>i>wi Tavern. Despite being the only two children in town, the Brockmann siblings seem to find
(her junk that litters the remains of the town.
' . ‘ ■ H ‘ *
• . . . *. • • :* ..... _.*.L . j. l . i. • : *•- : : ’ • • * . c *
Rudy Eiler, 64, is the unofficial mayor of Monowi. He and his
wife Elsie own and run the only business in town, The Monowi
Tavern. For 25 years they have taken care of area farmers who
stop in for lunch and motorists heading down Highway 12.
3kd window in a run-down building
peple, Monowi is fading fast. The
ist utside of town, and with the three
tick, there doesn’t seem to be much
x>ited town.
Agnes Leamons lies her head down on one of her cats. At 88 years old, Agnes is the oldest citizen
of Monowi. She lives alone with 16 cats and has resided in or around Monowi her whole life.
Monowi
Continued from Page 1
But the final setback for the town
came when the railroad abandoned its
route through the town. The old tracks,
which once brought in new people and
businesses and provided some stabil
ity for the town, were ripped up nearly
20 years ago. The train depot, the only
evidence of the railroad’s existence,
now serves as a feeding bam for cattle.
Monowi has only two municipal
officers. Rudy Eiler serves as mayor,
while Elsie is the town clerk and trea
surer. She handles paperwork for
bridge inspections and pays power bills
to the North Valley Rural Electric
Association.
Long-term personal ties are com
mon in this Boyd County village. The
public servants and those they serve
often are personally acquainted, some
times even related.
Pat Brockmann, who teaches high
school French, English and drama at
Lynch Public School, is the mother of
Monowi ’ s only students—Amanda, a
third-grader, and Clint, in first grade.
Both children attend school in Lynch.
Besides the school, other govern
ment-supported personnel provide ser
vices in the area. Two Boyd County
Sheriffs Department deputies serve
Monowi. The nearest hospital is in
Lynch, seven miles away.
Some residents have learned to ap
preciate the solitude, while others find
ways to combat the loneliness created
by isolation.
The village’s oldest resident, Agnes
Lcamons, has a mobile home full of
cats. In fact, she has more than twice as
many cats as the town has residents.
But her 16 faithful, companions
make life for this 88-year-old widow
worth living.
“I love my cats,” she said. “They
are so loving, and I love to watch them
sleep. When they sleep, they look so
helpless.”
The Brockmann family is the most
recent addition to the community. Fam
ily members moved here 10 years ago
from Santee so Roger could be closer
to the electrical contracting business
that he started with a partner in 1975.
For the only family in this tiny vil
lage, there is no other place they want
to be.
“I kinda like the peace, not having
to live on top of someone else,” says
Pat, a native of Rapid City, S.D. (pop.
60,000) “I go to Rapid City now, and
I see how close the houses are and I
would just go nuts. But I didn’t realize
how everybody was until after we
moved out here.
Another benefit of living in a small
communi ty is not having to worry about
crime, she adds.
“You don’t have to worry about
your kids,” Pat says. “They can go out
and play in the yard, and you don’t
have to worry about someone stopping
to pick them up.
“You don’t have to worry about
locking your doors. You can do what
you want to when you want to do it
without worrying about what your
neighbors are going to say.”
Most Monowi residents have no
intention of leaving the town they have
come to grow and love.
“People always ask me to get out of
here, but I can’t go,” Leamons says.
“People think there is nothing here,
but there is a lot.
“It’s what’s in your mind and in
your heart. Each person has to appre
ciate what they have. You don’t have
to be a hermit.”
This story was compiled by Melanie
Brandert, from stories written by Brandert,
Tony Moton, Kathryn Ratliff, Greg Ramsey
and Brian Sharp.
