By Wildert Marte
HOBART — This week I read the last known issues of the Hobart Independent. At first, I expected it to feel like any old newspaper, but as I read I realized how much it revealed about life in Hobart at the time. The paper showed what people bought, what they read, and how they connected with the world around them. Even though the issue marked the end of the paper, it was filled with ordinary things. That made it feel real, like I was sitting in the town a hundred years ago.
The ads caught my attention right away. They told the story of the community as clearly as any article. Stores in Hobart and Stamford filled the pages with notices for holiday shopping. C.E. Smith sold mufflers and flannel shirts. A.S. Carroll's hardware store listed sleds, skates, and roasters. Families could even buy furniture, lamps, and musical instruments like Hardman pianos. These ads showed not only what people needed but also what they dreamed of having in their homes. Some of the ads even came from Oneonta. That stood out to me because I go to school there now. Seeing Oneonta where I attend college in the paper reminded me that these small towns were always connected, whether through business, education, or culture.The Independent also carried short poems and stories.
One story reprinted from Harper's Bazaar told of a man who always felt life went opposite of his plans. Another poem borrowed from Tennyson but gave it a lighter twist. These pieces added humor and reflection to the paper. They showed that Hobart was not just concerned with daily chores and shopping. People also valued literature, laughter, and ideas from beyond their own village. There were also many ads for medicine and remedies. Castoria Chamberlain’s Cough Remedy, and other tonics promised to cure common problems. Reading those made me think about how families dealt with sickness before modern medicine. Health was fragile, and many families trusted these simple remedies because they had no other choice. Alongside them were notices from banks and insurance companies. The mix of ads showed that the paper spoke to all kinds of readers, from farmers to shop owners.
What surprised me most was how normal the last issue looked. There was no farewell column or big announcement. It looked like any other week, filled with ads, poems, and notes. That silence felt powerful. It made me realize that when a local paper ends, it often does so quietly. But even when it ends without a goodbye, it leaves behind an important record of a town’s life.
Reading this paper made me think about the articles I wrote earlier in the semester about Hobart’s Book Village. When I interviewed Don Dales, he explained how he opened the first bookstore to bring life back to Hobart. Later, when I spoke with Bill and Diana Adams, they told me about their passion for antiquarian books and how they turned it into WHA Books. Those conversations helped me see how Hobart has always valued words and stories. Looking at the Independent now, I see that same tradition. The paper once gave the town its voice, and now the bookstores carry that spirit in a new way.
The last issue of the Hobart Independent was more than an old newspaper. It showed the rhythm of daily life in a Catskills town at the start of the twentieth century. It recorded what people wore, what they bought, and what they read to pass the time. For me, it also connected the past to the present. Hobart’s love of books and stories did not end with the closing of its newspaper. It simply shifted into new forms like the Book Village. That is what makes the last issue meaningful. It was ordinary, yet it captured the heart of a community.
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