Harold Might
Recently, an early-20th-century studio portrait surfaced. It features a toddler standing proudly on a wooden chair, bundled up in a thick, dark, ribbed-knit matching suit and a long stocking cap. Next to his feet sits a tiny toy horse and rider.
On the back, written in a delicate pencil hand, are the clues that set a story in motion:
Harold Might, age 2 yrs. 4 mo.
An embossed stamp at the bottom of the card tells us where this moment was captured: Mace Studios, 112 S. Tejon St., Colorado Springs, Colorado. Given Harold's age in the photo, the shutter clicked around March 1911.
But what happened to the little boy in the winter suit? As it turns out, he lived a long, full life that stretched across nearly a century.
Harold E. Might was born on November 28, 1908, to James and Ora Might. Though his early childhood was spent in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains, tragedy touched his life early when his mother passed away when he was just four years old. His father later remarried, and Harold grew up alongside three half-siblings: Clarence, William, and Mamie.
While Harold attended his earliest school days in Colorado, the family eventually packed up and relocated east to Kansas. They settled in Reno County, where Harold attended the Prosperity School.
As an adult, Harold made his home in Hutchinson, Kansas, and dedicated himself to a craft. He became a highly skilled carpenter, spending decades working for construction firms like Oscar Young, Ralph Skeen, and Foy Construction. If you walk through Hutchinson today, there is a good chance Harold's hands helped shape some of its structures. He was a lifelong, proud member of the Carpenters Union.
In September 1940, Harold married Leta I. Richardson. Together, they raised a daughter, Judith, and built a quiet, dedicated life centered around family and community. Harold was a pillar of his local churches, including the Forest Park Presbyterian Church, which he actively supported for decades.
The little boy standing on the chair in 1911 grew up to witness the rise of the automobile, the space race, and the dawn of the digital age. Harold passed away on June 18, 2003, at the remarkable age of 94.
When this photograph was taken in that Colorado Springs studio, nobody could have foreseen the long, industrious path ahead of him. Today, his portrait serves as a beautiful reminder of a life well-lived—from a toddler in a stocking cap to a master craftsman who left his mark on the Kansas landscape.
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