The Village of Southern View on Springfield's south side has functioned like a small, friendly oasis for 85 years. It's one of Springfield's three villages, with Grandview and Jerome, and, to hear residents speak of it, Southern View is a 400-acre gem of history, generations of families who have stayed put, and heart.
"We are our own little community," says Nora Petrosky, a 38-year resident and previous 12-year village president. "We have two parks, our own police department, our own school, and a Dollar General."
And they have Leroy Solomon.
Known with equal parts affection and respect as "Mr. Southern View," Solomon goes way back. His family has occupied the house he lives in for 92 years. He was actually born in it, 85 years ago. "He knows everything about everyone," says Petrosky. "He still rides his bike, stops and talks with people, and lets the Public Works office know if a street light is burned out. He's dependable. A joy to talk to. If he doesn't know you, he'll get to know you. He's always helping, always lending a hand."
On longevity
Solomon hasn't slowed down much. "I'm a very active person, have been all my life," says Solomon. ("Solomon has three Os in it," he adds for my interview notes, "just like King Solomon in the Bible.")
He built houses for a contractor at Lake Springfield during high school. Later, he went to work for Henson Robinson, apprenticed for four years, and then worked as a Union Sheet Metal Worker for 30 years "all over Springfield. My uncle got me in the trade."
He was known as a high man. He recalls early days working for Henson Robinson on the Illinois State Capitol dome. "400 feet in the air. At 6:30 a.m., before work, I would take my coffee thermos bottle with me and sit up on the Capitol roof above the dome in the morning. Where the light is. The only thing higher is the flagpole. Looking down at Capitol Avenue from there, the city bus looked about two inches long. I did that to get used to working up high like that, and then they put me on jobs straddling beams, installing skylights, all the high work."
One cold Sunday morning in 1978 after a bad ice storm, Solomon was on a job in Kincaid that shut down until conditions were safe. So, he was at home when the village president and trustees knocked on his door, handed him a pair of gloves, and sent him to help clean up fallen trees and limbs.
He would return to village work in 1992 for the Street Department after 30 years in the sheet metal trade. "I drove the backhoe and gravel truck. I got a CDL license to do that. I worked seven years full time for the village after I retired."
He still mows his own yard, does his own shopping, enjoys vintage motorcycles, and bike rides – both his and his father's. But, he finally quit riding backwards a few years ago. "I gave it up so I wouldn't hurt a shoulder or have to get stitches in my head."
On village life
"When my parents moved in, the village was poor, poor, poor," Solomon says. The 1989 Golden Celebration History describes the early days of then Golden Gardens Addition without indoor plumbing, natural gas or electricity. There were dirt roads, homegrown chickens and $1 pay for trustees when the village could afford it. "But it was an ideal place to grow up," Solomon says. "We played baseball in the middle of that street (pointing to the busy through street in front of his house). There was no traffic, only farmers, south of here. It really was a playground. Very few houses around at that time."
In 1945, Solomon attended the county school built in 1932 that became Southern View. That's because women in a committee meeting admired the view out a window and said, "Look at that southern view." The first graduating class was two girls and a boy.
"Back then, there was real community spirit. The people in Southern View visited over their clotheslines and fences, we had Halloween parades where everyone would walk around the village in costume. In 1947 when WCVS put up the radio tower, our third-grade class went to Fourth and Garrett streets to watch on a school day and saw three people doing acrobatics. When Nora was president, we had a village parade every August, with people marching, walking, and a fire engine. I rode my dad's bike."
Solomon takes pride in knowing the people of Southern View, past and present. He knew farmer Ned Cruikshank, as in Cruikshank Street today, who died when his John Deere tractor rolled over him, as well as many of the Italian and Eastern European families who lived in Southern View in its early days, and the brick masons who built their houses. He says there are approximately 1,700 residents now, and he still knows "who lived where, and where they moved and live now." What he can't remember, he says, "is lost to time. Everyone else who might be able to remember the early days has passed on."
Solomon's parents, his wife Marian, and his children have all enjoyed village life in Southern View, as have generations of others who were born, grew up, had children, and stayed on to see what will come next in Springfield's "doughnut hole." More and more of the houses are becoming rental units, but more than traces of the original community linger today in the pride of place and lifelong friendships.
