisitive tendencies, the four of us would go around to the back of the school building to an opening in the foundation and crawl there to the underside of the room to listen in order to find out whether she’d give in before she received a good licking. We’d emerge dusty and dirty, brushing our clothes off. I don’t know if the teacher ever got wise to use or not.

“There were only gravel roads then with potholes and muddy water. Walking to school my first two years, later riding a bicycle, was how we got to school, rain or shine. Going was easier than coming home as we were riding into the wind and rain, standing on first one pedal and then the other, barely moving, sometimes even having to get off and push our bikes.

“I never attended school at Conner School. The land was donated by the Conners (relatives of my father) but we had many pie socials and Sunday School meetings in both the Conner School and the Old Dever Store. Sometimes things would get very interesting when some of the older men at the pie-socials would bid some girlfriend’s pie up high, causing much laughter and embarrassment. My mother always taught Sunday School in these old buildings, which were no doubt the forerunners of Dever Conner Church, as we know it now.

“Occasionally the boys who had to devise their own entertainment would gather in our old hop dryers, with its many ramps and catwalks, gather up corn cobs left from the corn shelling (or snow when it would happen to come around) and a real fight would ensue. Sometimes boys several years our seniors would join in and this was alright until they would decide to soak the cobs in water. Corn cobs (and snowballs) soaked in water are murder if you get hit and things would get really rough till everyone was too tired or smashed to continue. Girls were not excluded but I can’t remember of more than one or two joining in.

“Evenings were long and cold in winter: playing checkers or listening to an old Victrola with a Kerosene lamp for light in front of an old fireplace for heat (neither of which adequately served their purpose unless you were up really close.

“Among other memories was sitting between my father’s knees on an old tracklayer tractor, learning to drive down the long rows of hops or sitting with my grandmother on our front porch on a late, hot summer evening, watching sparrow hawks flutter and make their long power dive with an airplane-like sound.

“We had an old horse-drawn wagon which I will never forget for when we took it out on the gravel road the old steel rims on the wooden wheels would vibrate until it seemed your head and teeth were not a part of you and you would stand on your tiptoes to soften the beating.

“Old Dever Store and the railroad stop where Dever Conner Road crosses the railroad were not in use since I can remember but the buildings were still there. Now they are completely gone. Morningstar Grange Hall (the land for it was donated by my wife’s ancestor) was the site for many functions of the neighborhood. Grange meeting, Saturday night dances, fairs, etc.

“As times improved, cars got better and gas could be afforded. We would get someone to take us to town in Albany and when the district could not afford a bus, neighbors would chip in and fund some old school bus or an old truck. Eventually paved roads came and modern cars too. Dever Conner today is a thriving farm community with all the modern things.

“Maybe of no interest to anybody but ourselves, I married a city girl, Claudia Hannon, whose grandparents lived next door to my grandparents in the Conner community in the late 1890s. Coincidence or not, we still live on some of the original property and love Dever Conner,”