The Carney School story


By Jo Ramsdell

When the students were offered a chance to earn some extra credit, Bip eagerly raised his hand.  They were instructed to choose a one-room schoolhouse from Climax Township and learn all they could about it. However, that was only half of their assignment. Within the next 2 weeks, they would have to write a paper and then present their findings to the entire class. As Bip left school that Friday, he began to have second thoughts.  With that deadline looming over his head, he realized he would need help. However, he knew just who to ask.



Saturday morning, Bip woke early, anxious to begin. He had already made his choice of schools.  His Gramma, Julia Alice (Carney) Ramsdell (1882-1946), passed away the year before he was born. He never knew her, but her family owned the Carney farm on E. Q Ave., east of 38th St. That was where she grew up, and that was where Bip’s one-room schoolhouse used to stand.  Named after the family, he had chosen the Carney School to report on.

Shortly after breakfast, Volney Ramsdell (1879-1971), Bip’s grandfather, pulled into the driveway.  Harold Ramsdell (1911-1966), Bip’s father, had been puttering out by the garage when he heard his dad’s pickup. Wiping the grease from his hands, Harold hollered over his shoulder, “Be right there!” Bip, dragging an overstuffed duffel bag, let the kitchen door slam behind him as he continued to labor with his load. Rolling down the window, Volney asked, “What’cha got there?” Bip scrunched up his nose as he answered, “Everything that I could think of that we might need today. Plus, I want to grab a shovel.”  His grandfather got out of the truck to help Bip stow the items in the back. Then the elder watched as his grandson disappeared into the garage. A minute later, he walked back out with his dad and a shovel.  With Volney and Harold acting as his recruits, Bip had high hopes for a very successful day. Pulling out onto 36th St., the pickup truck carrying the 3 Ramsdell’s traveled the distance over to the Carney farm.

It was a stressful 2 weeks, but judgment day finally arrived. The classroom was quietly waiting as Bip walked to the front of the room and stood behind a desk. Setting down a manila folder, he opened it and laid out the contents in a specific order, before looking up. Hands a little sweaty, he wiped them on his jeans as he began.

“The one-room schoolhouse that I chose was the Carney School, also known as District No. 2. For many years, it was located on my Great-grandfather’s farm. His name was Anson B. Carney (1850-1935), and my great-grandmother was Saraphene (Roe) Carney (1858-1887).

“For as long as my dad can remember, our family understood that the school always stood in the same place, on Carney land, but I have learned otherwise. I discovered 3 old plat maps of Climax Township. One was dated 1873, another 1890, and the last was 1913. In 1873, the map shows that the school was located at the northeast corner of Section 19. Today, that would be on the west side of 38th St. and south of where E. Q Ave. dead ends into 38th. That property belonged to the Childs family, so possibly, the school might have been called the Childs School. By 1890, however, the map clearly places the school on the north side of E. Q Ave., halfway between 38th St. and 40th St. That places it just inside the southern edge of Section 17.  W. J. Carney was the landowner then.  I have no idea when my great-grandfather bought his farm, but by 1913, his name did appear on that map. With that information, I believe I can safely say that the Carney School was built between 1873 and 1890.” 

“With my Grampa’s help, I was able to borrow several school pictures where the kids and the teachers were identified. The earliest picture was taken in 1906, and the teacher was Ruth Pease. As Bip passed the pictures around the room, he continued, “My Mom always says, ‘A picture is worth a thousand words.’ So, I’ll let these pictures speak for me. 

“I also found a list of some of the Carney School teachers and the years that they taught there. However, the list only begins with Pansy Powers in 1921. Other than Ruth Pease, I didn’t find any names of teachers before 1921. The last teacher who taught at the Carney School before it closed in 1942 was Mrs. Alzadah Borough. The old school stood empty, its future unclear. But then, a few school officials decided the old building still had some life left. Loaded on a flatbed, the historic building was trailered over to Scotts. There it was attached to the back of the old brick school building to be used as an addition.

“The Scotts School had served the townspeople and the surrounding community since it was built in 1886, but like ‘Carney,’ its usefulness was slowly coming to an end. In 1946, the Climax and Scotts Districts consolidated, forming the Climax-Scotts Community Schools. The brick building was no longer center stage, but served a purpose until 1950, when the door was officially locked. A year later, the bricks were toppled to the ground.

“So, now you might ask, what happened to ‘Carney’? Well, Don Hayward happened. Don owned his own business digging up a type of lime called marl. Farmers would spread it over their fields to enrich the soil with calcium and to raise the PH to improve the growth of their crops. When Don realized that the Carney building was no longer needed and was soon to be auctioned off, he made the winning bid. This time, when ‘Carney’ was relocated, it was just two streets over to Norscot, where Don lived.  No longer needed as an educational building, it was to be used as a garage for Don’s marl truck. It may not have been a school anymore, but to anyone stepping through the door, it looked like one. The blackboards and wainscoting still covered the interior. The light fixtures still hung by chains from the ceiling. Why, even the old school bell could be seen resting on a box in the corner. The only thing missing was the wooden floorboards.  

“‘Carney’ witnessed nearly one hundred years. And for most of that time, it stood watch over those young lives that sat within its walls.  Someday, ‘Carney’ will be but a faint memory, but because of my report, its story will live on in the pages of history.” 

Judgment was passed, and Bip got an “A.” (tee-hee!)


(Note: George Hayward, Don’s son, recalls that after many years as a garage, and beyond repair, old Carney was finally dismantled in 1981. Today, the only physical remembrance of Craney is the old school bell.  It silently tolls for a life well lived.)