Welcome!
Mr. Don Weyel passed away November 21. In case you aren’t familiar with Mr. Weyel, he was a gym, health, and history teacher at Conneaut Lake High School for many years. My dad was among his students. Having read his obituary I was impressed by what a servant-minded man he was. He was a veteran, teacher, coach, and member of several organizations. But when I think of Mr. Weyel, I think of ponies.
Mr. Weyel owned and operated the pony rides at Conneaut Lake Park from 1952 until 2016. The pony rides were a mainstay and a special addition to that nostalgic place. But the reason I remember Mr. Weyel is because he used to loan ponies to children and teenagers who would provide good homes during the Park’s off season.
My siblings and I were the third generation in my family to board Conneaut Lake Park ponies. My late grandma and Uncle Roy had a pony from Conneaut Lake Park.
My Dad dreamed of having a pony when he was a boy, but couldn’t afford one. When Dad was 14, a classmate told Dad Mr. Weyel loaned ponies, but wouldn’t give a pony to a child unless he was sure it would be well cared for. Dad spoke to Mr. Weyel and got to work preparing a place for a pony.
Grandma rented from the late Grace McQuiston of Adamsville. She had a barn on her property. Dad cleaned the stall and arranged to glean corn after school during harvest time from Don Gaylord’s fields. Mr. Gaylord was a good friend to Dad and Grandma.
Grandma placed an ad for hay in the Greenville Record-Argus. Paul Kelly of Hartstown answered the ad. He called Grandma and said he’d fix Dad up with hay. He charged $35 a ton. He and his son, Gary, delivered, unloaded and stacked it in the hayloft, with Dad’s help.
A few days later Mr. Weyel delivered Trigger, a black and white paint pony. Mr. Weyel provided a saddle, bridle, halter, curry comb, and brush. Dad was the happiest kid in the world. He had Trigger for nine months.
Mr. Gaylord made Dad a wooden sled and bought him a used harness from an Amishman in Fairview, near Camp Perry. Dad and Mr. Gaylord cleaned and oiled the harness. Dad has many happy memories of Trigger pulling him on that sled.
But Dad outgrew Trigger. When Mr. Weyel came back for him just before Memorial Day, Dad said told him he’d really miss Trigger.
Dad never forgot Mr. Weyel’s response. He said, “Tom, you can come up to the Park anytime you want to, as often as you want to, and you tell them who you are, and that you kept Trigger for me, and I said you could ride for free.” Dad did that for years.
The following year he got Major, a larger pony. Dad had Major until he graduated from high school.
When I was in elementary school, Dad tracked Mr. Weyel down and asked to keep three of Mr. Weyel’s ponies during the Park’s off season. These ponies would appear in Mom and Dad’s pasture after Labor Day and disappear just before Memorial Day. I was in fifth grade, my sister, Amy, was in third grade, and my brother, Mike, was in kindergarten the first year we got ponies.
Dad used to take my brother, sister, Mom and I on trail rides. We rode almost every Sunday during the fall, winter, and spring when it wasn’t snowing.
My light brown roan pony, Frosty, was very gentle. Amy’s black and white paint, Whiz, was frisky. So was Weegie, Mike’s sorrel Shetland pony. He was the cutest pony I ever saw.
He was a real stinker, too. One time he bit me on the back for no good reason, and he used to buck around whenever he was near the alpha of the herd. His name was Sundance, another sorrel, but he was half Arabian, and I think it made him a little more aggressive. Regardless, little Weegie, despite his best effort, couldn’t push Sundance out of alpha male role.
It was funny to watch him try to boss Sundance around. He’d bite Sundance, buck at him and kick him. Sundance was 15 hands (roughly five feet) and Weegie was about nine hands (three feet) tall at the withers. But he did his best to oust Sundance. Too bad for Weegie. Sundance wasn’t having any of it.
Dad taught us to ride on old snowmobile trails. We had to cross a creek and climb a steep on our most common route. It scared me half to death to jump that creek and race up the hill.
Dad always led the way, and once Sundance leapt across, followed by Mom’s sorrel horse, Honey, all the ponies had to prove their worth and jump the creek. Even Weegie made it across every time without splashing.
We made some unforgettable memories while riding. One time, Whiz decided to take a roll in a creek (not the one we jumped) in Patton Hollow while my sister was still mounted on his back. She jumped off just before having her leg crushed. As always, God was watching over her.
Another classic riding memory is a little more serious. My dad had been saddling ponies and horses for more than 20 years when he started taking us on trail rides. He knew all their tricks.
But Weegie got one by him. See, ponies will suck in air so their stomachs expand while being saddled. This prevents the cinch, a strap that secures the saddle, from being too tight. But this can make also the saddle too loose.
We’d had a pleasant ride that day, when all of a sudden Mike was suspended under Weegie, clinging to his saddle horn. He might’ve slid off, but his foot was stuck in the stirrup.
Here’s where the relationship between a boy and his pony comes in. If Weegie had spooked and galloped off, this could’ve been a tragedy. But Weegie loved Mike. When Mike slipped, Weegie stopped in his tracks. Dad freed Mike’s foot, re-saddled Weegie, and we were off again. I’ll always be grateful to God and to little Weegie for looking after my brother that day.
Without Mr. Weyel’s generosity and love for children and ponies, these memories wouldn’t be part of my family’s lore. My dad couldn’t have fulfilled his childhood dream of owning ponies and lived that dream with his children, either.
My memories are only a tiny portion of Mr. Weyel’s legacy. He made his community a better place. I hope this inspires you to contribute your talents to your community and that you will keep the Weyel family in your prayers.
Have a wonderful week. Blessings!