A Swarm of Dogs, or, Clash of the Titans, Westerville, 1915

A Swarm of Dogs, or, Clash of the Titans, 1915       by Alan Borer

In a small town, residents can clash over the smallest things.  Of course, two feuding neighbors may not see things as “small.”  Petty nuisances, noise complaints, and minor spats can escalate into conflicts at the highest level.  One such spat occurred in the early spring of 1915, when two of Westerville’s most noteworthy names squared off over a dog running loose.

Let’s review the combatants:

In one corner, we have Mayor James H. Larimore.  J. H. Larimore was mayor of Westerville for two years, 1914 to 1915, and by coincidence, the last mayor before city-manager-style governance began.  Active politically throughout his life, Larimore was a member of the powerful Anti-Saloon League, and a dedicated journalist who worked on several newspapers including the Ohio State Journal, one of Columbus’s leading news sources.  Born in Pennsylvania, he moved to Sunbury as a small child.  He and his wife Phebe relocated to Westerville in 1897, where he also pursued a lifelong hobby of writing for fun.  He even created a literary alter ego, one “Hank Timmons,” who loved repeating cornball witticisms, such as, “Never look a gift auto  in the carburetor.”  These appeared here and there in the Public Opinion and several magazines for which Hank/J. H. wrote.

And in the other corner, we have Otterbein University president Walter G. Clippinger.  Familiar to most readers of this rag, Clippinger had been president for six years by the time of the “dog fight.”  He lived fairly comfortably in a house on Home Street, north of Saum Hall, where he could keep watch on his fiefdom.  North and west of campus was more or less open country at that time, and a great tease for a curious dog.  We know nothing of the dog’s breed or origin, but if it was like most dogs, it liked to follow its nose.

The opening salvo of this fight came in a letter Mayor Larimore sent to President Clippinger with a complaint:

. . . . It has been reported to me that your dog is causing some annoyances to folks down that way.  I know, of course, that you do not want to have this occur.  There is an ordinance which forbids the running of dogs at large in Westerville, and I am sure that you will be pleased to know that such an ordinance exists.

Cool and sedate, the president fired back:

. . . . I have your note of the 1st. concerning our wayward dog.  We are all too conscious that the dog has been running at large too much, but he is being well cared for now, and the public need have no fear of molestation from him.

Clippinger then parried, as he went on:

You speak about an ordinance forbidding the running at large of dogs.  I know of no such ordinance.  Judging from the swarm of dogs that are at large in our village it would seem that there never was an ordinance to that effect.

Touche.

An interesting exchange of words, but we do not have much background or depth.  Only two days later, the Mayor sent a cordial letter to the President, praising Otterbein students for their civic-mindedness, and promising to “work together” to make Westerville “not only great but beautiful and attractive..  Larimore served on Clippinger’s committee to raise $400,000 for Otterbein in 1917.  No mention of discord between the two was reported by the Public Opinion.  It may have been a joke, with tongues firmly in cheek.

We will probably never know.  I am a cat person, so I won’t take sides!