Once a lively burgh, Main Street Dana has seen its share of heartache

By John D. Wright

DANA — Paul Conner stood on a downtown sidewalk under a cloudless sky Wednesday and remembered the lively Dana of his 1950s childhood.

In the glare of a morning sun, he recalled a time when a two-block area on Indiana 71, the town’s Main Street, supported five groceries.

Behind him, an occasional scent of burnt wood wafted out of the Dana Tavern, where a fire early Tuesday gutted the contents. The loss of a town business turns Conner’s mood sour.

“It’s absolutely terrible,” he said, as the bill of a ball cap shaded the 65-year-old’s careworn face. “I’ve lived here all my life, and I hate to see any business go down. This was the tavern; I’m not a drinker, but I hate to see it go.”

In the past five years or so, this town of about 700 people has lost seven businesses within a distance of about two city blocks.

First, it lost a chiropractor’s office to fire. In the years since, a drug store/gift shop faltered, an auction house collapsed and a grocery burned down, taking with it a flower shop. In 2005, a woman died in an apartment fire.

It has been two years since the grocery burned, and Conner and other residents of the town northwest of Clinton had hoped their run of misfortune had ended. But now this.

The cause of the fire had not been determined by Wednesday but a gas leak is suspected, said Jeff Knopp, assistant chief of the Dana Volunteer Fire Department.

Dana lost its bar, a two-story building on the east side of Indiana 71, a popular getaway for farmers and townies to down Budweisers and, on Saturday nights, shake and sway to karaoke.

The building’s owner, Jerry Wilson of Terre Haute, emerged from the remnants of its charred interior late Wednesday morning.

“It’s depressing,” he said, somberly. “We just remodeled the whole place.” With his insurance adjuster, he had surveyed the remains where tables and chairs lay overturned, blackened wires dangled and water from firefighters’ hoses still dripped from the timbers above. Wilson said he will rebuild.

Fifteen of Dana’s 22 firefighters were on the scene within minutes of the call just after midnight Monday. Their efforts and those of six other area fire departments helped keep the blaze from spreading south to the Town Hall. A mere 40 inches of space separates the tavern and Town Hall structures.

South of the Town Hall, Charlie Jones has sold insurance for 18 years out of an 1800s-era, two-story, wooden Goliath of a building. He and his wife’s alteration shop are the only tenants, although their grandchildren smile at visitors from poses in photographs positioned around the office.

A short, 65-year-old with a round, friendly face under gray wavy hair, Jones is comfortable in a town where no one wears a tie and everybody knows everybody’s dog’s name.

“The sad part of it is, we not only lost another building, we lost another business,” Jones said of the tavern fire. “When we lost the grocery store, the state would not approve the rebuilding of it because we don’t have a sewer system.”

Jones looked up from his chair in the 3,200-square-foot main floor of the building, whose walls post assorted plaques and pictures, a “Notary Public” sign and a red Diet Coke clock.

Dana has potential, he said. About four miles away, workers soon will convert the Newport Chemical Depot to an industrial park. If they build it and business comes, Dana instantly becomes a viable choice to locate a family for any influx of workers.

“Until we get a sewer system here, how do we attract business?” he wonders.

Lew Peery, a member of the Dana Town Council, said the snag on a sewer project is the cost. The town had an engineering study completed and has applied for grants.

“We have a project that’s ready to go, we’re just waiting for the money,” he said. “The town can’t grow any until we get it done. It’s a priority.”

Back out on Indiana 71, Dana’s main drag, sparrows hopped around to peck for seeds spilled off trucks that rumble toward the town’s grain elevator.

Conner pondered the past and shook his head regretfully, his mirrored sunglasses holding steady to hide the gaze of the retired bus driver.

“I don’t think it can get any worse, can it?” he asked.

John D. Wright can be reached at (812) 231-4355 or john.wright@tribstar.com.