When the top-hatted, black-clad undertaker in his old horse-drawn hearse graduated to the motor-driven vehicle and became a mortician, when dealers in land moved from the corner where they used to trade property into regal suites and became realtors and when barbers became beauty experts, the world paused to wonder what would happen next.
    But through all the years, the skillful art of the blacksmith has remained the same, though it has continued to dwindle with the passage of every year. Though once the shops were as popular as garages are today in Medford, only three are now doing business--Nick Young on South Holly, J. O. Frazier on South Fir and P. A. Dooms on 10th Street--the only three where horses may be shod.
    In keeping with the advance of the times, blacksmithing by the mere crudite has been given the title of "equipodiatry," whatever that may mean, and blacksmiths are "equipodestrians," but their work remains unchanged. The anvils still ring merrily with fhe blows of husky leather-aproned sons of the forge, but they don't ring as often as they did when there were 400 livery horses in Medford and competition was keen among livery stables. Those were the days when horses were shod with better schedule, when every six weeks would usually find a well-provided horse in for his shoeing.
    Today horses don't fare so well as their elders, who were more familiar to the people as proud, strutting teams, carefully curried and the pride of their owners, who always had the latest model buggies in keeping with the sleek appearance of their steeds. Horses in the motor age are figured more for the work they can do and appearance is not so important, outside of a few members of the equine family kept for riding purposes and for show.
    Horses should still be shod every six weeks, according to Nick Young, for 15 years a Medford "smithy," but many of them are fortunate to be shod every six months, says he. When he came to Medford, livery stables were still doing business and auto cars were something new to those who had known the reliability of horseflesh for so long. But as the years passed by, he witnessed the decline of one of mankind's most faithful servants, giving way to the advent of cold, expressionless mechanisms.
    In the opinion of Mr. Young, it may be only a period of a few years before horseshoeing will be a lost art, and a blacksmith who devotes his time to shoeing will be regarded as a curiosity. When automobiles began to become popular, horseflesh was assured of a safe place on the farm, but since then motor-driven units of power and transportation, known generally as tractors, have invaded the farm and are slowly but surely crowding horses from their last stand.
    In other days, horses would wait in line to be shod, but they don't come in so often now, and it is not uncommon for the blacksmith to go to the horses instead of them coming to him. He takes his portable forge and his kit of tools and shoes and spends a day at the larger orchards and farms, providing work horses with shoes with which they can do better work with as little damage to their hoofs as possible. 'Tis a far cry from the day when a man could fit 100 shoes in a day and sometimes look for more.
    But blacksmithing is a good trade, and one, regardless of what some might say, with prospects of becoming better. Young men do not take to the trade so readily, leaving only the oldtimers to follow the anvil, but as long as machinery is made, there will be need of blacksmiths. Farmers have always found them necessary in the general scheme of things and probably always will, not for horseshoeing, but for so many other bits of work only a blacksmith can do.
    The Merriman blacksmith shop on South Riverside felt the inroads of the auto long ago, and for 10 years has discontinued horseshoeing,  but several men are kept busy there daily, giving a large share of their time to farm work. This shop is the oldest in all Jackson County, and in 1852 [sic] was established at the present site of Hubbard Brothers implement store. [George Merriman started his shop in 1890. Medford did not exist in 1852.] For years it did business there, until moved across the street to the site of the Associated Oil Company service station. In 1906 it was moved to its present quarters.
    This shop has particularly interesting doors, decorated with a surprising variety of brands used by cattlemen in Southern Oregon, having large herds on the ranges. Though there are more than five score, no two brands have any striking similarity. Some are the result of 15 or 20 minutes' work, while others are the result of a day's labor spent in careful forging of letters. Over 60 percent of the brands made in the county were made here, according to Myrle Merriman, one of the few present-day sons following the same profession as his father, well known to all as just plain "Tom."
    While brands may not be made as often as they were, the Merriman shop still turns out a goodly number--old brands have a habit of wearing out, and now and then some cattle owner evolves a new one. One door inside the shop is covered with burned impressions, a replica of which probably is worn by many hundreds of cattle. A front door of the shop is also well covered.
    In the county as a whole, blacksmith shops are rare. In Central Point, Ben F. Peart runs the only one, which he has been operating ever since the same children, who once watched him pound on the ringing anvil and make sparks fly hither and yon, have grown into men and women, and themselves have children who now do what their elders did in "watching the village smithy." There used to be three shops in that thriving little city.
    Jacksonville also boasted a shop, but it was torn down a short time ago. There were shops at Talent and Phoenix, but none could be seen on recent trips through these places. The art of blacksmithing is still earnestly followed in Ashland.
    It apparently will be a curiosity within a few short years to see the art of "equipodiatry" have a following of any kind, but whatever may happen, blacksmithing bids fair to live on and on.
Medford Mail Tribune, April 18, 1929, page 8