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On a side street in Warwick stands a red brick building. This structure, the “Warwick Academy,” was built just before the Civil War swept over the nation, the exact year of erection being recorded in a date stone in the south gable, which reads: “Warwick Academy Institute built A.D. 1859.”

it served as the community’s schoolhouse for decades. During those days, the village on the Mason Dixon Line was a thriving crossroads community, located between Middleton, Delaware and Eastern Shore town. About 400 people lived there in 1880, a place that had abundant crops and fruits, according to the Maryland Directory of 1880. Once a new frame building with two-classrooms was erected by Levi Patterson on Main Street in 1890, the older facility was turned into an institution of learning for African-Americans living in the area of the state line.

At some point in the 20th century, the old Warwick School became a private residence.

Many of Cecil County’s rural communities once had small schools.  As late as 1928, there were forty-two one-room schools and seven were for African-Americans, according to the School Board annual report in 1965.

ELKTON, June 6, 2014 — The Town of Elkton announced that the 13th officer to command the Elkton Police Department was appointed Chief of Police on June 6. The former second in command, Matthew J. Donnelly, assumed leadership of the force with 42-sworn personnel on that date, but he had been acting as the executive since July 2013, when Chief William Ryan, Jr. retired. Holding practically every job with the agency, he joined the department in October 1989.

As the leadership is handed over to a new commander to guide the department in the early 21st century, it’s a good time for a historical list, a register of the Chiefs who led the agency for over 100 years. The town has had some form of law enforcement since the 19th century, the officer being called a bailiff in those formative years. This official preserved the peace, took care of streets, impounded wild animals, collected taxes, carried messages for the council, and served as the lamplighter.

In 1908, George M. Potts was appointed to a two-year term as bailiff. Gradually during his time the essentials of a modern police department slowly emerged and the bailiff was regularly called Chief Potts by Elkton’s press corps. And in time the town started conferring that designtion on the officer, and he became the first person to answer to the title of chief.

After faithfully serving the municipality for 27-years, Chief Potts retired in 1935. Here is a list of the commanders.

1908 – 1935 . . . George M. Potts
1936 – 1938 . . . W. Coudon Reynolds
1945 – 1948 . . . W. Coudon Reynolds
1948 – 1962 . . . William H. White
1962 – 1980 . . . Thomas N. McIntire, Jr.
1981 – 1983 . . . Frederick Nebrauer
1984 – 1993 . . . Calvin Krammes
1993 – 1995 . . . J.D. Ervin
1995 – 1998 . . . Bruce Speck
1998 – 2000 . . .Charles Jagoe (Acting Chief)
2000 – 2003 . . . Daniel Mahan
2004 – 2005 . . . Richard Pounsberry, Jr.
2005 – 2013 . . . William E. Ryan, Sr.
2013 – 2014 . . . Matthew J. Donnelly (Acting Chief)
2014 – 2020 . . . Matthew J. Donnelly

2020 – Pres . . . Carolyn Rogers

Acknowledgment: Assistance with this list provided by Michelle Henson, Town of Elkton Administration, and Tracy Holter, of EPD, Chief Donnelly’s secretary.

Note:

Updated Aug. 2022 to reflect appointment of Chief Rogers

The latest Cecil History Short has been released by The Historical Society of Cecil County, Evelyn VVaggi Scott, 80, talks about youthful days growing up in Elkton and Vaggi family business, the Howard Hotel. This is Part I. A conversation with Mrs. Scott will be released shortly in part II.

July 11, 2008 — North East, MD:  Marshall Purner, 81, North East, went from being a city cop to being the thin blue line on a one-man force in Cecil County.  “I got interested in law enforcement while I was in the army, so I joined the Louisville Kentucky Police Department when I was discharged from the Army,” he explained.

That 1,500-member agency was in the lead in professionalizing police work, “so I attended an academy before hitting the street.  They brought instructors in from the Southern Police Institute to train us in the latest law enforcement techniques such as fingerprinting, scientific investigation, reporting writing, and law.  In addition, we had physical and firearms instruction.”

After three years of chasing crooks and keeping peace in the city, the rookie who had become adept at urban policing traded that work for his version of Mayberry, his hometown of North East, population 1,600.  There he signed on as the Chief of Police for what was a sleepy beat when compared to his rookie years in the city of nearly 400,000 people.

“When I started as chief in North East on May 2, 1957, at 10:00 a.m., I was paid $62 for a sixty-hour week.  The town also gave me $3.00 a week to use my vehicle to patrol and answer calls. I did a lot of foot beat work on Main Street. I wasn’t going to burn up my weekly gas allotment when it cost .25-cents a gallon.  I worked out of one desk drawer in the town hall, a building that was built as a town lockup in the late 1800s.  If I needed backup, I had to get to a telephone since I didn’t have a radio to call the state police.  The town finally got me a police car in 1963.”

“After riding a two-man squad car in the city, with specialized divisions for handling the problems that came up and plenty of back-ups, I had a lot of gearing down to do since I was the entire police department.  To start with it was my hometown so I knew everybody in those days.  I responded to calls, made traffic stops, moved the kids along, kept drunks off the street, and occasionally handled a Saturday night fight.  But sometimes, I responded to calls that required something more than a quick response of an officer to settle things down.  In a large force, I’d hand those types of things off to the detectives or other divisions such as vice, juvenile or traffic.”

After some nine years of checking meters and doorknobs, chasing speeders, and keeping order in barrooms at night in that one-man agency, the chief decided to join a larger six-man department in Cecil County.  “In 1966, I was hired on as a patrolman in Elkton by Chief Thomas N. McIntire. Jr.  I was behind the wheel of a patrol car on the midnight shift, usually.  Generally, an additional officer patrolled in another vehicle, so at least two of us were available to answer calls and back each other up on barroom fights and things like that.”

Purner recalls one of his humorous stories.  “One December evening I received a radio call from dispatch that someone had stolen items from a car at the Bowling Alley.  When I arrived, a witness told me he’d seen a man in a Santa Claus outfit running from the parking lot carrying something.  Well, I had ID on my suspect so I put out a be on the lookout broadcast for this red-suited gentleman.  With all Cecil County prowl cars on the road that night on the lookout, I soon found out that it was one of my fellow officers, Joseph Zurolo, who was playing Santa for a group of kids at the Bowling Alley.  Of course,  he had nothing to do with the incident.  The real perpetrator was never caught.”

Over the next couple of decades the Elkton department grew to 25 personnel and Purner watched as trained officers became a requirement and computers allowed small-town officers to instantly check on suspects.  “Back in the 1950s, once they handed a man his badge, nightstick, gun and handcuffs, they’d say go out and do the job.  About the only training, they got was whatever older officers or a state troopers could share.  That was about it, except for large cities and state police agencies.  In the 1970s mandatory training requirements were put in place and eventually officers had to complete training before starting on the job.”

Although he was involved in small-town policing for most of his career his time spanned important eras, such as the urban tensions of the 1960s and the professionalization of the criminal justice system.  Right in the middle of the Cold War, he guarded a section of the Pennsylvania railroad, making sure Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev’s train passed safely through Cecil County in September 1959.  When Bobby Kennedy’s Funeral Train made its slow way across the top of the Chesapeake, he again provided security, keeping the route crowded with people clear.

In 1989, after 23 years with the county seat’s force, the 61-year-old decided it was time to sit back and let others maintain the peace.  “On my last day on the job, I was detailed to work with an FBI agent staking out a local motel.  On my way home after work, I had a heart attack and had to rush to the Veteran’s Administration Hospital.”

Purner is enjoying retirement these days as he devotes time to collecting decoys, playing the guitar and banjo with various groups, and stays active in community activities.

Additional Biographical Notes About Marshall L. Purner

Marshall enlisted in the army in 1946, where as an MP he worked with German police during the allied occupation and his outfit provided security at the Nuremberg Trials.   At the end of the infantryman’s tour, he was based in Louisville, Kentucky, where he was a member of the colorguard escorting dead soldiers from the Korean War.

With his military experience, the law enforcement bug had bitten him so when he was discharged, he got a job on a big city force, Louisville, KY.   During his stint on the 1,500-member force, he graduated from the department’s academy, but after three years, he was ready to return to his hometown.  Back home, he was hired as the Chief of Police in North East, population 1,600, serving as the thin blue line on the one-man force.

Back on the Shore, having a local lawman graduate from an academy was something of a rarity in rural Maryland for new hires were typically given a stick, a badge and gun and told to hit the road.   He started in North East on May 2, 1957, at 10 a.m. and became a patrolman in Elkton on February 21, 1966.  He retired in 1989.

The other day, a post on the Delmar Dustpan about “the Chinese on Lower Delmarva in 1900” caught my attention.  As I read the informative article, I remembered an old Elkton businessman from the 1960s talking about meeting the first Chinese resident of Elkton as a youngster, when a laundry opened here.  The recollection of that long-ago conversation about earlier times and the recent piece about the newly arrived immigrants in Delmar, caused me to do a little digging into the subject here.

Born in China about 1874, Lee Hok Wing immigrated to the United States in the 1880s or 1890s, according to www.ancestry.com.  He came to Cecil County in 1892, starting a new life here washing clothing for townspeople.  The Cecil Democrat reported in November of that year that “Tong Ben opened his Chinese laundry in the Parker building on E. Main Street,” an area that is opposite the current county courthouse.

The business prospered as “Charley Lee, the Main street chinaman” was doing “good laundry work for the Elkton people at low rates,” the Cecil Whig reported in 1898. And he was “getting to be a regular American,” wearing “American clothes all the time,” while speaking English better than some locals the reporter observed.   When someone asked him if he would return to China “when he had accumulated sufficient money,” the laundryman replied:  I have a “good enough time here . . . “Just so I have money I can have a good time anywhere,  and I don’t have to go to China to have a good time.”

Lee had a business partner, Lee Yeun (or Lee Yawn) working with him in 1900, according to the decennial census.  His World War I draft registration card notes that he was born on August 20, 1873, and at the time of registration he had married Francis Wing, who also lived with him.   Francis died in Sept. 1925, and the couple didn’t have children, according to her obituary.

In the 2nd half of the 19th century some 300,000 Chinese came to America.  Many arrived, searching for gold in California, but they also worked at laying of track and service jobs.  They did work that was traditionally women’s work in the U.S. and in time a few of them ended up in Cecil County and elsewhere on the Delmarva Peninsula.  Many of these individuals, isolated and far from the Chinese communities in large cities, started working in small town laundries, establishing them in places all over the nation.

The businesses were small — the work being done by hand to a large degree, requiring only the most basic equipment, such as an ironing board.  In the bustling little establishments, soiled clothing was washed in large kettles of boiling war, strung out to dry, and ironed, probably using cast irons that required heating on the stove.  This type of enterprise didn’t require much capital, just the willingness to work long, hard hours.

Dressed differently, adhering to different customs, and facing the stereotypes of the time, the Chinese laundryman surely stood out on the rural Eastern Shore.  Their language and command of English must have been so very exotic here at the turn of the 20^th century.

When Lee Hok Wing and his partner came to Elkton, they “wore queues (a braid of hair worn hanging down behind),” wrote F. Rodney Frazer in Parts of Elkton as I Remember it In 1918.  “If you felt like a good chase, yell in the door ‘Ching Ching Chinaman Eats Dead Rats,” and he would after you with an iron in his hand.  Wang soon cut off his queue.  His partner did not stay long,” Frazer wrote.

Automation changed things as the 20^th century moved along, and the first commercial, local laundry to compete with Lee was Mac’s Laundry on W. High Street.  It was established by Howard McGlintock in 1935, according to Frazer.  “Laundry was collected and delivered and they employed men and women.”

Chinese laundries continued until the late 1940s, when home washing machines, dryers, Laundromats, and new fabrics reduced demand.  The changing technology had its impact too, as new steam technology was believed to more effective and the hand laundry usually had to charge more to cover operating costs.  Whatever the case, the laundryman’s business dwindled, little by little.

Local people patronized Lee’s laundry and it continued until near the time of his death.  He passed away on July 26, 1949, at the age of 75, the burial taking place at the Elkton Cemetery.  There were no survivors, and his wife had predeceased him.  He apparently had no children.

Over time, Cecil County saw waves of people from many different countries leave their old country and settle in neighborhoods here, seeking out new lives.  Those included Irish, Italians, Greeks, Ukrainian, Spanish, Asian, Jewish, and more.  They all have a story waiting to be documented, as these new settlers came to new homes in the northeastern corner of Maryland for a range of reasons, struggling to master a new language and familiarize themselves with a new culture and ways of living.  To some large degree, the history of the settlement of these groups hasn’t been examined and is a subject that deserves attention locally.

This is a list of Chinese in Cecil County as found on Ancestry’s 1900 U.S. Decennial Census.

Joseph Lea, Chesapeake, Cecil, Maryland; DOB Jan 1855; POB: China; head of household; laundryman

Lee Hoke Wing  (Lee Hok Wing) Elkton, Cecil, Maryland, DOB; POB China; head of household;

Lee Yeun, Elkton, Cecil, Maryland, DOB: POB China; partner

Author’s Note:  It is unclear as to whether Tong Ben, the man identified by local newspapers as starting the enterprise in Elkton, changed his name to Lee Wing or was perhaps an earlier resident.  But by 1900, the census is showing Lee Hok Wing as the operator of the business.

For more on Chinese in Cecil County

See Chang Woo Opens Chinese Laundry in Rising Sun

Cecil has many destination spots and lots of history to share with visitors to our corner of Maryland, and each year the county tourism office showcases our natural and heritage resources by observing May as “tourism and history month.”   To spread the word about all that we have to offer and show appreciation for our past, as the season for travel gets underway, there are little yellow signs along roadways and streets.  Reminding  every one of what we have to offer in this historic county, one of those signs caught our attention while out  at the county administration building on this beautiful Monday in the middle of May.

An American Automobile Association travel map held by special collections at the University of Delaware shows Elkton as it appeared in 1919.

In that year immediately after World War I, many of the 20^th century changes people are familiar with today were yet to take place.  The building of Route 40 wouldn’t happen for a couple more decades, so Main Street handled the heavy road traffic between Philadelphia and Baltimore.  Lodging for weary motorist was available at the Felton House, Howard House Hotel and the Maryland Lodge.

It would also be a few more decades before the railroad straightened the tracks through town, moving the station and the line to its current location.  So anyone planning to catch the cars went to the station on the south side of Railroad Avenue.  The High School was on Mackall Street and Howard Street hadn’t been extended from the cemetery to Bridge Street.  Elkton industries such as the Scott Fertilizer Company, the Ice Plant and Mill appeared on the map.

Accompanying the map were the complicated travel directions, showing the twists, turns, and landmarks for those early, venturesome motorists.  As the state highway network wasn’t in place yet, the guide notes turns and landmarks, to assist the driver.  When coming into Elkton from Newark it indicates the driver should go to the end of the road and then turn left onto Court Street.  On your way on down the road to North East, you crossed a “covered wood bridge.”

The map was located by searching the Digital Public Library of America and as the University of Delaware has digitized resources in special collections, it was available online.

Thanks DPLA and U of DE.  The 1918 AAA Blue Book is from a private collection.