If Dublin had royalty, Carolyn Karrer Klein would undoubtedly wear a crown. An ancestor of three people after which Dublin schools were named (Henry Karrer, John Sells and Eli Pinney) as well as of Robert Cushman, one of the organizers of the 1620 journey on the Mayflower, 79-year-old Carolyn is the perfect Dublinite on which to end this year’s Storyteller Series. Carolyn’s father, Henry Karrer, was the City – then Village – family doctor, and made house calls, kept an office and worked at Grant Hospital, often taking Carolyn and her three sisters with him. Carolyn raised three sons, one of which remains in Dublin. Like her five predecessors in the Storyteller Series, Carolyn never wants to leave her home in Dublin.
Carolyn Karrer Klein in the Dublin branch of the Columbus Metropolitan Library. Photo by Amanda DePerro
My childhood was very pleasant. It was just a community that worked together, helped each other out and life goes on. I don’t think there were more than 200 people in the Village – the City – it’ll always be the Village to me.
My mother, Bertha Cushman, was from Woodstock, Ohio. She went to The Ohio State University and worked 40 hours per week plus going to school. She had straight As. She had to pay her way, because she was a family of 10 children. I can’t imagine that, or paying your way.
My parents had four girls, Rachel Ann, Julia Ann, me, then Marilyn – “Bugsy” – the youngest. The two older sisters are deceased; one lived out in California, the other lived in Florida and Bugsy lives in Wisconsin. I’m the only one that stayed here, which was good because my mother lived to be 101 and she needed a support system.
My father had house calls, Grant Hospital and his office. He was really a country doctor; he delivered babies at home when he started out. He felt that if they were his patients, he should be there; he wouldn’t just bum them off to surgeons. It’s just that, if you’re a family and somebody is sick, the whole family is having problems. It still kills me when I go to my doctor, and she says, “Have you been to the hospital since I saw you last?” and I say, “Why do you ask me that? I go to you!” The whole attitude anymore is so different.
Back then, we didn’t have a lot. The school was the library, and in the summer it was open one day per week. We didn’t have all these fun games that kids play now. We didn’t have a bank, which was very bad. When I got old enough to drive, I’d have to take the weekly deposit to Worthington and I was always scared to death someone was going to stop and rob me. I had a vivid imagination; I’d seen the movies.
Dublin was a rural, bedroom community. The people who had good jobs – bankers and things – they went downtown. We played jacks and solitaire; you entertained yourself. If it was raining for a few days, and nobody had been out, I’d get on my horse and leave. My mother was strong-willed – I am, somewhat, too. But she was very gentle and kind. We were very fortunate to have the parents we had.
We had a pony who had three colts, then we went to a quarter horse who was a retired cavalry horse. Her name was Silver, and she was a sweetheart. I would ride the horses all over Plain City – you couldn’t have a bicycle because they were too dangerous because, well, you could fall and hit your head.
I worked for my husband Paul Klein, who was an orthodontist, for 26 or 27 years. I lived on campus when I went to The Ohio State University for four years, then moved to Rochester with Paul for his internship. We didn’t know where we would end up, and my husband looked around to see where there were good communities that had potential. I was excited when he chose to practice in Arlington – Dublin was too small then to practice here – because it meant we could move back home. We built our house for a family home, and had three sons; Paul, Christopher and Michael. Michael, the youngest, is still here in Dublin.
It’s probably improved, the culture of Dublin. But this is home.
Amanda DePerro is an assistant editor. Feedback welcome at hbealer@cityscenecolumbus.com.
