The Millsville Five

The Little Rocky Mountains are neither mountains nor rocky. They are, however, little. Everything is little in Millsville. The streets are little, the homes are little, the shops are little. In fact, the only thing that isn’t little is the mark that this town is making on the map of greater southern Indiana.
The year is 1929.
Millsville is beginning what they call “The Long Road of Promise.” The premise of this supposed and metaphorical road is that Millsville has some of the finest soil for a hundred miles in any direction. The men and women who pioneered to this previously uncharted territory some fifty years before wrote of how rich the ground was with iron and nutrients. According to one Angus Little, the leader of the Explorer’s Pack, and the man who founded Millsville, one could grow absolutely any crop here, and not only would it be successful, but it would also be “…nigh on impossible to keep the crop from being among the most unique specimen of its kind in any competitive farmland in this country.”
Indeed, Millsville had promise. That was never in question. In 1922, Mayor Warren Taylor commissioned the construction of five processing plants in the foothills of The Little Rockies based on said promise. Once construction actually began, the population of the town nearly tripled. People came from all around the country overflowing with this irrepressible hope of a better life. These brave families spent their savings on a home, land, investment. They started families so that by the time they were in the corn or bean or peanut business, they would have free labor readily available. They gave everything in hope based on The Great Promise of Millsville. And in the end, that was their downfall.
In 1922 when Mayor Taylor gave his commission, the town was well-off. It was full of wealthy families, investors, those eager to get their hands on a new, promising start to wealth. It was the dream of every man, woman, and child to have tea with the Rockefellers. To own a skyscraper in New York City. To have a car. To never have to worry about money, nor to allow their children or their children’s children to fear for their financial security.
But now, seven years later, half-built mills stand abandoned in the foothills. The construction company halted labor, citing their personal lack of funds and inability to work without pay any longer. It seemed to be happening more and more lately. Businesses were backing down, closing while others were flourishing. It was as if some people knew something was about to happen. And when it did happen, it was towns like Millsville that took the brunt of it.
For the most part, the simple farming families that made up the population didn’t understand what the broadcasts meant when it was reported that the stock market had crashed. They didn’t understand their investments anyway, having entrusted their finances to the kind faces of First National Bank of Millsville, Indiana. They were told that their savings would be sown now, reaped later, produce profits tenfold, and give the family everything they’d ever wanted. As farmers, the words made sense enough for them to trust the banks. But now they were confused.
Mayor Taylor, a man the town had trusted for seven years now, stood before the men and women at the town square and explained it all. He used the phrases, “We shall prevail!” and “This trial shall make us stronger as a people!” with all generosity. But when one resident asked when they would see their money, the mayor’s words suddenly fell less eloquently upon the group.
For three hours, he dodged the facts. He said that even he himself was not sure what the true outcome of the crash would be. He assured all of those who stood around him that he would look after them, and that as their leader, he would do everything in his power to restore things to the way they once were.
The people had no reason to believe that he had no idea whether or not he could come through on his promise. They couldn’t have imagined that in the months to follow, the mayor would resign, businesses would close, many of the families would abandon the town, and Millsville as it once was would cease to exist.
The police station was the first to go. With crime on the rise, many of the men resigned their posts, or they transferred to nearby cities where they were less likely to become casualties. For months, the police station searched out new recruits, but as families left, the prospects were few, and then finally, there were none at all. Mayor Taylor’s resignation was the nail in the coffin. The police station became volunteer only, and completely insufficient to serve the needs of the town.
The post office soon fell apart as well. After that, the general store downsized until it sold only the most inexpensive, bare essentials. The beauty parlor became only Miss Maisy working out of her front room, then not at all. The ice cream shop closed completely. The nickelodeon was abandoned. The schools, library, and grocers all shut down due to insufficient funds to keep them running. In a matter of a year, Millsville went from being the most promising little town in the Midwest to being the laughing stock of Indiana.
In 1932, the population had dwindled to a mere three hundred residents. Livestock was no longer a part of the formal head count, and neither cow nor pig could be seen anywhere on all the farms that somehow still stood on these grounds. Many of the larger homes had been without occupants – or at least, without paying occupants – for months. The ones that were still inhabited were a privileged few.
The story that follows is not that of a town’s fall, nor of its rising. It is the story of those who rose in spite of the destruction around them. It is the story of a family not of blood, but of a stronger bond.
It is the story of The Millsville Five.
Millsville no longer exists. The Five no longer exist. But the story of their triumph, their fall, their gains, and their losses will be an eternal tale in the annals of local legend. And though there are some who believe that they are simply that – legend, and nothing more – there are those of us who’ve been sure to record their story. It is absolutely vital that the world hear of them. Perhaps there is no greater example of triumph in difficult times than this.