Chemung County Historical Society

by Rachel Dworkin, Archivist

Basketball was invented on a rainy December day in 1891 by Dr. James Naismith, director of physical education at the YMCA Training School in Springfield, Massachusetts. After much experimentation and tweaking, the first official game was played at the YMCA in Albany, New York on January 20, 1892. Over the next decade, the YMCA worked hard to spread their new sport. The first basketball game in Chemung County was played in the Elmira YMCA gymnasium in 1898 and the city’s first league was established in 1900. It initially consisted of four teams – the Easters, the Northers, the Southers, and the Westers – but new teams were created as the sport gained in popularity.

YMCA Easters featuring Gene Banker, Ed Deister, Herman Lamb, Ralph Sartor, and some other people, ca. 1900

In 1917, the Neighborhood House organized the semi-pro NH City League which ran until the 1950s. The Neighborhood House Currents, the YMCA Blackhawks, and the Eclipse Machines were the powerhouses of the league, but there were nearly a dozen other teams sponsored by local businesses and organizations as well. Teams played before packed houses at the Elmira Armory. Chemung County teams also participated in regional leagues. The YMCA Blackhawks, Neighborhood House Currents, St. Casimir’s Eagles and Horseheads Merchants all joined the New York-Penn League when it was established in 1937. Some later leagues include the Regional League (early 1940s); the YMCA Blackhawk League (late 1940s- mid 1960s); and the Southern Tier Basketball Association (1950s). Elmira was even home to a professional team which briefly played for the NY-P Pro League in the 1930s and the American Basketball League in the 1950s.

Eclipse Machines, 1942-3, featuring Coach Jim Deegan, Jack asey, Leon Popelewski, Leo Makovitch, Tom Sabran. Jack Biggs, Bill Cieri, Bill Young, Bud Sink and John Gableman.

Neighborhood House Currents, 1944 champions, featuring Nelson Collins, Bruce Hurst, Roland & Howard Coleman, Tommy Reid, Jim Snowden, Nap Shepard, and Bill Lewis.

Beginning in the 1920s, the YMCA and the Neighborhood House hosted post-season tournaments and exhibition games. These tournaments not only featured the usual local talent, but also attracted college players and teams from around the state. Most of these tournaments petered out in the 1970s due, in part, to NCAA rule changes about what players could do in the off season and the fact fans could now watch the pros on TV.

Program for exhibition game between EFA Blue Devils (featuring Ernie Davis) and the Syracuse Devils, 1958

Of course, this blog barely scratches the surface in terms of amateur basketball. All of the local public high schools have teams and, over the years, there have been a number of youth leagues as well. Then there are the factory teams and women’s leagues. They are, however, all stories for another day.

Neighborhood House Youth League champions for all age divisions, 1934-5.

By Kelli Huggins, Education Coordinator

I admittedly, and ashamedly so, have spent some time watching TV shows like “Toddlers and Tiaras” in utter horror. I don’t get the point of putting makeup on your infant so a panel of judges in a sad hotel ballroom can give them a trophy. But my personal feelings on the subject aside, baby shows aren’t a new idea. Certainly, modern kiddie pageants operate in the realm of extremes (Fake teeth? Really?!?), but baby contests date back more than a century, and for periods, were very popular locally.

See #16? Babies like winning contests! From 1907.

Baby shows started in England in the 1880s and soon became popular on our side of the Atlantic. The earliest mentions of baby contests I have found in Chemung County are from the mid-1890s. These earliest shows were primarily held at the County fair. As the newspaper reported, “The baby show is usually a howling success.”

Handbill from the 1896 Chemung County Fair that highlights the baby show.

By the 1900s and 1910s, the contests started to evolve, but many still were in place to find the cutest or most popular baby. A 1905 baby contest at Bethel A.M.E. Church ended when judges “found all so pretty” that it was unfair to choose a winner, so they instead awarded them all prizes. Local babies placed in larger regional or national competitions, too. In 1913, Elmiran Jacob Levine won a baby contest in Scranton, PA, defeating 800 other babies. That same year, Phyllis Jane Dixon won one of the largest national contests at Asbury Park, NJ, earning a gold medal and $15 in gold. She won “not for beauty alone, but for physical and mental perfection.” Other types of contests began to emerge: in the 1910s, the Gerity’s Pharmacy awarded prizes to the first baby born in Elmira each New Year.

Gerity's 1915 winner

In the 1920s and 1930s, the shows morphed into “Better Baby” contests. Building on some of the less destructive ideas of the eugenics movement, Better Baby shows were developed to identify and award healthy babies and to educate mothers about best child-rearing practices. Still, the winners were almost exclusively from white, middle-to-upper class families, so the ideals of the eugenics movement were definitely adhered to. These contests were judged by doctors who gave each child a physical examination.

Dr. Dale examines a baby at a Chemung County contest in 1924.

The competition was fierce and a lot of maternal pride was on the line. As Elmira Telegram opined in 1923, “The man who can act as a judge at a baby show and escape without a scratch is a born diplomat.”

Winners of a 1925 Chemung County Better Baby Contest (the crying girl on the left probably wouldn't have won if she cried like that in judging).

In 1929, one-year-old Edgar Allen Terwilliger defeated 200 other babies to win the Chemung County Better Baby Contest. The show's real purpose was said to be educational. 40 of the 200 babies were deemed “defective,” which was a warning to their families to “keep closer watch of their health.” In 1925, 10-month-old Ruth Barber won 3^rd place in the national Nestle’s Food Healthy Baby Show. She won her picture and story in the “Pictoral Review,” a sterling silver loving cup, and $25 cash.

Nurses hold winning babies of a contest at St. Joseph's Hospital in 1937.

By the late 1930s through the 1950s, many of the contests again turned back towards popularity- or beauty-based judging. In 1939, the Big Flats Baptist Ladies Aid Society held a contest to “determine the most popular baby.” Other local organizations held similar contests.

Advertisement for entrants for the 1938 Daughters of America Baby Show (note the prizes for cutest and most popular babies).

Baby photo contest, 1945.

In 1954, the Big Flats American Legion Auxiliary hosted a snapshot photograph baby contest at Community Days. Photos were posted on a bulletin board at Minier’s Grocery Store and judging was done by a penny vote. The winners got to ride on a special parade float.

A rebellious 1938 local winner.

The baby show craze started to fade away after the 1950s, but clearly didn’t disappear entirely. Early baby shows certainly had some positives, including putting a spotlight on infant health and wellness. The wit and wisdom section of the Star Gazette suggested one other positive in 1928:

“Your baby may not win

In the Baby Show,

If you enter him. But he’ll meet

Some nice babies.”

by Erin Doane, curator

Visitors often ask us about the big, black metal door in the museum’s bank gallery. A lot of children think it must be a jail cell because there are bars behind the door. We tell them that no, it is not a jail cell. It is the Exploding Vault. In 1884, an explosion in that very vault led to the death of John Arnot, Jr.

The "Exploding Vault" with the door closed (l) and the door open (r)

John Arnot Jr. was born in Elmira on March 11, 1831. He was the second son of entrepreneur and businessman John Arnot. In 1852, when his father took over control of the Chemung Canal Bank, he became cashier. Upon his father’s death, he became president of the bank. His duties at the bank were what eventually led to his untimely death.

The Chemung Canal Bank, c. 1900

On the morning of Monday, October 20, 1884, Arnot went to work at the Chemung Canal Bank. He and several clerks began getting ready for the day’s business. At about 9:00am he went into the vault to open the inside safe. He stuck a match to light the gas lamp inside. A massive fireball instantly erupted. The explosion blew Arnot across the room and he struck a cashier’s desk. His clothes were torn from his body, his face was burned black, and his whiskers and hair were completely burned off. He was still conscious, however. When a clerk told him they were sending for a doctor, Arnot said there was no need. The clerk called for one anyway. Arnot had severe burns on his hands and face. The doctor feared that he might lose the sight in one if not both eyes. He also feared that Arnot has suffered severe internal injuries.

The explosions was so immense that nearly every window in the bank was shattered by the concussion. In some cases, the window sashes were completely blown out. It twisted the vault door and tore off the locks. The banking apartments upstairs were even damaged. The blast could be heard and felt for blocks around the bank. People gathered around the building that morning to try to learn what had happened. Reports of the explosion appeared in dozens of newspapers throughout the state and country. The most accepted theory as to the cause of the explosion was that someone left a small gas jet burning in the vault when the bank closed on Saturday afternoon. As soon as the air in the vault was exhausted, the flame went out but gas continued to escape. When Arnot lit a match on Monday morning, the accumulated gas instantly ignited.

John Arnot, Jr.

Arnot was slow to recover from the explosion. Though his injuries were severe, he did not lose his sight. After a time, he was able to return to his seat in Congress. Not only was Arnot a millionaire banker. He was also involved in politics. He served as president of the village of Elmira in 1859, 1860, and 1861 and became the city’s first mayor in 1863. He held that position in 1870 and 1874 as well. In 1882 he was somewhat reluctantly nominated as a candidate for the 28^th congressional district. He was asked twice before he finally accepted. Although he was a member of the Democratic Party in a Republican district he was easily elected. He was reelected in 1884 with little opposition.

John Arnot's letter accepting the nomination for congress, 1882

Arnot returned to his duties in congress but the lingering shock from the accident left him weak and unwell. His fellow congressman notice the change. Congressman Wilkins of Ohio commented, “When he returned to his seat in the first session of the Forty-ninth Congress it was a subject of common remark he was not the same John Arnot as before. At times during this session he would rally and seem to grow stronger, encouraging the hope for his ultimate restoration to health, but for months prior to his death his rapidly failing strength gave unmistakable evidence the end was near.”

Memorial Addresses on the Life and

Character of John Arnot, Jr. Delivered

in the House of Representatives and in

the Senate, February 8, 1887

Ultimately, the injuries he received in the explosion were too great. John Arnot, Jr. died at his home in Elmira on November 20, 1886. His death was announced in the U.S. House of Representatives on December 6 and he was eulogizes by nine of his fellow congressmen on the house floor on February 8, 1887. Locally, he was remembered as one of the most popular and respected men in Elmira. He was known for his kindness and generosity. His contributions to charity helped countless people in the region and were sorely missed after his passing.

Congressman Timothy J. Campbell of New York recounted an incident following Arnot’s death: A very old and poverty-stricken couple, the husband more than eighty years of age and blind and the wife closely approaching the same period of life, froze to death within a few days of Mr. Arnot’s demise—he by the wayside in the midst of a severe snow-storm while out seeking something to provide warmth and food, and she while awaiting in her home his return. It was then ascertained for the first time that for years they had been the constant and regular recipients of the bounty of our friend. The hand and good heart that had protected and provided for them had been too suddenly withdrawn. No one can tell into how many households where there was want, sickness, and the disabled distress entered, although it is to be hoped not in such terrible shape as this, when our friend died.

by Rachel Dworkin, archivist

One of the latest additions to our collection in 2016 is the book Our Gang: A Racial History of the Little Rascals by Julia Lee. In it, Lee places the Our Gang series in its historical racial context and explores how it helped to change that context. The book is interesting and well-written, using research conducted all over the country, including right here in at the Chemung County Historical Society.

The book in question.

The story Hal Roach (1892-1992) liked to tell was that he came up with the Little Rascals in 1921 after watching a group of kids play in a lumber yard, but the idea could have just as easily come from his own youth. Growing up on Elmira’s near-Westside at the turn of the 20^th century, Roach was a scamp of the Tom Sawyer variety. He and his friends ran around the neighborhood, paying games, staging photoplays, and scandalized old ladies by skinny dipping in the Chemung. He took a series of odd jobs throughout his childhood, including one delivering groceries to the Reformatory. Roach got sacked after he was caught smuggling tobacco to the inmates. He was a cut-up at school too. By the time he quit schooling altogether after being expelled from EFA, he had already been thrown out of half-dozen public and private schools throughout the city.

Big rascal Hal Roach and little rascals Allen "Farina" Hoskins and Joe Cobb, ca. 1928

In the same way Roach’s youthful exploits informed the series’ plot, his childhood experiences with race likely influenced his choice to have a diverse cast. By the time Roach was ten, Elmira had a population of approximately 35,000, including a moderately-sized black community. The core of the community was centered around Fourth and Dickinson Streets on the Eastside, but there was also a cluster of black families living on Elmira’s Southside and many of those employed as domestic servants lived with their employers throughout the city. Although few blacks lived in Roach’s neighborhood on Columbia Street, he almost certainly attended classes with black students. He was also probably familiar with the Industrial School, which offered integrated recreational spaces and vocational training to the city’s poorer children.

Elmira Public School No. 1, class of 1895

When the first Our Gang shorts with their racially integrated cast came out, the public reaction was decidedly mixed. Many blacks, including influential members of the press and the head of the NAACP (National Association for the Advancement of Colored People), felt that it might be a vehicle for racial uplift and help to wear down old prejudice. Others felt that the shorts simply recycled old minstrel show tropes and that the characters were, in effect, black children in blackface. Whites too had mixed reactions. In the Jim Crow South, where separate-but-equal kept black and white kids in different schools, theatres and theater-goers praised the series’ minstrel-like characterization even as they protested the integrated gang. Northern whites also expressed certain racial anxieties over the films, but held no protests against them, unlike their southern brethren.

Lantern slide used to advertise "School Begins" (1928) in a local theater. Note the integrated classroom with a side order of racism.

Of course, I’ve only discussed America’s initial reaction to the Our Gang films. There were nearly 200 Our Gang films made between 1922 and 1944, and then those shorts were later re-cut and re-released for television syndication from the 1950s through the 1980s. As American’s views about race and race relations changed, so too did their views on the series. If you’re interested in learning more about this, I suggest you do what I did: read Julia Lee’s book.

Label for an "Our Gang" doll of George "Freckles" Warde, ca. 1922

By Kelli Huggins, Education Coordinator

The Chemung County Historical Society is hosting a soap carving contest to celebrate our new exhibit, Clean. It’s free and open to all ages and you can find out how to participate here: http://www.chemungvalleymuseum.org/soap-contest

But, why soap carving, you might be thinking? It’s a pretty obscure art form to us now, but in the 1920s and 1930s it was wildly popular here and across the country. It really took off when Proctor and Gamble promoted national soap carving contests in an attempt to sell more of their product, Ivory soap. Soap carving was touted as an activity that was accessible for people of all ages and abilities. It was supposed to provide a wholesome outlet for children’s energy and also serve as a low-cost medium for amateur adult artists.

If our amateur artist staff at the museum can do it, so can you.

Beginning in the mid-1920s, the Arnot Art Museum periodically displayed soap sculptures, and the popularity of such exhibits led people to call for local contests. In 1926, the Elmira Community Service provided 100 free instructional booklets to children interested in learning soap carving. In 1945, the Arnot Art Museum displayed sculptures created by 7^thand 8^th grade students at Elmira’s George Washington School. The entries were then to be entered in the National Soap Sculpture Contest in New York City.

William Lavris and Marjorie Kolb inspect entries in the 1945 Arnot Art Museum display.

Even local businesses got in on the craze: this advertisement from The Junior Shop in 1929 tells of a soap display and contest hosted at boys’ clothing store.

So now, I encourage you to help us revive this once popular art form. You don’t need to have any artistic background or special ability. It can be done with a basic kitchen butter knife or you can come to the museum and use our special carving tools during our open carving workshop hours (see here for those times: http://www.chemungvalleymuseum.org/soap-contest). Your work will be on display at the museum and you could even win a prize. And it’s free. Give it a try and you might just uncover a secret talent you never knew you had!

by Erin Doane, curator

The museum has recently received a couple objects related to the USS Chemung. Many people are familiar with the Navy tanker that served through World War II, the Korean War, and the Vietnam War but I will admit that I had never heard of it until I started working here. The ship has a long, interesting history of tragedy and triumph. The Chemung was one of the largest, fastest tankers afloat during the Second World War, it was the first tanker to ever circumnavigate the globe, and, for a time, it was blamed for causing the deaths of 225 sailors aboard the USS Ingraham.

USS Chemung AO-30 – Displacement: 7,295; Length: 553’;
Beam: 45’; Draft: 32’4”; Speed: 18.5 knots; Compliment: 304;
Class: Cimarron

The tanker was first launched in 1939 by Standard Oil Co. of New Jersey. It was christened ESSO Annapolis. In 1941, the U.S. Navy commissioned the ship to join its tanker fleet and renamed it USS Chemung. Navy tankers are traditionally named after rivers and this one was named for the river that runs right through our county. In the beginning it was used to transport fuel oil between Texas and Louisiana oil ports and east coast ports but within months it was making trans-Atlantic deliveries.

Flag that flew on the USS Chemung during World War II

The main duty of the Chemung was refueling aircraft carriers, destroyers, cruisers, and battleships while they were at sea. William M’Gaffin, Special Correspondent to The Chicago Daily Times during World War II described such a refueling operation:
A big essex class carrier is selected and the tanker pulls alongside. A light line is shot across, then a messenger, and finally a rope to which is tied the pythonlike hose. A destroyer comes along on the other side, hoses are sent across to her, then telephone lines to the hose station, while the other wires connect the bridge with hers.

The ships continue moving at fast clip through the sea, in the direction of the enemy.

“We’re ready,” comes the word over the telephone. “Start your pumps.” “The pumps are started,” goes back the answer.

The thick, black oil begins to flow through the hoses as the three ships proceed through the water. Keen-eyed helmsmen, the key men in the operation, keep the ships steady, even distances from each other.

The fuel gurgles swiftly now through the snaky hoses, suspended limply on curved wooden saddles tied to booms projecting over the water. They are tended by hand on the big ships, by winch on the tankers. They are paid in and out gradually to compensate for the occasional widening and narrowing of the distances between. Three or four destroyers are re-fueled while the carrier’s thirsty innards are being filled.”

The Chemung refueling an aircraft carrier

The Chemung crossed the submarine-infested waters of the Atlantic Ocean 28 times during World War II but it did not come through the “Battle of the Atlantic” unscathed. On August 20, 1942 the tanker departed from New York with a convoy bound for the United Kingdom. Two days later, it collided with the destroyer USS Ingraham. The Ingraham was in the process of trying to recover survivors from the USS Buck which had just had its stern sliced off. The depth charges in the stern of the destroyer exploded and it sank almost immediately. All but 16 of the 241 men aboard the Ingraham were lost. The Chemung lost 30 feet of its bow and caught fire. Despite having a full load of fuel, it did not explode and the fire was extinguished without any loss of life. The tanker reached Boston on August 26 for repairs. For years, the Chemung was blamed for causing the collision but a confidential inquiry eventually absolved the Chemung of responsibility.

Pieces of shrapnel from the USS Ingraham

After repairs were completed, the Chemung went back into service. It took part in the North African invasion and was attached to the task force that invaded Sicily, Anzio, and Southern France. It even fueled Roosevelt’s convoy to Yalta in 1942. In 1945, the Chemung became the first tanker to circumnavigate the globe. It left Norfolk on July 18 and passed through the Panama Canal for service at Okinawa. In October it left to return to the United States, this time passing through the Cape of Good Hope. It finally arrived back at Norfolk on December 6. Over the course of the war, the Chemung pumped 174.3 million gallons of gas, logged 250 million sailing miles over 10 seas and oceans, and earned the nickname “Life Line of the Fleet.”

The Chemung operated with the Atlantic Fleet from November 12, 1948 until March 17, 1950 when it sailed for San Diego. It was decommissioned in July of that year and placed in reserve. It was recommissioned in 1950 for service in the Korean War and continued as part of the tanker fleet through the Vietnam War. The “Mighty Mung” received two battle stars for its World War II service and four for its service in the Korean War. The tanker was finally decommissioned on September 18, 1970 and scrapped. CCHS has a large collection of objects from the USS Chemung including ashtrays made from shell casings from the tanker’s guns, commemorative lighters, playing cards, and hats, and a sweater from the on-board basketball team. We also have a ceremonial plaque from the tanker that was presented to the museum in 1971 by the U.S. Navy through the Horseheads Naval Reserve.

Ceremonial plaque presented to CCHS in 1971

Ashtray made from spent shell casing

Lighter recently donated to CCHS

Commemorative playing cards

USS Chemung hats worn by veterans

Recently-donated sweater worn by a member of the
basketball team aboard the USS Chemung

by Rachel Dworkin, archivist

In the spring of 1932, Chemung County’s trolleys were doomed. On April 27, the Elmira Water, Light & Railroad Company which ran the system became the Elmira Light, Heat and Power Corporation, a subsidiary of Associated Gas & Electric Company (later NYSEG). Primarily a utility, the company had little use for trolleys. Over the next few years, the company let the county’s once robust trolley system fall into disrepair. Cars were run until their motors burned out and replaced with buses. In 1938, the company requested permission from the Elmira City Council to abandon the trolleys and transition entirely to buses. On December 30, 1938, they received their permission and got to work dismantling Chemung County’s trolley system.

At the time, there were 30 miles of trolley tracks which ran throughout Elmira, the Heights, Horseheads, Big Flats, and Millport. Despite their request, NYSEG did not actually have enough buses to cover all the routes. Luckily, the Council had given them 90 days to finish making the substitutions. On January 30, 1939, the area was hit by a heavy storm and NYSEG used to opportunity to switch out trolleys for buses on most city routes as well as the Horseheads run. The last day of trolley service in Elmira Heights was on February 11. The Southside service along Maple Avenue was the last to be switched over to buses on March 10, 1939. Workers from the Works Progress Administration (WPA) started pulling up the tracks as soon as the transition was complete.

WPA Workers taking up tracks on Water Street, 1939

On March 11, 1939, the city threw a parade to celebration the decommissioning of Elmira’s last trolley. Hundreds of people lined the street as the trolley, ‘pulled’ by a team of horses, made one last circuit from City Hall through downtown to the car barn on Fifth Street. As the trolley approached the car barn, the various dignitaries who had been aboard for the parade began to strip it for souvenirs. One enterprising soul managed to remove the fuse to the air brakes. After reaching the car bar and switching off the power, the motorman and passengers were alarmed when trolley began to roll backwards as they scrambled to get off.

Last Trolley parade, March 11, 1939

Ralph Denmark, motorman on the final run, March 11, 1939

At precisely 4:16 pm, A.C. Jordan, electrical superintendent of NYSEG Elmira Division, ordered the power shut off along the entire system. The switch was flipped by Fred B. Reynolds, the man who had turned on Elmira’s first electric trolley 46 years earlier.

by Kelli Huggins, Education Coordinator

When I wrote the blog post about a mob assaulting Governor Theodore Roosevelt on the streets of Elmira, I figured that it was a singular incident. I was wrong. In 1884 (16 years before the Roosevelt assault), an Elmira man assaulted then-Governor Grover Cleveland in Albany. It turns out that while peaceful political disagreement hasn't always been our strong suit, assaulting future presidents has.

On the morning of October 20, 1884, Samuel T. Boom of Elmira hid and waited for Governor Cleveland to make his way to his Executive Chamber in Albany. When Cleveland made it to the intersection of Lancaster and Eagle Streets, Boom rushed him and attempted to punch the Governor twice. When Cleveland deflected those blows, Boom went to pick up a paving stone but was stopped by a bystander. At some point in the brawl, Cleveland received a minor cut behind the ear. In the ensuing chaos, Boom ran away to his boarding house, where he was promptly arrested. According to the press, Cleveland laughed about the attack and the news noted that Boom was "a small, delicate man."

This sign is talking about a different type of retaliation than what Mr. Boom had planned.

Boom later acknowledged that the attack was a mistake and the complicated back story of the incident emerged. Allegedly, Mrs. Boom had been seeking a pardon for her imprisoned brother from the Governor and his lack of a response had supposedly exacerbated her preexisting illness to the point that she was near death. Mrs. Boom had first asked the Governor for a pardon during his visit to Elmira several weeks before the Albany assault. The Booms later went to Albany to follow-up with Cleveland and in a meeting in the Executive Chambers a few days before the assault, Cleveland told the family he hadn't gotten to examine their case yet because of the large number of other requests her received. He did, however, tell them that the pardon was unlikely to be granted because of the opposition of the District Attorney and the Elmira police. Boom was enraged and threatened to find out if the Governor was responsible for this and "slap his chops." A few days after that, Mrs. Boom returned and had to be removed from the Chambers because she was in hysterics. Mr. Boom thought that the bruises on his wife's arms were made by Cleveland. Boom began stalking Cleveland, learning the route he took to work, as he plotted his revenge, which led to the assault.

Hat featuring Grover Cleveland on the interior. Worn by a supporter, unlike Boom.

Apparently, the Governor and the Albany police found Boom to be a rather pathetic case, because the papers reported, "The crank who assaulted Gov. Cleveland was discharged without punishment."

by Erin Doane, curator

Child in fur-lined coat and hat, 1880s

From pretty much the beginning of human existence, we have been wearing fur to stay warm. The museum has a fairly large collection of items made with fur, from coats and stoles to muffs and fur-lined boots. Some pieces were made for functionality, like the coat and mittensRoss Marvin wore on his first Arctic expedition, while others were obviously made only for fashion, like this hat decorated with ermine tails.

Hat decorated with ermine tails and veil, 1950

In the Victorian era, fur was used on all sorts of clothing and accessories. Both winter and summer dresses were decorated with fur trim. Coats and capes with fur cuffs and collars were popular with both men and women. Wide fur stoles and plush muffs provided warmth and style.

Voided velvet cape with fur trim, 1880

Fur-lined carriage boots, 1890s

Woman wearing a wide fur stole, 1860s

Over the years, nearly every type of fur has been used in fashionable clothing and accessories. Furs from mink, sable, and fox never go out of fashion while furs from monkeys, dogs, and skunks were only trendy for short periods of time. Perhaps one of the most disturbing furs that seems to stay in fashion is known as astrakhan. The beautiful tight, curly fur is taken from fetal karakul lambs.

Astrakhan and velveteen muff, 1910s

The “modern fur coat,” with fur worn on the outside rather than as a lining, first appeared in the mid-19th century but did not gain popularity until the early 20th century. In the 1920s, people wore large, full fur coats to stay warm while traveling in open motorcars. Similarly, college men wore raccoon coats while attending football games. By the middle of the century, new techniques of processing and dying furs made it possible for more people than ever before to own fur coats.

Man's fur coat, late 19th-early 20th century

Ladies in fur coats, 1946

The museum has collected many pieces of fur, not only because they are examples of historic fashion but also because of the stories they tell. The coat pictured below was made by Jesse Green Furrier, Elmira. The donor told the story of how his wife took pelts that were trapped-locally to Jesse Green to have them made into a coat. He remembered her traveling several times to Elmira for fittings while it was being made. Then she came home with the truly one-of-a-kind, hand-made fur coat.

Front and back views of coat made by Jesse Green Furrier

One other fur in our collection has a very interesting story that I just learned several weeks ago. This fur pelt brings us back to arctic explorer, Ross Marvin. The museum has many of his items including clothing and personal souvenirs from his voyage. Among his things is what I assumed to be a wolf’s pelt, as there was little documentation in our records. A short time ago, Kelli came across a 1931 Elmira Star-Gazette article about Marvin’s collection with a list of items. On that list was “one Eskimo dog skin (taken from a dog eaten by Marvin on his first expedition to keep from starving.)”

Eskimo dog skin brought back by Ross Marvin, 1905

by Rachel Dworkin, archivist

On August 1, 1851, R.W. Thompson, a black barber from Owego, New York, purchased a first class ticket to travel to Seneca Lake on the New York and Erie Railroad along with his wife and sister-in-law. Upon reaching Elmira, they were approached by the conductor, John McWilliams, and asked to move to the colored section of the train car. Thompson refused and that’s when the story got complicated. According to the Owego Gazette, Mr. Thompson was tackled by 8 or 10 railroad employees and forcibly thrown off the train while Mrs. Thompson was locked out on the platform of the rear car until the train reached Horseheads. The Elmira Gazette, however, reported that Thompson was forcibly moved to the colored car and then chose to remove himself from the train in protest. Within a week, Thompson and his attorney George Sidney Camp, Esq. had filed suit against McWilliams and the railroad. I was unable to find any record of who won.

The press coverage of the incident was, unsurprisingly, painfully racist, even the stuff which supported Thompson. Here are some choice examples:

Owego Gazette, August 7, 1851. This is an example of what modern civil rights activists call "respectability politics."

Elmira Gazette, August 14, 1851. Why bother fighting racism when it's just so upsetting and inconvenient for everyone involved?

In 1890, Louisiana became the first state to mandate that railroad companies have separate cars for blacks and whites with the infamous Separate Car Act. The act was wildly unpopular with both blacks, who thought it was racist, and the railroad companies, who thought it was too expensive to implement. On June 7, 1892, Homer Plessy, a mix-race civil rights activist working with the Comité des Citoyens (Committee of Citizens), boarded a whites-only train car on the East Louisiana Railroad in deliberate defiance of that state’s Separate Car Act. Plessy and the Comité des Citoyens, along with the railroad company, had arranged to have Plessy arrested specifically so they could challenge the constitutionality of the law under the grounds that it violated the Thirteenth and Fourteen Amendments to the Constitution. Unfortunately, the plan backfired. Badly. After losing at every level of the courts, Plessy brought to case to the Supreme Court of the United States where, on May 18, 1896, the court upheld the law in a 7-1 decision establishing ‘separate but equal’ as the law of the land. It was not until Brown vs. the Board of Education (1954) when the court realized that separate was inherently unequal. Even then, it took the Civil Rights Act of 1964 to officially prohibit segregation.

By Kelli Huggins, Education Coordinator

“I am unable to understand why a woman performing exactly the same duties as a man should receive less compensation for her services,” wrote New York Governor Alfred Smith when he signed the Teachers’ Salary Act in 1924, which was supposed to eliminate pay discrimination due to gender. Women had just earned the right to vote and equality was a hot topic. Unfortunately, despite this new mandate, pay equality didn’t come immediately for all female teachers. Rena Rockwell, a teacher and head of the history department at the Elmira Free Academy, made it her personal mission to change that.

In the 1920s, Rockwell was the president of the Elmira Teachers’ Association and used her post to advocate for equal pay legislation. In May 1924, Rockwell went to Albany advocating for the equal pay act. She expressed her embarrassment that Elmira was the only place to send both a mayor and a female Board of Education member to fight against the bill. Still, the bill passed and Rockwell said, “The pleasure of hearing those men who have blustered so often in state association meetings and other gatherings of teachers, humiliated by the governor’s searching questions, was worth the trip to Albany.” She also noted, “we in Elmira are not to reap immediate fruits of victory in any increased pay. But there is a much bigger victory than the financial, the victory of principle. It remains for us all to reap fruits according as we sow… Remember that this is part of the whole movement for the rights of women. We have the suffrage: much else we have not yet.”

True to her word, Rockwell continued her battle for the “fruits of victory” for Elmira teachers. She took the Board of Education to court and on June 9, 1925, New York Supreme Court Justice Leon C. Rhodes decided that Rockwell was entitled to pay equal to that of her male colleague Ralph S. Austin. Rockwell asked the court to force the Board to increase her annual pay from $2,000 to $2,100. Austin received $2,100 even though he did the same work as Rockwell (he arguably did less than her since she was also head of the department). The Board of Education claimed, however, that the Legislature had no right to decide the details of teacher contracts and that pay raises would hurt the city’s budget. Judge Rhodes decided in Rockwell’s favor and ordered she be paid the $2,100 salary and back pay.

On June 10, the Elmira Board of Education voted unanimously to appeal the decision. The Appellate Division sided with the Board of Education. Rockwell was ordered to pay $153.30 to cover court costs.

Despite setbacks in Elmira, Rockwell’s work inspired other cases, particularly in Syracuse. In 1927, Cornelia Moses, a Syracuse teacher, became the center of a similar pay case and was able to close the pay gap, but again, the appeals court found that there still could be differences in pay as long as gender wasn’t the only reason for the discrepancy.

Rockwell still continued her work advocating for teachers and in October 1926 she was elected president of the Teachers’ Welfare League of New York State. She continued to be a driving force in state and local politics for the rest of her life. When she died in October 1947, she was hailed for her political action. The Elmira Star-Gazette wrote, “No one knew better than she that many disagreed with her opinions; but everyone respected her faithful, spirited adherence to what she believed to be right.”

by Erin Doane, curator

Susan Langdon Crane was an activist, a humanitarian, a reformer, a businesswoman and dairy farmer, a gardener, and a devoted member of Park Church. She was also Olivia “Livy” Langdon’s sister which made her Samuel Clemens’ (aka Mark Twain’s) sister-in-law. While being the in-law of a famous writer may be what Susan Crane is best known for, it is certainly not the most important part of her long, meaningful life.

Susan Langdon Crane

Susan Dean was born in 1836 in Spencer, New York to Elijah and Mary Dean. Both her parents died when she was very young and Jervis and Olivia Langdon adopted her. In 1858 she married Theodore Crane, one of Jervis’s business associates. The couple never had children but Susan was very close to her sister Livy and her children. Susan was with Livy in Buffalo when she gave birth to her first child, Langdon. All three of Livy’s daughters, Clara, Jean, and Susy, were born at Quarry Farm, Susan and Theodore’s home. Susan helped care for Livy and the girls through various illnesses and traveled with the family in Europe. When Samuel Clemens departed with Livy and Clara on a world tour in 1895, Susy and Jean stayed with Susan. She was also the only family member present at Susy’s death.

Susan Crane (center back) relaxes with family

and household staff at Quarry Farm

Quarry Farm may be most famous as Mark Twain’s summer home, but it was Susan and Theodore Crane’s full-time residence. Susan inherited the property upon Jervis Langdon’s death in 1870. The farm had served as a summer cottage for the Langdon family. The Cranes turned it into a year-round home. Susan referred to Quarry Farm as “Go As You Please Hall.” She happily shared her home with Livy’s family during the summers for nearly 20 years. In that time she got to know Samuel Clemens quite well. She became his trusted friend and a sounding board for his writing. In 1874, she presented him with an octagonal writing study. This provided him with a quiet place to work and kept his constant smoking out of the main house. Clemens considered Quarry Farm the home of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn because the atmosphere of the place helped bring the characters to life.

Quarry Farm was not only a place of leisure for Susan Crane. In 1903, it became a place of business. By the turn of the 20^th century things had quieted down at the farm. Theodore Crane had died in 1889 and the Clemens family no longer summered there. In the early 1900s, frequent outbreaks of typhoid fever in the area were linked to dirty milk. The Elmira Academy of Medicine appointed a Milk Commission to try to solve the problem. The commission tried to get local milk producers to make efforts of produce more hygienic milk but all declined because the costs were too great. At the age of 66, Susan Crane volunteered to work with the commission and established the Quarry Farm Dairy. Her dairy produced milk under such sanitary conditions that it was the first to be certified by the health authorities as germ-free. The diary operated until 1919, selling clean milk in and around Elmira and donating it to local hospitals and sick families.

Susan Crane on the porch at Quarry Farm

I suspect that Quarry Farm Dairy was not a major money-making venture for Susan Crane but it was a continuation of her life-long efforts to improve her community. She was a reformer and activist from an early age. Her first major community service came during the Civil War. At the age of 28 she was the chair of the Soldier’s Relief Association Finance Committee. Records show that in November 1864 she managed expenditures totaling $609.98 with $3,693.53 remaining cash on hand. Today, that would equal approximately $9,000 in expenditures and $56,000 cash on hand. She was also a member of the Women’s Christian Temperance Union and a supporter of the Elmira Industrial School, which provided low income and minority children with training in trades.

One of Susan Cranes’ most long-lasting and important community roles was as a member of the Park Church. She joined the then Independent Congregational Church in 1852 when she was 16 years old and was a member for 72 years. At the time of her death on August 29, 1924 she was the oldest member of the church. For over 60 years Susan prepared the communion table. She baked the bread, poured the wine, and cared for the linens. She joyfully continue the task even as her strength began to fail in her later years. She also provided floral arrangements for the church every Sunday for 50 years. She became known as “Our Lady of the Flowers,” because of this and only missed doing it twice – once on the Sunday following her husband Theodore’s death and once in the early 1910s when a week of heavy snow made it impossible to get down the hill from Quarry Farm. In a tribute to Susan Crane after her death in 1924, Rev. Albert G. Cornell called this her “floral ministry” and said that she “quietly preached the gospel of beauty through her floral sermons.”

Program from the Silent Ministry of the Park Church

celebrating Susan Crane’s 80^thbirthday in 1916

By Rachel Dworkin, Archivist

On August 19, 1920, 18-year-old Ruth Blackman of Elmira jumped from the wings of an airplane at an altitude of 3,500 feet. Performing before a crowd of 43,000 nervous spectators at the Wyoming County Fair, she climbed out along the wing of the biplane piloted by her friend Leon ‘Windy’ Smith. “It was so cold up there that my hands and legs seemed numb when I stepped out,” she later told a newspaper reporter. “Added to this was the terrific force of the plane.” Despite the cold and the wind, Blackman made it out and, after receiving the signal from the pilot, stepped off the wing and into thin air.

“I dropped like a rock for about 30 feet until I felt the parachute open and hold me securely. Then it was just an easy drop downward….When I got nearer the earth, I saw that I was likely to fall on top of a barn. I paddled with my feet to get away from that and then I had to do some maneuvering to avoid landing on a fence or in a tree. Finally I plumped right down in a bean field.”

The jump was Blackman’s first from an airplane, but not her first time parachuting. She had jumped from a hot air once balloon before, but found jumping from a plane much more thrilling. Over the course of the summer, Blackman and Smith made 13 additional appearances and jumps at fairs throughout the Twin Tiers. They tried spicing up the routine with tricks like jumping with an open bag of flour and jumping from one plane onto another. In mid-October she and Smith traveled to Atlanta, Georgia where they performed aerial stunts for a movie which was being filmed there.

Ruth Blackman and Leon 'Windy' Smith, 1920

It was Blackman’s ambition to purchase her own plane and travel the country on the barnstormer circuit. Maybe she did; she disappeared from the local papers after 1920. By the summer of 1921, pilot Leon ‘Windy’ Smith had a new partner, the 17-year-old Elmira girl Irene DeVere. She made her first jump over Mansfield, PA, and continued to work with him for the next few years. When she wasn’t jumping out of airplanes, the petite, 92 pound daredevil worked as a stenographer.

Irene DeVere, badass daredevil/stenographer

by Bruce Whitmarsh, Director

Throughout March the Chemung County Historical Society has been highlighting the interesting history of some amazing local women as part of our celebration of Women’s History Month. I wanted to take a moment and recognize the women doing history right here at the CCHS. I have four dedicated and talented professionals who make the CCHS work every day.

Erin Doane is the curator here at the Historical Society and the results of her work are the most public. Anytime that you see an exhibit in the Chemung Valley History Museum, at one of our ECSD school partners or somewhere else in the community, this is Erin’s work. Creating and installing the exhibits is not all that is on her plate, she is also responsible for the care and maintenance of our three dimensional collection, everything from furniture to fire trucks and pottery to paintings. The CCHS has over 25,000 items in this collection and it is always growing. For greater insight into the job of a curator, check out Erin’s blog at http://chemung-valley-curator.tumblr.com/curatorsday.

Erin in her 1920s attire at the opening of our Chemung County in the 1920s exhibit.

Rachel Dworkin, our archivist, is well known to all the researchers of our area. She oversees the Booth Library and Archives. This part of the Historical Society holds all the manuscripts, newspapers, letters photographs and other such material. In all there is nearly one million pieces in this collection. The Booth Library and Archives is the primary resource for local history and Rachel is very familiar with the collection, quickly able to direct researchers to the resources they are looking for.

Rachel in the Booth Library and Archives

Kelli Huggins is a familiar face to the school children of this area. She is the Museum educator, responsible for all of our programming. This includes all of the visits in to classrooms. In January through March 2016, Kelli will reach almost 1200 students through in class visits. She also develops this programming as well, matching classroom needs with museum resources to make history come alive for the students. Thanks to Kelli we have a strong and growing home school program, reaching a new audience for this institution and better utilizing our resources for the entire community. Kelli’s hard work does not stop with the students however, if you have ever been to a lecture or program here at the museum, she did that as well.

Kelli leading a gold panning program with 2nd graders.

Probably the least publicly known staff member is Christine Gunderson, our office manager. She handles all of our everyday transactions, balancing monthly statements, paying bills and keeping us all in line with our budgets. She also oversees the front desk staff, keeps the membership database up to date, and handles all the rental and upkeep of the Lawrence Chapel. She might not be in public eye very often, but every project we do some part of it passes through her office.

Individually each of these women do an outstanding job, collectively they form a tremendous team. We are a small business and to get everything done, everyone pitches in. Exhibits are the responsibility of Erin, but they would not be complete without the hard work of Rachel and Kelli’s contributions. School groups are Kelli’s domain, but the rest of the staff helps make things work when 65 second graders show up and it takes all of the staff doing their respective jobs and more to make our big events, like GhostWalk, happen.

I am very proud of this staff and the great work they do along with making my job much easier. I hope that the next time you visit, either online or in person, you will take a minute to recognize all the hard work it takes to make this place function and think about the great staff that gets it all done.

by Kelli Huggins, Education Coordinator

In early 1892, Louise, or Louie, Dawes of Elmira married John Madsen who was originally from Denmark or Sweden. Dawes was about 40 years old and she had never previously married. She met her husband through her brother who was an acquaintance of Madsen. Madsen was new in town and told the family about his 1,600 acre ranch in California and his mansion with 11 rooms. He promised to marry Dawes and then take the whole family to his California estate.

The pair got married on a Sunday and Madsen borrowed $90 from the family to buy their train tickets west. He left the following letter:

"My dear darling- I will not be back before noon, so wi tak the 1-45 treen, hav every ting retty.

Your Hospon,

Jno."

He didn't come back.

Madsen was arrested in Albany and the police seized money, diamonds, and jewelry. There it was revealed that his real name was John Anderson, a.k.a. the “bigamous Dane,” who allegedly had twenty or more wives.

The bigamous Dane

He was brought to trial in Cleveland, OH by a Ellen Purcell, who Andersen married in St. Louis and deserted at the Forest City House on Christmas Day, taking over $1,200 of her money. Dawes and her family made the trip to Cleveland to attend the trial. In courtroom Dawes came face to face with her former husband and didn’t speak but Andersen’s face turned “ashen white and walked with a nervous step to the prisoner’s dock” The prosecutor painted Anderson as a con artist who took advantage of virtuous women like Purcell and Dawes. The jury took only 15 minutes to decide he was guilty of bigamy and larceny.

Dawes never married again, but she lived a long and busy life. She was a member of many local clubs and organizations and lived at least into her late 90s.

Dawes at her 96th birthday party.

by intern Jonah Fisch-Gertz

Good morning faithful readers of this wonderful blog. My name is Jonah Fish-Gertz, and I am one of the ~~slaves~~ interns here at the Chemung County Historical Society. I have spent seven and a half days (or 180 hours) poring through our map cabinets to organize them, and only scratched the surface of what we have. But I’m here today to tell you about just one of the many, many maps we have: MP 69.289.

M(69).289 in all it's glory.

That number does not tell you much about this map, or even where to find it (I left it in MP 02, D-04, F-03 if you are curious. {That is, map cabinet 2, drawer 4, folder 3.}) The formal title of this map is: “Map of the State of New York with the Latest Improvements.” Yet that title does not quite do this map justice. Created around 1833 by one H. Phelps, this map predates the city of Elmira, and Chemung County. Of course, the village of Newtown in Tioga County is on the map, but only true history buffs, like all of you, would be able to discern from this the truth. This is what first drew me to this map, the incongruity caused by the lack of Elmira on a map stored in the historical society based in Elmira.

However, there is so much more to this map. Many things have changed in these last 183 years, some more so than the name of our fair city. For instance, the New York and Massachusetts border has a much more aggravated angle, and in fact the line running south from Vermont looks very much like a nose, with the kinks and angles between New York and Mass and CT. While we are on the topic of borders, the border of Steuben County, our wonderful neighbor to the West and my childhood home, stretches from its current Western border to Seneca Lake! It is in fact almost fifty percent larger on this map than it is in our day and age. And speaking of our neighbors, let us turn to MP 69.289’s depiction of Canada, or should I say Upper and Lower Canada, the British Colonies. They are still British colonies. That’s all I had to say on them, but that is really cool. So, to summarize the wacky borders, Chemung County does not exist, Steuben County it reaching its fingers across as many Finger Lakes as it can, Massachusetts has a nose, and Canada is still ruled from Europe.

But that is not all! The wonderful highways and roads that knit this state together, allowing us to get around now are far from extant. Distances on this map are along the post roads, though those are few and far between. Instead, we have this wonderful competition between the canals and the railways to link the state. The canals seem to have the lead, especially with that new “Grand Canal” that stretches from Buffalo to Albany. Numerous other canals connect this Erie waterway to the other major cities, while railroads are depicted mostly in the Southern reaches of the state, and then only over short distances. Clearly this newfangled fad of roads made from rails will not catch on! The age of the canal will be eternal. Of course, for the common traveler this map does mark the routes for both stage coaches and steamers, though the range of the latter is somewhat limited.

Of course, all these things were not at all unusual for those that would have used the map at the time, even though they fascinate us! This map served a purpose to its readers, and the title, like all good titles, tells us what it was; to show off how advanced and organized New York was, how improved it had become since the Empire State fought against the British Empire. I have already mentioned the canals, but this map also shows off the details of these canals, grades, distances, all you need to know about these revolutionary waterways is right there on the map, with charts and tables.

Map detail showing profile of the Western Canal, aka, the Erie Canal.

Other tables on this map also inform the reader of all eleven of the newspapers available in the state, and the crown jewel, all four colleges! With eleven papers and four colleges, surely New York State is advanced and ready for the modern age!

Map detail showing a chart of newspapers and a profile of the Northern Canal.

With the modern age come a population boom, and New York was a core part of this, as is represented by another table on the map. All fifty five and a half counties (Hamilton County, though de jure independent, was still de facto governed by Montgomery County, and is recognized as such in the chart) of our state at the time are listed, with the county seat, number of citizens eligible to vote, and the size of the militia. So, for instance the entry for Tioga County, with the dual seats of Owego and Newtown had around 20,000 people. 2,000 militia, 3,000 electors. For comparison, the City of Elmira now has around 29,000 people living in it, and all those over the age of 18 {and not convicted felons} can vote. We also do not have a militia. Also, there are 62 counties in New York as of now. May, how things change!

Detail with population chart.

As a final note on what this map shows, it has normal latitude and longitude, but additionally the map provides its location relative to Washington DC. This is a common theme on maps from this time, relating locations not to England, but to America. And while this map is not dated in years from American Independence, many are as well. There was a strong sense of nationalism growing even then, of America as the nation others ought to measure up to.

That is all that was printed on the map, and that alone is deeply fascinating. Yet there are also other things on the map, things added by those whom have owned it over the years. There is the accession number we gave it, written small and innocuously on the back, but others have outlined some of the counties in color, or scribbled notes on the back. The map itself shows signs of folding, and if folded again (which would be a bad idea. Please refrain from damaging our lovely maps should you ever get a chance to see them) would probably fit into a pocket. This map was used, it was a living document. It served a purpose outside of sitting in a drawer, gathering dust until an overenthusiastic intern pulled it out to write a blog post about it. That is something we should keep in mind as we examine the artifacts we have, that they served a purpose, that they were used. And while the exhibits in the museum do a wonderful job demonstrating this, sometimes living in the archives separates us from remembering the practical uses these artifacts were put to. At one point someone really needed to scrawl a random series of numbers, and they used the map from their pocket to do so. Someone wanted to emphasize one county above the others, and so outlined it. This map has had a life.

That’s why I like this map so much, why I’m writing about it above the other hundreds of things I pulled out of the map drawers. It is a deeply fascinating snap shot of our state from almost two hundred years ago. It is deeply informative both of things common at the time, and specialized knowledge the map was created to represent. At the same time, the map has clearly had a life of its own. It is more than just a reference piece, to be consulted and trawled for knowledge. It is deeply fascinating. That is why this post is an ode to MP (69) 289, to “Map of the State of New York with the Latest Improvements,” to my favorite map that I have come across since coming here.

by Erin Doane, curator

Stoneware was widely popular in the United States in the 19^th century. The pottery was fired at extremely high heat, making it very durable and suitable for daily use. Many companies that made stoneware stamped their names on the pieces they made. Just recently, CCHS received a collection of stoneware stamped “E.W. Farrington.” The company produced drain tiles and fire bricks as well as stoneware pottery. The potterybore the marks “J. Farrington & Co. / Elmira, N.Y.,” “E.W. Farrington,” and “E.W. Farrington & Co. / Elmira, N.Y.”

E.W. Farrington stamp on a piece of stoneware

James B. Farrington came to Elmira around 1862 from Havana, New York (now Montour Falls). Two years later, his wife and children joined him here. In 1868, he and Orin C. Walter took over a local pottery manufacturing business. Albert O. Whittemore had built the stoneware factory in 1865 at 900 East Church Street. Whittemore also operated a similar plant in Havana. The Elmira factory was next to the Chemung Canal so clay and other supplies could be brought in by water and finished products could be shipped out the same way.

Large crock made by E.W. Farrington

In 1876, Orin Walter left the business and was replaced by a man named Everard. At that point the business changed its name to Farrington and Everard. After Everard died in 1881, James Farrington brought his son E. Ward into the business and the company name became J.B. Farrington and Company.

Advertisement from the 1885 Elmira city directory

Upon the death of his father in July 1887, E. Ward Farrington took over the company and operated it himself under the name E.W. Farrington & Co. On February 16, 1894, a note in the Elmira Daily Gazette and Free Press announced that “the pottery of Ward Farrington on East Church Street has been shut down, owing to the oversupply of earthen wares on hand and no market. Seven employes (sic) are thrown out of employment.” In 1913, a fire destroyed the storehouse located in the rear of the old pottery works. E. Ward Farrington remained listed in the Elmira city directories as a seller of stoneware until 1916. Perhaps the business no longer manufactured pottery but still sold it. In 1917, E.W. Farrington was listed as selling only wood and coal.

Three E.W. Farrington stoneware jugs

While the factory was in operation, the crocks, jugs, and pitchers produced by Farrington were sold to various businesses and individuals. Different sizes of jugs were used by wholesale and retail wine and liquor sellers here in Elmira including J.J. O’Connor, John M. Connelly, Fred Ferris, and C.E. Vinton. The number on the side of many of the jugs indicates how many gallons of liquid it could hold.

E.W. Farrington stoneware jugs used by

local businesses in three different sizes

Stoneware butter crocks made by Farrington were also used by creameries such as the Atwater Brothers.

Atwater Bros. butter crock made by E.W. Farrington

One interesting thing about the Farrington pottery factory was that none of its owners were potters. They were all businessmen who relied on their hired craftsmen to do the actual work. This may not be at all unusual for businesses today but it marks Farrington as one of the few potteries in New York State that was owned for its entire history by men who were untrained as potters.

Stoneware spittoon made by E.W. Farrington

The recent donation of eleven pieces of Farrington stoneware is a great addition to CCHS’s collections. The museum now has examples of the many different shapes and sizes of jugs, crocks, and other pieces that were made by the company and used by other local businesses.

E.W. Farrington jug used by the

Family Liquor Store of Elmira

The Great White Fleet

by Rachel Dworkin, archivist

On December 16, 1907, the Great White Fleet, a United States Naval battle group consisting of 18 ships manned by 14,000 sailors, set sail from Hampton Roads, Virginia to begin it’s nearly 2-year voyage to circumnavigate the globe. One of those sailors was a 19-year-old Elmiran named Chauncey Lawrence (1888-1951) who was serving aboard the U.S.S. Wisconsin. His personal papers including photographs and a scrapbook from the voyage were recently donated to CCHS and they are pretty darn neat.

Sailor Chauncey W. Lawrence, 1907

Ostensibly, the fleet was a goodwill gesture designed to augment America’s diplomatic efforts with friendly (or at least friendly-ish) nations around the world. It was, after all, fairly common at the time for the navies of the various nations to visit each other’s ports, especially in conjunction important anniversaries or celebrations. At the same time, the Great White Fleet was a clear demonstration of America’s naval power. The defeat of the Russian Navy during the Russo-Japanese War in 1905 had given rise to anxieties about an ambitious Japan, especially along the west coast. By sending the fleet, President Roosevelt hoped to intimidate the Japanese enough to keep them in check.

Yokohama, Japan, during the Fleet's visit, October 18-25, 1908

The fleet’s voyage took nearly 2 years and included 17 extended stops in 14 countries. The Panama Canal wasn’t in operation yet, so the fleet had to travel down the coast of South America and through the Strait of Magellan. On the way home, they were able to bypass the Horn of Africa by taking the Suez Canal. They arrived back in Hampton Roads on February 22, 1909.

Commemorative medal given to sailors of the Great White Fleet during one of their stops in 1908.

Chauncey Lawrence’s collection from the voyage includes postcards from every port the fleet visited, as well as a smattering of photographs. After the voyage, Lawrence married the sister of one of his fellow crewmen and lived for a while with her family in Colorado. He re-enlisted in the Navy during World War I. While he was unable to be accepted back during World War II, he served as a Naval Reservist in the Korean conflict and died while serving aboard the U.S.S. Howe.

Chauncey Lawrence and fellow crewmen on leave in Korea, 1951.
See if you can figure out which one is him.

By Kelli Huggins, Education Coordinator

I’ve been thinking a lot about eels lately. Weird, I know, but let me explain: I’m researching river industry for our summer exhibit about the Chemung River and for a long period before the early 1900s, eel fishing was a big business locally. As it turns out, these kind of creepy, slimy creatures (I’m betraying my bias here), were an important food source and commercial venture for folks along the Chemung.

Advertisement for the Mohican Co. grocery, 1910. Choice eels were 14 cents per pound.

The meat and fish counters at the Mohican c. 1890s likely would have also stocked eels.

Or people could have also purchased eels from their local fishmonger.

For much of history, the Chemung River was practically overflowing with eel. Despite their abundance, eels were always a bit of a mystery to locals. For example, Lakes Lamoka and Waneta on the Steuben/Schuyler County border, were full of eels which migrated from the lakes to the Chemung River. However, locals noted that the eels’ migratory patterns did not match what scientist said was normal. Instead of heading towards the brackish tide waters in the Fall and coming back to fresh water in June, local eels were said to return to the fresh water lakes as early as April and could often be caught earlier by ice fishing. I’m not sure whether or not local eels really were distinct in their migratory habits or if this is just bad science, but it does indicate that eels could be a part of the local economy year-round.

Eel weirs were probably the most popular method of large-scale eel fishing. Weirs are human-made obstructions in a river used to trap fish.

An eel weir in the Chemung River, 1925.

The weirs, however, were not without controversy. In 1886, John B. Stanchfield, a Chemung County representative in the New York State Assembly, introduced a bill that, when passed, banned the use of eel weirs on the Chemung River. Local fishermen balked at the new restriction. There were some supporters, however. The Elmira Star-Gazette printed, “Every countryman who sets an outline in the spring knows that Stanchfield is his friend. The devices for capturing Chemung river eels by the ton should be forbidden by law and the law should be enforced.”

And it was; local game enforcement agents destroyed any eel weirs they found and made arrests. In 1896, Eugene Berthod was arrested for violating the law. It was alleged that he had taken at least 2,000 pounds of eels and sold to wholesale meat markets. The charges were eventually dropped when a key witness for the prosecution failed to materialize.

Eels were still a hot commodity- I love this help wanted ad that uses a free meal of "eels eels eels" as a job perk!

Despite protections (some of the laws eventually loosened), eel populations decreased significantly in the early 1900s. An article lamenting these changes noted that many of the long-standing fish species had been replaced by animals like “the contemptible, miserable, good for nothing, would-be fish, the carp.” Eels likely fell victim to over fishing and changes to the infrastructure of the river, like the building of dams.

Read more about the history and biology of Chemung River eels in this blog post by Town of Chemung Historian, Mary Ellen Kunst: http://historicalechoes.weebly.com/american-eel.html

by Erin Doane, curator

In just a few weeks Eldridge Park will be open for the season and this year marks the 10^th anniversary of the restored carousel there. It was opened to the public on May 27, 2006 after years of rebuilding and restoration. The history of the carousel goes back over 100 years and is filled with its share of ups and downs.

Eldridge Park Carousel, mid-1980s

In 1924, Robert A. Long came to Elmira in response to an ad seeking someone to bring a merry-go-round to Eldridge Park. Long was just 23 years old at the time but he had long been involved in building and operating carousels. His father and uncle had a shop in Philadelphia where they assembled amusement park rides. From 1909 through 1916, he helped his father operate a carousel in Elmira during the summer months. Long purchased an old Looff carousel and installed it in Eldridge Park. The machine was built in the late 1890s and had been operated at Young’s Million Dollar Pier in Atlantic City, New Jersey. It measured 50 feet in diameter and had three rows of stationary animals including horses, a sea serpent, giraffes, greyhounds, a billy goat, and a lion.

The carousel’s lion, 1988

In 1942, Long converted the stationary mechanism into a jumping one. He re-carved the legs of some of the horses to become jumpers. This new version of the carousel had 34 stationary animals and 20 jumping horses. The goat, the lion, and the tiger were the only menagerie figures to remain on the machine. Long also installed a mechanism that dispensed metal rings. Carousel riders could reach out and capture the rings as the ride was moving. Most of the rings were made of iron but if you got the brass ring, you won a free ride.

Vinton Bovier Stevens reaching for the brass ring

Iron rings from the Eldridge Park carousel

Long operated the carousel for over 55 years making improvements and repairs along the way including in 1972 when the park was flooded by Hurricane Agnes. He retired in 1980 and passed away three years later. Long’s daughter and her children continued to run the carousel until 1988. The last few years of operation were difficult ones. Visitation was down and the park suffered from a severe problem with vandals. Steel doors were added to the carousel building but that still did not deter vandalism. In its last summer of operation, the carousel was broken into and damaged 14 times. Most of the damage was to the building’s lights, speakers, and columns but the leg of one horse was broken.

Robert A. Long on his carousel, 1966

In 1989, the family removed the carousel from Eldridge Park. They contracted with Guernsey’s Auction Centers in New York City to manage the sale. The original hope was that the ride could be sold in one piece but when the reserve for the auction was not met, the individual horses were sold off. Other than five horses kept by family members as keepsakes, all the other horses and animals were sold. The carousel mechanism itself, however, did not sell and was donated to the city.

Catalog from Guernsey’s Auction Centers, 1989

Page from the catalog showing horses

from the Eldridge Park carousel, 1989

In 1991, the building that had housed the carousel found new life as part of the Carousel Farm and Craft Market in the park. At that time, the Windmill Farm and Craft Market of Yates County was looking to expand its operations and the city agreed to bring it to Eldridge Park. The Windmill Market provided at least 45 vendors and many other local and regional businesses and individuals also signed on. The Carousel Market opened in June 1991 with around 120 vendors. Some 15,000 people went to the market on its opening day. The market was open every Tuesday from June through September. The attendance for that first season was estimated at about 125,000.

Carousel Farm and Craft Market at Eldridge Park, early 1990s

In its first couple of years, the Carousel Market seemed to be a great success. The 1992 season was extended through October. By 1994, however, annual attendance had begun to drop. Those who still visited the market commented that it looked kind of small as there were only about 80 vendors rather than the 120+ in previous years. The revenues were not covering expenses so the city decided not to open the market for the 1996 season.

Inside the carousel pavilion at the market, early 1990s

The next chapter in the life of the Eldridge Park carousel began in 2002. Bob Lyon was at the park to speak at Elmira’s September 11 anniversary memorial program. The Elmira dentist was trained in forensic dentistry and had been asked to go to New York City after the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center to help identify the bodies of the victims. While at Eldridge Park for the memorial, Lyon saw the carousel mechanism and was inspired to restore it to its former glory. The Eldridge Park Carousel Preservation Society was founded and Lyon quickly started to make his dream into a reality.

Watercolor painting of the Eldridge Park

carousel by Talitha Botsford, c. 1980s

Lawrence Pefferly of Cornersville, Tennessee agreed to carve wooden animals for the carousel’s outer row. His wife Jerry painted the animals. Over the course of just three-and-a-half years, the couple created 20 new animals for the carousel. Each one was a replica of one of the original horses or menagerie animals. In 1989, Guernsey’s had photographed and measured each piece of the carousel for its auction so the Pefferlys had detailed examples from which to work. Other carvers were also found to complete the work including John Kolanach, an Elmira native living in Catlin, Oscar Pivaral of San Francisco, Frederick Dilworth of New Holland, Pennsylvania, Dave Albrecht of Minnesota, John McKenzie, and carvers from Bud Ellis Studios in Soddy Daisy, Tennessee.

Photograph of the restored carousel in 2006 from

the Eldridge Park Carousel supplemental magazine

published by the Star-Gazette in spring 2006

On May 27, 2006, the newly restored carousel opened to the public. Close to 20,000 people were at the grand opening gala and the carousel had over 40,000 riders that first season. Today, the Eldridge Park carousel has 56 animals including a horse named “America” that was unveiled on September 11, 2011 to honor those who lost their lives ten years earlier. There are also two dragon benches. The carousel is one of fewer than 20 in the United States that still has brass ring feeders and it is thought to be the fastest carousel in the world moving at 18 miles per hour. Eldridge Park will be opening for the season on Memorial Day weekend.

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