To my recollection, the first tenants were writers Curt Harnack and his wife, Hortense Calisher, possibly living at first in the walk-up attic of 422 Brown Street, later in the first building Henry converted, a small, two-story barn he called the Chalet. There could have been an earlier resident of the attic; I’m not certain.

Mainly Henry’s older boys, Quentin and older brother Gary, were employed (“enslaved” would be more accurate) to develop the bizarre complex of semi-habitable outbuildings at 422 (before 414 next door was purchased). They were left with work assignments each week when Henry hit the road in eastern Iowa on behalf of Merriam-Webster, peddling dictionaries. In order to expedite Quentin’s and Gary’s emancipation for adolescent pursuits such as baseball and films, I often helped with the work, especially with the Chalet. I was very close to the family in those years, visiting 422 almost daily. Between Quentin’s mother, Laura, and I, Quentin’s father was always referred to (privately) as “Simon” (as in Simon Legree, the infamous slave dealer). She would answer my phone calls for Quentin and advise immediately if “Simon” had returned from a sales run. The brothers and I attached the highest value to Henry’s trips on the road in his Lincoln.

So far as I could see, Henry and my father, Newt, were the only social friends the pair had, outside their respective families, and apart from chats at my father’s Standard Oil Service Station when Henry filled his tank or replaced tires, get-togethers were always full-family and limited to a) watching the Memorial Day parade from the front steps of 422, b) watching the 4th of July fireworks at City Park across the street from our house and c) one early Sunday breakfast cookout at Lake MacBride State Park outside of town each summer. In June 1954 Laura died of cancer at home where Henry had been been having her nursed. My father, who by then was also operating the Iowa City Ambulance Service, drove the ambulance himself that trip. Henry subsequently remarried, from which union issued a second family.

Henry passed on to me, and I still use, his personal copy of the Merriam-Webster Collegiate Dictionary (signed, of course) and also his portable Royal Typewriter which sat on his library desk at 422 (I no longer use that). Henry had coaxed Quentin and me to take typing in summer school while in junior high, which of course I’ve never regretted. So, you see, he wasn’t all bad.

I know a lot about the Black family and Gaslight Village (originally “Black’s Disneyland”) from 1948 to 1963 and don’t object to being contacted on the subject. In fact, in the interest of filling in a more complete record of the family and events, I would welcome information from others who have had contacts in the past. Henry, as will be gathered, was a one-off and so was Quentin. I’ve only scratched the surface above. I live in England now and my contact is orcclub@compuserve.com.

Ken Weller
April, 2011

This was a really funky place and I’d love to visit again. Maybe sometime on my way back from my home in Racine, WI to my parent’s home in Leon, Iowa I’ll drop by.

I also heard that my old fraternity, Kappa Sigma, had been shut down, which doesn’t surprise me. We had a very enterprising group of guys who operated “under the radar”, most of the time!