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    History

    A New York Minute In History

    A New York Minute In History is a podcast about the history of New York and the unique tales of New Yorkers. It is hosted by State Historian Devin Lander, Saratoga County Historian Lauren Roberts and Don Wildman. Jesse King and Jim Levulis of WAMC produce the podcast.

    A New York Minute In History is a production of the New York State Museum, WAMC Northeast Public Radio and Archivist Media.

    Support for the project comes from The William G. Pomeroy Foundation, the National Endowment for the Humanities and a Humanities New York Action Grant.

    Find us on social media! Twitter: @NYHistoryMinute

    Advertise
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    Latest Episodes:
    The Fox Sisters and the "Great American Hoax" | A New York Minute in History Aug 30, 2023

    For our season finale, Devin and Lauren tell the story of the Fox sisters, who rose to fame as early practitioners of modern spiritualism in the 19th Century. Margaretta and Catherine Fox were able to convince many people that they could commune with the dead, though they later admitted to making their stories up. Despite this, their form of “rapping” spiritualism exploded across the nation and beyond.

    Marker of Focus: The Fox Sisters, Newark, Wayne County

    Guests: Tracy Murphy, executive director of the Historic Palmyra Museums; and David Stiles, former president of the Newark-Arcadia Historical Society

    A New York Minute In History is a production of WAMC Northeast Public Radio, the New York State Museum, and Archivist Media, with support from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation. This episode was produced by Jesse King. Our theme is “Begrudge” by Darby.

    Further Reading:

    Ann Braude, Radical Spirits: Spiritualism and Women’s Rights in Nineteenth-Century America

    Amy Lehman, Victorian Women and the Theater of Trance: Mediums, Spiritualists and Mesmerists in Performance

    Simone Natale, Supernatural Entertainments: Victorian Spiritualism and the Rise of Modern Media Culture

    Barbara Weisberg, Talking to the Dead: Kate and Maggie Fox and the Rise of Spiritualism

    Teaching Resources:

    Adam Matthew Digital, Nature and Scope – Spiritualism, Sensation and Magic

    Follow Along

    Devin: Welcome to A New York Minute in History. I'm Devin lander, the New York state historian.

    Lauren: And I'm Lauren Roberts, the historian for Saratoga County. Today we're going to be focusing on a marker located at 1510 Hydesville Road in the village of Newark, which is in Wayne County out in western New York. The marker’s placed on what is now the site of the Hydesville Memorial Park, and the text reads: “The Fox sisters. On this site, events of March 31, 1848 began sisters Maggie and Kate Fox’s central role in the origin of modern spiritualism. William G. Pomeroy Foundation, 2016.”

    Some of you may know the story of the Fox sisters, but before we talk about Maggie and Kate and exactly what the “events” are, that are mentioned on the sign, let's take a minute to remind everyone what spiritualism is. Spiritualism is the belief that the living can communicate with the dead, or the spirit of the dead. And of course, this isn't a new concept. This has, in different iterations, been believed around the world for centuries. But the religious movement we're talking about today, which we refer to as modern spiritualism, that's what really begins or takes off here in America with the advent of the Fox sisters and their abilities to commune with the dead. And like most religious movements that take off during that time period, they begin in New York. What was it that made the location and the time ripe for these ideas to really take hold?

    Devin: I think it was a lot of things. Actually, if we think about the date that the fox sisters begin allegedly communing with the dead, it's 1848. Right. And we know, in the same general area of Central Western New York, was a big event happening in 1848. And that was the suffrage convention at Seneca Falls, there was a lot of other things happening. We know that the Erie Canal was completed in 1825, and kind of opened up central and western New York to more settlements, places like Rochester started to boom. By the 1840s and mid 1840s. The railroads were really coming in strong in upstate New York and opening even more access to transportation of goods, but also of people and also of ideas. So there was a ferment happening in upstate New York, as it became known was the burned over district because of all of the various religious movements and different social movements like temperance like suffrage, like abolition, were all taking place. Because of that it kind of created the fertile soil, so to speak for something like modern spiritualism to take root.

    Lauren: So now that we've set the stage, let's go back to the hamlet of Hydesville, which is within the village of Newark, and how the Fox sisters fit into this time period.

    Tracy: Hi, my name is Tracy Murphy. I am the director of Historic Palmyra, which has five museums. And I'm also the historian for the Fox sisters’ property in Newark, New York, or Hydesville as I like to call it. And I am also a member of the Newark Arcadia Historical Society.

    They actually came to this little house in 1847, and they were there with their mother and father John and Margaret Fox. Their father was a blacksmith by trade. Obviously, their mother was a homemaker. The girls’ names were Margaretta and Catherine, and they were fondly called “Maggie” and “Kate” by their family. And their family moved there because they were building a home that was about two-and-a-half miles up the road, on Parker Road, from where the property is today. And they wanted to be closer to their son, David, whose home is still standing.

    Lauren (to Tracy): So they were renting this house while they were building their new house?

    Tracy: That's correct. They were not the first family to actually live in the house. They were about the third family that moved in. It was December, so it was pretty cold. They were really only there for a few months. However, moving into the cottage, one of the first things Mrs. Fox said was “This house is haunted.”

    It very much started out as just, you know, quiet little tappings. Like someone would be tapping on your window or your door. And they would go and look and see where the noises were coming from, and could never really find an explanation. And it went on for weeks and weeks, until finally, March 31, the family decided that they were all going to bed early. They were not going to be entertained by this noise that kept happening every night, and their mother instructed the girls that they were to go to bed and nothing was going to be said about this. And so that's pretty much what happened. They got all settled into bed, and all of a sudden the noises started again.

    Lauren: Later in 1848, the Fox sisters’ mother, Margaret, actually publishes a testimony of what happened in the house. And this is a piece of it: “On Friday night, the 31st of March, it was heard as usual…It was very early when we went to bed on this night, hardly dark. We went to bed so early because we had been broken so much of our rest that I was almost sick. My husband had not gone to bed when we first heard the noise on this evening. I had just laid down and it commenced as usual. I knew it from all other noises I had ever heard in the house. The girls, who slept in the other bed in the room, heard the noise and tried to make a similar noise by snapping their fingers. The youngest girl is about 12 years old. She is the one who made her hand go, and as fast as she made the noise with her hands or fingers, the sound was followed up in the room. It did not sound any different at that time, only it made the same number of noises that the girl did. When she stopped, the sound itself stopped for a short time. The other girl, who was in her 15th year, then spoke in sport and said, ‘Now do this just as I do. Count one, two, three, four.’ etc., striking one hand and the other at the same time.”

    Tracy: But she made no sound, and they heard an immediate four raps. To which she responded, “Oh Mother, look! They can see as well as hear.” They say that Mrs. Fox’s hair turned gray within 24 hours, and I don't doubt it.

    Lauren (still reading): “And then I spoke and said to the noise, ‘Count ten.’ And it made 10 strokes or noises. Then I asked the ages of my different children, successively, and it gave a number of raps corresponding to the ages of my children.”

    Tracy: What ended up happening is that their son, David, caught wind of what was going on. And so he came down – this was all still on March 31. He came down, and he suggested writing the letters of the alphabet on pieces of paper and then asking this unknown rapping noise what his name was. You know, first they had to ask, “Is this a human that makes this noise?” to which the response was, “No.” Then they asked, “Is this a spirit?” “Yes.” Once they confirmed that they were dealing with a spirit, then they tried to get more information, which they did. They found out his name was Charles Rosna. He was a traveling peddler who had stopped at the house two families before the Foxes – [and he also said] that he had been murdered and buried in the basement. And so the family went into the basement the next day and started looking for him. Unfortunately, they would start to dig, and they would get a few feet into the ground, and then the basement would start to flood. So, they did eventually have to give it up. They tried a few times, they tried again in July, but it just kept flooding. So, they eventually gave up.

    Lauren: I would have been out of that house. I [wouldn’t be] hanging around. But the mother decides – and they're all devout Methodists – the mother decides that she's going to bring in the neighbors to see what they think. Outside opinion, what's going on here. They bring in the neighbors, and they're convinced too. Eventually, the parents decide it's best to get the daughters out of this situation. Maybe it's just the environment, the house that is affecting them. So, they move the two sisters to Rochester to live with their older sister. And now once the girls get into Rochester and are living with the older sister, rather than the rapping decreasing, it seems to increase. And their spiritual communications seem to get stronger.

    Devin: One of the reasons it may be that the rappings continue and actually grow in frequency while they're in Rochester is that their sister, Leah, makes a determination that people will pay to come see them. She comes up with the idea of charging people $1 to have a seance with the Fox sisters.

    Tracy: She became their manager, and she basically made sure that they went on a world tour and traveled as far as England.

    Maggie being the older of the two, honestly, I don't think her heart was in it. Kate, out of the two, was probably the strongest medium, had a little more skill, and I think it was because she was younger. It definitely wasn't easy. You did have a few religions, and Wayne County was known as the Burned Over District because of all of the different religions that were coming all of the time. It seemed like every weekend there was, you know, a Methodist revival or a Presbyterian revival. You had the Mormons, the Shakers, the Quakers. Some say there were the “moneymakers.” It really was a rough time for a lot of people, I think to really understand where the loyalty lied. Every time there was a demonstration, there would be someone right behind them saying, “You just faked it. I saw you move your toe, I saw you do this.”

    First of all, women didn't really have much of a choice when it had to do with anything. We were property. We didn't have a voice, we couldn't vote. When the girls were doing demonstrations, you had a panel of scientists and physicians who basically said, “We know you're faking it, and we're going to prove it.” And they would make them strip down to nothing and stand on tables while they were calling spirits, to show that they can do these demonstrations. And the men would hold their knees or any of the joints, to make sure that they weren't doing what they thought they were. They came to the conclusion, especially when they did a demonstration in Corinthian Hall, which was in Rochester, that there was no logical explanation for what they were doing.

    Devin: So the fame of the Fox sisters spreads almost instantly. Again I think it's because of the time. We start seeing rapping spiritualists, as they're known, kind of popping up around New York, New England, eventually even beyond. It's a phenomenon where, suddenly, other people can do this. It was something that really began with the Fox sisters, and they continued to be the most famous – and in some cases, their fame led to some distasteful events taking place, including Maggie almost being kidnapped in Troy, New York, after one of their seances, by a group of men who were offended by her ability to speak with the spirits. So, it wasn't all celebrity wining and dining for these kids at the time. And in 1849, they actually made an attempt to stop doing their routine with spiritualism by saying that the spirits were no longer going to be talking to them. It didn't last very long, and within a couple of weeks, they were again communing with the spirits. So, it was something that took off and eventually had an entire community of people around the nation believing in it, including some of the more prominent suffragists during the time, like Matilda Joslyn Gage. Others really wanted to believe, I think, because they had recently undergone a tragedy: maybe they lost a child, or they lost somebody close to them, and they wanted to be able to talk with the person from the beyond – which was something that many of the spiritualists offered, the ability to talk to your loved ones. As well as celebrities, if you wanted, like the Founding Fathers, including George Washington and Ben Franklin.

    Lauren: And as their popularity grows, they start to develop different tactics. It's not just the rapping that occurs, but they go into trances. One of the sisters is able to write a message at the same time she's speaking a different message. They develop these skills and different ways to get their message across to all of these believers who are waiting to hear from their deceased loved ones. And as part of this, you know, they're young girls at the time – they meet potential husbands.

    Tracy: Maggie fell in love with a man when she was 16 years old, who was in his late 20s, early 30s. When they were in New York City, he came to see her every single day, and they developed this relationship. Eventually, he was going on a three-year world exploration to Antarctica, and basically told her that he wanted to marry her. Her mother said, “OK.” They were married, in a small ceremony, which basically back then was as easy as the man saying, “I take you as my wife,” and her saying, “I take you as my husband” in front of witnesses, and OK, we’re married. He promised her mother that when he came back, he would announce to the public by putting it in the newspaper that they were married. And you know, everything was wonderful. Being separated from him for three years was hard. But the fact that he died on his trip, at the end of the three years, was even harder. He contracted malaria and died in Havana. She found out through the front page of the newspaper. She basically just became so heartbroken that she never recovered from it, ever. People would find her in New York City laying on random stoops, and she had no idea how she got there, because she was drinking. And that was the only way she knew to cope.

    Lauren: They were celebrities of the time, but this only lasted for so long. And as they grew older, of course, Maggie has this bad experience with losing her husband, and does not have a good financial situation – she turns to alcohol. Kate also turns to alcohol. And at the time, there is talk about their older sister, Leah, making threats about Kate not being a fit mother. So, they feel attacked by their sister. And in 1888, something happens that changes the whole perspective on the credibility of the Fox sisters.

    Devin: Right, it's Maggie who does a complete public demonstration of how the Fox sisters were able to make the [raps]. And she did so with her sister in the audience, who basically nodded in ascent that they were making these sounds, at least initially, by cracking their toes on wooden floors. Over time, they were able to change and adapt to doing this in front of a larger audience, and do these other actions in a way that was believable and really exceptionally well done. But it turns out that, at least initially, Maggie says it was all a fraud.

    Tracy: In 1888, the big confession mostly came about because these are grown women now – they’re in their late 50s. And you've got not a lot of money coming in, because you know, it's just not as good as it used to be. There is a reporter who approaches Maggie, and he basically said, “Listen, why don't you just take this money? I'm going to offer you $1,500, and I just need you to go to the Grand Hall and tell people that you faked this.” And so Maggie went on stage and said that her sister and herself faked the whole thing. They did it because they wanted to scare their mother, and it worked. And then their sister got involved, and their sister basically got greedy, saw that she could make money on these guys, and it spiraled out of control from there.

    Lauren: They call this confession, the deathblow to spiritualism.

    Lauren [to Devin]: So, what do you think?

    Devin: Well, I think it's pretty interesting to think about a time in history when all of the stars were aligned, so to speak, for something like spiritualism to take off – which still exists in some forms. Today, there's still people who commune with spirits and who believe that they can talk with ancestors and with people who are have passed on. There's an entire religious movement that has developed called theosophy, which really developed shortly around the time of the Fox sisters, and was first established in New York City, and this group still exists. They believe in the teachings of Madame Blavatsky, who was a Russian immigrant, who believed that she could commune with what she called “the masters,” who had one truth that was behind all religions, and that they communicated that truth to her, and that she was able to write it down in book form, and then also give talks and teach others how to be able to access the masters. That became a large movement by the end of the 19th Century, and a worldwide movement, again, still exists to this day. So, the Fox sisters were trailblazers, there's no doubt. There is no doubt that they were able to gain a level of fame and notoriety that wasn't common for young women of their day, for sure. We have to think about this as before vaudeville or before any real opportunity for women to be on stages and be the focus of attention in the way that they were. So, they were trailblazers in that regard. And they were also, I think, very much of their time. Their stories were tragic. They both died, essentially, alcoholics, kind of penniless. They weren't well known by the time they passed away.

    Lauren: It kind of reminds me of, sometimes, we hear stories about child actors. Where they have this fame early on, right? They start from relative obscurity – which is true of the Fox sisters, they're in this very small rural town, with not a lot of entertainment going on, not a lot of things to branch out, and not a lot of opportunity for them. When you're around 12/15 years old, and they see their mother, you know, that's kind of the normal trajectory for women in that location at that time to take. If it did start out as a way to scare their mother, or if they really believed that they were hearing something, either way, this was a way to change their lives and to have experiences that they never would have had, if it hadn't been for this unusual talent that they seemed to have.

    Tracy: When people hear the story, they always focus on the confession. That, “Yup, it was a hoax. She told everybody, and she did it in public.” And I always come back with the fact that in 1904, the house was still standing in Hydesville. There were school children playing in the basement, and one of those children fell into the wall, and the wall broke apart. And behind the wall was the skeletal remains of a man, and a tin pack that was very similar to what a peddler traveling in 1846, ’47, ‘48 would have had as well.

    Lauren: So let's go back and talk about what happened to the house. The house was there for several more years. In fact, it stayed there until 1916, when the house was moved to a place called Lilydale, which is a community south of Buffalo known for mediumship and spiritual healing. And it remained in Lilydale until 1955, when unfortunately, it burned down. So, the house no longer exists. However, back in Hydesville, the foundation remained, and an interesting gentleman named John Drummond came and moved onto the property and built a replica house there. So, if you go to Hydesville today, you can visit the Hydesville Memorial Park, which is what the property is now called. And you can look through the windows and see the foundation. You can see down into the foundation, where the story of the murdered peddler takes place. You can see the false wall in the foundation. Many people go there today. And in 2016, the local historical society decided that it would be a good idea to apply to the William G. Pomeroy Foundation to mark the site as the start of the modern spiritualism movement.

    In order to learn more about the process, we spoke with David Styles, past president of the Newark Arcadia Historical Society, who formed the committee in order to get this marker erected.

    David: That was a back-and-forth type of thing. Many times, Tracy, I'm sure you remember that a little bit. I bet you I came back to you at least three, four, maybe five times at least before we got the wording just like they wanted it – both size and number of letter constraints, and what was written.

    Tracy: And we had to prove it. We had to prove everything that we were saying [on the marker].

    The big confession, you know, it became known as the death blow to spiritualism. But honestly, when you've got a wildfire that burns strong for so many years, it's hard to put it out. We had the numbers over here, it had already been big in the UK. So, by 1888, we had hundreds of thousands of spiritualists living in America, that I don't think it made much of a difference. The importance of their story is that you can do anything that you put your mind to, even if other people think you're crazy. They never gave up. They stayed true to themselves. And look at them: 175 years later, we're still talking about them. You know, it’s not every day you get to start a movement.


    The Florence Farming Association | A New York Minute in History Jul 28, 2023

    On this episode, Devin and Lauren tell the story of the Florence Farming and Lumber Association, a settlement of free African Americans in Oneida County beginning in 1846. The Association was the creation of abolitionists Gerrit Smith and Stephen Myers, and it developed on land given by Smith, who at the time was New York's largest landowner. The original idea for the settlement was to allow African American men to meet the threshold of owning at least $250 worth of property before they would have been allowed to vote, a restriction imposed upon them at the time by the New York state legislature. It was also seen as an opportunity to provide these men and their families the opportunity for self-sufficiency in a rural location.

    Marker of Focus: Florence, Oneida, Oneida County

    Guests: Jessica Harney, Camden High School social studies teacher; Rebecca McLain, executive director of the Oneida County History Center; and Matt Kirk, principle investigator at Hartgen Archeological Associates

    A New York Minute In History is a production of WAMC Northeast Public Radio, the New York State Museum, and Archivist Media, with support from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation. This episode was produced by Jesse King. Our theme is “Begrudge” by Darby.

    Further Reading:

    “New Historical Marker Planned at Site Oneida Abolitionist Bought for Black Families to Own,” Edward Harris, Observer-Dispatch, April 14, 2023.

    From Slavery to a Bishopric, or, The Life of Bishop Walter Hawkins of the British Methodist Episcopal Church Canada, S.J. Celestine Edwards, 1891. Bishop Hawkins was one of the residents of the Florence Farming and Lumber Association before moving to Canada.

    Practical Dreamer: Gerrit Smith and the Crusade for Social Reform, Norman K. Dann, 2009.

    Information about Stephen Myers: https://www.albany.edu/arce/MyersXX.html

    Teaching Resources:

    Consider the Source New York: Finding Florence

    Columbia University Mapping the African American Past

    Follow Along

    Devin: Welcome to A New York Minute in History. I'm Devin Lander, the New York state historian.

    Lauren: And I'm Lauren Roberts, the historian for Saratoga County. Today we're focusing on a marker located on Florence Hill Road in the town of Florence in Oneida County, which is in the central part of New York state. And the text reads: “Florence Farming Association existed here circa 1848-1860. Settlement of free Blacks promoted by Stephen Myers, other notable abolitionists. William G. Pomeroy Foundation, 2016.”

    Now, the Florence Farming Association was a community of free Blacks established in the 1840s. And it may sound familiar to some of our listeners, who remember our episode on Timbuctoo up in Essex County. They are related in that they come out of the same idea from Gerrit Smith, about enabling African Americans to own land in the hopes that they would then be able to vote in New York state.

    Devin: Absolutely. The Timbuctoo episode that we did a couple years ago was something that I think some people knew about, because John Brown was associated with Timbuctoo. Less people, certainly, know about the Florence Farming Association. But for a little bit of background about why Gerrit Smith and these abolitionists came up with this idea to give away land, let's revisit what we discussed with author Amy Godine, during the Timbuctoo episode.

    Amy: It really starts, in my view, around 1821 or so, when the New York state Assembly enacted a law which deprived Black, free New Yorkers of the right to vote unless they could prove they owned $250 worth of real property. It was racialized voter suppression, with the intent of tamping down the possibility of an anti-slavery voting block that could vote against slavery's business interests, and it was very effective. This law would effectively disenfranchise Black New Yorkers really until 1870. It wasn't stripped from the books, and then only by federal law, not by state law. So, this law was despised by progressives, by Black New Yorkers, by white abolitionists, and all reformers, and they had tried again and again to work up a way to take it down to get it retracted. And in 1846, at the next constitutional convention for New York, an opportunity arose to address this again. And Gerrit Smith, the radical abolitionist reformer, who was also incredibly wealthy and land rich, maybe anticipated that this vote would not go the way he and other reformers hoped. And so, he came up with an idea to give away his own land in mostly 40-acre parcels to as many as 3,000 Black New Yorkers all over the state, but mostly in New York City, to help them meet this voting requirement. Not that the deeds equaled $250 – but if they moved to the land and improved the land and approved their lots, they would gain this value soon enough. So, it was his hope that in giving away land he didn't want to people who he felt needed to get out of cities, which were mob-ridden and intransigently racist and unfriendly to Black advancement – he would be striking a blow on so many fronts.

    Devin: One of the prominent abolitionists that Gerrit Smith worked with to help promote his plan, but also who he gave land to, was Stephen Myers, who was a very prominent abolitionist and African American – a former enslaved man himself who was a conductor on the Underground Railroad, and who lived in Albany. He was also the publisher of several abolitionist newspapers and magazines, and became a prominent speaker in different places around the Northeast about abolition. Again, for longtime listeners to our program, you will recognize the name Stephen Myers, because in January 2020, we actually toured the Myers residence in Albany, which was a station on the Underground Railroad during the 19th Century. And at the Myers’ residence, we spoke to Paul and Mary Liz Stewart, who are experts on the Myers.

    Mary Liz: When vigilance committee members met in the front parlor of the Stephen and Harriet Myers residence, one of the things that was a real eye opener for us – I mean, we assumed that as abolitionists, their first task would be to strategize on how to abolish the institution of slavery and what kind of strategies they would engage in to do that. Then, of course, there was the understandable issue of how to meet the needs of freedom seekers coming into town and coming through the front door of the Myers’ residence. So certainly, those would be at the top of their agendas. But as we continued our research, what also emerged were documents that identified the fact that these abolitionists were also dealing with issues of equity, housing, voting rights, health care, jobs, education – you know, it's very similar to what we still talk about today. And yet, these issues were very much part and parcel of their activism. So, for Black abolitionists, we find that they are not just concerned about this institution of slavery and its abolition and meeting the needs of freedom seekers, but they recognize the need for addressing issues of equity across the board. And while they're doing all these things, they're working full time. This story is much bigger and much more comprehensive than it is usually given credit for.

    Lauren: Now, although these two communities are related, they differ in the way that the lots were given out, and also in the way that there was a more communal aspect to the Florence Farming Association, as opposed to where Timbuctoo was a little bit more individualized.

    Devin: So, we tried to get an idea of what Florence, which is, again, in Oneida County, which is kind of a rural area – now what was Florence like, and what was Oneida County like in the 1840s? To get more information on that, we spoke to Rebecca McLain, the executive director of the Oneida County History Center.

    Rebecca: Hello, I'm Rebecca McLain. The Florence Farming Association falls within our geographic boundaries of the history that we cover. And we are most recently associated with the site through Jessica Harney.

    Jessica: I am a high school history teacher for Camden High School. My association with Florence has been through research that I've done personally, but I’ve also been able to involve my students in. I'm on the cabinet of freedom for the National Abolition Hall of Fame and Museum, and also have worked closely with the Oneida County Freedom Trail Commission.

    Devin [to panel]: So how many people eventually settled in the community?

    Jessica: It's hard to say. What appears to be a big difference between the more notable Timbuctoo site is that the Florence site was a community. The men working in Florence incorporated into the Florence Farming and Lumber Association, and they're promoting their site as a place where we’ll be able to have some of these shared resources, that we'll be working together to develop the land. The newspapers suggest that they have divided some of the land up into to 100 village lots that contained a quarter of an acre each. So of course, that would not be enough to get individual voting rights. So, we kind of see a shift in the purpose and intention of this settlement, as opposed to what Timbuctoo was. There's a total of about 25 acres that they're working with, to divide up into those smaller 100 village lots. They're also, in their newspapers, promoting that there may be 80-100 people living on site.

    Basically, we're limited by what we know for historical records. In terms of the 1850 census, and the 1860 census, we can begin to tell a story of who actually made their way and who was on the site in 1850. To get kind of a little bit more of a specific answer, when we look at 1855, which was the New York state census. And then we've further been able to break that down by finding a rare gem in some Oneida County archives. That was a random box of Florence records from 1853 to 1859. So that sort of helped us narrow the gap. And ongoing research is happening on that to be able to, you know, figure out exactly who is living there.

    Devin [to panel]: Let me kind of get a broad view here and ask Rebecca: can you tell us what was Oneida County, like in 1840s and 50s? You know, who was already living there, who was maybe coming and going and what kind of industries there were?

    Rebecca: Utica was kind of a growing city center, it had just become a city about a decade earlier, after the completion of the Erie Canal. You do see a lot of transportation throughout the county, we’re just in a good geographic point. And then I think a lot of the surrounding towns were still, I mean, just like it is today, you can get pretty rural pretty fast. In general, in the county, there would have been, in terms of demographics early on, German immigrants who have come through. And Irish.

    Devin [to panel]: Was there a large African American community at this time?

    Rebecca: In Utica, I think there was. It wasn't huge, but there was definitely an African American population that was in Utica and Rome.

    Devin [to panel]: One of the things that we found when we were doing our work on and speaking to people about Timbuctoo – so many of these African American families that tried to move there, they were the only African American people there, essentially. Do we have any record of like, what the local reaction was, or from the settlers themselves, what their interactions may have been with the neighbors? Because again, we had some examples up in Timbuctoo of negative interactions, and actually people stealing their land and telling them that their parcel began in a swamp, and you know, “Well, this isn't very good farmland. So why don't you just sell it to me? I'll give you $1” or whatever. There was a lot of that happening there. So, any evidence of any interactions, good or bad?

    Jessica: At this point in our research, we have not found anything overtly negative. Florence is being settled, I would say, pretty simultaneously by the Black Americans moving into this region. We also have Irish immigrants that are coming into the region as well. They end up staying, and they're overwhelmingly still represented today, in the Florence community. What we do know is that they're going to really lean on that Rome community for support. So, we know from the newspaper documentation that in October of 1849, Reverend Peterson out of Rome, also worked as an agent for the organization, he collected money and donations and materials from Massachusetts and Maine. And there's a report of those items that were brought in. They listed a box of very useful books, a bag of very useful articles about farming techniques and things. So, it seems as though, at least from what is being produced in the newspapers, it seems positive. But again, we would be cautious to just look at what we have access to, because there's always more to the story.

    What we see here is a pivot away from Gerrit Smith’s initial purpose behind his gift, and we're not completely sure how well supported that pivot was. But from here, we have a pooling of resources happening under the leadership of the Florence Farming Association. And we have, you know, a very well-structured governance over that organization. We have people that are serving as president, vice president, secretary of that organization. So there's more to be pieced out about the functions of the organization. But we do know that they're having meetings, and they're doing a lot of self-promotion to get more people to move to the area.

    Matt: Can I jump in a little bit with that? I'm Matt Kirk. I'm an archaeologist. I've been working in the Albany area for over 30 years now. And it's important to know, too, that Gerrit Smith has the idea – he has the resources, but he's not managing the properties on a daily basis. He's selected a local individual, he puts him in charge of the land development, and it's with him and Stephen Myers, who come up with the idea of exactly how to subdivide the property Smith owns. But he, it seems to me was a little bit concerned about the way Myers had developed these small lots.

    Devin: The way that Myers set up the Florence farming Association definitely ruffled some feathers among his contemporaries, including with Frederick Douglass. Famously, in 1849, Douglass wrote Myers a letter basically criticizing him because he was not giving the land away, he was charging money for parcels. And Frederick Douglass felt that that was contrary to the ideas that Gerrit Smith came up with, and others. Myers wrote him a reply on March 17, 1849, and he really went out of his way to say that they were looking to build things like sawmills, and use the trees that they were clearing to create agricultural land, and have them made into lumber, which they would then sell. So it really is an attempt, as you noted, for a communal self-sustaining community – but there needed to be some sort of investment money up front. And the charging of money for the parcels was a way for Myers not to benefit himself or to get rich off from this, but instead to raise capital so that they could invest it back into the community. It's an interesting difference between Timbuctoo, which was more of the original idea – “Here’s 40 acres for a family, and now go cultivate it and raise the value that way.” This was a little bit different. It was more of an idea about creating a sustainable community. And I think that's why it was something that actually ended up being more successful in a way and lasting longer than Timbuctoo.

    Matt: You know, there were 50-some-odd families that settled. A certain number of people remained for over a decade in Florence, which I think is somewhat remarkable, given the circumstances that were there.

    Jessica: Stephen Myers seems as though he is doing a lot of a lot of the legwork from Albany. He's doing promotion, because that's what he's good at, right? He's a newspaper guy. He's using his contacts that he has, and they're targeting not just folks to move out of Utica and Rome, they're really reaching as far south as Washington, D.C. They're reaching New Bedford, Massachusetts, which is notable for some of the abolitionists, like Frederick Douglass, who came through that city. These are known Underground Railroad sites. And that helps paint the picture that this is more than a land scheme. This is more than about voting. This is also harboring folks that are trying to seek freedom. And there are some names that are really notable that go on to tell their story, what they were doing. And the one that comes to mind is Walter Hawkins. He was a resident for a number of years, and then he eventually went on and moved to Canada. But he became a well-known reverend, and a biography was written about him. And there's an entire chapter on life as a farmer, living in Florence.

    Devin [to panel]: Wow. Did Stephen Myers – I read the letter that he wrote March of 1849, to Frederick Douglass, and he mentioned that he was going to move to Florence. Do we know if he ever actually did that?

    Jessica: We don't know for sure.

    Matt: He gave indications that it was his intent to move there. I think he even mentioned that he was going to try to start a newspaper in Florence. But my sense is that the reason that the settlement failed was from forces way outside of Stephen Meyers’ control.

    Lauren: Though it was successful, there were outside forces that then led to the downfall of the community. And the main force was the 1850 Fugitive Slave Law that was passed in New York, that essentially said, “It didn't matter where you were in a free state in New York, you could be brought down south back to slavery.” New York wasn't safe for them anymore. A safer place to be would be Canada, and so by the end of the 1850s, there seems to be a real falling off of the Florence community. Although it's possible that some people stayed longer, the vision that Stephen Myers had kind of comes to a close after the fugitive slave law and into the later 1850s and early 1860s.

    Devin: That's very true. And unfortunately, the Fugitive Slave Act was incredibly disruptive for both formerly enslaved African Americans and those who are never enslaved. Because basically, the burden of proof would have been on them to prove that they had not been a slave at some point. And there were these terrible stories of free Blacks being abducted and taken into slavery.

    One of the things that is very interesting about Florence right now is how early on in the historical process we are, with the work of Jessica Harney and Rebecca McLain and archaeologist Matt Kirk. They're very early on in establishing who was there, where these people may have gone, and then also uncovering the archaeology and the evidence literally underground of this community.

    Lauren: This stuff's hard to find. And it's not like you can go to the archives for a day, and then you've got a story. Many of [the residents] leave and go to Canada for their safety. So what records are they leaving? If there are memoirs and family letters and things like that, they end up, usually, down in generation. So, until you find where those families go to, it's very difficult to locate the documents that then give more of a glimpse into what Florence was really like. But that being said, there are records that turn up all the time. Jessica made reference to the box of documents in the county archives that inform them about the tax records for Florence. These are great finds, and it does happen in small archives around the state. I have personal stories about how you find a box on the shelf of something that you had no idea existed the year before, and now you have this treasure trove for researchers. So just because we don't have a lot of documented evidence about the Black experience doesn't mean that that will always be that way. And so, it's great that they continue to do this research, and also that Jessica Harney is including her high school students in this research.

    Devin: One of the issues that archaeologists Matt Kirk has, as you noted, the structures that were there were displaced or torn down in some cases – but also the land that made up the Florence Farming Association has changed hands over the years, many times in some cases. Most of it is now private property. But some of it is part of the state forest. And when we spoke to Matt Kirk, he told us a little bit more about some of the success they've had in uncovering remains of what might be the Florence Farming Association.

    Matt: We've had success in locating at least three of farmsteads because they were reoccupied, some of them, by Irish immigrants afterwards. Part of our job is to tease out which archaeological deposits and features that we find were part of minor settlements and which were from later inhabitants. But in that way, I think we've also had some success. There are other properties that we think harbor additional archaeological resources. It's on state land. So, there are regulations that protect these archaeological resources, and you need to file for what's known as a 233 permit to do excavations. So, to this point, virtually all we've done is surface reconnaissance of walking through the forest with our volunteers and with the high school students.

    We can measure success in a number of different ways. The one that I measure the most is that we have a really great partnership with Camden Central High School, where we get to take community members to this historical site that, especially now that the historical sign is no longer there, has no real physical presence in the community.

    Lauren: So, if you happen to go to Florence Hill Road today, you won't find the sign. In January of 2022, the local highway department reported that the sign had gone missing. Now, it's unclear why this happened, but it's not unique. Sometimes with historical markers, they do turn up missing. Sometimes it is innocent in that it gets hit by a snowplow or there's a car accident, or sometimes the ground floods and it loosens up where the sign is. But other times, it's purposeful destruction of historic markers. And that's what it seems like it is in this case.

    Devin: But the good news is there is a replacement on the way. Sometime in the summer of 2023, a new marker will be erected in the spot where the old one was. It will say the same text, and it will once again prominently show that the Florence Farming Association was part of the local history, and it will allow for students and others to perhaps learn more about it and discover more facts.

    So, what do you do if a marker in your community is damaged or destroyed?

    Lauren: It really depends on who erected the marker. In this case, the marker was erected by the William G. Pomeroy Foundation, and they were nice enough to offer half of the funds for a replacement, and then the organization wanting to replace the sign raised the other half. If it's not a Pomeroy marker, the majority of those blue and yellow markers are often put up by State Ed or by local, either historical societies or towns, municipalities. In that case, it really is up to the municipality to replace the marker. I know that in our county, we've had some instances, like if it gets hit by a car, there's car accident, that you can claim it on the insurance company and have it replaced that way. But if you were to go to Pomeroy and ask them to replace a sign that wasn't erected originally by them, you would have to go through the full application process and prove what you wanted to say on the sign.

    Devin: So, like every topic we deal with on this program, we are thinking about what does it mean today? What's the legacy of the Forest Farming Association? And really, we touched on some of it: the importance of understanding that New York has a long history of racial discrimination in some cases, even in legislation like the 1821 act that required African American men to have a wealth of $250 to vote. But on a more local level, we asked our guests what their thoughts were.

    Jessica: There's actually several things that I hope my students take away from this. First and foremost, is that all the history that we study is local history as well. It's literally in our backyard. This community exists eight miles from our high school. Something really, really hard was done here in this community for folks to try to start their lives, to be productive. Oftentimes, our students don't see themselves in their history books. Being farmers in Florence is extremely relatable for my students. This is their family; this is their experience as well. I also really want them to understand and respect public history, making sure that they understand how I acquired the roadside marker for the community, understanding the research. And then we've worked really closely with the DEC, and I want my students to understand how to interact with the land that's public land. I'm very grateful that my school district and my students have gotten behind this and support all this work that we've been able to do.

    A New York Minute In History is a production of WAMC Northeast Public Radio, the New York State Museum, and Archivist Media, with support from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation. This episode was produced by Jesse King. Our theme is “Begrudge” by Darby.


    Las Villas | A New York Minute in History Jun 30, 2023

    On this episode, Devin and Lauren learn about an enclave of restaurants, bars and resorts that catered to predominately Latin American clientele near the Catskill Mountains. As more and more Latinos immigrated to New York City for work, they began to look to places outside the city for recreation and to connect with other Spanish-speaking tourists. By the mid-1950s there were 50 resorts in the Plattekill area that focused on Spanish-speaking visitors.

    Marker of Focus: Las Villas, Ulster County, Plattekill

    Guests: Ismael “Ish” Martinez, author of Las Villas of Plattekill and Ulster County; Jimmy Castro, Founder/CEO of Ritmo Caribe Promotions and director of Back to Las Villas

    A New York Minute In History is a production of WAMC Northeast Public Radio, the New York State Museum, and Archivist Media, with support from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation. This episode was produced by Jesse King. Our theme is “Begrudge” by Darby.

    Further Reading:

    Ishmael “Ish” Martinez Jr., Las Villas of Plattekill and Ulster County

    Christina Perez Jimenez and J. Bret Maney, The Latino Catskills Project

    Sherrie Baver, Angelo Falcón and Gabriel Haslip-Viera (editors), Latinos in New York: Communities in Transition

    Benjamin Lapidus, New York and the International Sound of Latin Music, 1940-1990

    Teaching Resources:

    Columbia University Institute of Latin American Studies K-12 Outreach Program

    National Endowment for the Humanities EDSITEment Hispanic and Latino Heritage and History in the United States

    New-York Historical Society & El Museo del Barrio Nueva York Classroom Materials

    NYC Public Schools Hispanic Heritage Month

    Follow Along

    Devin: Welcome to A New York Minute in History. I'm Devin Lander, the New York state historian.

    Lauren: And I'm Lauren Roberts, the historian for Saratoga County. On this episode, we'll be talking about a marker located in the town of Plattekill in Ulster County. Located in the Catskills region of the state, this marker sits at the intersection of Huckleberry Turnpike and County Road 13, which is also known as Plattekill Ardonia Road. And the text reads: "Las Villas. Named given Plattekill and Catskills resorts offering Latin music, food and culture from circa 1914. This road gateway to their locations. William G. Pomeroy Foundation, 2020."

    So before we started working on this episode, I had never heard of las villas before. I wasn't aware that there was an area of the Catskills that catered to Latino and Hispanic people. So I spoke with Ish Martinez, who grew up at las villas, and he helped us to understand what "las villas" actually means.

    Ish: My name is Ishmael Martinez Jr, and I actually grew up in one of the villas that my parents owned. So that's what gives me most of my background about the villas. Aside from that, I did a lot of research once I decided that I was going to write a book about las villas. I felt it was something that was important. I felt it was an interesting and an important era for our town, and for Latinos in general.

    "Villa" itself, it's a kind of a polysemous word. It has many meanings. It can mean "country house," it can mean "country estate," it can even mean "small village." But in in the context of the villas, it was more or less a country house. As you may know, the Catskills and the Hudson Valley has always been an area of retreat, and resorts, and people going out to see the scenery and get the fresh air. And at the time, farms were coming up for sale. It wasn't very far from New York City. And so Plattekill just happened to be the place — it was kind of random — to spend time in the country in these country houses.

    Devin: Las villas was a new topic to me as well. I had no idea that this group of resorts existed in in the Catskills — and existed for as many decades as they did. The marker references 1914, but there's some evidence that some of the early villas began as early as 1912. And these were established, first, by Spanish people, who were residing in New York City and looking for a place to get out of the city. Especially in the summertime, it gets a little oppressive down there. And they were looking for somewhere in the countryside where they could meet as a group and go as families and friends. That's really the genesis for this. And then it exploded by the 1930s and 40s, and especially the 1950s. As more and more people gained access to transportation, cars, and even buses were used to bus people from the city up to Ulster County by the hundreds. [Las villas] really took off, and they eventually numbered over 50.

    Lauren: When I spoke with Ish Martinez, he talked about how his parents got started in the las villas community.

    Ish: My mother was a born in Brooklyn to Puerto Rican parents, and then she moved to a place called "el barrio." And some people might be familiar with that. It's Spanish Harlem, between 90th Street and 116th Street, in general, on the East Side of Manhattan. And it had a very large Hispanic community, mostly Puerto Ricans, but there were some Spanish [people], there were Cubans, and then later on Dominicans and South Americans. So my parents met in el barrio, and that's where they grew up. Early on in the 40s, they were actually customers to las villas, and they used to come up to Plattekill to a place called Villa Rodriguez, and Villa Rodriguez was the first villa, as far as my research tells me, that was established in particular around the 20s. My parents started coming up there in the 40s, and they enjoyed it so much. They loved the area. And at some point, my dad just decided that they wanted to move to Plattekill, and they bought a farm. They started out as farmers — that lasted only a year or two — there were chickens and some cows and pigs. But with all the villas already established in the area, they saw that as a better alternative for them. And they quickly turned it into a villa. My dad, having had a carpentry background, built most of the villa, aside from the original farmhouse that they had. He built rooms, dining halls, dance halls, and the bar.

    Lauren [to Ish]: And so did you continue to live in the farmhouse part of it?

    Ish: We did at first. They bought the business in 1948. By 1955, we had moved full-time to Plattekill. Before that, we would come up on weekends and whenever we could, because my dad was still working in New York City. But then finally, when we moved up, he built a house for us to live in. So we built our own house — my father, sister, and her husband also moved up and built a house. So we had our own home, and then the villa had the buildings that accommodated all the rest.

    The name of the villa was Sunny Acres Hotel. It was funny, because the name was invented by my father's sister, my aunt Stella. And she had seen the name in the funny papers. Somewhere she saw a farm called Sunny Acres, and so she brought that to his attention. They liked the name, and the name stuck. And even though it doesn't have a Latino ring to it, you know, you get a lot of variations on what people called it based upon whether they have an accent or don't have a Spanish accent. But yeah, that's the name of it. And it went on for about 22 years. It was around for a while.

    As a child of villa owners, naturally, you are expected to do your share in taking care of the villa. So, my jobs were numerous. I took care of the swimming pool. I mowed the grass, I trimmed the hedges. I cleaned inside — and now, I'm not just talking about me, but our entire family. I have two older brothers, Ron and Larry. I have a younger sister, Carla. We were a true villa family. We all had our part. We all did some work to some extent. My mother certainly worked in the kitchens and took reservations. My dad was kind of like the host with the most, he just had to show up, and it seemed like everyone in town knew him. I couldn't tell you how many people from the city would ask for him by name.

    Lauren [to Ish]: I have to imagine that most of the people coming out of the city didn't have their own automobiles, because most people in the city don't. So how are people getting to las villas?

    Ish: That is true. Early on in the 20s and 30s, the best form of transportation for many people was actually by boat. They would take boats, sometimes day liners. They would go to the port of Newburgh and Kingston, and from there, they could catch either a bus or, in the case of Kingston, there was a rail line that went out along the Route 28 corridor, where a number of these villas also existed. In Newburgh, there was bus transportation to Plattekill, and to other areas that would bring them to the villas. Of course, over time, as the highways got better, and roads get better, and people were able to afford cars, then bus and cars were the main forms of transportation. The buses in particular, in Spanish, they were called "jiras." J-I-R-A-S. And basically what that was, it was people chartering buses to get them to the villas. And they would come up in droves. I mean, you could get a bus ticket for between $4-$6. At one point, you would see the roads back-to-back with traffic, I mean, bumper to bumper. And a small town like Plattekill almost couldn't take as much transportation as it was getting. So it could be problematic, also, but people seemed to tolerate it.

    Lauren [to Ish]: Was it more common to go out for the day, like a day trip? Did it vary?

    Ish: Yes, it did. It did vary by family. As I mentioned, the ones that brought up the jiras, the buses, those are generally just daytime visitors. But there were people that had their own cars, and they would come up, and they might stay for a day or they might stay for the weekend, which was when most of the activity was going on in terms of music and so forth. My parents had many visitors who would come up and stay for a week. And so did some of the other villas that were a little bit larger, like the Villa Nueva, the Villa Garcia, the Villa Galicia, and there were several others, the Villa Madrid, the Villa Victoria. So those are places that had week-long visitors. And generally, there would be things for them to do, there would be swimming pools, playgrounds and basketball courts.

    In my parent's villa — and I should mention that their names were Ishmael and Lucy Martinez. My dad went by the name of "Shorty," though, for obvious reasons, if you knew him. He was pretty innovative. My dad, he had a lot of ideas about bringing people in, he made sure that there was always some form of entertainment going on to keep the people at the villa when they got there. Because a lot of people would do the "villa hopping:" somebody came, they heard a band, when the break came, they would scurry over to another area where maybe the music was still going on. And of course, there were places to eat. My parents had a restaurant as well. But [my dad] believed that if you kept the people there, they would tend to spend more. And so you would have day and night entertainment. It would start in the afternoon and go all the way — on Saturday night, it would go until 2 a.m. with the bands playing, until the law required that the bar had to close down.

    Lauren [to Ish]: Was this one of the premier places where Latinos could kind of celebrate their culture, where there might not have that available to them in the city? Was it kind of a cultural experience as well as a vacation for them?

    Ish: Yes, it absolutely was. It was a place where they could congregate and get together and you know, share their culture, the language — and actually, as I mentioned, most of them came out of the city and the New York metropolitan area. So we had people coming from Connecticut, people coming from New Jersey. You had people that had a great allegiance to one villa, and they got to actually know the owners, and even the employees that the villa employed, and it kind of became like a family to them. And there were other people who might test out the waters and try one villa one year and wouldn't be the next. But yeah, you have many loyal customers who would come to the same villa.

    Lauren: There was a lot of variety in the villas as well. Some of them were very small, one room, with more of a club-like atmosphere. And then other villas were much bigger, and were more resort-like. You could rent a room there, they had pools and playgrounds for the kids. Some of them had more of a family atmosphere rather than just the nightlife. In general, families seem to come out of the city together and enjoy this, whether it was a day trip — he mentioned that churches would often charter buses so that the church community would go for the day and listen to the music, and have the food, and then head back to the city. But also, there were some people that would go away for the week. So it really varied, and they were all pretty much seasonal: they would start in May, they would close in early fall.

    Devin: I think it's interesting, too, that we see, as I noted earlier, that the original villas were created by Spanish people, and then as immigration patterns change in New York City, and there's an influx of Cuban people or Cuban Americans in New York City, they start to come to las villas, in some cases, purchasing their own resorts and taking that over. And then in the 1940s, 50s, and into the 60s and 70s, it starts to be predominantly Puerto Rican immigrants and people of Puerto Rican descent who are spending time in las villas. And I think this is really interesting and indicative of the immigration patterns, again, in New York City, and in New York state itself. It's also very interesting to think that Plattekill is a very small town, and not necessarily a diverse town, either. But because of people establishing businesses and then hundreds and thousands flocking to those businesses every summer, it really becomes a very diverse place, and a very economically successful place.

    Lauren: And they were all kind of along one road, because all of these people that were coming up on buses didn't have transportation once they got there. So a lot of the villas had to be within walking distance. He said they called it "villa hopping," where they could go from villa to villa. And he talks about how his father was clever about keeping people at his villa, because he would have one band play a set, and then when they took a break, another band would pick up their break, so that nobody was leaving in between sets. He wanted to have everybody dancing all the time.

    Devin: That's a great point. I mean, one of the most interesting and historically significant parts of the story is the fact that las villas became an epicenter for Latino, and specifically salsa, music. There were so many prominent musicians that either got their start there, or at least spent time playing there. And you noted it was because villas were trying to keep as many people there as they could. So they were doing it by trying to attract the best bands, having more bands, also having the best food and cuisine, because that was a huge part of it. I visualize this as a town-wide Latino festival: it's music, it's open grills, and people dancing and drinking and going from site to site and really trying to take it all in during the amount of time that they have there. As you noted, some people didn't have more than maybe one night there, and other people stayed longer.

    To get an idea about the importance of las villas for the musicians who were working in New York City and trying to establish a name for themselves, I spoke with Jimmy Castro, who is a music producer and promoter, and also a filmmaker who made a film called Back to Las Villas.

    Jimmy: You didn't think about it that much back then. But when I think about it now, it was just so incredible. It was a unique place, you know, a place that was just second to none. There was no nowhere else like it. You know, there was legendary artists today that you name, and they actually started their careers playing in la villa, you know? People like Larry Harlow, Yomo Toro, Hector Lavoe. They were known back then, you know what I mean? And a lot of them, a lot of Latin music legends that, you know, were based in New York at that time, would take the trip just to get out of the city. I mean, they played a lot in New York City, of course, but you know, just to get out of the city every now and then they would travel up to las villas and perform.

    Devin [to Jimmy]: They seem to have played a major role not only as a venue, but as a way to get the music out into even larger audiences.

    Jimmy: Yeah, that was the thing. A lot of it was word of mouth. Also, you know, these artists coming from New York City driving up on weekends to perform, again, weren't as well known as they are now — and some of them aren't even with us anymore. It was word of mouth to people that visited las villas, and were able to see these artists perform, get to know them. They became fans. The fanbase, of course, grew from them performing in las villas, yes, because a lot of the people that went to las villas, a majority of them are from New York City. They're also driving up.

    If you're driving into the town, and you get into the town, and you roll down your windows, you literally hear the music. A lot of the reason it was so popular was because it reminded a lot of people of Puerto Rico, you know, their home, where they came from. And going to las villas was like, you know, they even called it "little Puerto Rico." So, that's the kind of thing that I remember about it. And then, during the production, I reached out to a lot of people asking if they had pictures, videos or anything like that to send me, and I got so much stuff, a lot of stuff I couldn't even use. It was so much, everybody sending me things from all over the world. I'm telling you, from all over the world, I was getting pictures and stories, and I couldn't keep up with it. I mean, I had a really small production team, but you know, producing a documentary, it's really a lot of work, man.

    Before I started working on the production itself, I needed to find a narrator for it. Because a documentary has to have a narrator. And I didn't know who I would get. I was trying to think of who can I reach out to, to narrate this. And one night, I was actually in my home, watching the news, Fox News 5 from New York. And one of the meteorologists, her name is Audrey Puente. She's actually the daughter of the famous Tito Puente, the timbales player, right? I was listening to her, you know, doing the weather. And I said, "Man, wouldn't it be great to have her? Because her father performed there." And I sent her a message. And I was so surprised that she really got back to me right away. I called her I explained what I was doing. She didn't hesitate. She said, "I'm in, Jimmy." And so that's how she became, you know, the narrator of this documentary.

    Lauren: What is considered to be the golden era, when las villas was the most popular, would be between the 1950s through the 1970s. And once you get into the 1980s, and certainly into the early 90s, it really drops off, and there are less and less villas and less people visiting, largely because it's much easier and more affordable to travel by airplane. And there are other places that are centers of Latin culture such as Florida, where people are frequently visiting, rather than Plattekill.

    Travel patterns change. Being from Saratoga Springs, like, after the Victorian era, when everybody started to get their own automobiles, they didn't have to take the train anymore. You know, Broadway was on a downward spiral for a while. So the same is true here.

    Many of the people who live in Plattekill now, or in the area, may drive by the area that was known as las villas and not even know what used to be there. And because of this, Ish thought it was important to mark, with a historic marker, the location, and to remember what had been such a huge part of that community.

    Ish: I would be remiss if I didn't say that this all got kicked off by my sister, Carla Ramos, who started up Facebook page, called "Las Villas of Plattekill." And that really brought to mind that it was the right time to write the book and to start giving las villas more exposure. Aside from my book, that wasn't anything obvious in the town to tell people that the villas once existed there. I was always interested in [historic] markers and would always stop to read them. And I thought just to myself, you know, "That would be a good way to bring the story of las villas, at least to the attention of people driving through the village or living in the village."

    There's a place in the village where there existed a general store. And that was kind of the center of the village. It was the crossroads, really, of people coming through the village, and either continuing up Route 32 to northern Ulster County, or taking the Plattekill Ardonia Road where many of these villas actually were established. It was like our malt shop when we were growing up. And back, when the villas were around, there was an organization that was formed by the villa owners called the Plattekill Tavern Owners Association. And as part of that association, they created one large sign with all the names of the villas and businesses on it. And that sign was located right there, near the general store. And I just felt that crossroad would be a good spot to put the sign.

    Lauren [to Ish]: Have you had more people asking about the history?

    Ish: I've received a lot of positive feedback from the locals in the town, both Latinos and non Latinos, about the sign. And now there's a certain amount of pride for having that there because, as it turns out, that sign — and it's amazing to me — it's the only historical sign in the town of Plattekill. So I think it has given some exposure and some feedback on the history of las villas. I'm glad it's there.

    I think of the environment that I grew up in, and I think about Villa Sunny Acres in its totality, just what it looked like, and you know, that will forever be preserved in my memory. Even though today if you were to go back there, it looks much, much different. The dining room, dance hall, and the bar, that building burned down in 2006. But when I think back about it, I always think about the property in its entirety and all the things I did there as as a child. I think of the swimming pool, and I think of the pond which had rowboats. I think about the dance hall, and how much time I spent there. Actually, as I think about it, when you're in it, you think it will never end! I mean, you see thousands of people flocking to the villas in buses and in cars. Everything was crowded, and there was so much going on. It just felt like it will never end. But you know, things come to an end, and that's just life I guess.

    A New York Minute In History is a production of WAMC Northeast Public Radio, the New York State Museum, and Archivist Media, with support from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation. This episode was produced by Jesse King. Our theme is “Begrudge” by Darby.


    Radio Cloak and Dagger | A New York Minute in History Jun 01, 2023

    On this episode, Devin and Lauren tell the recently declassified story of a covert radio station built by the FBI on Long Island to deceive the Nazis during World War II. From 1942-1945, double agents worked in secret from a remote home in Suffolk County on the major operations "Bodyguard" and "Bluebird," and dug up information that some believe contributed to the United States' development of the atomic bomb. After the war, the Wading River Radio Station was taken apart by the FBI, but the house itself (then called "Owen Place," but now known as the "Benson House") is open to visitors at Camp DeWolfe. The property was listed in the National Register of Historic Places in 2018.

    Marker of Focus: Wading River Radio Station, Wading River, Suffolk County

    Guests: Dr. Raymond J. Batvinis, former supervisory special agent for the FBI now with the Institute of World Politics; Rev. Matthew Tees, executive director of Camp DeWolfe

    A New York Minute In History is a production of WAMC Northeast Public Radio, the New York State Museum, and Archivist Media, with support from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation. This episode was produced by Jesse King. Our theme is “Begrudge” by Darby.

    Further Reading:

    Raymond J. Batvinis, Hoover’s Secret War Against Axis Spies: FBI Counterespionage During World War II

    Raymond J. Batvinis, The Origins of FBI Counterintelligence

    Neil Kagan, The Secret History of World War II: Spies, Code Breakers, and Covert Operations

    Joshua Levine, Operation Fortitude: The True Story of the Key Spy Operation of WWII that Saved D-Day

    Teaching Resources:

    International Spy Museum, Educator Resources

    The National Law Enforcement Museum, Virtual Classes

    The National WWII Museum, Educator Resources

    Follow Along

    Devin: Welcome to A New York Minute in History. I'm Devin Lander, the New York state historian.

    Lauren: And I'm Lauren Roberts, the historian for Saratoga County. On this episode, our marker of focus is not one of the blue-and-yellow New York state Historic markers that we usually talk about. The marker is brown and white, and it's part of another marker program that the William G. Pomeroy Foundation offers called the "National Register Signage Grant Program." This program offers a historic marker to individual properties or districts that have been listed on the National Register of Historic Places. This idea came out of the observation that once a property is listed, there is no provision for signage to acknowledge that accomplishment. So Pomeroy's National Register Signage Grant Program looks to fill that gap so that these sites get the deserved recognition.

    The marker we're speaking about today is located at 408 North Side Road in Wading River, Suffolk County, out on the North shore of Long Island, on property that is now part of Camp DeWolfe. And the text reads: "Wading River Radio Station has been placed on the National Register of Historic Places in 2018 by the United States Department of Interior. William G. Pomeroy Foundation, 2018." So what is the story behind the Wading River Radio Station?

    Devin: It's really a fascinating story. And it's not the type of radio station that we think of today, that's playing music or talk radio or something like that. It's really a story of espionage, specifically counter espionage against the Nazis during World War II. Now, we've all heard of the Culper spy ring on Long Island - but I was surprised to learn that Long Island played such a significant role in the FBI's efforts during World War II, specifically in two major places: one of which was in the early 1940s in Centerport, which we'll get into in a minute, and the second that we're talking about mostly today, the Wading River Radio Station, which still exists, the building is still there. As Lauren said, it's part of Camp DeWolfe, which is owned by the Episcopal Diocese of Long Island, and operates as a youth and summer camp. In fact, you can go and stay at the house that the radio station was part of.

    Matt: So my name is Reverend Matthew Tees. I'm the executive director of Camp DeWolfe. The Diocese has been around for just about 125 years and Camp DeWolfe has been an organization and mission of the Diocese since 1947. So right after World War II, we started our first year of summer camp. The information that we have about the house, it was originally built, we believe, in 1912. And the story is that it was a sea captain's retirement home, because it's basically right on the Long Island Sound, looking straight across to New Haven - so the widest part of the sound. And at some point, it transferred over to the Owen family. We traced it back online: basically, the family was in New York City in the late 1800s, and like many people they were looking for a house on Long Island to spend vacation time in. And so at some point in the early, I'm gonna say, 1920s and 30s, they purchased the property. Mr. Owens, well, he passed away. His daughter inherited the property, and she never married and she ends up passing away, so it actually went to her sister. And in the 1940s, basically, there was this property that the Owen family held, but they weren't really using. And that's when the FBI approached them to potentially rent out the facility.

    Ray: The story really should begin with a case called the Duquesne Case that started for the FBI in February of 1940.

    Lauren: To begin the story, we have to bring ourselves back to the World War II era. And just as a quick refresher: Germany invaded Poland in September of 1939, and that's what officially started World War II. Now, America does not get involved in the war until after the attack on Pearl Harbor in December of 1941. So the story starts a little bit prior to our involvement. Just because we weren't actively engaged in the war does not mean that we were sitting back on our laurels and just watching things happen. It was pretty apparent this was going to be another war that engulfed the entire world, so the FBI was certainly watching and getting ourselves ready for when we were going to be actively involved in the war.

    Devin: It came to the attention of the FBI that there was a double agent within their midst, a man named William Gottlieb Seybold, who was an American citizen, but had immigrated to the United States from Germany. And upon returning home to visit his family, he was taken captive by the German Secret Service or secret police, and essentially forced into becoming an agent for them. They basically said, "You can't leave Germany, and we'll harm your family if you don't do what we say." So they trained him to be a spy, to broadcast over radio information about the preparation that the United States may be making for World War II - the supplies that they may be thinking about sending to the British, you know, just their plans in general. He was sent to New York to essentially begin his activities. But instead, he contacted the FBI. He was not a Nazi. He was not sympathetic to the German cause. And he said that he would spy on behalf of the FBI. So he became a double agent.

    Ray: The FBI set up a radio station in Centerport, New York, which is very close to Huntington, it's a tiny little hamlet. By May of 1940, they made contact with the Germans in Hamburg. And of course, the Germans felt that they were communicating with William Seybold.

    Devin: We spoke with Dr. Raymond Batvinis, who not only is a former FBI agent himself, but he's also a historian.

    Ray: There's a lot more to the story, but I think what we're focusing on right now is the radio communication. And we learned a great deal [from this case] - we meaning the FBI and the United States government - we learned a great deal. It was a truly a classroom, a master class, for learning the art and craft and science of counter-espionage.

    Devin: Because of the efforts of these agents and William Seybold himself, they were able to unearth over 30 German spies and bring them to trial, which essentially crippled the spy network that Germany had in the United States up until that time. Which brings us to Wading River.

    Lauren: Right. So by this point, they know how effective the radio communication can be. So it made sense that they would try to set up a new radio station if they could find a similar situation with another double agent.

    Devin: And that's really what happened. The Nazis were trying to rebuild their spy network, and so they found a gentleman named Jorge Moscara, who was actually from Argentina, but had an import-export business in Germany. And they basically approached him and demanded - again, they weren't asking - that he become a spy, because he had a network in the United States through his business in South America. So he could kind of travel back and forth and not be very obvious. And they also believed that he was sympathetic to their cause. Again, in the similar manner, they trained him to broadcast, via radio, information that would be sensitive to the war effort of the United States. And this was after 1941, this would have been after Pearl Harbor. So the Nazis were very interested in learning what the United States was doing, what they were planning, where things were going. Same thing happens, though, with Moscara. He tells the FBI, "I want to be a double agent."

    Ray: His codename was simply "ND," like Nicolas David: "ND 98." So, he came under the umbrella of the FBI, he explained to them what had happened, and that he had to set up a radio station. So that's what they did. And they, again, set it up out on Long Island, only this time, they went further out.

    Devin: The FBI, led by an agent named Richard Millen, who was an expert in radio technology - he was an FBI agent, but he was also an expert in radio technology - he chooses the house in Wading River, which is at the end of a long driveway. It wasn't visible from any kind of major road or anything, it was secluded. But it was also very close to the shoreline. If you put in a radio tower, then you could reach Germany.

    Lauren: One of the reasons that New York and Long Island in particular was such an important place for the FBI is because of the proximity to the Brooklyn Navy Yard. New York was really a hub not only of intelligence, but also of industry. And so it made sense, that Moscara would be able to collect information by going into New York City, being in close proximity to the Navy Yard where they could see who was going in and out, and what were the industrial products that they were producing.

    Devin: For Millen, it was essentially perfect. And they set up a cover story.

    Ray: The cover story was interesting. They put an agent in there, and he had been a radio man in the Navy. So he had those technical skills. He had a wife, and he had a very, very young child. The child was a toddler. The cover story was that he had tuberculosis. The purpose of the tuberculosis story was specifically designed to keep people away. Tuberculosis at that time was a scourge, it was much like polio, and people feared it terribly. So the story that was put out was that he had tuberculosis, that he was actually a lawyer or something like that, that he had money, and that they rented the house. And he needed this for the fresh air to recover. So that was the cover story that they used, and it worked very effectively throughout the war.

    Devin (to Ray): Yeah. And we know that there were other agents there as well, and they were completely clandestine. They weren't even allowed, necessarily, to leave the property. So how would they have accomplished doing that for so long? For three years, essentially?

    Ray: Yeah, that was a real problem. They had, we believe, about three or four or five radio technicians and agents working out there and living there on the property. The reason for that was Moscara was not the only double agent here in the United States that we were operating. We had about three or four other ones that we were operating, and the shortwave radios were all concentrated in that building. So for example, if you were posing on your radio as ND 98 or Moscara, you would have been tapping out your shortwave radio message. And the person at the other end would become very familiar with your technique for sending the message. It's called fisting. So if there's another agent, there has to be a different person fisting, because the person at the other end in Hamburg would become suspicious if there was the same person fisting for all of these. Is this making sense to you?

    Devin (to Ray): Yeah, it does make sense.

    Ray: I've spoken to men and women who were shortwave radio operators, amateur radio operators. And they can immediately tell a lot about the individual who is at the other end of the message simply by the fisting technique. It becomes almost like a fingerprint. So you can see why, if there are three or four double agents, you have to have three or four different people there, right? And they were living there, they were eating there - and this woman, she had to do all the cooking, she had all the cleaning. And at the same time, she is trying to raise and take care of a toddler. So it was a very difficult and arduous time for those people out there.

    In one case, they had to use another cover story because one of the radio operators that they had out there decided that he wanted to join the military. So they had to come up with another cover story to explain why there was a new person fisting. And Seybold said, "I got another person because my current radio operator has been drafted into the military. So now I've had to find someone who was loyal to Germany, wants Germany to win, he's from the German community, etc." So they actually got another Bureau radio operator to replace that individual. So they ran into a lot of these headaches along the way, a lot of them just administrative and bureaucratic and dealing with personnel. You know, it's typical of these longterm operations that life has a tendency to interfere.

    Lauren: As part of keeping this site secret, one of the problems they had was the amount of electricity it took to broadcast these communications to Germany. It would be suspicious if this young couple was consuming so much electricity on a constant basis. So they had to figure out how they could produce their own electricity. And it turns out that they used a car engine in the basement as basically a generator to produce their own electricity. They placed the engine on a concrete block, and that's one of the only pieces of physical evidence that remains in the house today that shows what this house was used for in the 1940s.

    Devin: But let's talk a little bit about the operation itself.

    Lauren: First of all, the Germans were very interested to know where the Americans were at in the development of the atomic bomb. They felt the Americans were ahead in developing the bomb, when in reality, I don't think that was really the case. But it was very clear that the atomic bomb - whoever learned how to harness that nature first, they were going to come out on top at the end of the war. So sending misinformation about how much progress the United States had made was one of the major components that was being sent to Germany.

    Devin: You're absolutely right. And that becomes known really early on when Moscara is first being interviewed by the FBI. He notes that the spy master in Germany, who was a guy named Hans Blum, mentioned that one of the things they were interested in, as you said, was where is the United States when it comes to what he called "smashing the atom." At this point, nobody knew anything about that, even the FBI didn't necessarily know what he was talking about. But in reality, the Germans were moving towards an atomic program. The FBI sent that information up the chain of command and all the way to the president, who eventually greenlit the atomic program in the United States based at least partially on this new espionage information.

    Lauren: One of the other operations they had a major effect on was Operation Bodyguard, which was essentially feeding Germany false information about where the Allied invasion of Europe was going to take place. Of course, we know that it took place in Normandy, but at the time, the Wading River Radio Station was feeding information to Germany making it sound like the invasion was going to take place at Pas de Calais, which was the shortest distance, the shortest body of water in between England and France, where the Germans really thought that that was where the Allies were going to invade. And Operation Bodyguard really did a very convincing job, so the Germans did concentrate their forces in that area.

    Devin: This was a massive operation. There were several radio stations taking part all over the world, feeding misinformation to the Germans. There was also an entire fake army of rubber tanks, an imaginary army that was supposed to be ready to pounce somewhere and in Europe, anywhere from Norway to Spain. So when the Germans were trying to figure out where they were going to land - because they knew an attack was imminent, they didn't know where and they didn't know when, but they knew that there was going to be an invasion - they assume that the Pas de Calais was was the most logical point, and everything else was a distraction, diverting their attention from the obvious.

    So Wading River played a massive role in deceiving the Nazis, but it also deceived their allies, the Japanese. Because of the relationship between Germany and Japan at the time, the Germans were receiving information from Wading River Radio Station and then sending that to the Japanese, anything that had to do with the Pacific theater of war, including Operation Bluebird.

    Lauren: They were trying to convince the Japanese that American forces were planning to invade Formosa off the south coast of China. And of course, we end up dropping the atomic bomb, and the Japanese surrender, so there was no invasion of Japan. But this is another way that counter-intelligence was helping to support these operations from the Wading River Radio Station.

    Devin: And it's pretty amazing to me how they did this. So they created not only these fictional double agents, but they also created their sources. There was a person that they named "Wash," who they said was a high level War Department official, and someone named "Nevy," who held a post at the Brooklyn Navy Yard - which we said earlier, was so important. Then there was "Rep," who leaked vital aircraft production figures from the Republican Aircraft Company in Farmingdale. And "Officer," who was supposed to have been a high level military officer traveling between New York and Washington. None of these people existed. They were all completely fabricated. But when the agents were transmitting information to the Nazis, they would say something like, "Wash said this," or "Nevy said this," and then they would tailor that information to whatever background these people were supposed to have. But it's also interesting to realize that some of the information they were sending was actually true - that's how you can really fool your enemy. You don't just feed them absolute fabrication, you put in nuggets of truth. For example, Moscara was able to send information to the Nazis letting them know that a senior British officer would be replaced in the coming weeks. And he was, so that was true information. And so, the enemy, in this case, the Nazis, start to believe you more and more. And so other information that's being fed to them, they are less likely to doubt.

    Devin: So we know the operations at Wading River ended in 1945. We believe August of that year is when things finally wound down. But that was not the end of the story. Because shortly after the FBI left, there was actually a scene filmed on the back porch of the Owen house, and it was featured in the movie that came out later that year, called The House on 92nd Street - which was not about the Wading River Radio Station. It was a fictionalized account of the Seybold case. And the funny part about it is it was a film that was done in partnership with the FBI. So J. Edgar Hoover, the legendary head of the FBI, was in the film, as were several agents. So this film was kind of real, and it brings the question up of, did people really know what was going on there?

    Matt: You can look at articles that were published in the 1940s. Some of this came out, not specifically what the work they were doing - that came only recently - but people in the area knew something was going on. We hear stories about neighbors hearing that there's some covert operation going on at Owen place, and showing up in cars with shotguns because they thought they were Germans who landed in a U-boat or something like that. Because that was the fear, that there would be all these German U-boats in the Long Island Sound because Groton, Connecticut, which is the base, is right across the Sound from us. But basically, they said, "No, it's an FBI operation. Go away." And it's a small town, so they all dispersed. But we do have a sense that people in the neighborhood work quietly said to go away.

    Ray: I always wrack my brain as to how I came across it. It was serendipity a little bit. I had read The Making of the Atomic Bomb by Richard Rhodes. And coincidental to that, I obtained through the Freedom of Information Act the file on ND 98, it was called the Rudolph case. They have all kinds of different code names. So I had the file, and I was going through the Moscara file, and all of a sudden I turn the page: whoa, here it says Wading River in New York. And here is the debriefing of Moscara, talking about the atomic bomb. I was stunned. I had never heard of that at all.

    The first thing I did was I called the Wading River historian, and he said, "I'm familiar with the house, but I've never heard about this!" You know, the anniversary of the Normandy invasion was coming up. And I had a very enlightened president of the Society of former Special Agents of the FBI - they pulled out all the stops. And that's what put it on the map. That's how Newsday got involved, that's how the media got involved. So I'm very proud of [it], and I'm very pleased that we were able to [put it on the map]. Now the William Pomeroy Foundation put up a plaque identifying it, it's now on the National Register of Historic Places. So it's great. It really really is another piece of information about Long Island history that we're aware of.

    Devin: It was essentially hidden for almost 70 years. It wasn't until the 70th anniversary of D-Day in 2014 that a public announcement was made, and there was a local press event held by Dr. Batvinis and other FBI agents to announce the fact that Wading River Radio Station took place at the Owen house. And today, Camp DeWolfe, under the leadership of Reverend Matthew Tees, has really embraced their history and their connection to this period of time.

    Lauren: I think there's still new information that is being uncovered. It's only been a few years that this information has started to come about, and as we know, as historians, the more you talk about a subject like this, the more people start to come out of the woodwork and say, "Well, I had a piece of this history," or, "My family member talked about their involvement in this process." This information, it has been declassified by the FBI, so there's no chance that people will get in trouble having documents about this. So history is a changing story. It's a book that we don't know the ending to, and you never know when you're going to find the next big story, because things get buried for a long time.

    Devin: It's absolutely true. You never really know what's going on the house down the street.


    New York's Anti-Rent Wars | A New York Minute in History Apr 28, 2023

    On this episode, Devin and Lauren delve into the history of the Dutch patroon system in New York state, and tell the story of the anti-rent movement of the 19th Century, during which tenant farmers banded together to (sometimes, violently) oppose the outdated system. In the Albany County town of Berne, tenant delegates from 11 counties gathered for a formal Anti-Rent Convention in 1845.

    Marker of Focus: Anti-Rent Convention, Berne, Albany County

    Guests: Dr. Charles McCurdy, author of Anti-Rent Era in New York Law and Politics, 1839-1865; and Sandra Kisselback, town of Berne historian

    A New York Minute In History is a production of WAMC Northeast Public Radio, the New York State Museum, and Archivist Media, with support from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation. This episode was produced by Jesse King, with help from intern Elizabeth Urbanczyk. Our theme is “Begrudge” by Darby.

    This episode contains music created by Sean Riley. It also features the following pieces from the 2015 Old Songs production "Down with the Rent," including "The Farmer is the Man" (written by Knowles Shaw, 1834-1878; sung by Terry Leonino and Greg Artzner and company) and "We Will Be Free" (text by S.H. Foster; tune "The Boatman's Dance" sung by Terry Leonino and Greg Artzner and company).

    Further Reading:

    Charles McCurdy, Anti-Rent Era in New York Law and Politics, 1839-1865

    Dorothy Kubik, A Free Soil- A Free People: The Anti-Rent War in Delaware County, New York

    Albert Champlin Mayham, The Anti-Rent War on Blenheim Hill: An Episode of the 40’s

    Teaching Resources:

    Consider the Source New York, Anti-Rent Senate Documents

    New York State Archives, Primary Source Inquiries, Anti-Rent Wars

    Follow Along

    Devin: Welcome to A New York Minute in History. I'm Devin Lander, the New York state historian.

    Lauren: And I'm Lauren Roberts, the historian for Saratoga County. On today's episode, we're focusing on a historic marker located at 1728 Helderberg Trail in the town of Berne, which is located in Albany County. The marker stands in front of the Helderberg Evangelical Lutheran Church, and the text reads: “Anti-rent convention held here, January 15, 1845. Delegates from 11 counties petitioned state to end unjust land lease system. William G. Pomeroy Foundation, 2016.”

    The church that the sign sits in front of is now called the Helderberg Evangelical Lutheran Church, but back in the late 1700s, it was referred to as St. Paul's Lutheran Church, and it played a really important role in the anti-rent movement. Before we start speaking specifically about why this anti-rent convention was important, let's give a little refresher about landownership in parts of New York's Hudson Valley, and explain why there was an anti-rent movement in the first place.

    First, we have to remember that in the early 1600s, it was the Dutch government that controlled the area that we now call the Hudson Valley. Beginning in 1629, the Dutch issued the Charter of Freedoms and Exemptions, which allowed for investors in the Dutch West India Company to be granted large swaths of land – we’re talking hundreds of thousands of acres. And they were referred to as patroons.

    Charles: Once upon a time, the land was all owned by a handful of big shots. And the big shots would convey a piece of the land to tenants.

    Devin: I spoke with Dr. Charles W. McCurdy, author of The Anti-Rent Era in New York Law and Politics, 1839-1865.

    Charles: Tenants, they would hold “of the landlord.” In other words, they didn't own what we would today called a fee simple title, the way we own our suburban homes, for example, and farms. They would hold of the landlords, so the true owner would be the landlord, not the tenant. This went on in perpetuity. So, if you were the son of a tenant, you would inherit the same land on the same terms as your father had. And this would go on for generations, potentially.

    Lauren: They could sell the land. They could also pass it down to their heirs, so that the land would always remain within the family. However, they never owned it. They always had to pay a yearly rent, and that rent was usually paid in crops or in fowl, livestock. And the patroons had an overwhelming amount of power. It wasn't just that they were huge landowners, but they also had the ability to create their own court system, which meant that they didn't have to follow the same justice system as the rest of the government. They really had a feudal land system where they were the complete power over any of their tenants.

    Devin: So the patroon system starts as a Dutch creation. But in 1664, we know that England takes over the colony, and they continue this system as a manor system. They're still sometimes called patroonships, even after the British take over. The largest and most successful patroonship was established by diamond and pearl merchant Kiliaen Van Rensselaer in 1630, and he called it Rensselaerswyck.

    Charles: The manner of Rensselaerswyck occupied, except the northern townships in Rensselaer County, the whole county – all the way to the Massachusetts line from the Hudson River. And the same estate extended through all of Albany County except a little chunk called Coeymans. That's 48 miles from the western boundary of Albany County, to the Massachusetts line. That's 48 miles, and it was 48 miles up and down the Hudson River. Well over a million acres.

    Devin: Rensselaerswyck was passed down from generation to generation in the Van Rensselaer family – always the men of course, the dominant heirs – until the early 19th Century, when Steven Van Rensselaer III inherited the patroonship. And he had a different way of dealing with the tenant system.

    Charles: Van Rensselaer was a man known for great benevolence. He founded what's now RPI, built all the Dutch Reformed churches in the whole valley. He was on the Board of Regents for the state university. He was the chair of the Erie Canal board. I mean, his benevolence and stature as a good guy was legendary.

    He said, “You can't get land on better terms anywhere in the United States as you can in Albany and Rensselaer counties, my land. Because if you enter the land, I'll give you a lease that will last forever, you will acquire an inheritable piece of land. You won’t pay any rent at all for the first seven years. And in return for that, I'm going to want my annual rents payable in wheat after seven years in perpetuity. Plus, if you sell the land, you owe me one quarter of the purchase price.” Well, in Rensselaer and Albany Counties, the population grew fivefold from the 1780s to 1820. So a lot of families took up this land.

    Now this could have gone on for a long time. But in 1819, there was a financial panic, and there was an ensuing depression. Meanwhile, there's new settlements in the west, in Ohio country, and the Erie Canal was completed. And farmers are starting to have lower yields, because of the hessian fly and other problems that farmers everywhere had. But their yields were going down, and meanwhile, their rents were going up. Because the price of grain soared beginning in 1824. And by 1836, the price of grain was 10 times what it was in 1786. So basically, the terms had changed, hadn’t they? What looked like a good deal in 1786 now, suddenly, looks like a very bad deal – at the very time when your own yields of grain are going down. You can't go borrow money to save your farm to pay the rents. No mortgage company is going to loan you money if the first person on a foreclosure sale is going to be the landlord, who's going to get at least one quarter, right? All right, so a rock and a hard place. And then in 1839, Steven Van Rensselaer III dies.

    Rents hadn't been collected since 1819. The tenants all thought, “Well, he's just gonna waive the rents, maybe even convey the land to us in his will.” No, he had debts himself. And the first job of his two sons was to collect and pay off those debts.

    Lauren: Steven Van Rensselaer III hadn't collected rent in 20 years – and he was a wealthy man, but he was also a spending man. So the debts were high, and really, Steven Van Rensselaer IV needed to collect all of the rents, including back rents for the last 20 years, in order to pay off his father's debts. So now we're in a situation where there are thousands and thousands of tenants who haven't paid rent in 20 years, wheat prices are not the same as they were, and the lands are not as productive as they had been in the past. And as you can imagine, the tenants were not thrilled about this change in policy.

    Charles: They held a meeting. And on the Fourth of July, they declared their independence from the so-called “Patroon of the manor of Rensselaerswyck.”

    Devin: So what does a patroon do at this point? Well, they involve law enforcement.

    Charles: The indentures through which the families entered the land in the first place provided that if rent was unpaid for 30 days, all the landlord had to do was to show up with the sheriff and grab anything he saw, and sell it to pay the rent. That’s a good way to make sure that the rents are paid, if the landlord can just show up and take tools or growing crops or chattels, and sell them to anybody. And then the second way is just to eject, just to evict – put all the farm implements and stuff in the road, toss them off the land, and then you can lease it forever to somebody else.

    Devin: They start sending the sheriffs and law enforcement of the era into these communities to break up these organizations and organized meetings that are taking place among the tenants, and that does not go over well with the tenant farmers.

    Lauren: And we have to remember that the side of the law is on the side of the patroonship, because these tenants have signed leases which state that they will pay a yearly rent forever in perpetuity.

    Devin: So the attempts to coerce don't go over too well, as I noted. Many of the law enforcement officials and sheriffs are actually run out of these small towns and communities after being tarred and feathered.

    Charles: They threatened county officials, all of whom are elected, that if they show up trying to distrain (that's the process of just grabbing any chattel and selling it) or eject a family, they're gonna go home in a wagon. We're going to tar and feather the customs informers. We're going to tar and feather sheriffs who tried to collect money from us on behalf of the pretended patroon of Rensselaerswyck.

    Now, we’ve got politics deeply involved. If the county officials won't do their job – and they didn't want to after several attempts. The third attempt, they raised a local militia company in the city of Albany and marched out toward a little town called Reedsville. It's about 20 miles to the west up in the Helderberg hills, and they met a screaming mob of thousands. So, if the sheriffs can't enforce the law, they asked the governor.

    There are about as many Democrats as Whigs in Albany County in 1839. The governor and his friend Thurlow Weed are very good at counting votes. So, it begins. Governor William Seward, later famous as secretary of state under Lincoln. He promises land reform, because the leases enforced on the manor of Rensselaerwyck are “anti-republican and oppressive.” That’s strong language in 1830: “anti-republican and oppressive.” And he calls for their abolition.

    Devin: So, the anti-rent movement becomes kind of a political hot potato, as both the major political parties at the time – the Democrats and the Whigs in New York – tried to co-opt the movement and use it for their own political gains. And because it's so large and encompasses so many voters, it really does have a political effect. Both the Democrats and the Whigs kind of take turns siding with the anti-rent tenant farmers and saying that they're going to affect change through the legislative process or through other legal processes, but they're never really able to do that.

    Lauren: So Devin, we're talking in particular about the manor of Rensselaerswyck, but there were others, say, Livingston Manor. What happened? Why is it that these manors live on in the Hudson Valley, and we don't hear so much about the other lower counties?

    Devin: I think that's really interesting, because we're talking about a feudal system that even in Great Britain hadn't been used since like the 12th Century – but it was still in use even after the American Revolution, right? We're talking about the early 19th Century, when Steven Van Rensselaer III dies in 1839. That's decades after the American Revolution, where we're supposed to have freedom and equality and all of these things. So why does the patroon system continue on after the American Revolution? It's really because those who sided on the side of the American cause, or the Patriot cause during the Revolution, were allowed to keep their patroonship intact. Those who are loyalists and stayed loyal to the king? They lost everything. So that's really how it continues on.

    Lauren: In the early 1840s, one of the tactics that the tenants used was to disguise themselves as Indians – they called themselves the Calico Indians, which is a made-up name – but they would disguise themselves in robes and sheepshead masks to hide their identity. And the lore is that tenants who needed help when the sheriff or deputies were coming to their farms, they would blow on a tin horn, that sound would alert the Calico Indians to then come to their defense, and they would drive off the authorities.

    Charles: The whole function is to make sure that nobody gets thrown off the land. That's in Anti-Renters Declaration of Independence on July 4, 1839. Everybody pledges each unto the other that they will prevent the ejectment of themselves or their neighbors. People live that and it becomes the most important thing in their lives for a long time.

    Now, the rents still aren't collected. The politicians haven't been able to figure how to abolish this extraordinary form of land tenure. And the landlords are getting impatient. So, they advance in 1844, on a couple of fronts in Albany and Rensselaer Counties, and it becomes clear to the leaders of the anti-rent movement that the best thing for them to do is to expand the number of families who are involved. So, they organize an anti-rent movement in Greene County, and they create a band of Indians to tar and feather the sheriff in Greene. And then the guys who were trained in Greene marched over into Delaware County, where there are thousands of people – not to the Van Rensselaers, these are mostly Livingston leases. And then finally the most famous anti-renter of them all, “Big Thunder” – Smith Bouton, who was a country doctor in Rensselaer County – he leads a band of Braves into Columbia County. Now, the anti-rent movement isn't just two counties. It's a big regional movement. It has substantial political power. And then there's violence.

    Lauren: Before it gets better, it starts to get worse. There are more episodes of violence, and people are killed. A young boy is killed by a stray shot at one of these clashes. And then a deputy sheriff is also killed trying to collect rent.

    Devin: In very early January of 1845, the governor at the time, Governor Bouck, actually called up a militia to disband the Calico Indians, and about 300 militiamen arrived in the town of Hudson from New York City and Albany to crush the Indian rebellion. And several dozen of the Calico Indians were actually arrested and charged with inciting a riot.

    Lauren: And so this prompts the legal system and the political system to try to find a way to ease these tensions, because the movement is growing and growing. In fact, in 1845, which is when the anti-rent convention happens that is referred to in the historic marker, there are representatives from 11 different counties that are joining this movement. They pack in 150 delegates to the church in the town of Berne to talk about how they can use their numbers in a political way to effect change.

    To learn more about the local legacy of the anti-renters and the convention of 1845, we spoke with Town of Berne Historian Sandra Kisselback.

    Sandra: From what I understand, there was people who came to the town from 11 different counties. Of course, the place was overflowing.

    Lauren: Do you know what the reaction of the community was? Were the majority of people in Berne members of the anti-rent party, or was there opposition there? Do you know what the feelings of the surrounding community were?

    Sandra: Yes, I think they were definitely supportive of it.

    We have a museum. It's on the second floor of an old hotel that people rented out when they were passing through town. There's about eight rooms of history, and they have one huge sign that I know of. That's the poster that was calling people to rise to the revolution. “Take up the ball of the revolution,” I think it says – that's the first thing you see when you walk up the stairs. And then one thing they did, which was phenomenal, in 1975 they had the man who wrote Tin Horns and Calico, which is quite an in-depth telling of the anti-rent wars, they asked him if they could reprint that book. And he gave them permission. So they did that for the bicentennial. And that really brought more attention to the anti-rent wars.

    Lauren: So the history of the anti-rent wars are pretty well known in your community?

    Sandra: With the older people, I think. And then there's one teacher who makes the kids aware. The school allowed the children to walk to the museum, which wasn't that far away. We still have a lot of interest in the town, and I think we'll get it back going again.

    Charles: In the New York State Legislature in 1860, the last remnant of the anti-rent movement still has a legislative agenda. And that agenda is worked into a statute, the Anti-Rent Act of 1860, which the New York Supreme Court declares unconstitutional in 1863. But that ruling came down just as all the troops in New York were either putting down the draft riot in Manhattan or out on the front in Virginia. So there's not an armed body of men that can go and clean out the last of the anti-renters in Albany County until the grand review of troops in the aftermath of Appomattox in 1865. Almost immediately after Appomattox, they marched into Albany County. They go to a guy named Ball’s house – he had taken a case all the way to New York Court of Appeals, and Ball had had already been ejected in 1860. They put all his furniture and stuff out in the road, and when the retinue went back to Albany, they just moved everything back in. [But now the troops are back to move them out for good]

    The Albany County artillery actually marches out with a cannon and lots of weapons. There's a lot of Civil War talk, because this is like “Putting down the rebels, buddy.” “Let's proceed with the work of confiscation,” says the Albany Evening Journal. “We've confiscated their slaves and let's confiscate these rebels’ lands which they have unfairly held without paying rent, in defiance of New York law,” sometimes since 1820. There was no longer a way forward to abolish or even mitigate the effects of the lease and fee, and so the only solution was state violence – just as the only solution to the secession crisis was state violence. There are massive ejectments. A lot of families however, bargained with the then owner – no longer Van Rensselaer, but an investor. They pay the back rents, pay interest on the back rents, and they keep their land, but they're still holding in perpetuity, according to New York law.

    Devin: So what happened with this whole movement? Did they actually accomplish anything? Well, we know the patroon system doesn't exist anymore. But it wasn't really a legislative or even congressional or constitutional amendment that ended things. And I would like to quote from Charles W. McCurdy, his book, in what he suggests happened at the end. He writes, “At the end of the era, the lease and fee no longer presented a problem to be solved. It served instead as a symbol of the self-defeating posturing by landlords and tenants alike. Both spurned compromise, both posed as noble victims deprived of their rights, and both blamed their unhappy fate on the corrosive interaction between law and politics. In 1865, nobody else cared.”

    He's really suggesting that after the Civil War, the issue just kind of disappears because people don't care about it, and there are other bigger problems to consider in the nation. But that doesn't mean it doesn't have a legacy. We're talking about it today, books are being written, articles are being written, historic markers are being put up. So, we know that it does have a resonance in this part of North America, this part of the United States. And we do know that it's historically significant, because it was a major movement – it’s still considered to be the largest tenant movement in the nation's history. I think for that alone, it really is something we should be talking about and learning about. It's a very complex situation. There’s very complex legal definitions that are being used. But it's important for us to acknowledge that this was a system that was archaic, even during that time, it was archaic. And it was something that, you know, those who were tenant farmers really felt strongly about, that they were being taken advantage of. And so did the landlords who thought, “Wait a second, you haven't paid rent in 20 years! And you signed this contract, and you're supposed to pay us this rent, and all we're doing is asking you to fulfill your contract.” So again, they're being portraying themselves as victims, the tenant farmers are portraying themselves as victims, and an uprise against these, you know, landed gentry and the wealthy elite. And meanwhile, neither side is willing to compromise. And then you have the political side of things, where both political parties are trying to use the issue for their own political means. So they're not necessarily interested in compromise, either. And as a result, unfortunately, you have violence, you have people actually losing their lives – not in great numbers, but any number is unfortunate. And I think for those reasons, it's an interesting aspect of a very uniquely New York story.

    Lauren: And it's a story that doesn't end with this, right? We still have tensions between landlords and tenants, not in the manor system, but certainly in situations where people are renting housing. We see this continue. We have a complicated relationship, not only with land, but with housing. And that continues right into the 21st Century. We still have protests going on, and we still have a situation where landlords and tenants are not willing to compromise with each other – and so the fight goes on.

    A New York Minute In History is a production of WAMC Northeast Public Radio, the New York State Museum, and Archivist Media, with support from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation. This episode was produced by Jesse King, with help from intern Elizabeth Urbanczyk. Our theme is “Begrudge” by Darby.


    The Persistence of Dr. Mary Walker | A New York Minute in History Mar 29, 2023

    For Women's History Month, Devin and Lauren tell the story of Dr. Mary Walker: physician, heroine of the Civil War, and the only woman in history ever to be awarded the Medal of Honor. Born to progressive parents in western New York, Walker would defy the odds to become a surgeon, spy for the Union Army during the Civil War, and go toe-to-toe with prominent suffragists Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton. Walker is buried in the Oswego Rural Cemetery.

    Marker of Focus: Rural Cemetery, Oswego, Oswego County

    Guests: Dr. Theresa Kaminski, author of Dr. Mary Walker’s Civil War; and George DeMass, Oswego Town Historian

    A New York Minute In History is a production of WAMC Northeast Public Radio, the New York State Museum, and Archivist Media, with support from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation. This episode was produced by Jesse King, with help from intern Elizabeth Urbanczyk. Our theme is “Begrudge” by Darby.

    Further Reading:

    Theresa Kaminski, Dr. Mary Walker’s Civil War: One Woman’s Journey to the Medal of Honor and the Fight for Women’s Rights

    Sara Latta, I Could Not Do Otherwise: The Remarkable Life of Dr. Mary Edwards Walker

    Thavolia Glymph, The Women’s Fight: The Civil War’s Battles for Home, Freedom, and Nation

    Hillary Rodham Clinton and Chelsea Clinton, The Book of Gutsy Women

    Teaching Resources:

    Association of the U.S. Army, Medal of Honor Mary Walker

    Junior Scholastic, Mary Walker’s War

    Keith Negley, Mary Wears What She Wants

    Continuing Teacher and Leader Education (CTLE) Credit: The New York State Museum is an approved provider of Continuing Teacher and Leader Education (CTLE). Educators can earn CTLE credit (.5 hours) by listening to this episode and completing this survey. Please allow up to two weeks to receive confirmation of completion.

    Follow Along

    Devin: Welcome to A New York Minute in History. I'm Devin Lander, the New York state historian.

    Lauren: And I'm Lauren Roberts, the historian for Saratoga County. On today's episode, we're exploring the backstory of a marker located in the town of Oswego in western New York, on the shores of Lake Ontario, which is adjacent to the City of Oswego. The marker is located in the Oswego Town Rural Cemetery on Cemetery Road, and the text reads: “Rural Cemetery. Begun circa 1820. Medal of Honor recipients, Dr. Mary Walker, first female recipient, and James H. Lee, interred at this site. William G Pomeroy Foundation, 2014."

    So, this Rural Cemetery actually has two Medal of Honor recipients buried within its grounds. For this episode, we're going to focus on the story of Dr. Mary Walker, the only female recipient of the Medal of Honor to this day. However, we wanted to take a moment here to acknowledge the other Medal of Honor recipient, James H. Lee, who also has a pretty fascinating story. The battle in which he served so bravely happened not on American soil, but in the waters off the coast of France, known as the Battle of Cherbourg. James H. Lee was a naval seaman during the Civil War, and served on the USS Kearsarge, a union sloop of war. The Kearsarge had been tracking down the Confederate raider, the CSS Alabama, and finally caught up with the raiding ship while it was in Cherbourg, France for repairs. Once out of the territorial waters of France, the Kearsarge and the Alabama engaged in a battle ending with a Union victory and the sinking of the Alabama. It was during this battle that seaman James H. Lee earned the Medal of Honor for “acting as sponger of the number one gun during this bitter engagement. Lee exhibited marked coolness and good conduct and was highly recommended for his gallantry under fire by the divisional officer.”

    Now onto the other Medal of Honor recipient in the cemetery, Dr. Mary Walker, who also earned her medal for service during the Civil War. But before we get there, let's take a look at her early life growing up in the town of Oswego.

    Mary Walker was born in 1832 on her family's farm. Her parents, Alvah and Vesta, were progressive thinkers and instilled these views into their many children. Alvah Walker built the first school in this area, which actually reminds me of our last episode about the Mossell family in Lockport, where the parents' emphasis on providing quality education influenced the next generation heavily, and led to those children growing up to advocate for many different types of social justice. The farm where Mary was born was located on a hill that Alvah named "Bunker Hill." Alvah was originally from the Boston area, and he named his farm after Bunker Hill because he hoped it would be a hill where battles would be fought — battles of social justice.

    To find out more about Mary Walker's early life, and her parents' influence on her beliefs, I spoke with Town of Oswego Historian George Demass.

    George: They had a farm. She had four sisters and a brother, and they all worked on the farm. Because of her father, who was a great abolitionist, Mary Walker in those early years knew Garrett Smith. He came, I think, to the farm to lecture one time. And of course, she knew Frederick Douglass. Her father was a great impetus in her life as far as reform [goes], including dress reform. So even as a young school girl, she started to wear trousers, because she worked in the fields and so forth with her other sisters. She taught for a couple of years in a school in Minetto, New York, which is not far away [from here], and then she went to the Syracuse Medical College.

    I tell everybody about a children's book that was written maybe three or four years ago, by Keith Negley. The title is Mary Wears What She Wants, and the last line of the book is beautiful because it says it all: “And it never was the same again.”

    Devin: When Mary graduated from Syracuse Medical College in 1855 — with honors by the way — she was only the second woman in United States history to graduate with a medical degree, with the first being Elizabeth Blackwell from Geneva, New York.

    Lauren: In 1856, Dr. Mary Walker married Dr. Albert Miller, and they each opened their own medical practice in Rome, New York.

    George: They were not married very long. She did not wear a typical bridal gown of that day, and she kept her own name, which was very unusual at that time. And they didn't live together very long, but she didn't get her divorce finalized until 1869, after the war.

    Devin: Again, it's clear that Mary Walker was a strong nonconformist for her era. She was a suffragist. She was a believer in the equality of the genders. She was known for wearing an outfit that consisted essentially of pants underneath a skirt, which was later known as the “bloomer costume,” which several suffragists would go on to wear — but none as long as Mary Walker, who for the rest of her life, would wear some version of the bloomer costume, or just pants themselves. In fact, Mary was arrested several times throughout her life for wearing pants, which was actually illegal in some municipalities around the country. She never really did any jail time for it, but it was, again, a symbol of her nonconformity.

    One of the other progressive movements of the 19th Century that Mary Walker was heavily involved in was the abolition movement. Growing up in the north, and in the burned-over district of upstate New York, she became very aware of the abolition movement and attended many speeches, including those given by Frederick Douglass, among others. When the Civil War broke out in 1861, Mary went immediately to Washington, D.C. to offer her services as a surgeon to the United States Army.

    Theresa: She presents herself to the Secretary of War, and she says, "I'm ready for service." She wants a commission. She considered herself every bit as qualified as any male doctor. And I think she already started getting this idea that her position as a doctor would help her to gather information for the northern forces.

    Devin: Our producer, Jesse King spoke with Dr. Theresa Kaminski, author of Dr. Mary Walker's Civil War.

    Theresa: I'm not sure that she would have thought of this as directly spying, or more like intelligence gathering. But she certainly knew, for example, about Allan Pinkerton, and his security detail for President Lincoln in 1861. By the time she arrived in Washington, the big story about Rose Greenhow — the woman who was actually spying for the Confederacy — she heard this story, too. And she understood that oftentimes women go into places where men don't think that they're paying attention to what's going on. She started thinking about this, and as early as 1862, she was writing to various officials offering her services as somebody who could spy or gather intelligence as she was out working in her medical capacity as a physician. I think it's linked back to her belief in women's rights and women's equality, and that they should be allowed to do what they're capable of doing, and not be barred from it just because they're women.

    Jesse: Were her efforts accepted? When she was sending these letters out to people, were they listening to them? Or were they just like, “Meh, this is…”

    Theresa: Yeah, I mean, many of her requests were consistently denied. I mean, she goes and she appears before the Secretary of War, asks for a commission, and he says the U.S. Army does not commission women. He, of course, did not share her beliefs in gender equality. And the only thing she could do after that was she ends up volunteering her services to the United States Army, and so from 1861 until 1864, she is working as an unpaid physician, and she essentially starts following different armies and, you know, she's just there serving as a doctor. And I think, as she moves along, during these years, the officers who see her in action are usually pretty impressed. She is constantly, though, trying to get a commission. She never gives up. She's always asking for this. She wants to be an official part of the Army. And she doesn't get this until 1864, and even then it's not a commission. She gets hired on an official contract as a — I think her official title was "assistant surgeon," which meant that she was a physician. And it's largely due to the efforts of one general who was very impressed by the work he saw her doing in a military hospital in Chattanooga, and he was willing to actually go against to an Army board of medical doctors who had examined Mary Walker for her medical knowledge, and said, "She isn't fit to be a physician, so she shouldn't be even doing anything for the United States Army." And General Thomas just totally ignored that advice, and gave her this contract. And off she went to northern Georgia.

    Lauren: And so under this contract, she's sent to Georgia to assist in caring for the soldiers, but also, she is being sent out to care for civilians in the countryside. And it's during this time that she is encouraged by her superiors to essentially keep her eyes and ears open for any kind of intelligence that would be able to help the Union army. And it's during one of these missions that she's actually captured by Confederate forces, who were suspicious about what she was doing so far away from the battlefields. They capture her, and she becomes a prisoner of war for several months at a place called Castle Thunder in Virginia.

    Theresa: It was not great. The food wasn't great, the conditions weren’t great — but she was not tortured. She was not directly physically abused. In some ways, she was kind of a celebrity prisoner; she was still wearing trousers, and so she was sort of famous or infamous as “the lady doctor who wore trousers.” She was maybe treated a little bit better because there were lots of eyes on her, but she did suffer enough depravations in those short months that her health was compromised. Her eyesight suffered, for some reason, there was some medical condition, and for the rest of her life, she had problems with her eyesight. And there was enough that happened to her there that she did get a pension after the war. It was a fairly modest one, but she was entitled to a pension because of what happened to her as a POW. And the reason she was let out was a prisoner exchange: the Confederacy was willing to swap for some of their army medical officers. So she was very happy to be let go when the time came.

    Lauren: Even after this, she still wasn't able to get a commission. In lieu of this, for recognition of what she had done during the war, President Johnson awards her the Medal of Honor.

    Theresa: And at the time, the criteria for the medal was very different than it is now. But by the standard of the time, she met the criteria. So this wasn't, this wasn't anything that was fudged just to make her fit into it. She was awarded the medal by President Johnson in November of 1865. I think there was some sort of congressional ceremonial approval in early 1866. So sometimes you'll see those two different dates attached to the medal. And she remains today, the only woman to ever have received the Medal of Honor.

    She had it revoked in 1917. And this was not anything that was targeted at her individually — this was part of an entire review of all Medal of Honor winners. Mary Walker was one of over 900 to have their medals rescinded, and I think this was kind of in preparation [of World War I]. 1917, this is the year the United States joins the First World War. The War Department knows now that there will be more medals that will have to be given, so the Army tells her that her medal has been rescinded. And she, of course, accepts none of this. She says, you know, she was given the award by President Johnson, and as far as she's concerned, he would be the only person who could take it away from her. So she never considered that it was rescinded. And she always wore that medal for the rest of her life.

    Lauren: 60 years later, in 1977, the Medal of Honor was posthumously reinstated to Dr. Mary Walker through the efforts of her family. And it was actually given to her by President Jimmy Carter.

    Devin: So it's clear with her service in the Civil War and as a surgeon before the Civil War, that Mary Walker was someone that had the courage of her convictions, for sure. This would actually cause a rift between her and several other prominent suffragists in the period following the Civil War. Now, as we noted, Mary was famous for being a Medal of Honor winner. She used her fame to go on speaking tours and attend suffrage gatherings, and was very much a prominent suffragist during this period. But she held some non-conformist views even among suffragists, including her adherence to wearing pants, or bloomers, which was something that the other suffragists had tried and turned away from, because they felt it was too much of a distraction. They were being ridiculed for wearing pants, and they really thought that that was a distraction from their important work of getting women the right to vote. And this included Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony, the two most prominent suffragists of the time.

    Mary Walker was also an adherent to a philosophy within the suffrage movement called "The New Departure," which basically said that the U.S. Constitution already grants adult women the right to vote, and that all Congress needed to do was an act enabling legislation to allow it. Now this was a departure from Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton, who were working towards a constitutional amendment that would allow women to vote.

    Lauren: And it's not as though other people in the movement didn't try this. They certainly did. I'm sure we can all recall that Susan B. Anthony attempted to vote and was arrested for it. Also, the Supreme Court ruled in the 1870s that this was not the case, that the Constitution itself did not allow for adult women to have the right to vote. So after that point, Susan B. Anthony, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, and the main part of the women's suffrage movement moved away from [the new departure] because of the Supreme Court ruling. And so this is where the big split happens.

    Theresa: Most of it, I think, comes down to Mary Walker's basic personality, which was very forceful. She totally said: "Here's an instance where the Supreme Court is wrong. Okay, they've made a decision, but it's the wrong decision." And she continued to lecture and write about this, that women still, absolutely, have the right to vote; states had to just enable that legislation and just make it possible for women to vote.

    Another thing that set her apart was her very outspoken views about divorce. Which, again, many suffrage activists, including Elizabeth Cady Stanton, supported liberalizing divorce laws that would help women who had gotten stuck in abusive marriages. So it's not that suffragists didn't believe in that, but Mary Walker was apparently very public and very blunt about her own divorce.

    You know, she had been wearing trousers since she was a young woman. And this, to her, was the visual expression of her belief about women's equality that women should be able to wear whatever they wanted. And in her case, this meant trousers. And going along with her belief in equality, was the belief that women should be able to choose what they want to do with their lives. But they're just tired of listening to her. And she refuses to be silenced. So it does lead to this, in such a break, that if you were to read the official multi-volume history of the women's suffrage movement, she was very consciously written out of it. She does appear mostly as lauding her work in the Civil War, but her beliefs about suffrage, all of that is just totally left out because Stanton and Anthony didn't want her credited with her views.

    Lauren: The idea of her persistence, across her life, you know, you can see it. She would not give back the medal, she would not give up the bloomer, she would not be quiet about her vocal discussion of divorce laws, and then she would not agree with the decision of the Supreme Court. So there's a theme throughout her life that she is persistent in her beliefs, and she will not let anyone else deter her from what she believes.

    Later in her life, Mary Walker continued to lecture about equality for women, and write books about it. But she really had to cobble together a living because, due to her being a prisoner of war and her disability with her eyesight, she was no longer able to practice as a surgeon — and she did receive a pension from the government because of that disability, but it wasn't enough to live on. So she continued to lecture across the United States and she was able to earn a living, but she had a fall one time when she was visiting Washington D.C., and she was sent back to her hometown of Oswego, where she eventually died in 1919.

    Even in her hometown, the views about Dr. Mary Walker and her progressive ideas were mixed. There were some people who really felt that she was a visionary, and there were some people who disagreed with her ideas. Even so, she was famous at the time. And people in her hometown knew right away that it was important to collect many of the objects and her writings and photographs. And so that's part of the reason that the local town and county museums have so many of her items now on display, and for people to research.

    George Demass also tells us how Mary Walker is being honored today.

    George: The forts that are named after Confederate people — and not all were generals, in fact, a couple were not even in the Confederate Army — they are being renamed. There was a congressional renaming committee, and Fort A.P. Hill, which is about 40 miles north of Richmond, Virginia — it's really a training fort — and it's going to be renamed Fort Mary Walker. And this is the first fort that has been named after a woman. And then there was a press release from the U.S. Treasury and the U.S. Mint that Mary Walker will be one of the five women in 2024 to be on the quarter. This is a program, I think it's a five year program. I think it was started in 2021, where there are five women a year that will be on the quarter.

    I was contacted for the Fort as well as the quarter, because I was the town historian, to find the nearest living relative of Mary Walker. They want to pass these things by the family. Mary Walker's nearest relatives really would be in Washington state now — the great, great, great nieces and nephews. But what has really amazed me is the depth that they take to make sure everything is accurate. You know, I was asked, “Do you have any idea what hairstyle she had during the war?” Of course, we have pictures. And “What was the medical kit like?” Well, we have a couple of those. It wasn't a regular doctor's bag, but really a woman's clutch purse that she carried. So, it's been really humbling and an honor to work with the Mint on the design of the quarter.

    I want to highlight — at the time she died in 1919, Mary Walker was great friends with another doctor in Chicago, a younger doctor, Dr. Betha Van Hoosen. After Mary Walker died, Dr. Van Hoosen wrote these words about her, and I think it's very appropriate. She said, "Dr. Mary's life should stand out to remind us that when people do not think as we do, do not dress as we do, and do not live as we do, that they are more than likely to be a half a century ahead of their time. And that we should have for them not ridicule, but reverence."

    And of course, she had a lot of ridicule. Growing up, I heard good stories, and I heard bad stories. They said she was loud, but she had to be loud. She was a woman, and in those days, women weren't heard. And again, her ideas were so far ahead of the time. Her second book, written in 1878, is called Unmasked, or The Science of Immorality. There she deals with spousal abuse, child abuse, sexual abuse. She has diagrams of the male and female sexual organs, and in 1878 that was quite a step in the future there. And she couldn't find a printer. So it's interesting to see the people here now in the town of Oswego looking back on those days. And I tell some of my contemporaries, I say, "Well, if Mary Walker was still around today, many people still wouldn't be agreeing with her." Because, let's just say, she was a visionary.

    She sat in every president's office from [Abraham] Lincoln through Woodrow Wilson. She befriended Queen Lili'uokalani, the last queen of Hawaii, and testified before the Senate that they should not annex Hawaii. So she stood up for that. A very, very colorful person, she was, and she just dreamed of justice for everybody.

    Devin: I think Mary Walker lives what anyone would consider to be an extremely interesting and important life. I mean, she was a surgeon, when women were not surgeons, essentially. She was a war surgeon when women were not surgeons. She was a spy. And she went on to become a prominent suffragist, only to fall out with Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton and essentially be written out of their history of the suffrage movement. And of course, she's to this day, the only woman to have ever won the Congressional Medal of Honor.

    Lauren: Yes, Dr. Mary Walker really leaves behind a legacy of being a visionary and of persistence. We see a common thread throughout her life, that despite people telling her, "This is something you can't wear, or you can't be, or you can't interpret," she continues to hold on to her convictions, and she does make a difference. And we can attest to that today, with having a fort named after her, being chosen to be on a coin. And her story still persists, people know who she is. And through things like historical markers funded by the William G Pomeroy Foundation, and these other accolades that she is receiving (there's also a wonderful statue of her in Oswego), we can continue to talk about the importance of education when you're young, the importance of having ideals and sticking to those ideals — even when people tell you you can't.

    A New York Minute In History is a production of WAMC Northeast Public Radio, the New York State Museum, and Archivist Media, with support from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation. This episode was produced by Jesse King, with help from intern Elizabeth Urbanczyk. Our theme is “Begrudge” by Darby.


    Aaron Mossell and the Struggle to Integrate Lockport's Schools | A New York Minute in History Feb 27, 2023

    On this episode, Devin and Lauren discuss a William G. Pomeroy marker recognizing the contributions of the Mossell family in western New York, and their efforts to successfully integrate the Niagara County city of Lockport’s public schools in the late 19th century — nearly 80 years before legal segregation ended nationwide.

    Marker of Focus: Aaron Mossell, Lockport, Niagara County

    Guests: Melissa Dunlap, executive director of the Niagara County History Center, and Heidi Ziemer, outreach and digital equity coordinator for the Western New York Library Resources Council

    A New York Minute In History is a production of the New York State Museum, WAMC, and Archivist Media, with support from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation. This episode was produced by Jesse King, with help from intern Elizabeth Urbanczyk. Our theme is "Begrudge" by Darby.

    Further Reading:

    Diane Ravitch, The Great Schools Wars: A History of the New York City Public Schools

    David G Garcia, Strategies of Segregation: Race, Residence and the Struggle for Educational Equality

    Laverne Bell-Tolliver, The First Twenty-Five: An Oral History of the Desegregation of Little Rock's Public Junior High Schools

    Michelle A. Purdy, Transforming the Elite: Black Students and the Desegregation of Private Schools

    Teaching Resources:

    New York Historical Society: Black Citizenship in the Age of Jim Crow

    New York State Museum: Educator’s Guide to Dr. King’s 1962 Speech

    PBS Learning Media: Civil Rights from Orlando to New York

    New York State Archives, Consider the Source New York: Civil Rights: The Hillburn Petition

    Continuing Teacher and Leader Education (CTLE) Credit: The New York State Museum is an approved provider of Continuing Teacher and Leader Education (CTLE). Educators can earn CTLE credit (.5 hours) by listening to this episode and completing this survey. Please allow up to two weeks to receive confirmation of completion.

    Follow Along

    Devin: Welcome to A New York Minute in History. I'm Devin Lander, the New York State historian.

    Lauren: And I'm Lauren Roberts, the historian for Saratoga County. We're celebrating Black History Month by focusing on a little-known story coming to us from Western New York. This blue and yellow historical marker is located in the city of Lockport, in Niagara County, and it's placed along the Erie Canal within the Josephine Carveth Packet Park. The title of the marker is “Aaron Mossell,” and the text reads: “Aaron Mossell and his son Charles were local residents who advanced the struggle to integrate Lockport schools open to all regardless of race by 1876, William G Pomeroy Foundation, 2018.”

    Now, the location of the marker is not directly related to Aaron Mossell or his family. But the site was chosen because of the visibility it offers. The marker’s on the site of a public park in an area that gets a lot of foot traffic, and therefore reaches a wider audience due to this placement. Hopefully, people visiting the park will see the marker and want to learn more about Aaron Mossell and wonder why they haven't heard that name before. So Devin, who was Aaron Mossell, and maybe before we get there, how do we pronounce the name?

    Devin: Well, that's a great question. And I think our two guests, Heidi and Melissa, have told us that in Lockport it's actually pronounced as mo-ZELL, while the family pronounces it MOSS-uhl. So we've chosen to go by the family, and call the family the Mossell family.

    Lauren: And this isn't uncommon, right? I mean, we know lots of times when there are family names that are pronounced different ways depending on where you're from. So, we're choosing to pronounce the name Mossell as the family does.

    Melissa: I'm Melissa Dunlap and I have been with the Niagara County Historical Society almost a full 33 years; 29 of them as the executive director.

    Heidi: My name is Heidi Ziemer. I am the Outreach and Digital Equity Coordinator for the Western New York Library Resources Council. In my job, I work with our libraries and archives with their special collections, and one of the things I tried to do is connect educators with primary source materials from these collections. And I had a group of teachers I was working with the year that I went to Melissa and was asking for information I think I started out asking for information about the Erie Canal — and she mentioned about the Mossell family, and I became hooked.

    Melissa: Aaron Mossell, he built the commercial hotel in Lockport and we actually have the arch that went over the doorway that has his name.

    Devin: And Nathan was Aaron Sr. and Eliza’s son?

    Melissa: Yes, one of them.

    Devin: And they also had Aaron Jr. and Charles.

    Heidi: There are articles about Aaron Jr's early law career, and the fact that he was defending people very successfully. And their sister Mary, married a professor from New Jersey, I think?

    Melissa: And then the granddaughter - Aaron's daughter, Sadie Tanner Mossell Alexander - she was the first woman in the country to get a PhD in economics. And then you go down to the great grandchildren, Dr. Rae Alexander-Minter, she was vice president of Manhattan College. Her first cousin, he was the head of Cardiology at Yale Medical School.

    Devin: What a… Has anyone ever written a book about this family?

    Melissa: I would hope somebody would!

    Heidi: We have actually been trying to figure out a way that we could get a project.

    Melissa: A cousin of Dr. Rae Alexander-Minter is Ossawa [Tanner]

    Heidi: The artist.

    Melissa: And he actually wasn't an expatriate. He went to France to live because he was not happy with how Blacks were being treated in our country. One of his works of art was the first art from a black artist that was installed in the White House during the Clinton Administration.

    Devin: Aaron Mossell Sr. was the scion of a very prominent African American family. But they didn't start that way. He was born in Baltimore, Maryland, in the mid 19th century, during a time when the vast majority of African Americans were enslaved. But he wasn't. And why was that? Well, it was because his grandfather, who was enslaved, purchased his own freedom and the freedom of the rest of his family from his enslavers. So, he was a free black living in Baltimore. He was a brickmaker. So, that's who he was. He married Eliza, and they moved their early family - they had their first two children in Baltimore - and they moved their family to Canada. And why was that? Well, because of the 1850 Fugitive Slave Act, which caused a lot of consternation among free Blacks everywhere, but certainly in a place like Baltimore that was part of the South. Enslavers were going to come and take them into bondage, whether they were free or not.

    Lauren: One of the other reasons that the Mossell family moved to Canada was that Aaron Mossell placed a heavy importance on education for his children, and he felt that the education provided to them in Canada would be much better than what was available in Baltimore at the time.

    Devin: So he moved his family - This is the mid 19th century, around the time of the Civil War - and his family lived there for a period of time, and we're not really sure what happened, but there was some sort of situation with a land deal that went wrong.

    Heidi: Entailment, I think it was? Entailment laws, yes. The British entitlement laws. A woman claimed back the property that Aaron had been living on.

    Melissa: She certainly gained, because it was an unimproved property when he bought it, and he built the structures: the house, the barn, and then all of the contents also became hers, any contents in the house.

    Devin: Unfortunately, the Mossell family was forced to give that up, and they ended up moving to Lockport.

    Melissa: The only thing he had was a horse that he had sent to the Blacksmith to be shoed. He sold the horse and that's how they wound up in Lockport, New York. From there, he was able to buy a brickyard that belonged to Mr. Trowbridge. And he eventually worked up to almost fifty workers, and had a really prominent business. But he also was an extremely well-educated, thought-out person and he was an activist. The two AME churches that were in Lockport had split, and he made the concerted effort to get them to compromise and join as one congregation again. He also was a philanthropist because he donated bricks, Southern Hamilton, Ontario. He donated the bricks when the AME Church was rebuilt in Lockport. But we're not sure if he donated the bricks for the High Street School or if he gave them a really good discount. But he had those bricks.

    Heidi: One of the things that we find in searching New York State Historic Newspapers is that Aaron senior served as a juror in the municipal court system. He participated in the county fairs and won some recognition for his cornice work. You know, they were a part of life; he was very respected. The family was very much respected in the community.

    Devin: So we know obviously, there's an African American community in Lockport that they were able to tap into. Do you know, generally, how large that population would have been in the 1870s? Was it a very large part of Lockport or are we talking very small?

    Melissa: It was small, I mean, currently, it's 9 percent of the population. And I think at that time, it was probably between… probably about 12-14 percent.

    Devin: Okay.

    Melissa: But because Lockport was a Quaker community, during the Fugitive Slave law, twice they tried to capture freedmen in Lockport. And Lyman Spalding, who was a prominent businessman, he got the canal workers to come and rescue the man that they were trying to take. And that happened on two occasions in Lockport. So the community was very supportive.

    Devin: We mentioned that Aaron Mossell and Eliza were very interested in educating their children, and we'll talk more about that later. But one of the things they quickly came up against was the fact that the Lockport schools were segregated, meaning there was a school for white children and there was a school for black children. Now, I think it's important for us to realize here in New York State, that school segregation was not just a southern phenomenon, nor was it something that suddenly went away. It's like slavery itself in New York. Many New Yorkers don't realize that colonial New York - from 1626, throughout the American Revolution, until the formation of the state and up to 1827 - was a slave state. Not only a slave state, but the largest slave state north of the Mason-Dixon Line. So, I think school segregation and desegregation is something that many New Yorkers don't realize is a New York story and a northeastern story.

    In the case of the Mossell family in Lockport, Aaron and Eliza quickly realized that not only were the schools segregated, but the black school had less resources given to it. The teachers sometimes were not the better teachers, they were maybe new teachers, the resources for equipment and supplies and the buildings themselves were not the same standard that white students were given.

    Heidi: In New York State 1873, The New York State Civil Rights Act of 1875, you had the Federal Civil Rights Act passed. And I think those two were the catalysts for people recognizing the opportunity to try to integrate the schools. Because it was around that time when Aaron Sr. and his son Charles both made the effort to have the Lockport schools integrated by closing the black school.

    Melissa: Actually, they started in 1871.

    Heidi: Right.

    Melissa: The first time, they petitioned.

    Heidi: Right.

    Melissa: and December of 1872, the colored school was supposed to be discontinued at the close of the term. Then on December 30, they rescinded that, and decided no that wasn't going to be, so they started a boycott.

    Heidi: In the Lockport Daily Journal in January of 1873, Aaron Mossell writes to the editors, and he says “SIRS: The colored people of the city had their hearts gladdened by reading in the papers, a short time since, that their children were about to be admitted in the District and Union schools of this city. But their joy was soon turned into sorrow, for your issue of the 30th of December contained information that the Board of Education, which had passed a resolution to discontinue the colored school and throw open the common schools to the colored children, had on 27th of December rescinded the resolution.” And then he goes on to say that a meeting was held at the South St. Zion Church. And it was organized by electing Aaron Mossell president and James Nichols secretary. So they organized, and then they resolved - they have a resolution in there - that they're basically going to boycott. The children will not go to that school, but that they will go to the respective white schools. And that if they were not going to be admitted, he does say, “That if our children are then refused admission to such schools, that in view of the fact that the colored people pay part of the taxes supporting the said district schools, that then in case of such refusal, such steps be taken at law as will secure to the colored people their rights in the premises.” So they're threatening legal action, if the boycott is not successful.

    Devin: You know, this economic starving by boycotting the schools, that’s actually a fascinating mode of civil disobedience. You know, instead of protesting and marching with signs, just stop sending your kids and it will become an economic burden to the point where they shut it down. That's brilliant. Do we know if any of the black students were admitted to the white schools?

    Melissa: Okay, we know that Nathan attended, because in his diary, he tells how the teachers completely ignored him in the classroom. He was a non-entity as far as they were concerned. So, that's a first-person account that he was not treated well by the teachers in the school. And he did attend the High Street School which was right across from his home. And also his younger sister, Alvarilla. They went through all of 1873 going to the board meetings, there were articles written in the newspapers, by March 20th 1873 was “Colored Schools Reported Abolished in Albany.” Then in 1873, there was the mention of the South Street School, which is where the school was located, and there's still one of the walls extant, the late colored school so we know that it was after 1873, probably around 1876 that it actually was passed that the schools would be integrated in Lockport. And by 1877, the building was sold.

    Lauren: So in looking at a broader context in New York State, trying to figure out exactly when schools officially were desegregated is a little bit convoluted, but I think we have to start back in the beginning with the 14th Amendment. According to historian David McBride, the 14th Amendment was: “aimed at extending full citizenship status and legal protection to newly emancipated Blacks by prohibiting states from depriving persons of due process and equal protection.” And shortly after this, in 1873, New York State was one of the first states to enact their own civil rights law. And this was happening at the same time that Aaron Mossell was in the middle of his fight to integrate Lockport schools.

    Devin: The New York State Civil Rights Law established that no state citizen “on the basis of race, color, or previous condition of servitude was to be excluded from the equal enjoyment of accommodations or facilities provided by: innkeepers, common carriers, theaters, or common schools and public educational institutions.” So why didn't it work?

    Lauren: While the Civil Rights Law of 1873 attempted to integrate all schools in New York state, there was a mixed reaction to this law. In some places, immediately school boards responded to this, notably: Albany, Newburgh, Geneva, Schenectady, and Troy allowed Blacks to attend public schools and closed down schools that were specific to black children. But there were others, notably larger cities like Brooklyn and Buffalo, that did not integrate their schools.

    Part of the reason that this only worked in some areas was that there was an argument that local law preceded state law. And so if there were local laws enacted by the Board of Education or local municipalities, that those laws took precedence over this larger state civil rights law. And there were lots of court cases fought over this to try to integrate schools; a few of them successful, many of them not successful. And so we have a situation where segregated schools continue in New York state into in some cases, the 20th century.

    Devin: There's another important reason why the civil rights law of 1873 had limited impact. And that's the Supreme Court case known as Plessy v. Ferguson, which happened in 1896. And really declared the “separate but equal” mandate, and basically said that states cannot force institutions or private entities to treat African Americans and whites similarly, that they were two separate entities. And as long as there was, for example, a black school and a white school, that was fine, as long as the black school was on par with the white school. And as we'll see, that wasn't necessarily true at all times, either. So you had Plessy v. Ferguson in 1896, which really weakened the Civil Rights Law of 1873. And gave local municipalities and local school boards the ability to say “we are providing a black school. So therefore, we are adhering to the Supreme Court's Case.”

    Lauren: It really wasn't until 1954, with the court case Brown v. Board of Education, where the Supreme Court declared that “separate but equal” was not constitutional. And that was the official legal end of segregated schools in the United States.

    Devin: And part of this is the reason why segregation of schools beyond legal segregation continues to this day in New York State. I'll note a 2021 article from the Albany Times Union with the headline that says: “Nearly 70 years after Brown decision, New York schools still separate and unequal.” A lot of this article is based on a UCLA report that came out in 2014 that suggests that New York schools - to this day - are the most segregated in the United States for African American students, and the second most segregated for Latino students, only to California.

    So why, after all of these decades after Brown v. Board, are New York schools still heavily segregated? Even though not legally so, but they remain heavily segregated. And that's for a variety of very complex reasons. Certainly, racism is a big part of it. But also socioeconomic reasons. Redlining, which really barred, essentially, African Americans from settling in certain communities and only allowed them to buy houses or rent apartments in certain parts of cities or certain parts of counties. All of this played into why the schools remain segregated. But it's also because of the distribution of resources. What we've seen over the decades is that the schools that are predominantly white in New York State, the per-student resources are much higher than predominantly minority schools. The state did attempt to rectify this situation in 2006, with the establishment of School Formula Aid, which was a formula that was supposed to balance socioeconomic backgrounds so that schools located in poorer parts of the state received more funding from the state than schools in wealthier communities. This has been problematic for a large reason because the state essentially withheld billions of dollars in Formula Aid during the recession of 2008 and 2009. Governor Hochul has declared that she will be distributing that funding - over $4 billion dollars - to school districts around the state. So hopefully that makes a difference.

    An example of how segregation has worked in the 20th century in New York, is really the formation of predominantly white suburbs around the urban centers, including New York City with Westchester County and Long Island. Long Island is known as the birth of American suburbia, with Levittown and the establishment of the suburbs there, which were again, predominantly white. Again, there was redlining that did not allow African Americans to buy houses in these places. And as a result, you have white communities, and you have communities of color.

    Devin: So Nathan became a physician,

    Melissa: Yes.

    Devin: Aaron, Jr. became an attorney, correct?

    Melissa: Correct.

    Devin: Charles was a Reverend.

    Melisa: Also Charles was a missionary to Haiti. And then he authored the book on…

    Heidi: Louie Toussaint L’Ouverture [sic], the leader of the Haitian Revolution. He wrote a book about his life.

    Melissa It's still the definitive book.

    Devin: So it's certainly a legacy of success.

    Heidi: I mean, their achievements were pretty phenomenal. But the challenges and struggles were also as phenomenal.

    Melissa: And it continues. I mean, their level of education and achievement continues, generations later.

    Lauren: Aaron's children create a legacy for the Mossell family that is truly amazing for any family. His son, Nathan, went on to become the first African American doctor to graduate from the University of Pennsylvania; he continued on to create the first African American hospital in that city to treat specifically African American patients. [Aaron’s] son, Aaron Jr. went on to become the first African American attorney to graduate from the University of Pennsylvania. And it even extends down beyond that generation.

    Devin: Aaron Jr's daughter, Sadie Tanner Mossell Alexander, became the first woman to receive a PhD in Economics. She then went back to school and passed the bar and became a civil rights attorney who would go on to serve on three presidential commissions. There is an elementary school now named after her in Philadelphia.

    Melissa: The Pomeroy Marker was part of a much larger project. We were trying to get the North Park School renamed because Aaron Mossell, his brickyard was actually on the property. It was the only elementary school in Lockport that wasn't named for a person. It was just named for the location. And we thought that this was the perfect… we just thought it would be so easy! It was a no brainer! But no. There was some dissension in the community.

    Heidi: I think an important thing is that I'm sure that a lot of those board members at the time probably didn't even know who Aaron Mossell was.

    Melissa: What we wanted to do was bring attention to not only integration, but also the entrepreneurship of the family. So the marker was part of it. There's now going to be a park, the Aaron Mossell Park, and we were also going to do a trail because he donated so many bricks for different buildings, all the way up into Hamilton, Ontario. That was why we started this whole project and why we got the marker.

    Lauren: While Aaron Mossell’s name was very prominent while he was alive. It seems that the city, as often happens, has forgotten his name. In 2011, the idea of renaming the North Park School came about to honor Aaron Mossell. This was a long-duration effort by members of the community to recognize Aaron Mossell’s commitment to education, and to bring his name back to prominence by having his story more broadly known, especially by schoolchildren in Lockport. As part of this effort, Melissa applied for this William G. Pomeroy-funded marker to help bring awareness to the Mossell’s story. And that's part of the reason they chose to put this in a public place where there would be more foot traffic and the name would earn more recognition. And not unlike Aaron Mossell’s story, they were also successful after a decade of fighting to get the school renamed The Aaron Mossell Junior High School.

    Melissa: Now, instead of just saying the location name of the school now we're telling the story of the person.

    Lauren: Bringing these lesser known stories to light within communities is one of the most important things that public historians do. We all have stories like this within our communities. And it is the job of municipal historians and historical societies to find these stories and bring them back to the surface.

    Devin: The story of Aaron Mossell Sr and his family and the integration of the Lockport schools is again an important story in and of itself. They were ahead of their time, they used civil disobedience in a way that was successful, that engaged the rest of the community, they were able to access the white school for their children. And as we've spoken about, this has led to a long legacy of educational achievement. It was really the result of this struggle, where Aaron Mossell said: "My children deserve the same opportunity for education that anybody else's do."

    A New York Minute In History is a production of the New York State Museum, WAMC, and Archivist Media, with support from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation. This episode was produced by Jesse King, with help from intern Elizabeth Urbanczyk. Our theme is "Begrudge" by Darby.


    Hell's Acres: Bare Knuckle Boxing in the Taconic Mountains | A New York Minute in History Jan 26, 2023

    On this episode, Devin and Lauren tell the forgotten story of Boston Corners, which once belonged to Massachusetts, but was ceded to New York state by an act of Congress in 1855. The area, now part of the Town of Ancram, was remote in the mid-19th century and hard to access from Massachusetts, while New […]


    Preparing for the 250th | A New York Minute in History Dec 28, 2022

    Believe it or not, the 250th anniversary of the American Revolution is right around the corner. On this episode, Devin and Lauren discuss how some state agencies and communities are preparing for the big event (from 2025-2033), and how local historians can make the most of the commemoration. We also highlight a pair of William G. Pomeroy Foundation programs designed to recognize sites of the Revolution and patriot burials.

    Programs of Focus: Patriot Burials, Revolutionary America, LaFayette Trail

    Guests: Daniel Mackay, deputy commissioner for historic preservation at the New York State Office of Parks, Recreation, and Historic Preservation

    A New York Minute In History is a production of the New York State Museum, WAMC, and Archivist Media, with support from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation. This episode was produced by Jesse King. Our theme is "Begrudge" by Darby.

    Further Reading:

    American Association for State and Local History, The Field Guide for the Semiquincentennial: Making History at 250(2021)

    Michael D. Hattem, Past and Prologue: Politics and Memory in the American Revolution (2020)

    Alan Taylor, American Revolutions: A Continental History, 1750-1804 (2016)

    Rachel Herrmann, No Useless Mouth: Waging War and Fighting Hunger in the American Revolution (2019)

    Teaching Resources:

    Consider the Source, New York Learning Activities

    Fort Ticonderoga, Lesson Plans

    American Revolution Museum, Teacher Resource Guides

    PBS, Revolution and the New Nation Teacher Resources

    Follow Along

    Devin: Welcome to A New York Minute in History. I'm Devin lander, the New York state historian.

    Lauren: And I'm Lauren Roberts, the historian for Saratoga County. This month, instead of focusing on an individual marker, we're going to talk about two different marker programs offered by the William G. Pomeroy Foundation that focus on the upcoming 250th anniversary of the American Revolution. The dates of the Revolution are generally understood to be 1775-1783, which recognizes [the battles of] Lexington and Concord as the start of the American Revolution, and the signing of the Treaty of Paris as the end of the war. Certainly, there are other important events that actually happened before 1775 that are worth commemorating. We're only about a year away from the 250th anniversary of the Boston Tea Party. But as far as the 250th anniversary of the American Revolution, those dates are 2025-2033.

    Devin: It's coming soon, and these types of projects take a lot of planning. At the state level, we've been in conversations about the 250th, as we call it, since 2018, when we had meetings with some of our sister agencies. I work for the New York State Museum, so there were representatives from the state libraries, state archives, state parks, the “I Love New York” campaign, and some of our federal historic sites, including the Saratoga Battlefield. And we were discussing what can we learn from things like the Bicentennial – what was successful, what wasn't successful? The first thing that we came to the conclusion of is that we're looking at a commemoration as opposed to a celebration. Commemorations are, I think, more balanced. They look at the success of the American Revolution, as well as the kind of incomplete factors that are in play – who the Revolution was and wasn't for. The other thing that we quickly realized, was that we really needed to be looking at the Revolution as kind of the beginning point for the discussion of the “unfinished revolution,” and attempts that have been made, throughout New York and U.S. history, to be more inclusive, to include groups who were not part of the original Revolution. These groups included women, who couldn't vote at the time, but New York state played an immense role in the suffrage movement, obviously 1848 and Seneca Falls being a big part of that. That's another revolution. So, we at the state level are thinking of the sites of the Revolution that include the battles and the sites directly influencing the era of 1775-1783. But we're also looking at these sites of revolution that kind of spiraled out from those ideals of liberty and equality, such as the suffrage movement; the Underground Railroad, which New York plays a large role in; the abolition movement; the LGBTQ movement, with places like Stonewall in New York City. So, it's an ongoing kind of conversation, and it's a way of looking at history in a way that is comprehensive, and includes new audiences – and I think people who, in the past, just didn't see themselves in things like the Bicentennial.

    Lauren: Not everyone has a battlefield in their backyard or a historic structure that was directly associated with the Revolution. So, some historians, or historical societies in the state, might be looking for guidance on how they can be a part of the commemorations coming up for the 250th. Why don't you tell us a little bit about the upcoming field guide?

    Devin: Yeah, great. Thank you. That's a project that I've been working on with you, Lauren, and your role as a board member of the Association of Public Historians of New York State, as we call APHNYS. And, of course, we just recently issued a podcast from the APHNYS conference. But yeah, the field guide is really an opportunity for us, the Office of State History at the museum, and the Association of Public Historians to come together and create a document that hopefully will be a useful tool for local government historians, give them some ideas and some themes that they can look at and think about [for programming]. We didn't reinvent the wheel, we took some of the idea from the American Association for State and Local History, which created a national field guide called “Making History at 250: The Field Guide for the Semi-Quincentennial,” which is the big word for the 250th. They published their field guide in 2021. It's available on their website, and we'll link to it and our webpage. But we really looked at that and tried to tailor it to New York state.

    So, we came up with essentially six themes, and these are very broad. One of our themes is “indigenous history is New York's history.” And this is a very true statement. We can't talk about colonial era New York or the American Revolution without talking about the indigenous nations, and the Haudenosaunee and Algonquin peoples that lived here. You know, thinking about those relationships and the kind of alliances that developed throughout the colonial era. Then, obviously, during the American Revolution, there were some indigenous nations and tribes that were allied with the Patriots, or the Americans. And there were others that remained allied with the British. And what did that mean? How did that play out for them? Were they displaced? Were they forced off their lands? Undoubtably, the answer would be yes, at some level, although there are nations that are still present here. So, the story isn't one of complete disaster. It's also one of resiliency, of continuing on despite this placement, and despite history of broken treaties, and so on. So that's one of our themes, and it doesn't matter where you are in the state of New York, you should be thinking about this theme.

    Another theme that we decided to highlight is called “choose your side.” Many historians consider the American Revolution to be the country's first true Civil War, especially in New York state. This was true in what is now central New York, and western New York was essentially the frontier of that era, and it was a place of conflict. It was a place where loyalists, who remained loyal to the British Crown, fought with their neighbors, who were patriotic and wanted to break away from the crown. It's a place where, again, indigenous tribes formed alliances, so it was a place of conflict for the indigenous people as well. “Choose your side” really investigates ways that everyday people would have made these decisions. What would make someone become a loyalist, as opposed to a revolutionary? Why were those choices made? What effects did the war itself and the Revolution have on everyday life? For families, for merchants, for farmers? These are things that sometimes we don't think about, that there was a home front, and there was also a line of conflict.

    “Power of place.” How have political boundaries and even geographic boundaries – the natural world, how has that changed over time? And how did that influence the American Revolution and the following revolutions? We know that New York was a battleground of the American Revolution because of its natural geographic features, like the Hudson River, Lake Champlain, the connection to Canada, the connection to New England, and the port city of New York at the time. [They were] all major military targets. These are questions that allow municipal historians and historic sites to think about their own geography and their own political boundary: Did their town exist? When was it formed? Why was it formed? What was happening in the community during this era? And how has the idea of community changed over time?

    Lauren: The next theme is “We the People,” which is the opening words of the preamble of the Constitution, of course. While this document was authored by members of the white male political elite, the ideals of the Revolution were not exclusive to them. The events of the Revolution significantly impacted the lives of women, indigenous people, enslaved Africans, free African Americans, and others. This helps to start a discussion about who was left out of the founding vision. And some of the questions that might be raised when you're trying to plan or create programming around this are, “How did New York's diverse population experience and influence the events in the American Revolution? When and how did different groups of people gain the status of citizenship? Who is a citizen? And what rights and responsibilities does that include?”

    The theme of the “unfinished revolution” is important, because it continues to tell the story of our country over the last 250 years, and what is important to us, in the ways that we have changed and tried to live up to the ideals of the American Revolution over time. Devin, you mentioned before, the struggle for women getting the right to vote, the civil rights struggle for indigenous peoples’ equality. So some of the questions that might help with this type of programming are, “What has the response been to these revolutionary movements within your community? How have the nation and state’s founding documents been used in the ongoing struggles?” For example, in 1848, at Seneca Falls, the Declaration of Sentiments was the document that Elizabeth Cady Stanton authored. And that is directly tied to the Declaration of Independence. She uses much of the same language, but points out that women were left out of that document. And the Declaration of Sentiments looks to be more inclusive, and goes so far as boldly asking for the right to vote in 1848. So, these are all good ideas to continue this conversation, and realize that our journey as a country and as a state doesn't end in 1783 with a peace treaty.

    The final theme is “changing interpretations of the Revolution.” We, as historians, know that interpretations of our past change constantly as more information comes to light, as different perspectives are considered. These things change constantly. Benedict Arnold is a great example. When Arnold was fighting during the battles of Saratoga, he was considered the hero of Saratoga: he fought valiantly, he led the troops, he was much revered. And of course, that changed very abruptly when he became a traitor, and left to fight with the British Army after giving up the plans for West Point. When I was in school, the only thing I knew about Benedict Arnold was that he was a traitor. But now there is certainly more information and research that's been done to talk about the positive things that he did, that helped the Patriot cause and the Revolution before he became a traitor, and that also points to some of those reasons why he chose to become a traitor. So, there's always more to the story. And this idea of changing interpretations is definitely something that you can connect to the beliefs of your own community, and how the interpretation of the Revolution has changed over time.

    Lauren: Devin, you mentioned the state commission, and I thought I would talk a little bit about what Saratoga County is doing to prepare for the upcoming commemoration. And certainly, there are different ways to go about forming your own commissions, and there are some commissions that are already up and running. I know Westchester [County], they actually have a nonprofit that they have set up, which is one way of doing it. Orange County has a commission set up through the government, which is how Saratoga County has chosen to begin. In 2021, the Saratoga County Board of Supervisors passed a resolution creating a 13-member commission. And we have several different stakeholders in the community that are represented on that commission, including members of the DAR and SAR, which is, of course, the Daughters of the American Revolution and Sons of the American Revolution. We have local historians represented on the commission, historical societies, we have a K-12 educator on the commission, we have a liaison between our living historian reenactor groups in our area, and we also have a liaison with the National Park Service, because, of course, we are lucky enough to have the Saratoga National Historical Park, otherwise known as the Saratoga Battlefield, right in our backyard.

    So, this commission started meeting at the beginning of 2022. We have three goals that we have defined, the first of which is to promote education. And part of that is meeting students where they are, and that's with technology. We've got some grants to look at how we can tell our stories and tell new stories through the use of technology. The second goal is to increase heritage tourism. This goes beyond the battlefield itself – Saratoga Battlefield is a wonderful resource, it's a great place to come and visit, and the rangers offer great programming, but there are also other places that are lesser-known that also deserve recognition. And as long as they're coming to Saratoga to come to the National Park Service, we can help our community by getting the heritage tourists to stay in local hotels, eat at local dining places, so that we are also experiencing an economic benefit. This will help when you as a local historian or historical society are trying to get funding from local sources, such as a local government. If you can really point to the success of heritage tourism during these commemorations, it will help to get funding for some of the programming and events that you're trying to plan. The last goal we have is to improve infrastructure surrounding our historic sites. I think it's important to talk to the younger generation about why they can go and visit these sites – because the people who came before them cared about historic preservation. And I think it also helps students and young people take ownership of what happened in their backyard and to feel a connection. There's nothing like putting your feet on the ground where history happened. And knowing that this is within a stone's throw of where they go to school, or where you live – that’s really important. And it helps them take ownership and also care about historic preservation for the future.

    So, we've already started programming. We've done living history programming, we did a siege in combat as part of Path Through History weekend, the fall Path Through History weekend, which is a New York state program. We've been working with teachers to try to help get them the tools that they need to relay that information in the classroom. And we're working on some more programming coming up in 2023.

    Devin: You're really taking the lead, Lauren, and I congratulate you and Saratoga County. You're ahead of New York state. I love the three goals you have. They're also the goals, I think, that all of us are going to have. I've been speaking with our tourism entities and partners here in the state about the potential that this commemoration has to bring visitors to the state from other places, but also to have visitors who are residents of the state. Sometimes New York has taken a backseat to places like Massachusetts, because of Lexington and Concord, or Virginia in some cases, but it's inarguable that New York played as significant a role, if not more than anywhere else in North America, during the American Revolution – with the Battle of Saratoga, with the struggle for New York City and Long Island, and the Hudson Valley being such a strategic initiative of the British. So that's a big initiative of ours, is making sure that we reposition New York where it should be.

    I must be clear, as well, that I am not the only one at the state level who was working on this. The commission is co-chaired by my boss, the commissioner of the state Education Department, as well as the commissioner of the Office of Parks, Recreation and Historic Preservation. So, State Parks, as they're known, is our overseer of our state historic sites. And I spoke with Deputy Commissioner for Historic Preservation Daniel McKay about their plans for the 250th.

    Daniel: State Parks is responsible for over 250 parks, recreation areas and historic sites across the state. We are the largest state park system in the country. 44 of those state parks or historic sites have a primary context with the Revolutionary War: Schuyler mansion; home of General Philip Schuyler in Albany; to Newtown Battlefield site outside of Elmira; Fort Ontario and Fort Niagara on the Great Lakes. You know, we have sites really across the full sweep of the state. And while there will be many assets that New York state can deploy to tell the story and link these stories together, the New York state park system is where you can experience the topography, you know, the view that troops faced during the battle at Stony Point, or the lands for the Livingston family, you know, their estate down in Germantown, and the library John Jay was pulling from to inform the Federalist Papers. I'm very pleased that the bulk of physical sites are not owned by the National Park Service in New York state. They're actually owned by state parks. All of those sites together, I think, work to tell a very effective story, and one that really no other state can replicate.

    Devin: That’s a great point, we have a second-to-none park system, and you know better than anyone that, really, the historic preservation movement, in many ways, started in New York state with Washington's headquarters of being the first historic site that was purchased with state funding.

    We've talked about past commemorations, mainly the Bicentennial. And although the Bicentennial kind of fell short in a lot of ways, it also was a time of great interest in American history, or reinterest in American history. For example, in New York State, we saw many local historical societies and county historical societies come online during the Bicentennial era. Going back further, to the 150th of the American Revolution, we saw many kinds of legacy projects, including the eventual transfer of Saratoga Battlefield to the National Park Service in the 1930s. We saw the historic marker program come online out of the state department, and many of these things that were directly linked to the state's commemoration of the 150th. So, if you're had an open checkbook, a genie’s lamp, and could have a wish come true, what would be a successful commemoration in your regard?

    Daniel: Our partners, such as the National Park Service, have already begun subsidizing reinvestment in historic sites and state-owned historic sites with Revolutionary War themes. New York state just received, this summer, $500,000 for a project out of Fort Niagara, and that funding will be available for the next 10 years of the commemorative period. Additionally, the agency has been planning and assessing needs across the historic site system, needs in terms of interpretive opportunities and angles, even the need to create the infrastructure in the forms of computer kiosks that you'll see deployed across the park system, to direct people from one site in the story to the next. So, if you want to follow the Sullivan campaign across New York state, this interpretive kiosk will give you the ability to link federal, state and local assets that reflect on that campaign and its impacts – you’ll have that all in one system.

    It's clear to me, as I plan for investments across the historic site system, that the Rev war sites in and of themselves have significant capital needs and capital opportunities. We have just taken Philips Manor Hall down in Yonkers through a $15 million restoration and exhibit transformation. That site, really, is perhaps the first one you might visit to understand the early wealth that was being established in the colonies. The interactions that were happening between increasingly rich white landowners and the Native American and enslaved African communities upon whom that whose backs that white wealth was created. So that type of transformative investment we would like to make in other locations. In some cases, how we can improve the opportunity of a site is to acquire additional land. It means planning for new visitor centers. It means planning new interpretation exhibit upgrades, that I think will not only tell a more expansive story, but tell it in a more engaging fashion. It means training our staff to expect and respond to a more diverse audience. We're investing in the tools that we hope will engage and not only get someone to visit for the very first time, but actually have them come back for a second, third time for a deeper, richer, more expansive experience.

    Lauren: The William G. Pomeroy Foundation offers two different marker grant programs directly related to the Revolution. The first is called “Patriot Burials,” and this is in partnership with the Sons of the American Revolution. It offers an opportunity to apply for historic markers to be placed in locations where Revolutionary War Patriots are buried. The Patriot Burial marker grants are available to SAR chapters who have a signed agreement with the Pomeroy Foundation, and you can find a list of those on their website. We have several patriot burials that are unmarked across New York state, and this program will help bring to light, or give recognition to many of those patriots who have not been recognized in the past.

    The second marker program was just launched at the end of October. This one is in partnership with the Daughters of the American Revolution, and it's called “Revolutionary America.” And these markers are made to commemorate points of interest significant to America during the period 1775-1783. And it's important to note that these markers are meant to commemorate places that don't already have a marker, so they would be possibly new research or places that haven't been recognized in the past. Although we're a couple years out, time is ticking. And we need to start doing the research on these markers now so that we have time to put them in place and they're up for the commemoration.

    Devin: I think the 250th really presents the historical community, historians, and historic sites with a real opportunity to learn more about the history of our state and our country, how our government was formed, why it was formed, and the mechanisms in which change has taken place over time. I think that's a very important piece of the puzzle of our history and our shared history – that this is a system that can change over time, and it’s something that you know, has stood as a democracy for 250 years. And again, I think it's an opportunity to really help our historic sites and our museums and our local historians who have been functioning during an era of austerity for a variety of reasons, most recently, the pandemic. Visitorship certainly plummeted when the doors were shut, and you know, that has caused problems financially and with sustainability going forward. The commemoration is really a way to accentuate these resources, to help them and also preserve them for the future.

    A New York Minute In History is a production of the New York State Museum, WAMC, and Archivist Media, with support from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation. This episode was produced by Jesse King. Our theme is "Begrudge" by Darby.


    Ithaca's Tuskegee Airman | A New York Minute in History Nov 30, 2022

    On this episode, Devin and Lauren tell the story of Verdelle Louis Payne from Ithaca in Tompkins County, who joined the Army Air Forces during WWII and became a pilot. During the war, Payne served in the 99th Fighter Squadron, which became part of the legendary Tuskegee Airmen, an all-Black group of pilots serving in the then still-segregated U.S. Army. Our hosts also share the stories of some of New York's other notable Tuskegee Airmen, including Lt. Col. Clarence Dart and Lt. Col. Harry Stewart, Jr.

    Marker of Focus: Tuskegee Airman, Ithaca, Tompkins County

    Guests: Dr. Lisa Bratton, assistant professor of history at Tuskegee University; Dr. Thomas Campanella, historian of city planning and professor at Cornell University, author of Brooklyn: The Once and Future City

    A New York Minute In History is a production of the New York State Museum, WAMC, and Archivist Media, with support from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation. This episode was produced by Jesse King. Our theme is "Begrudge" by Darby.

    Further Reading:

    Charles E. Francis, Tuskegee Airmen, The Men Who Changed a Nation (2008)

    J. Todd Moye, Freedom Flyers: The Tuskegee Airmen of World War II (2010)

    J. Todd Moye, The Tuskegee Airmen Oral History Project and Oral History in the National Park Service, The Journal of American History (2002)

    Daniel Haulman, The Tuskegee Airmen Chronology: A Detailed Timeline of the Red Tails and Other Black Pilots of World War II (2018)

    Teaching Resources:

    FDR National Library and Museum, Red Tailed Angels: The Story of the Tuskegee Airmen

    National Parks Service, Tuskegee Airmen virtual exhibit

    Sherri L Smith, Who Were the Tuskegee Airmen?

    Continuing Teacher and Leader Education (CTLE) Credit: The New York State Museum is an approved provider of Continuing Teacher and Leader Education (CTLE). Educators can earn CTLE credit (.5 hours) by listening to this episode and completing this survey. Please allow up to two weeks to receive confirmation of completion.

    Follow Along

    Devin: Welcome to A New York Minute In History. I'm Devin Lander, the New York state historian.

    Lauren: And I'm Lauren Roberts, the historian for Saratoga County. This month, we celebrate Veterans Day and pause to express our gratitude to all those, past and present, who have served in the Armed Forces of the United States. And on behalf of A New York Minute In History, we want to thank all the veterans who have served our country.

    On this episode, we are honored to focus on a marker commemorating a veteran of World War II. Located at 212 Cascadilla Street in the city of Ithaca, Tompkins County, it is titled “Tuskegee Airmen.” And the text reads: “Verdelle Louis Payne, born here October 1, 1919, pilot and flight officer with the Tuskegee Airmen, U.S. Army Air Forces, World War II. William G. Pomeroy Foundation, 2021.”

    So we're going to talk a little bit about who Verdelle Payne was, and this important accomplishment in his life. As the marker says, Verdelle was born October 1, 1919 in Ithaca. And actually, another famous person was also born at this address: best-selling author Alex Haley, who wrote the book Roots was born in the same house as Payne only two years after. Verdelle received his student pilot license at the Ithaca airport around the age of 18, which would have been uncommon for a young Black man in the late 1930s. I spoke with Dr. Thomas Campanella, a professor at Cornell University, and the applicant for Verdelle Payne's William G. Pomeroy marker.

    Thomas: I've always been very interested in aviation, and I am actually a licensed pilot myself. And when I was writing my most recent book about Brooklyn — it's titled Brooklyn: The Once and Future City — I have a whole chapter about Floyd Bennett Field in southern Brooklyn, which was the first municipal airport in New York City. I was looking at African American pilots in New York state, and I came across this name, Verdelle Louis Payne in Ithaca, New York. And that, of course, led me down another rabbit hole where I started researching Payne. And that's how, basically, I came to discover that he was really one of the first African Americans to get a pilot's license in New York state. I don't know if he was the first, but he was among the first group.

    I will say, it's not an enormously rich background that we have about him. Exactly how Payne became interested in aviation, really, is not something I was able to determine.

    Lauren: According to a newspaper article, while Verdelle was young, he met his future wife, Theodora Mitchell, of Mamaroneck, New York, while she was in Ithaca going to school at Cornell, and he followed her back to her hometown. And then shortly after, in 1942, he enlisted in the United States Army. He left for training at the end of July, and by the end of the year, Verdelle was stationed in Bangor, Maine with an aviation squadron, which is where he and Theodora got married. Sometime between 1943 and 1945, Verdelle was transferred from the airfield in Maine, and took part in the Tuskegee Experience at the Tuskegee Institute in Alabama. In April of 1945, Verdelle graduated at the rank of flight officer, and he served as part of the 99th Fighter Squadron.

    So let's talk a little bit about what the Tuskegee program was, how it got started, and maybe how someone like Verdelle would have ended up as a Tuskegee Airman.

    Devin: I think these are great questions, Lauren. I think the first thing we have to realize is that the United States military, during this era, was completely segregated. Black soldiers and white soldiers were not thought of as having the same amount of ability. And that goes back to a report that was commissioned by the Defense Department in 1925, called "The Use of Negroes in War." And among many other racist things that this report projected, was that Black soldiers could not fly airplanes or be pilots in the military because they lacked, essentially, the mental acumen. Now Verdelle Payne himself was a civilian pilot. There were other Black civilian pilots during the 1930s. But the military was still segregated.

    I spoke with Dr. Lisa Bratton, assistant professor of history at the Tuskegee University.

    Lisa: From 2000 to 2005, I was a historian for the U.S. National Park Service Tuskegee Airmen Oral History Project, where I traveled around the country for five years, interviewing the Tuskegee Airmen.

    The Army War College, which we kind of liken to the Pentagon — they basically stated that the Negro was a subspecies of the human family, does well following orders, but doesn't do well as leaders. [They were] cowardly in battle, etc. And so this is the environment that the Tuskegee Airmen came to be.

    Devin: But this was World War II, there was a need for pilots. And I think the Army Air Force realized that they needed to recruit Black pilots. Why is it called the Tuskegee Experience? Well, that's because the Tuskegee Institute, which is now called Tuskegee University, which is a historically Black college in Alabama, was the first to be awarded the contract by the Defense Department to train Black pilots for this initiative.

    Lisa: One reason was the weather. And the other reason was they felt that they could keep the pilots in check, because Tuskegee being in Alabama, had a strong environment of segregation.

    The men came from everywhere — even Iowa, California, places in the 1940s where you might not think that African Americans lived. But the airmen who came from the north were dealing with a different type of racism. They talked a lot about traveling on the train, from north to south, because for many of them it’s their first time [going south]. Before they get to Washington, D.C., they can sit anywhere in the train they want. When they get to Washington, D.C., they had to move to a segregated car. And when they pulled up into a town to let people on and off the train, they had to close the curtains. And that was a painful, stressful time for them. Because we have to remember, too, that these were 19, 20, 21-year-olds. Very young. In the beginning of the airmen project, they all had to be college graduates. And after a while, when the war heated up a little bit more, the requirement was changed to two years of college for pilots.

    It is said that to keep one pilot in the air, it really took 10 support personnel. So the Tuskegee Airmen, it wasn't just the pilots — there were ground support personnel, nurses, parachute packers, civilians, cooks. There were women as well. The women I interviewed primarily were the nurses, but there were also some wives who were there — not overseas, but on the various military bases with their husbands, providing support.

    Devin: This began in 1941. They were in existence between 1941 and 1946. And during that time, they graduated 996 pilots. Cadets were initially trained to be combat pilots, but over time, there was also training for navigators and bomber pilots.

    Lisa: The group that went overseas, their job was primarily to protect the bomber. A bomber has 10 men inside. They're big, they don't move very well. They're kind of gangly and slow. And so the fighter pilots surround that bomber, and try to fend off enemy warfare. And so the job of the Tuskegee Airmen was to protect the bombers.

    Devin: The Tuskegee Airmen were required to undergo specific testing and training. Can you tell us a little bit about that?

    Lisa: In general, they took the same test because the tests were military tests. But there were several occasions where men told me that when they took the test, if they scored well — particularly if they scored higher than whites who were taking the test — they were forced to take the test again, because it was just assumed that they must have been cheating. So what happened? They took the test again, they got the same score. But the other part that made the Tuskegee Airmen stand out differently was that they had to stay overseas longer. Generally a military person was overseas for about six or seven months, maybe, and then they'd go home. That's what whites were able to do. But the Tuskegee Airmen, since they were dealing with a smaller population of African Americans, they had to wait much longer for their replacement. So they might have to stay overseas two or three years.

    Lauren: After Verdelle’s graduation from Tuskegee, he was stationed at Walterboro, South Carolina. And although he served throughout the majority of World War II, he never saw overseas combat. As he related later in life, he got very, very lucky. He was sent orders to ship out, and though he wasn't told where he was going, he was guessing by the clothing list that they gave him that it was most likely that he was to be headed to the South Pacific. However, the night that his flight was supposed to leave, the Japanese surrendered to the Allied Forces, and the flight was canceled.

    Devin: Despite the fact that Verdelle Payne himself did not serve overseas, the Tuskegee Airmen, who were at the time known as the Red Tails because they had distinguished red painted tails on their fighter aircraft, did serve in a very large capacity during the war. Estimates suggest that they flew 1,267 missions and 6,381 combat sorties with the 12th Air Force in Europe between 1943 and 1944, and also flew 311 missions and 9,152 combat sorties with the 15th Air Force between June 1944 and May 1945. The Tuskegee Airmen were known as one of the most successful escort units. Throughout the war, they had a very low percentage of their bombers actually lost, and as a result, they received a variety of citations and awards, including: three Presidential Unit Citations, the Legion of Merit for their Colonel Benjamin O. Davis Jr. — he also received the Silver Star. Members of the Tuskegee Airmen received 96 Distinguished Flying Crosses as a unit, eight Purple Hearts, 25 Bronze Stars and 1,031 Air Medals, which is amazing.

    Lauren: I was lucky enough — early on in my role as Saratoga County Historian — I was lucky enough to be a part of honoring a Tuskegee Airman from Saratoga Springs, whose name was Clarence Dart. He was actually born in Elmira, but after the war, he moved and remained the rest of his life in Saratoga Springs. He was actually drafted in ‘42, and he became part of the 99th Fighter Squadron, which is part of the 332nd Fighter Group, the same group that Verdelle Payne would have been a part of. Clarence flew 95 missions as a Tuskegee Airman. He was actually shot down twice and survived. He was the recipient of two Purple Hearts, for injuries that he had sustained. He earned numerous other commendations and metals as well, including five Distinguished Flying Crosses, the Air Medal with four oak leaf clusters, the New York State Conspicuous Service Cross and the New York State Service Star. He remained active in the Saratoga Springs community. There are people who remember that he used to give neighborhood children rides in airplanes. He was on the Salvation Army board, he was part of the New York State Air Museum Aim High program. In 2011, Saratoga County honored him just before he passed away in 2012. And I was happy to be a part of that ceremony. He was an amazing man. And I'm glad that we get a chance to talk about yet another amazing story from the Tuskegee Experience.

    Devin: Yes, New York had a variety of Tuskegee Airmen, including Lieutenant Colonel Harry T. Stewart, Jr. He's still alive, he's 98-years-old. He was originally born in Virginia, but moved to Queens when he was two-years-old. WAMC's Jim Levulis spoke with him in 2020.

    Harry: I was living near LaGuardia Airport, in New York at the time. These aircrafts, fighter aircrafts are taking off. They were P-39 Airacobras, taking off from the LaGuardia Airport. There were 3 of them. They got into formation and they were flying very, very low over the city of New York there. And I was curious as to what was going on. But when I did get from Sunday school, I went upstairs, and of course, the news was on at the time that the Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor. I immediately felt that it wouldn't be long before I would be called into the service, because the draft had started. Even though I was only 16 or 17 at the time, it wouldn't be long before the draft would call me up.

    Jim: And you were eventually drafted. Is that correct?

    Harry: That's correct.

    Jim: As a fighter pilot, you flew 43 combat missions over Europe, and you were awarded a Distinguished Flying Cross. What went through your mind when you were in the air in those moments?

    Harry: Well, it was a sort of a love of flying there. When I first went overseas, I was flying formation, and the first couple of missions that I had, I had no idea of what was going on except that I was keeping close to my leader at the time, there. But soon after I started getting acclimated to being up in the combat zone, flying in large formations with the other aircrafts, I got to really enjoy the idea of the panorama — of the scene I would see before me, with the hundreds of bombers and the hundreds of fighter planes up there, and all of them pulling their condensation trails. It was just a ballet in the sky, and a feeling of belonging to something that was really big. I must say that even though it was war time, I found it exciting and enjoyable.

    Jim: During one of those missions, you've said that you were in the crosshairs of a German fighter. Do you recall having time to think in that moment, or did you just act?

    Harry: I just acted. All my previous training came to fore, and my whole effort at the time was to get out of his crosshairs, because he had me dead to right. I went into a very, very steep dive, I guess what they call a split S, and was fairly close to the ground at the time, and I was making some very, very tight turns, trying to shake them off of my tail while I was down near the ground. And evidently, whether he was an inexperienced pilot or what, but he went into a high speed stall. In other words, he lost control, he crashed, and I did get credit for destroying his aircraft, even though he was on my tail there.

    Jim: One of your fellow fighters, Walter Manning, was shot down over Austria. Can you share with us what happened to him?

    Harry: Yes, Walter was shot down. And there were seven of us at the time, we were over in Austria. And we were on what was known as a fighter sweep, looking for targets of opportunity, and we ran into a horde of FW-190s. They were German fighter planes, and a big fight ensued, and three of us (of the five) were shot down. One made it back to Yugoslavia and was able to get back to friendly territory the same day. Another was killed instantly. He was shot down. And Walter Manning, I didn't know what happened to him at first. I know that he, he did bail out, but we didn't hear anything from him or about him until years later. And an investigation had taken place many, many years after he had gone down, and they found out that he landed safely in his parachute — but he was picked up by a mob that delivered him to the local jailhouse, waiting for the military to pick him up and take him to the prisoner of war camp. While he was waiting there, two nights later, another mob came and broke into the jail. [They] took Walter out and lynched him. They hung him from a lamppost.

    He was not the only American, or I should say Allied airman, that was lynched in Austria. There were a number of them. But to get the crowd worked up, [according to] eyewitnesses that were there, they testified that the Nazi soldiers were working up the emotions of the Austrian people and telling them stories about racial epithets, about Walter Manning. And that he should be lynched. That's what they would do in his country. And that's exactly what the mob did.

    Jim: World War II ends in 1945. You continued to serve in the Army Air Forces until 1950. Can you describe what you did after your service?

    Harry: Well, yes. I got out of the service because of the large reduction in force. But when I got out of the service, I decided, let me see — even though I know there was prejudice and discrimination as far as employment in the airlines at the time, I had accumulated a large number of flying hours. [So] I applied for two airlines as a pilot and was rejected, summarily rejected. I decided that it didn't look like I would be able to get a job as a pilot in airlines, so I went and took a fallback position and decided to go to school and get my degree. I got a degree in mechanical engineering from New York University and stayed in the civilian field as an engineer.

    I'm so happy to say that even though I was not able to realize my ambition as far as flying for the airlines was concerned, not many years after, I guess it was around 1970 (about 20 years after I had initially applied there), African Americans were being accepted as pilots in the airlines. And today, every major airline that we have in the country, we have airmen and airladies who are flying the aircraft.

    Devin: When we think about the legacy of the Tuskegee Airmen, and the Tuskegee Experience, and all of those who served as part of this program, I think one of the most direct results can be the actual desegregation of the United States Armed Forces, which happened in 1948, shortly after the end of World War II. President Harry Truman enacted Executive Order 9981, which directed the equality of treatment and opportunity in all of the United States Armed Forces.

    Lauren: While the order did end segregation in the military, many of the Black Americans who fought during World War II still had to fight for equality back at home. The major benefit to veterans after the war, known as the G.I. Bill, did not apply to the majority of Black Americans that fought in the Armed Forces. They were not eligible for many of the housing benefits due to redlining and racial covenants. Many of the universities were not open to Blacks, so they were blocked from using the education benefits as well. And it was still quite a struggle for them on a daily basis as far as earning equality and civil rights in their own country.

    Devin: Now, despite the fact that the Tuskegee Airmen today are famous, and there have been films made about them, and many books written about them, it took several decades for them to receive the recognition that they currently have. In 1998, the Tuskegee Airmen National Historic Site was created at today's Tuskegee University. And in 2000, the National Park Service established an oral history program. This was something that Dr. Lisa Bratton worked on between 2002 and 2005, and the project was successful in interviewing over 800 Tuskegee program staff and pilots. In 2007, the Tuskegee Airmen were collectively, not individually, awarded the Congressional Gold Medal by President George W. Bush and the U.S. Congress.

    Lauren: And of course, we're still trying to bring to light these many incredible stories, especially of New Yorkers who were part of the Tuskegee Experience. One way to do that is to erect these historic markers like the one for Verdelle Payne in Ithaca. After being discharged in 1946, Verdelle and his wife settled in Mamaroneck and raised four children. Verdelle had a number of different occupations, including an electrical inspector for a company that built fighter planes on Long Island, a television antenna installer, a mill hand for a window and door factory — and the one he liked the best, a custodian at Mamaroneck Avenue School. He worked there for 14 years until his death in 1985. Verdelle was buried at Calverton National Cemetery on Long Island.

    Lisa: I still [think] back to the Army War College report that says that we couldn't do this, that we weren't smart enough to be successful — and the Tuskegee Airmen proved them wrong, in an environment where all of the cards were stacked against them. What will bring a Tuskegee Airman to tears is when they talk about how white German prisoners were able to use the officers’ clubs and all the amenities, and walk around the base with no restrictions — but African American officers were not able to use those facilities. And when they got off of the ship, coming back home after maybe losing a limb, maybe they missed a child being born, or you know, they've been away from their families for years. And they come off the ship, and the same sign “Negros this way. Whites this way.” I mean, I can imagine it must have been one of the most hurtful experiences of life. But even in the midst of all of that, they persevered. And they went on to show the nation and really to show young people what is possible.

    I traveled a lot with the Tuskegee Airmen, to different speaking engagements all over the country. And almost without fail, a white gentleman usually will come up to us and say, "Thank you. My father was a bomber, worked on a bomber plane during World War II, and if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be here." I've heard that so many times. And they tell their children, you know, “Shake this man's hand. Thank this man. Take a picture with this man. Because if it wasn't for him, you might not be here.” Descendants of bomber pilots really understand and get the Tuskegee Airmen legacy, and the relevance.

    A New York Minute In History is a production of the New York State Museum, WAMC, and Archivist Media, with support from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation. This episode was produced by Jesse King. Our theme is "Begrudge" by Darby.


    Live From the APHNYS | A New York Minute in History Oct 26, 2022

    In this live, special episode of A New York Minute in History, Devin and Lauren visit the annual Association of Public Historians of New York State (APHNYS) conference in Kingston, New York. What is it like to work in history? We'll discuss how today's public historians are striving to expand the narrative, engage with their communities, and learn from one another. We’ll also get the details on the William G. Pomeroy Foundation's latest marker programs, and take a stroll down memory lane with former co-host Don Wildman.

    Guests: Don Wildman, host of the podcast American History Hit; Taylor Bruck, city of Kingston historian; Christine Ridarsky, city of Rochester historian, and board president of APHNYS; Susan Hughes, historian and archivist for the William G. Pomeroy Foundation; Matthew Urtz, Madison County historian

    A New York Minute In History is a production of the New York State Museum, WAMC, and Archivist Media, with support from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation. This episode was produced by Jesse King. Our theme is “Begrudge” by Darby.


    Discovering the Nation's "Founding Fossils" | A New York Minute in History Sep 28, 2022

    It's a new season of A New York Minute in History! In this episode, Devin and Lauren dig into the 19th Century discovery of a mastodon skeleton in Orange County. The "Orange County Mastodon" was one of the earliest, if not the first, complete mastodon skeletons discovered in the U.S. As our hosts will learn, these large fossils captured the attention of many of America's Founding Fathers, who were determined to dispel the myth of American degeneracy.

    Marker of Focus: Mastodon Dig, Montgomery, Orange County

    Guests: Dr. Robert Feranec, director of Research and Collections, curator of Pleistocene vertebrate paleontology, and curator of mammalogy at the New York State Museum; and Dr. Bernard K. Means, project director of the Virtual Curation Laboratory at Virginia Commonwealth University, and co-author (with Maggie Colangelo) of Founding Monsters and Founding Monsters Tales

    A New York Minute In History is a production of the New York State Museum, WAMC, and Archivist Media, with support from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation. This episode was produced by Jesse King. Our theme is "Begrudge" by Darby.

    Further Reading:

    The Cohoes Mastodon: a virtual exhibit from the New York State Museum

    Bernard K. Means and Maggie Colangelo, Founding Monsters (2021) and Founding Monsters Tales (2021).

    Paul Semonin, American Monster: How the Nation’s First Prehistoric Creature Became a Symbol of National Identity (2000).

    Teacher Resources:

    Ice Age Mammals Colonize New York: A Stem Lab Derived from Collections-Based Research at the New York State Museum

    Field Trip to the New York State Museum: A Closer Look at the Cohoes Mastodon

    Founding Monsters Teacher’s Guide

    Continuing Teacher and Leader Education (CTLE) Credit: The New York State Museum is an approved provider of Continuing Teacher and Leader Education (CTLE). Educators can earn CTLE credit (.5 hours) by listening to this episode and completing this survey. Please allow up to two weeks to receive confirmation of completion.

    Follow Along

    Devin: Welcome to A New York Minute in History. I'm Devin Lander, the New York state historian.

    Lauren: And I'm Lauren Roberts, the historian for Saratoga County.

    Devin: We are very excited, because we have a new season for our listeners, we have many new stories to tell. Luckily, New York State is full of history full of interesting topics. We have no shortage of material to bring you.

    Lauren: So today we're taking things back in time a little bit farther than we usually do by a few thousand years. For this episode, our focus takes us to a marker in the town of Montgomery in Orange County, along State Route 17K. The title of the marker is “Mastodon Dig,” and the text reads: “Charles W. Peale, with support of President Thomas Jefferson, uncovered bones here in 1801. Later exhibited at American Philosophical Society. William G. Pomeroy Foundation, 2020.”

    So today, we're talking about an early mastodon discovery in Orange County, and its connections to some pretty well-known Americans. But before we get into the details of the particular discovery, Devin, maybe you can help me out here. Can you tell me what exactly is a mastodon? When did it live? Because obviously, it's now extinct. They're not walking around New York State. And what's the difference between a mastodon and a woolly mammoth?

    Devin: Right, those are great questions, and that's kind of where I began as well. Going back to the basics. What is the difference between a mastodon and a woolly mammoth, as you noted? I think we vaguely know that they are two separate things, but somebody like me, who's a historian and not a scientist, I only have a peripheral view of these creatures. So I sat down with my colleague, Dr. Bob Feranec from the New York State Museum, who told us more

    Bob: Broadly, paleontology is the study of ancient life. More specifically, paleontology can be broken down into different subfields. So at the State Museum, we have an invertebrate paleontologist, Dr. Lisa Amati, and she studies things that more or less don't have bones. I'm a vertebrate paleontologist, and my field of study is more or less things that had bones.

    Mastodons are a taxon of elephant-like creatures that first split off from the elephant line about 25 million years ago. The family is called Mammutidae. Mammut is the genus for the animal that we're ultimately going to be talking about, which is the American Mastodon, Mammut Americanum. I think when people think of mammoths or mastodons they just think, in general, of these hairy elephant like critters, and the mammoths broke off about 5 million years ago. They're only distantly related to each other, and skeletally, you can see distinct differences among those. So, if you know what you're looking at, you can see these distinct differences. Mammoth teeth are very similar, almost exactly the same as elephant teeth. They’re made up of what we call “loafs,” and they're more flattened, and they have enamel ridges and plates. They are used to grind down grasses and sedges, and here they would have been in tundra environments, so low-lying tundra plants. Mastodon teeth are cusped, more like your teeth and my teeth, so they have points on them. And those were used for crushing rather than grinding. They did live in the similar time period in New York state and across North America, but they occupied different habitats. So, mammoths would have been more out in the open while mastodons were more of a deep forest animal.

    Interestingly, we find a lot of Mastodon skeletons or pieces of mastodons in ponds or baggy environments – a lot of times in people's backyards. [A person will] have a pond in their backyard, and they don't want it to be a pond anymore, and they'll drain it, and at the bottom of that pond, there's a mastodon [there]. The development of these ponds from the glacial environments seems to have gone through a relatively common sequence. So, at first after the glacier, you have development of clays. And then just above that, which is more recent in time, you have this immoral sediment and a moral sediment. It’s like a calcium carbonate-dominated sediment – it precipitates out of the boggy environment, and deposits on top of that clay. After that moral is deposited, a lot of times you find in the ponds, peat, which is indicative of a bog or marshy-type of environment. And we think that's really what the mastodons here in New York state would have loved to have lived in. We think that they were kind of living in these boggy, marshy environments, and then died for some [reason] – old age or maybe they got stuck, or maybe later on, we'll find out a human was chasing them. They died in this pond or this bog. And the moral is squishy enough that when that animal dies, it kind of sinks into that sediment. I think also that the moral has a type of environmental condition that is good for preserving these types of bones.

    Devin: The earliest discovery of a mastodon tooth by colonists took place in Claverack, New York in 1705. Of course, indigenous people had long known of these types of fossils, but for the colonists, it was something new. At that time, it was thought that these teeth were those of giants described in the Bible. We have to remember that at this time, there was no real understanding of any type of evolution. It was believed that extinction itself was impossible, as it would mean that God designed something that failed. But similar fossils were being found in Europe and other parts of the world, so there was an understanding eventually, over time, that these were creatures that used to live in North America.

    Lauren: Also, we're calling it a mastodon. We know that that's what it's called now. But at the time, when you look at the literature that was written, they're referring to it as a mammoth, and sometimes as the “American Incognito,” because they didn't really know what it was. It wasn't until later that they made the distinction that these were actually mastodon fossils.

    OK, so let's talk about the 1801 discovery of the Orange County mastadon. It seems a little odd that Orange County was in a rural area, pretty far away from New York City, you know, the big urban center at the time. So how did these big names like Charles Willson Peale and Thomas Jefferson get involved in this excavation on a farmer's field, far away from a major city?

    Devin: What it comes down to is a kind of war of words between naturalists and learned men on two different continents. On one side, you have the French nobleman and scientist the Comte de Buffon, who proposed the theory called “American degeneracy” in 1755. The theory basically stated that nature in the New World was inferior to that of in Europe, and that the Americas lacked the large land animals whose bones had been found in Europe, and that still existed in places like Africa and Asia. Buffon even suggested that the people of the New World, including the colonists, were less virile than Europeans. We spoke with Dr. Bernard K. Means, an assistant professor of anthropology at Virginia Commonwealth University.

    Bernard: The Comte de Buffon, he argued that the entire New World sapped the vitality of everything living in it, and had been since the Americas, for him, were “newly risen out of the water.” Everything in the Americas was considered, by him, to be weaker and smaller. So you know, I mean, when people say like, “Size matters,” I mean, this is actually, literally true. And probably one of the biggest insults is he talked about how degeneracy made men more effeminate.

    Devin: Obviously, this theory did not sit well with the Founding Fathers, particularly Thomas Jefferson, who became kind of obsessed with this.

    Bernard: You know, you want to produce goods that you want to be able to trade with people. You want skilled artisans and people all kinds of talents to come to your new nation. And how are you going to get people to buy your goods if they're somehow considered to be tainted? How are you going to get people to come to your country if they think that they and their children will be impacted?

    Jefferson goes to Paris, and he brings what he refers to as “uncommonly large panther skin” for them to try to show to Buffon and say, “Look, we have a big cat.” The following response was, “Your cats don't have beards. They don't have manes, so therefore they're not masculine.”

    There was a period during the Revolution where Franklin is in France. He's at a dinner, he and a bunch of Americans are sitting on one side of the table, and the French are sitting on the other side of the table. And apparently, Franklin challenged everybody to stand, because he knew all the Americans were taller. But the French did not take him up on that.

    Jefferson actually got somebody to kill a moose for him – but they dragged it like 20 miles through the woods, and by the time it got to Jefferson, it must have been pretty decrepit-looking. But we don't actually know what Buffon thought of this stinky moose carcass because he died.

    Now, while he dies, the theory of American degeneracy lives on. And so, they're finding these fossils, and they became very concerned. Clearly, we have something big, we don't quite know what it is. But it's going to help us prove that we have something bigger than anything known at that time. The issue – and this will segue us into Peale – the issue is that they’re mostly finding teeth. They didn't find complete skeletons.

    Lauren: We all know the names of Thomas Jefferson, George Washington, and Ben Franklin, but Charles Willson Peale may be a name that's less familiar to our listeners. Devin, can you tell us a little bit about who Charles Willson Peale was, and why he's important?

    Devin: Yeah, absolutely. Charles Willson Peale was a prominent painter. He was born in 1741 in the British colony of Maryland. He's really known as an artist, for painting many of the Founding Fathers. Besides being an artist, Peale was a bit of a Renaissance man. He had a great interest in natural history, and after the Revolution, he opened what is now considered to be the first museum that was open to the public in the United States, which began operations in 1786 in Philadelphia. In the museum, Peale displayed his artwork, along with the work of others, as well as a variety of animal specimens, archaeological artifacts, and fossils.

    Lauren: Another connection between the Founding Fathers and Charles Willson Peale was the American Philosophical Society. This society is known as the oldest learned society in the United States. It was founded by Ben Franklin in 1743. We might think that the American Philosophical Society was where people would meet to talk about philosophy, but actually, they were focusing on the study of nature. So this would have been naturalists and scientists that were interested in the world around them, the scientific world around them. And many Founding Fathers – remember, not just Thomas Jefferson, but also Adams, Alexander Hamilton, Thomas Paine (someone who we've talked about in a previous episode) – [were part of it]. And so it was a prestigious society. They were actually given space right in Independence Square in Philadelphia, where they built Philosophical Hall in the 1780s. So the connection for this particular dig in 1801, between Jefferson and Charles Willson Peale, really stems from them both being members of the American Philosophical Society.

    Devin: So let's talk a little bit about the excavation. Well, in 1799, a farmer discovered some mastodon fossils, and this discovery made the newspapers. And Peale believed that he could potentially uncover an intact skeleton. So, with support from the American Philosophical Society, he traveled to Orange County in 1801.

    Bernard: And he said, “Look, we need to excavate this mastodon.” And so he gets permission from [farmer] John Maston, to try to dig out more of the morass. And this is sort of like a celebrity discovery, right? People are coming from all over to look at this. And in fact, they're willy-nilly ripping bones out of the moral pit.

    Lauren: He knew he was going to have to bring in some help, and one of the things he did was write to Thomas Jefferson to ask for the use of pumps. He thought, because it was such a watery area, that the use of large pumps would help him to pump the water out. And Thomas Jefferson actually agreed to help him by sending these pumps. However, in the meantime, Peale had devised a plan to build a wheel that would use buckets and the power of humans, turning this wheel – kind of like a hamster wheel – to be able to remove the water from the site. He actually describes this contraption to Jefferson in a letter: “The idea instantly occurred of a chain of buckets carried around an axis, pouring the lifted water into a trough communicating to the basin.” And he's referring to a pond here, that he’s going to dump the water into. “The power of raising the weight of which, obtained by a wheel of 20 feet diameter of a width for men to walk within, as a squirrel in a cage.” So the men would walk in the wheel, turning the wheel, and that would propel the buckets out of the morass and then dump them into the corresponding pond.

    Bernard: He's a showman. You know, he wants to get people engaged. He wants people to feel like they're part of what they're doing. And so people come in, they run inside of this hamster wheel and help pump out the water.

    Lauren: This particular morass that he refers to – the skeleton within it was not complete, so he did have to go to some other moral pits in the local area. And by going to those places and getting more bones, he actually had enough at the end to make two mastodon skeletons.

    Devin: It took him several months to actually put the skeletons together because, although it was the most complete skeletons of a mastodon that had been found, they weren't 100 percent complete, so they had to fabricate missing pieces and bones. And that was done by Rembrandt Peale, his son.

    Bernard: Charles Willson Peale, Rembrandt Peale, and Rubens Peale, their enslaved servant, Moses Williams – who Charles Willson Peale credits with being particularly good at piecing the bones together – and Casper Wister [were involved]. Casper Wister was a prominent physician in Philadelphia, and also basically a leading paleontologist himself. And he had actually done the same thing for [another fossil]. Jefferson was sent bones in 1796 from what is now West Virginia, from an animal with giant claws, which Jefferson was convinced was a giant lion. He gave a presentation about this giant lion, and he was about to publish it, and Casper Wister goes, “You know, there's some report coming out of South America. I think what you have is a giant ground sloth.” And it turns out, it was, in fact, a giant ground sloth – so not a meat-eater.

    And then they get William Rush, who was making a name for himself as a carver. And he actually carved bones out of wood, as do the Peale sons, and as does Moses Williams, to replace bones that they're missing. So, they have more than one mastodon skeleton. And they reconstruct the most complete one, but they use the other skeleton to help them sort of figure out what the bones should look like, that they're missing. And so the mastodon that gets reconstructed is a mixture of actual fossils, some wooden bones, and the very top of his skull is reconstructed in plaster. Using wood was actually kind of a unique thing to be done at that time. But I should also point out that the mastodon that Peale and his team put together is only the second fossil reconstruction done anywhere in the world, of any type.

    Devin: The skeletons were accurate, except that Rembrandt Peale insisted that the tusk be placed in such a way that would suggest that the mastodon was a carnivore. So, he put the tusks in facing the wrong way, so that they were facing down – because this carnivore would use the tusks for battle, but would also use them to dig rodents or shellfish out of areas and that, again, they were hopeful that this creature was a carnivore. Of course, that was incorrect, and over time, they did acquiesce to the reality that the tusks would fit much like a modern elephant.

    Lauren: He was so adamant on this that he actually [put it] in the title of the paper [in which] he writes about this excavation. He refers to it as a carnivorous animal. The title, which may be one of the longest titles ever, is: “An historical disquisition on the mammoth, or great American Incognito, an extinct, immense, carnivorous animal whose fossil remains have been found in North America.”

    Bernard: They have this mastodon reconstructed, and it premieres to the members of the American Philosophical Society on Christmas Eve, 1801. And then it opens up to the public the next day. It’s Christmas Day, and it's popular. It's the dinosaur craze of the day. Here's this giant skeleton, the largest animal known to exist anywhere in the Americas. Peale actually charges extra money for people to see it. It was in a separate room. This is probably hyperbole, but apparently women were fainting when they saw how big this thing was. There's literally what becomes referred to as a “mammoth craze.” And it's because of the mastodon that we actually have the word “mammoth” used to mean something large.

    Devin [to Bernard]: Going back to the impetus behind this discovery – to dispel the theory of American degeneracy. Did it have that effect in Europe?

    Bernard: Not by everybody. There was actually a guy who was trying to get in good with the King of Prussia, and he was really pushing the theory of American degeneracy well into the 1850s, because the King of Prussia was trying to encourage emigration to Prussia. But eventually, people are becoming more scientific. We have Cuvier, we have Lamarck, we have Darwin, we have Humboldt, we have Franklin – Franklin, by the way, who was seen as proof of America degeneracy, because he was widely recognized as the smartest man in America, and if there wasn't American degeneracy, we should have more than one genius in the Americas. You know, you can bend the evidence to whatever you want. So it begins to sort of wane throughout the 1830s and well after, you know, the Founding Fathers are all dead. And of course, we start seeing dinosaurs being discovered, right? And those are truly massive animals. And some of the major dinosaurs are from out in the Western U.S. You have T. Rex, Triceratops, you have these clearly, really big animals. And so Buffon’s theories, you know, really seem dated and quaint.

    Lauren: Not being a scientist, I wasn't really sure how this episode was going to play out before we started doing the research for it. But it actually turned into a really interesting, prehistoric and historic story.

    Devin: Lauren, I agree. This episode turned into a really interesting story about the history of science, but also a conflict between Europe and the United States, or what became the United States, as well as the role of very prominent founders in science and early naturalism on this continent, and how that played out as well. It also kind of makes me look at things like our own mastodon skeleton, the Cohoes Mastadon, which we have at the New York State Museum now, and any school group in the Capital Region has seen that. But it really makes you look at it in a different way, and understand what these large fossils symbolized even beyond their actual scientific importance. And we're still discovering mastodon fossils today. Dr. Feranec says the remains of over 160 individual mastodons have been discovered in New York state alone.

    Bob: I would say every couple of years, we get a notification that somebody's found one. There was one, I think found in 2017, a fairly complete specimen that was excavated on a farm. In 2009, there was another gentleman that was goting down the Wallkill River and noticed that there was a tusk coming out of the river. And so far, actually, they turned out to be the oldest – we radiocarbon-dated them, and so far, they're the oldest specimens that we know [of]. They radiocarbon-dated to, I think, 12,900 radiocarbon years ago, and that's about 14,500 or 14,000 years from the present.

    Devin [to Bob]: Why do we think mastodons and mammoths, as species, died out?

    Bob: I have my own personal [theory], and I think it's accurate. There's been a long debate as to whether humans were the major cause, or climate change was the major cause, particularly in North America. Mammoths and mastodons are part of a large extinction that happens in North America, where over 50 taxa of large animals go extinct at the end of what we call the Pleistocene epoch. In New York state, we think these animals went extinct about 12,000 years ago. And for me, you have these two things, kind of working in tandem. At the end of the Pleistocene epoch, we go from a really cold environment, and it starts to warm up, and it warms up fairly quickly. And then for about 1,500 years, it reverts back to a glacial environment. We call that period the Younger Dryas. And so it's warming up, and then it reverts back to a cold environment for 1,500 years, and it warms back up really quickly. And it's more or less in the warm, interglacial environment that we're living in today. But what we know from the Pleistocene epoch is that those types of climate changes occurred many times in the past. And we didn't see the scale of extinction that we have at the end of the Pleistocene. So what's the difference? Well, the difference is, geologically, shortly before this extinction event: humans get here. And we know from many different places that, when humans get to certain areas, generally extinction follows them. If we look at the habitats that are present in New York state, the habitats that these animals prefer are absolutely present in the state at that time. So the habitats that they prefer are here, but they're still going extinct. So to me, maybe climate change affected something of their population sizes, but humans had to have some influence.

    Devin [to Bob]: But in recent developments in the scientific world, there's been discussion of the possibility of bringing either a mastodon or mammoth back to life using a process called genetic transformation. I don't know if anybody's talked about really bringing a dinosaur back, and I hope they don't. But what are your thoughts on a.) Is it scientifically possible? And b.) Is that something that we should do?

    Bob: I don't think I'm certain that we'll never have the genetic material to recreate a dinosaur. They do have whole genomes of mammoth and mastodon. However, you're never going to recreate this creature as it was in life. What you may create is a hairy elephant. I don't think they would ever be able to utilize an elephant egg for genetic material for a mastodon. I'm not certain that would work. But in my opinion, you'll never get what they're trying to get, which is to recreate the exact species. I don't know what really the point of it is, in that, when we talk about species, species have a particular niche that is specific to that particular animal. The types of environments that are around today were not around 25,000 years ago, 30,000 years ago. The habitats that we have today are absolutely different from what the habitats were like when those animals were alive.

    It seems to me that it would be much a better use of finances – if you're really concerned about conservation and conservation biology – to utilize those funds, instead of recreating something that you're really not ever going to recreate anyway, but to study and understand the ecosystems of today, and how we might prevent further extinctions of animals that we have around today. Whether that be just buying up land so animals have space to live, or making sure that specific species survive.

    A New York Minute In History is a production of the New York State Museum, WAMC, and Archivist Media, with support from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation. This episode was produced by Jesse King. Our theme is "Begrudge" by Darby.


    The Fulton County Courthouse: 250 Years of Legal History | A New York Minute in History Jul 15, 2022

    On this episode, Devin and Lauren visit New York’s oldest continuously operating courthouse, located in the City of Johnstown in Fulton County. Built in 1772 by Sir William Johnson, the Fulton County Courthouse has seen the transition from British colonial rule to the establishment of the United States, and 250 years of legal history. Among the important judges to hold court at the courthouse include Daniel Cady, the father of Elizabeth Cady Stanton, who was heavily influenced by legal cases which demonstrated how few rights women had in the 19th Century.

    On September 8, 2022, the courthouse will officially celebrate its 250th birthday, with the New York State Court of Appeals conducting its business there for the first time.

    Marker of Focus: Suffrage Pioneer, Johnstown, Fulton County

    Guests: Hon. J. Gerard McAuliffe, Jr., Fulton County Family Court judge; Hon. Albert M. Rosenblatt, retired New York State Court of Appeals judge; Samantha Hall-Saladino, Fulton County historian; Noel Levee, City of Johnstown historian

    A New York Minute In History is a production of the New York State Museum, WAMC, and Archivist Media, with support from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation. This episode was produced by Jesse King. Our theme is "Begrudge" by Darby.

    Further Reading:

    Historic Courthouses of the State of New York, Julia Carlson Rosenblatt and Albert M. Rosenblatt (2006).

    Fulton County Courthouse, The Historical Society of the Courts of the State of New York.

    The Letters of Daniel Cady

    Elizabeth Cady Stanton: An American Life, Lori D. Ginzberg (2010).

    Building a Revolutionary State: The Legal Transformation of New York, 1776-1783, Howard Pashman, Esq. (2018).

    Follow Along

    Devin: Welcome to A New York Minute in History. I'm Devin Lander, the New York state historian.

    Lauren: And I'm Lauren Roberts, the historian for Saratoga County. On this episode, we're going to focus on a William G. Pomeroy marker located in the city of Johnstown, in Fulton County. The marker sits on the lawn of the Fulton County Courthouse, located on the corner of West Main Street and North William Street, and it reads: “Suffrage Pioneer, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, 1815-1902. Her father practiced law here in early 19th Century, inspiring her fight for women's rights. William G. Pomeroy Foundation, 2017.”

    I'm guessing most of our listeners have heard of Elizabeth Cady Stanton, and know about the incredibly important role she played in the women's suffrage movement. But they may not be familiar with her life prior to the famous Seneca Falls Convention which took place in 1848, and produced the Declaration of Sentiments, a document which listed freedoms and rights that women should be entitled to, including the right to vote. In Elizabeth's early life, she grew up in Johnstown, New York, where her father Daniel Cady practiced law. It was her exposure to his law practice, and the firsthand experiences Elizabeth had in his law office and in the courthouse, that showed her how poorly women were treated in the eyes of the law in the early 19th Century.

    Now, that's a huge claim to fame for any courthouse. But for this particular courthouse, its association with Elizabeth Cady Stanton and her father Daniel is only one piece of the puzzle in the big picture story it has to tell.

    Devin: That's right, and the William G. Pomeroy Foundation marker is only one of the markers that exists in front of the Fulton County Courthouse. There is another one that was erected by the State Education Department. And it reads: “Erected 1772, Only colonial courthouse in state of New York, first court General Sessions, Tryon County, September 8, 1772.” In effect, it is saying that the Fulton County Courthouse is the oldest continuously operating courthouse in the state of New York, and has been in operation since there was no state of New York, and the state was in fact a colony of Great Britain.

    Lauren: And if I'm doing my math correctly, it means that the Fulton County Courthouse should be celebrating a very important anniversary this year. To learn more about the early days of the courthouse and the Johnstown area, we had the privilege to visit the Fulton County Courthouse on a beautiful spring day, where we got to see this historic building firsthand. We spoke with Fulton County Historian Samantha Hall-Saladino.

    Samantha: So we are on the ancestral homelands of the Mohawk people, part of the Haudenosaunee Confederacy. When the European colonists settled here, this became known as Tryon County. It was formed out of Albany County. It was named after the governor at the time, William Tryon. This area really developed under the oversight of Sir William Johnson. He was of Irish extraction. He had come to the Mohawk Valley in 1738, at the request of his uncle, Peter Warren, to help him clear the land that he had purchased on the south side of the Mohawk River. But Johnson realized that the trade routes are on the north side of the river, and so he decided to buy his own property and cultivated a relationship with the local Native Americans, specifically the Mohawk, and then started dealing directly with the merchants in New York City, cutting off the merchants and business folks in Albany. So he was not very popular, to that extent. He had a very robust military career, and because of his role as Indian agent, he was given the title of baronet, and he actually purchased the land that became Johnstown from some Mohawk at Canajoharie. So it was not a land grant, he purchased directly from the Native Americans.

    Devin: Why did he want to create an actual town? What was his idea behind creating Johnstown?

    Samantha: I mean, from my perspective, right? We don't know what exactly he was thinking. But he certainly continued to improve himself, build up his name, and accumulate land. I think he wanted a legacy in a sense, and it was his idea to create Tryon County so that Johnstown could be the seat. Almost immediately after, Johnson went to work in building a courthouse and a jail. He contributed £500 of his own money to the building of the courthouse. And I think for Johnson and the residents here, it represented westward expansion for them. They were “conquering the wilds,” and they were bringing British law and order to what was wilderness to them. Of course, after the American Revolution, the British Royal Governor was not very popular among the remaining people living in this area, and so they chose the name Montgomery County, after General Richard Montgomery, who was killed in Quebec. And then in 1836, the county seat was moved from Johnstown to Fonda. The Johnstown folks were not so appreciative of that, and a charge was led to create a new county out of Montgomery. One of the leading people in this charge was Judge Daniel Cady, the father of Elizabeth Cady Stanton. They chose the name Fulton, after the engineer Robert Fulton. He was a relation of Daniel Cady's wife. And so Fulton County was born in 1838.

    Devin: What was the situation here as the colonies moved closer and closer to revolution?

    Samantha: So Sir William Johnson actually died in July of 1774. And I think as modern historians, we like to play that “what if” game, like “What if Sir William Johnson hadn't died right as things are heating up with the American Revolution?” Because he was a loyalist. His son, Sir John Johnson, who essentially took his place after his death, was also a loyalist. But there were people in this area who were considered rebels, I guess you'd say patriots. There were things happening here.

    In May of 1775, General Philip Schuyler ordered the 3rd New Jersey Regiment to Johnstown to quell some of the loyalist activities that were happening here, and in an attempt to capture John Johnson. By the time they arrived, he was long gone and fled to Canada. But the militia paraded through Johnstown, they took possession of the courthouse, of the jail, of St. John's Church, which is just across the street from where we are today. They set up their tents and their camps right on the lawns out in front of the courthouse. And if you are familiar with Johnson Hall, you are familiar with the banister, along the staircase, which to this day has displayed signs of damage, like somebody smashed something along the railing of the staircase. And that damage was caused most likely during this time, when the 3rd New Jersey Regiment was here and stationed at Johnson Hall. In 1776, the New York provincial convention ordered all the lead weights from the window at the Tryon County Courthouse to be removed by the local militia, so they could melt it down and use for ammunition. But despite all this, the courts continue to meet during this time.

    Devin: Now one of the things that I think is really fascinating is the fact that this was an existing courthouse during British colonial rule. We have to think about the transition that would have happened in 1776 with the Declaration of Independence, and then the following American Revolution. The entire system was being challenged by the colonial patriots, as they were known, against British law, in some regards – at least against the government.

    Lauren: It’s neighbor against neighbor, brother against brother, a true civil war when everyone is trying to figure out which side they're on. So it sounds like things could have become very upside down in the court system when you transition from the British court to the Patriots court. Is that what happened?

    Devin: It’s a question that I really had in my mind, too. So to learn more about the history of our courts, I sat down with Albert Rosenblatt, a former judge on the New York State Court of Appeals, and a historian of our courts.

    Albert: It was, I'm going to say, at the start, all but seamless. When New York wrote its first constitution in 1777, a year after the Declaration of Independence, New York declared that it will follow the English common law. And what else would they follow? They wouldn't follow the common law of Mars or Saturn or some other unrecognized jurisdiction. The common law would work because the common law was, in a way, the grandparent of our own Bill of Rights. When we speak of free speech, freedom of religion, our concerns about search and seizure, those derived from British common law – which is interesting, because England and the United States would probably reach the same result in a great many civil liberties inquiries. We, however, rely on words like “due process,” and words to that effect, but in a written constitution. They have those impulses from an unwritten constitution, and from a lengthy history of English common law that goes back through the Petition of Right, the writ of habeas corpus, going all the way back even to the Magna Carta.

    So what then really took place is that the common law of England was our base – and in a sense, it still is. And we've extrapolated on that our own statutes. So we begin with a common law, and then the legislature goes to work, and it either affirms the common law by statute, or leaves it alone, or upends it and says, “Well, this is a common law rule, but we in New York are legislating or codifying something else that undoes the common law.” So that's the historical trajectory, and we still function that way today.

    Lauren: Well, when you're 250 years old, you certainly have a long history of interesting cases that have been heard inside the walls. In order to get some of these highlights. We spoke with Noel Levee, who is the city of Johnstown historian.

    Devin: What about the trial that involved Aaron Burr?

    Noel: That's an interesting one, and I had to read up a little bit more on to it. Solomon Southwick, who was a former speaker of the assembly for the state, he was the defendant, and the plaintiff was Alexander Sheldon, who was the current speaker of the assembly of the state. If you ever read the book on Hamilton, Hamilton tried to establish a federal bank for the country. That was one of his little things he wanted to start, and there was a lot of opponents for it. At this point in 1812, that came up again, to build this bank in New York City. Alexander Sheldon charged Southwick with bribery, because he claimed Southwick tried to get him to vote for the creation of the bank. Big, big trial. The defendant, for his attorneys, he had Abraham van Vechten, I think Alexander Foote, and Daniel Cady, and the high profile attorney leading it was Aaron Burr.

    [Aaron Burr] had already had a lot of intrigue in his life at this point. In 1804, he had killed Alexander Hamilton [in a duel]. He was vice president under [Thomas] Jefferson. He was brought to trial for treason, because he tried to create his own country. And so that was what brought the crowds in. The courthouse was packed. The outside was packed, the whole grounds were all packed with people. The other attorneys asked some really pointed questions to Sheldon, to a point where he was sweating profusely on the stand. And they caught him with some off [statements], he had said some things that weren't quite right. And this is what got him, I guess.

    Devin: Burr won the case.

    Noel: They won the case.

    Lauren: So what about the trial of Elizabeth van Valkenburg?

    Noel: That was very interesting. 1845. They were living in Perth, which is not far from here. She was married for the second time. Not a very nice guy. He drank a lot, and was abusive, I guess, to her kids. So she decided she was going to buy some arsenic. He came home after several days, and she gave him a cup of tea with [arsenic], and he evidently got violently sick. And then she actually had a bleeding heart and tried to nurse him back, and he didn't drink for a while. And then several months later, he went back. So she just kept pouring the arsenic back in. And eventually, he went through a convulsion, and she got scared and left the house. She went to a neighbor's barn and tried to hide out there. She was up in a loft, and she fell out of the loft and she broke her hip.

    Well, I guess it was a fairly quick trial. Even the judge had said, “I don't have any pity on you.” Although, she created an atmosphere in town where a lot of people were on her side, including Elizabeth Cady Stanton. They were both rooting for her and were against [the death penalty], because she did get the sentence of execution. They were against that. And then it came out toward the very end that she had been married once before, and it was pretty much the same situation, where it was the abusive drinking husband, and she did the same thing with arsenic and got rid of him.

    Devin: One of the prominent judges associated with the courthouse is Daniel Cady, and obviously his daughter Elizabeth Cady Stanton. What can you tell us about Daniel Cady and what was their interest and role in the courthouse?

    Noel: Judge Cady came to Johnstown. I think he was admitted to the bar in 1790-something, and he came to Johnstown shortly after that as a young attorney. As a practicing attorney, he also elevated himself to the New York Assembly, the Senate – actually, the year that Elizabeth was born, he was a United States senator for one year. Now, his house was always used for not only his family, but he also took in the interns, and he had a law library and all that. And of course, they would study. There's that story – I mean, the interns were staying there through holidays. This was a Christmas morning. Young Elizabeth receives this necklace, and she shows it off, and actually, who she's showing it off to is her future brother-in-law and his brother. And Edward Baird says, “You know, if you were my wife, that would belong to me.” And she goes, “Oh, no.”

    Elizabeth got involved with the whole legal thing too because of her father. Again, there's that other story that she tells throughout her life. In town here, there was a Mrs. Campbell. She had a grown son, and her husband had died. And the way the law was, the son inherited everything. She went to judge Cady to say, “Can't the law at least give me a room in my own house that I can stay in?” And basically, he says, “The law all sides with your son, that he inherited everything and he gets it.” And Elizabeth tells a story that she was woeful that this woman was crying, and she says “I'm going to I'm going to go through my father's law books. I'm going to go through every law that besmirches women, and I'm going to tear those pages out of the law books, so he can't look at it.” The judge took Elizabeth aside and basically said, “Law books are printed all the time. If you want to change the law, you have to go to Albany or you have to go to Washington. You have to fight the change the law.”

    Devin: One of the things that struck me in your research was how much the original courthouse was actually a community center.

    Noel: Well, shortly after the Revolution, of course, Johnson built a coed interracial school, one of the first in the state, and that was kitty corner from here, on the corner. So anyways, after the Revolutionary War, the school was falling apart. And they started using the courthouse as a school. And in the meantime, they were building an academy, which was a tuition academy. And that's where Elizabeth Cady Stanton went. And after the Revolution, one of the big things was the Fourth of July celebrations. After they started doing county fairs here. So they were using the inside of the courtroom, where they were setting up tables for fruits, vegetables, and whatever they planted. And according to one poster, the cattle and livestock were down the street a little bit and careened off.

    Devin: It's much different than the way we think of courthouses, and how they're used today.

    Noel: I mean, even up into recently, [before they] totally got strict with the laws about security, all you had to do was fill out a paper and you could use the courthouse, and there were functions going on here.

    Lauren: There are so many fascinating stories in the history of this courthouse. But perhaps the most amazing feat is that today, in 2022, it's still a functioning court. So what does it look like today, and how has it changed over the years?

    Devin: As we mentioned earlier, we toured the courthouse and met with Judge Gerard McAuliffe, who spoke about the work of the court today.

    Gerard: This court is utilized today, and every day, for hearing motions, trials, hearings of both civil and criminal matters. In fact, we recently had a presiding Supreme Court Justice named Richard Aulisi, who retired approximately three years ago, when he was the Fulton County Supreme Court Justice. He was assigned as the asbestos judge in that regard. He would, once a month, have what they called “Asbestos Day” in the Fulton County Courthouse, where 25 percent of the cases on his docket would be conferenced, with between 90 to 110 attorneys who would attend that conference day. Judge Aulisi did that for years, and our Fulton County Courthouse was utilized to conference effectively all the asbestos cases in upstate New York. The courthouse on a daily basis provides us an opportunity for those in the court system to have meetings, seminars if necessary. So, our courthouse is vigorously utilized today.

    Devin: The courthouse’s exact birthday is September 8. And in honor of this, there is an elaborate celebration being planned. Possibly the most exciting aspect of which is that the New York State Court of Appeals, our state's highest court, will be meeting at the Fulton County Courthouse instead of their usual chambers in Albany.

    Lauren: One of the aspects of the celebration I think is really cool is that the event planners are working with local school districts to ensure that students are in involved in the celebration as well.

    Gerard: When the Court of Appeals decided they would come to Fulton County, they asked one thing of us here: they asked us to engage our high school students in the process. We hope to have high school students seated in a preferred seating area, where they'll be able to observe the arguments on September 8, 2022, from a vantage point that will be very, very unique. Those arguments will also be live streamed, and there's also a very good possibility that we will have an overflow area outside, where arguments can be viewed remotely. We will have the courthouse available for tours and viewing throughout the remainder of that day.

    This courthouse, to me, and the process that we have gone through, has been a shining beacon of hope for the people of our city, county, state, and nation. Today, as I said, it's engaged in every aspect of civil and criminal litigation, and perhaps very importantly, for our discussion, in the midst of this pandemic, this courthouse has continued, giving us an opportunity here in Fulton County to focus on the positive nature of our history, to take a moment, to recollect where we've been, what we've done, and perhaps where we're going. So the courthouse to me, speaks volumes. And it's no less a shining beacon of hope today than it was 250 years ago, at the time it was built.

    Lauren: As illustrated by those we spoke with, this courthouse evokes strong feelings from those who use it daily as part of legal proceedings and court cases, but also those in the community who have an appreciation for the 250 years of history it has not only witnessed but played an active role in. From the time when people living in Johnstown were British subjects, all the way to the present, this Court has been involved in delivering justice, as a community gathering space, as a place to celebrate, and to congregate. It remains active in the legal system today, and continues to bring feelings of reverence from those who sit inside its walls. The celebration that is planned for September 8 will be yet another piece of the puzzle in this building's amazing history, and we encourage our listeners to be on the lookout for more information on the celebration as the date draws closer. And we wish the organizers the best of luck in this great event.

    A New York Minute In History is a production of the New York State Museum, WAMC, and Archivist Media, with support from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation. This episode was produced by Jesse King. Our theme is "Begrudge" by Darby.


    Georgia O'Keeffe and Her Visit to Wiawaka | A New York Minute in History Jun 16, 2022

    On this episode, Devin and Lauren discuss how the poor conditions of female textile workers in Capital Region cities led to the creation of a retreat where women could “escape” the cities. Wiawaka was founded by Mary Fuller, an advocate for women workers in Troy, and the wealthy philanthropists Katrina and Spenser Trask. Wiawaka originally included a planned artist’s retreat, called Wakonda, where Georgia O’Keeffe was invited to stay as a young artist and member of the Arts Students League. This introduction to Lake George had a monumental effect on O’Keeffe’s life and art, and she spent several years working in the area.

    Marker of Focus: Georgia O'Keeffe, Lake George, Warren County

    Guests: Doreen Kelly, executive director of Wiawaka, and Karen Quinn, art historian and curator at the New York State Museum

    A New York Minute In History is a production of the New York State Museum, WAMC, and Archivist Media, with support from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation. This episode was produced by Jesse King. Our theme is "Begrudge" by Darby.

    Further Reading:

    Messinger, Lisa Mintz. Georgia O'Keeffe. London: Thames & Hudson, 2001.

    O'Keeffe, Georgia. Georgia O'Keeffe. New York: Viking, 1976.

    Wiawaka Holiday House: https://upstatehistorical.org/items/show/84?tour=7&index=10

    Capital Region Textile Industry: https://www.albanyinstitute.org/textile-industry.html

    The Collar City by Don Rittner: https://rensselaer.nygenweb.net/article11.htm

    Collar Maid Cuffed Bosses by Pam Trudeau: https://rensselaer.nygenweb.net/article4.htm

    More on Georgia O’Keeffe: https://www.okeeffemuseum.org/about-georgia-okeeffe/

    Follow Along

    Devin: Welcome to A New York Minute in History. I'm Devin Lander, the New York state historian.

    Lauren: And I'm Lauren Roberts, the historian for Saratoga County. On this episode, we're taking a deeper look at a marker located along Route 9L on the eastern shores of Lake George, which is located in Warren County. The title of the marker is “Georgia O'Keeffe,” and the text reads: “Georgia O'Keeffe, 1887 to 1986. American artist who stayed at Wakonda in June 1908 on a scholarship from the Art Students League. William G. Pomeroy Foundation, 2016.”

    The artist Georgia O'Keeffe is pretty much a household name, but I'm guessing many of our listeners haven't heard of Wakonda, which is the lodge Georgia O'Keeffe stayed in, or the Art Students League. So let's take a step back and talk about what brought this young artist to the shores of Lake George in the summer of 1908.

    In the 19th century, the city of Troy in Rensselaer County was known as the "Collar City," because Troy produced the majority of detachable shirt collars in the country. Detachable collars are now a thing of the past, but in the 19th Century, they were really popular. The collar was usually the dirtiest part of the shirt, and it needed to be laundered most frequently, and in the days before washing machines, this was really a pain. So someone in Troy — there's a couple of conflicting stories about who actually came up with the idea — but someone in Troy created the concept of a detachable shirt collar, and eventually detachable cuffs as well. So the idea was, you could just remove the collar and replace it when it was dirty, saving the laundresses from having to wash the entire shirt. This industry exploded in Troy, and by the early 1900s, 15,000 people were working in the collar industry in that city.

    It also expanded into the larger textile industry, which made it a desirable location for new immigrants to settle, because jobs were readily available. The majority of workers in the textile industry in Troy were female, and many of them were immigrants, most of them with very low incomes, who worked extremely long hours. And this is where Mary Fuller enters the story. Mary Fuller was the daughter of a wealthy Troy industrialist who was an advocate for women's rights. Mary Fuller was sensitive to the fact that these women working in the industries in and around Troy, such as the shirt collar factories, mills, and laundries — they couldn't have afforded a vacation. They were making really low wages and just getting by, and so Mary fuller had the idea to create a place that would be affordable for these women to be able to have some respite from their jobs in the city.

    Doreen: My name is Doreen Kelly. I'm the executive director at Wiawaka Center for Women. Our original name is Wiawaka Holiday House.

    Lauren: To learn more about Wiawaka, we spoke with the executive director Doreen Kelly.

    Doreen: Katrina Trask and Mary Fuller both believed in giving back to the working woman. They believed in giving these women that worked in the factories in Troy an opportunity to have a holiday on Lake George.

    Lauren: Mary Fuller's family had means, and so that means she also had friends with means. So she approached one of these friends, Katrina Trask, to ask for help in developing this vision. The Trask name might be familiar to people in and around Saratoga Springs, which is where Spenser and Katrina Trask had a home called Yaddo. They also had purchased an estate on the southeastern shores of Lake George, which was called Crosbyside. It was the site of a former hotel, the United States Hotel. The property seemed exactly what Mary Fuller had envisioned as a getaway for the young, working women of Troy. It wasn't terribly far away from the city, it was out in the country with fresh air. At first, Mary Fuller leased this property from the Trasks, but eventually Katrina sold it to Mary for $1 and a bouquet of flowers.

    Doreen: Wiawaka was formed. It’s the oldest continuously operating women's retreat center in the country. [Wiawaka] is an old Indian name [for] “the great spirit of women.”

    We have five historic buildings where people can stay, overnight accommodations. Three of them are Victorian in style, and those are the original Fuller House, where Mary Fuller's family originally had stayed, but now is the main house. The dining room’s there, the front desk is there, and there's also staff quarters. Rose and Mayflower are two other Victorian cottages similar in that they were also considered guest cottages, but they’re two floors. Lake House was built in the early 1950s because of the overflow of all the guests that were staying at Wiawaka, and it's got also a very Adirondack feel to it, with eight rooms on the top and eight rooms on the bottom. And there's a communal screened-in area that's quite lovely. People love Lake House. And then Wakonda is still the same, original to its date of what it looked like back in 1908. Very Adirondack in style, with the bead boarding and the ornate woodwork in the front. It’s very simple furnishings, but it is the closest building to the water, so when your windows are open, you can hear the water, get the breezes. So it's a very beautiful, open, spacious, peaceful location on Lake George.

    Wakonda was where the New York City League of Art Students stayed. They gave the students the ability to apply to different types of opportunities to go and paint outside of New York City, and they stayed for a month. And we know Georgia O'Keeffe did stay, and we even know the room number: Room 18. Her award-winning submission was the [Dead Rabbit and Copperpot], and that is what won her the scholarship to come paint on Lake George for a month.

    Devin: Most people know the name Georgia O'Keeffe, and probably those that do recognize her for the work she created in New Mexico, and her kind of existential nature scenes, as well as her famous flowers, of course. But I think there's less of a realization that Georgia O'Keeffe spent a great amount of time in New York — New York City as well as Lake George. So how did Georgia O'Keeffe end up in New York City? She was born on a farm in Wisconsin, she spent time as a teacher, she spent time moving around before she followed her muse as an artist. And of course, New York City being the kind of bastion of art in this country, then and today (We're talking the early 20th Century), [that] really was the reason that she ended up there. I sat down with my colleague, Art Historian Karen Quinn, who tells us a little bit more about Georgia's early life.

    Karen: She came from a family of farmers, but her mother and grandmother were very much interested in the arts, and certainly fostered that not only in Georgia, but in her sister Ida, as well, who is a good artist. But Georgia went first to the Art Institute of Chicago, and then she headed east to the Art Students League in New York City, which truly was the place to go. The Art Students League is one of the most important art schools in this country. Historically, it was founded in the 1870s as a response to the National Academy of Design, which is also in New York City, and which was more of a conservative institution. And the Art Students League would allow people to come in and just take classes, which was attractive to students. The list of artists who've gone to the Art Students League is a mile long, everybody from Winslow Homer to Jackson Pollock.

    Devin: Oftentimes, students would go on to become teachers there, and this continues to this day. The Art Students League is still open and vibrant and flourishing in New York City. It is also famous for its summer schools. We know about the one in Woodstock that it held for many years, in the Woodstock Arts Colony, but it also, obviously, held one in Lake George in 1908. And her piece that she put forward for this award was actually a very realistic type of artwork. It was realism — she was not a modernist [then], as she would later become famous for. So I think we see that change from realism to modernism beginning in her time in Lake George.

    Doreen: She was probably about 18, 19 years of age, and as far as details of their time on the lake, I feel it was very flexible. There may have been other artists and instructors that came over the course of the time they were there, but they were all given the flexibility to paint. We have several photographs of her participating in different activities on the property, and we know that they did go boating, and they walked into the village. And it's quite interesting to hear that that's when Georgia also started painting more flowers and the lake. And in her history, we know that that's where she got a lot of that inspiration — it was her time on Lake George. And we also know she extended her time. So she spent most of that first summer at Wiawaka and Wakonda, painting and being part of that New York City elite group of artists.

    Karen: In the 1910s, she was kind of all over the board, teaching and trying to eke out a living, and at times she turned away from art briefly. She took some summer school classes when she was teaching in Virginia, and the teacher there introduced her to the concepts of Arthur Wesley Dow, and Dow continues to be influential as a teacher. He published a well-known art book called Composition. He was very interested in the tenets of Japanese design, and this led to O'Keeffe experimenting and moving away from the kind of painting she had done early on in the Art Students League, such as [Dead Rabbit and Copperpot]. Her art became completely abstract by the mid-1910s, something that she then would back away from afterwards, but it was that work on paper, charcoals that came to the attention of Alfred Stieglitz, when a friend of O'Keeffe sent the work (unbeknownst to her) to Stieglitz. And Stieglitz, actually, was profoundly interested in the work, and exhibited it at his gallery, 291, in New York City.

    Lauren: This trip that Georgia took to Lake George would certainly not be her last, right, Devin?

    Devin: You're right, and Georgia’s return to Lake George really is a result of her relationship with Alfred Stieglitz, who was a prominent photographer and gallery owner in New York City. He was really the first person to show Georgia's work professionally in his gallery. He was also a talent scout of sorts for various artists.

    Karen: He had his fingers in many, many pots. He himself was an extraordinary photographer. He promoted photography as a fine art at a time when photography was belittled. He promoted American art at a time when American art was not first and foremost on people's minds. He had a series of galleries in New York City, where he had a stable of artists that would include O'Keeffe and other artists who are considered modernists, like John Marin and Arthur Dove, Charles Sheeler, and so forth. He invited O’Keeffe to move to New York, and basically provided her with a living starting in 1918. So she came back to New York, and they would eventually marry in 1924. So it was this extraordinary relationship between the two of them — and it wasn't all sunshine and roses. He was married when he met her. He couldn't get divorced for six years. And then it was through Stieglitz's family getaway in Lake George that she returned to Lake George.

    She's beginning to become the O'Keeffe that we all associate with her work. She's starting to work in still life with the flowers. She's very influenced by the architecture around Lake George — the barns, she does a whole series of the barns. She does a variety of the kinds of things that we would associate with her abstract, but still recognizable, style. She steps away from the pure abstraction that she had achieved in the 1910s and goes back to something that still has a foot in visual reality, but she is certainly putting her mark on it. And she's certainly making things the way she sees them. She becomes an amazing colorist. Sometimes her paintings are so subtle in color, and just unbelievably quiet, and then other times, they're bombastic. Some of that comes when she starts to go to New Mexico, but she really had quite a brilliant career as a colorist.

    One of my favorite series that sort of has the essence of O'Keeffe at Lake George is this series called the "Shell and Old Shingle" series. And it starts out fairly recognizable, and they're small. The old shingle is a barn shingle, and it's a clam shell, and she gets increasingly — in their little verticals, they get increasingly more abstract until she turns the shell and old shingle on its side. And the profile of the shingle becomes the landscape of Lake George. People see this and they go, “That can't possibly be the name of that painting,” because there's no shell or shingle in it. But it's actually, you can see how she worked from reality all the way to her abstractions.

    Devin [to Karen]: Where would that artwork be housed right now? Is it at the O’Keeffe Museum?

    Karen: No, the group of those, five of them are at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. And one, I think — I may be wrong, but it might be in St. Louis. I'm not positive.

    Devin [to Karen]: You mentioned New Mexico, and by the early 1930s, O'Keeffe was spending more time there than she was in Lake George or New York City. Why was this, what was the attraction?

    Karen: She was always a little bit fragile health-wise, mentally and physically, and oftentimes felt overwhelmed. Her relationship with Stieglitz was — I don't know if you'd say problematic. It certainly was all over the boards. He produced hundreds of photographs of her, both clothed and in the nude, that are just extraordinarily beautiful. He certainly was very important to her as a mentor, and promoting and selling her work And certainly exhibiting her work and making it well known. But part of the problem they had later in their marriage is that he had an affair, a well-known affair with Dorothy Norman, and that sent Georgia O'Keeffe into a bit of a health spin, I would say.

    It was recommended to her that she go to New Mexico, and she traveled there with her friend, Rebecca Strand, who had been married to the photographer Paul Strand. Rebecca Strand is an artist in her own right. And she went and was invited by Mabel Dodge Luhan to spend time at Luhan’s salon out in Taos, and went back for summers after that, and had a studio there. And she was bowled over by the landscape. And that's something I think that's important in O’Keeffe, as far as landscapes are concerned, is she's very much very responsive to Lake George, for instance, which has a subtler color range — and then she goes to New Mexico where the sun is so bright, and she's wowed by the geology and the hills around where she's staying. She's a bit of a loner, she travels by jeep out into the countryside. She collects some of the bones that she paints, and sets them up against the landscapes and such. And she would settle in New Mexico after Stieglitz passed away in 1946. In fact, in 1946 was the last time she went to Lake George. And she brought Stieglitz’s ashes there. But she would settle in New Mexico and she had a home at Ghost Ranch and another she would eventually buy in Abiquiu.

    Devin [to Karen]: So at this point she was world famous, we would say? Or getting there?

    Karen: Certainly nationally famous. In the 1930s she had a brief stint of not painting at all, but she certainly was being shown in a lot of galleries, and then things pick up after that. She certainly is a well-known artist, and certainly Stieglitz promoted her until he died. And that was very important.

    Lauren: Georgia O'Keeffe had a very long career that spanned several decades. She passed away in 1986, at the age of 98. But until the very end of her life, despite suffering from macular degeneration and the loss of her vision, she continued to create art. And she remains one of the most important American artists of the 20th Century today, which is why I think it's so great that Wiawaka chose to put these markers up. And I should say there are two markers. They're identical, but there's one on the road side and there's also one on the lake side, so that people that are boating along Lake George can actually see the marker from the water. It's really great that Wiawaka continues its legacy of a space for women to come and gather and better themselves, to give them respite and peace, to continue learning. They still invite artists to Wiawaka over the summer, so that they can continue to develop their skills, and they can work in a peaceful setting on Lake George. In addition, the Art Students League continues their mission that was started all the way back in 1875, as well.

    Devin: Absolutely. The Art Students League is still functioning and flourishing in New York City, and artists are passing through teaching and learning. Again, there's no grades, there's no degrees, but they are learning and developing art that goes far beyond the boundaries of New York City and New York state. So it is very interesting that Wiawaka and the Art Students League, even the Trask property at Yaddo — all is still functioning today, still developing and meeting its mission. And Georgia O'Keeffe, again, famous for her artwork in New Mexico, and her flowers and various scenes from the desert, actually learned her craft and perfected her craft in Lake George, which remained vitally important to her throughout a very important part of her artistic development.

    Karen: I think it gave her — when she had solitude — it gave her the chance to really focus on her art without distractions. And it also gave her subjects that she was able to explore in depth over and over again, that became kind of her calling card. Things that she discovered, and people would say, "That doesn't look like a flower.” And she said, “Well, have you ever really stopped to look carefully at a flower?” or what have you. And she was very much interested in nature, and how that natural world could be reflected in her art.

    I think she's important as an artist, in terms of promoting a vision that's both personal and appeals to the viewer in a way that the viewer might not have thought about. Looking at these kinds of things like the geometry of an adobe, the cragginess of the hills out New Mexico, the subtlety of the colors of a Lake George day, and the effect of it on a barn. I think it introduces people into a way of looking at things that they might not normally have looked. And certainly the flowers and the fruits that she had painted, have done that for people. At the end of her life, she's fascinated by flying in planes and painting clouds, and as you see them it's fascinating from a plane, but still with that O'Keeffe sense of vision, abstraction, however you want to put it. And she's certainly interesting as one of the modernists, as a Stieglitz artist, perhaps — but she stands on her own. Frankly, she's important as a trailblazer at a time when women artists initially were not taken seriously. I mean, Stieglitz's comment about, "Finally a woman on paper," when he saw her work, was basically that you didn't see this kind of work being produced by women. And women could go to the Art Students League, which was wonderful. And certainly the Art Students League produced amazing women artists.

    Doreen: We actually have a Georgia O'Keeffe Week during our summer months, and we commemorate Georgia through impersonators, through historians, through workshops and through music. And we're able to get a feel on what Georgia was thinking at the time. It's often funny to hear stories where some of these other artists — they were male and female — and she was told at some point that she was going to be a great art teacher some day. It's quite funny to hear her retort of, “I was not the art teacher, I became much more than that,” but there was that assumption, as a woman artist, that she would be a teacher someday. Which, she's a very strong artist with a very strong history of being independent and doing what she felt was the best for her painting and her inspiration.

    We do have copies of paintings in Wakonda, in the sitting rooms, of works that have been inspired by Lake George. And we have the photographs in the marker to of her property. So it's a very nice way to summarize who we've had here, and how much we are celebrating her time at Wakonda. And it's a key central point during a tour, right next to Wakonda, so you can actually see the historical marker from the Pomeroy Foundation. And you can see the beautiful background of the lake behind it. So it's a very important piece of our history. You can find more information about us on our website at wiawaka.org, and our number is 518-668-9690.

    A New York Minute In History is a production of the New York State Museum, WAMC, and Archivist Media, with support from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation. This episode was produced by Jesse King. Our theme is "Begrudge" by Darby.


    Early Auto Racing in New York | A New York Minute in History May 03, 2022

    On this episode, Devin and Lauren discuss a William G. Pomeroy marker recognizing a 1900 auto race in Suffolk County, New York, and the importance of racing in automobile history. Was that race to Babylon really the first of its kind in the U.S.? And how did Watkins Glen International get its start?


    Margaret Hastings, the “Shangri-La WAC” | A New York Minute in History Mar 30, 2022

    In honor of Women's History Month, Devin and Lauren highlight a Pomeroy marker in Tioga County and tell the story of Corporal Margaret Hastings, a member of the Women's Army Corps who survived 47 days in a New Guinea jungle during World War II.

    Marker of Focus: World War II, Owego, Tioga County

    Guests: Mitchell Zuckoff, author of Lost in Shangri-La; Emma Sedore, Tioga County historian

    A New York Minute In History is a production of the New York State Museum, WAMC, and Archivist Media, with support from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation. This episode was produced by Jesse King. Our theme is "Begrudge" by Darby.

    Further Reading:

    Lost in Shangri-La by Mitchell Zuckoff

    Women For Victory Vol 2: The Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps (WAAC) (American Servicewomen in World War II: History & Uniform Series, 2) by Katy Endruschat Goebel

    The Ghost Mountain Boys: Their Epic March and the Terrifying Battle for New Guinea--The Forgotten War of the South Pacific by James Campbell

    Teaching Resources:

    Women in the Army: The Creation of the Women’s Auxiliary Corps

    U.S. Army Center of Military History: “The Women’s Army Corps: A Commemoration of World War II Service” By Judith A. Bellafaire

    PBS Learning Media: Corporal Margaret Hastings

    Follow Along

    Devin: Welcome to A New York Minute in History. I'm Devin Lander, the New York state historian.

    Lauren: And I'm Lauren Roberts, the historian for Saratoga County. In honor of Women's History Month, we have a fascinating account for you that includes tragedy, survival, ingenuity and an amazing plan of rescue. We begin the story in the village of Owego, which is located in Tioga County, in the Southern Tier region of New York. The William G. Pomeroy historic marker is located in front of 106 McMaster Street, and the text reads: “World War II. Home of Shangri-La WAC, Corporal Margaret J. Hastings, who survived 47 days in New Guinea jungle after May 13, 1945 plane crash. William G. Pomeroy Foundation, 2016.”

    So there's quite a lot to unpack from those few lines of text. But let's start at the beginning. The sign is marking the former home of Corporal Margaret Hastings, so who was she? We spoke with Tioga County Historian Emma Sedore, who told us a little bit more about what Margaret's life was like growing up in Owego.

    Emma: One day at the museum, this man comes in with a big scrapbook. He said he's a builder, and he was taking a barn down in Ithaca when he found the scrapbook – and it happened to be Margaret Hastings’ personal scrapbook. It had photographs and letters, and it had the telegram that went to her father when she went missing – oh my God, it was amazing. So I said to the director, “I'll take it! I'll index it!” And one day when I went into the museum, the director said to me, “This gentleman is gonna write a book about her.” I looked up, and there's this handsome guy at the copy machine. I said, “Oh!” and he introduced himself.

    Mitchell: I’m Mitchell Zuckoff. I’m a former newspaper reporter for The Boston Globe, and I write narrative nonfiction. I came across a Chicago Tribune headline: “Glider Rescue in Shangri-La Delayed by Clouds.” It sounded to me like an April Fool's kind of headline – it’s just too crazy. It was a Chicago Tribune story by Walter Simmons, and he just started describing that there was this plane crash in the highlands of New Guinea, in this lost valley. And there were three American survivors, and one of them was a member of the Women’s Army Corps…One thing after another just made me stop everything and say, “How do I not know this?” For someone who focuses on World War II, how has no one ever written a book about this?

    Emma: And I gave him all the information [I had]. I had a folder that probably weighed two pounds of all kinds of collections I had about Margaret Hastings.

    She grew up in Owego. She graduated from Owego Free Academy, and then she was a private secretary for 10 long years. She never wanted to get married, she was very independent. She had two younger sisters – her mother died when she was a teenager, and so Margaret often was like a mother to her two sisters. I think she probably thought to herself, “Well, this is the same old, same old. How long am I gonna do it?” And probably when she turned 30, maybe like the rest of us, she said “I’ve got to do something different.” And that's when she joined the WACs in January 1944.

    Devin: So what were the WACs? Well, they initially started as the Women's Army Auxiliary Corps in 1942, and they were really a branch of the U.S. Army that was dedicated to doing secretarial work and other kinds of logistics work at army bases throughout Europe and the Pacific. In 1943, they became an active duty unit of the army and changed their name to the Women's Army Corps. So the WACs, as they were famously known — somebody like Margaret, who was trained as a secretary, of course, her skill set would lead to be a secretary at the military base. And that's exactly what happened. She was stationed in a place called Hollandia, in New Guinea. This is 1945, this is actually after the European theater is essentially over, but the Pacific theater was still very active. New Guinea had been essentially cleared of Japanese forces, but there were still an estimated 10,000 of them living in the jungle, cut off from the rest of the Japanese army. So New Guinea was a very dangerous place.

    Mitchell: Hollandia is now called Jayapura, and it's on the north coast of New Guinea. It was then and even to this day: it's a largely uncharted, deep rainforest, with enormous numbers of individual native tribes, many of whom, up till the 1940s, had never been contacted by anyone in what we would call the modern world. And life in Hollandia was really, really hard. I think it was spectacularly beautiful, but the conditions were really brutal. The Women's Army Corps members said the biggest variety was that there were five different kinds of jungle rot you could suffer from. They worked tremendously hard. They worked six-and-a-half or more days a week from the war effort. [There were] spiders the size of dinner plates, they said, and that was the easy part.

    Devin: One of the ways the officers came up with to produce some sort of relaxation and entertainment was to travel to the recently rediscovered valley of Shangri-La.

    Lauren: The word “Shangri-La,” it's probably something that we've heard, but maybe we don't know where it comes from. It actually comes from the book Lost Horizon, which was a novel written in 1933 by author James Hilton. Shangri-La actually refers to a fictional place talked about in this novel, and it's supposed to be kind of an idyllic place on earth. It's hidden away, it's untouched by time. So you can see the connection between the area where they were flying over, which was a deep valley, and why they would refer to it as Shangri-La.

    Devin: Right, it was a valley about 150 miles south west of Hollandia. And recently, military personnel had flown over this section of mountains — which is why they didn't realize this valley existed, they normally avoided the mountains, but somehow they ended up flying through them — and there's this valley below. And the immediate unique part that these pilots saw: they saw many villages.

    Mitchell: Stories grew up around them in Hollandia, when someone would fly over Shangri-La, the valley. And stories tend to have this quality, they keep getting bigger the more times they get retold. These were huge, just giants. They grew pigs the size of ponies, and they practice human sacrifice and were cannibals — and only that last part was true. They were cannibals, but other than that they were actually a fairly diminutive people. Their pigs were normal sized. But the idea was that these were incredibly fierce warriors…and actually, that was true also. It says something about human nature that I guess I'll leave to the anthropologists: despite living in a place where food was abundant, land was abundant, they had no disagreements about their belief system — the valley was in a constant state of warfare. They occupied themselves, in a way, by fighting.

    Emma: And so naturally everybody's curiosity was peaked, and they wanted to go and see it too.

    Lauren: So on a Sunday afternoon, May 13, 1945 — which actually happened to be Mother's Day — 24 servicemen and WACs got on a plane for a sightseeing mission into the Hidden Valley.

    Mitchell: It was a pleasure trip. There was really nothing they were trying to accomplish, and I think that stuck with Margaret for the rest of her days.

    Emma: It was a big C-47 transport. Margaret was sitting in the back of the plane, right next to soldier named Lieutenant John McCollom. It took 55 minutes to get to the top of that mountain, like about 10,000 feet up.

    Devin: To make it to the valley, you basically had to fly between mountains and fly at a high enough altitude to actually be in the clouds, so you couldn't really see your way in. What we know is that Margaret's immediate boss, Colonel Peter Prossen, had flown to the valley before and knew the way in — but for whatever reason, he decided to hand over controls to his copilot, who had never flown into the valley.

    Mitchell: He is talking with people and enjoying himself, and he left probably the hardest part of the flight to this much, much less experienced pilot, Major Nicholson. And even to this day, there are high winds, updrafts and downdrafts. It's a fairly narrow pass. It was it was recommended, in fact, when the first flights were going into the valleys for the sightseeing trips — they were adamant: “Don't have inexperienced pilots do this.” And that's exactly what happened.

    Devin: John McCollom, who was watching out the windshield — he was in the back of the plane, but he could see what the pilot was seeing — [he saw what] was essentially a mountain coming towards them. Nicholson pulls back, tries to gain altitude enough to avoid it and go over the top of the mountain, but he was unable to, and they flew directly into the side of a mountain, in the middle of the jungle.

    Emma: Everything was almost like instant, it just exploded into a ball of flames. John, by some miracle, he wasn't hurt at all. The back of the plane broke off, and he was able to crawl out, as did Margaret. And then there was another person that walked out, his name was Sergeant Kenneth Decker. Margaret was burned on her legs, very severely, and Decker had a wound on his head and was burned on his back. McCollom could hear voices in the plane, and so he went back to the plane, and he managed to bring two of the WACs out. But they were so badly burned, and where they were on that mountain, they said it rained all the time, especially at night. And so they covered themselves with tarps, and in the morning, when they got up, the girls had died. In fact, Margaret almost panicked, because she said, “Oh my God, oh my God, she's dead!” And what she had to do was, Margaret's shoes got blown off [during the crash], so she took the shoes off of her dead girlfriend, and she said she felt really terrible about it. I don't know what John did [with the bodies]. I think he just covered the bodies with a tarp.

    Lauren: It was tragic for all of them, but John McCollom's twin brother actually was on the plane with him and died in the plane crash. So it's hard for us to imagine what he would have been going through, not only the loss of his twin brother, but now trying to figure out how they were going to survive in the middle of a densely packed jungle.

    Devin: He's able to climb a tree and see that there is a clearing in the valley, and so he decides they need to make it there — because there's no hope of rescue or even being seen when you're in canopy jungle. And it's not an easy trip. Two of them are severely injured, Margaret so bad that she has to crawl at some points. They find a dry riverbed, and that's what they use to kind of get down this hill. At times though, there's water in that, as it rains, and so they end up being in water and mud. It takes them several days to get down to the clearing, and once they're there, that's just the beginning of the story.

    Lauren: John's plan works: the rescue planes do come by, the survivors know that the plane has seen them because he tips his wing. And so at this point, they believe that there will be help coming back.

    Devin: So what was this clearing that they found? Well, it was actually cultivated land by the natives who lived in the valley, the people of the Yali and Dani tribe. And they had a village very close by — in fact, it was a sweet potato patch that they were in. That first night that they were there, they are actually make contact with these people that they had never seen before.

    Mitchell: The valley people were living, as I maybe mentioned earlier, really a Stone Age existence. They didn't have the wheel. The men wore hollowed out gourds to cover their genitals, and they used bows and arrows to fight each other, and the bows were unflecked. They were living, literally, in another millennia from the people who had just landed in their world.

    I talked to old men and women who were children when this happened. Sadly, I imagine they're gone now, but 60 years later, these people, of course, still remembered. They recognized that these people — whatever they were, some of them didn't even recognize them truly as people — but they didn't look like their enemies. So the initial reaction was curiosity. Some of them thought they were gods or ghosts, because ghosts play an enormous part in the culture of the people of the valley. And so these light-skinned people wearing clothing were just such a mystery to them that they saw no immediate need to kill them. It's remarkable. The initial thought was, if you knew all about the warlike culture of the people, you would think they're going to slaughter these people — and they easily could have, especially when it was before the paratroopers arrived, and it was just Margaret, McCollom, and Decker.

    Devin: So we have to realize it's almost impossible to get out of this valley without walking 150 miles through the jungle. And obviously, with two severely injured people, and even a healthy person, that is a daunting task. So how would a rescue mission take place? You can fly over the valley with aircraft, but there are no helicopters or anything that could land easily. It's a jungle — landing a full military aircraft, and the need for a runway and all of that, is just impossible. So the idea of rescue really comes down to one thing: parachuting people in.

    Mitchell: Earl Walter and these Filipino American paratroopers were dropped in to protect the three and try to help them until they could figure out a plan to get out. I had the privilege of spending time with Earl at the end of his life, and Earl was amazing. He was this sort of strapping, 6-and-a-half-foot-tall guy who thought what he wanted was to get into battle, but his greatest mark in World War II was helping to keep alive these three plane crash survivors — along with the medics and the paratroopers he brought with him, this incredible group of Filipino American volunteers. They wanted to do anything possible, because both of their homelands had been invaded, and they wanted to be part of the war effort.

    Lauren: By this point, news had gotten back to the U.S. about this horrific plane crash, and about the story of these three survivors that were stuck in this jungle.

    Devin: The way this happened was there were two war correspondents, and they would take turns flying on supply missions to the valley to check in with [the survivors], and make sure everything was OK, and they would do that by radio. So the war correspondents road along, and they would take transcripts and ask questions of Margaret and the other people down there. And then they would go back and write up their stories and send them back to the U.S., and they were picked up by the Associated Press and in newspapers all around the country.

    Lauren: There was a filmmaker named Alexander Cann, who was working for the Dutch government, who actually got up the courage to be dropped in on the ground with the survivors.

    Emma: And he's twirling ‘round and ‘round, and they go, “Oh my God, he's gonna be killed.” Well, boom, he lands on the ground. They went over and they expected to see a dead man, but he wasn't dead. He was dead drunk. He had taken so much whiskey to have the nerve to jump out of the plane. He took a ton of pictures and stuff like that of the natives. And that movie, you could probably find that on your computer.

    Alexander Cann's documentary on the crash: "Rescue from Shangri-La" is available for viewing on YouTube.

    Lauren: I'm not sure how you make the decision, “OK, I'm going to bring my film equipment and I'm going to drop in, not knowing how you're going to ever get out — because at this point, they still don't know how they're getting anyone out.

    Devin: So how did they become rescued? It's a plan that was developed in the military base at Hollandia by the officers there. And they were desperate, they thought of maybe sending troops over land, again, 150 miles through the jungle. They thought that is way too dangerous, we're gonna end up losing several more people if we do it that way. So they were really racking their brains. And one of them came up with the idea of a glider. This had been done successfully in other places and used significantly in Europe, gliders. They were towed in by aircraft and then released, and they could fly silently and go great distances, depending on the weather and things like that. And they could carry troops, they could carry supplies. These were large gliders, these are not small gliders. The good thing about a glider is it doesn't need an entire airstrip to be able to land and take off, like an aircraft would. But it still needs some sort of place to land — it can't land in a jungle tree or a tropical forest or something like that. But they saw enough potential within the valley that they thought they could land a glider, and then the aircraft would let it go and circle back, and fly around the valley to allow for the glider to get ready.

    Emma: They had to walk from the Hidden Valley, where they were in the beginning, over to the glider site, which was 40 miles away. Margaret said it took them three days or four days to get there or something. And the first day or two, Margaret said they had to stop every half hour to rest. As time went by she grew stronger, so she could walk for an hour and a half without stopping. God bless her.

    Lauren: They lined what would essentially be an airstrip with bright-colored parachutes so that the pilot had something to look for. And then they had two upright timbers, kind of like a goalpost in football, and they stretched a nylon rope across those two uprights that was then attached to the glider. So once the rope was in place, and the glider was packed, the tow plane would come back, fly down really low – and there was a hook underneath that plane, and the hook would take hold of the nylon rope and pull up, and the glider would be pulled with that rope.

    Emma: And you will imagine a C-47 transport plane that close to your head? They were really scared, not just because of the plane itself, but the noise, the roar of the engine. By accident, one of the parachutes that were lined the runway got hooked to the bottom of the glider. So Margaret said, “Jeez, as we were in the glider, we could hear the slap, slap, slapping on the bottom of a glider.” It started to tear the material on the outside of the glider, and she said at one point [they] could see the ground. “Wouldn't it be something if after being in the jungle 47 days, we get killed being rescued? Being pulled up in the air?” But luckily, it held. I think it took more than an hour to get to the airport at Hollandia.

    Devin: Now this is amazing in a lot of ways. First of all, it had never been done. Many things could have gone wrong. They could have crashed trying to get up through the mountains. They could have not had enough horsepower at that altitude to be able to take off once they did get a hold of the glider – if they got ahold of the glider. That was the other thing: could they actually connect the nylon rope to the grappling hook? So all these things could have gone wrong, but they didn't.

    Lauren: And once they were back, of course, this story was already all over the press. Margaret had actually kept a journal while she was in the valley for 47 days. And she gave this to the newspapers, and her journal was serialized, and it became a really popular story in America.

    Emma: Every time she turned around, they were taking her picture.

    Mitchell: Margaret was hailed as the “Queen of Shangri-La” when she came back to the United States. They put her on a bond tour – she was still a member of the Women's Army Corps, and so she was paraded and she spoke raising money for the war effort. But she had very conflicted feelings about it, because as she was being celebrated, and as she was being put on display with camera people following her, she was really still dealing with the grief of the loss of all the people who had perished. Afterward, she returned to a very quiet life. She did marry, she had two children, and was an administrator at Griffiths Air Force Base. Once in a while reporters would reach out to her to ask her to tell the story, but she rarely revisited those days, except with her two fellow survivors – who also went on to successful, really good lives. John McCollom ended up becoming a surrogate father for his brother's daughter, who never met her father. She just been born when her father died, so John McCollom stepped up and was a surrogate dad to her and a surrogate grandfather to her children. And Decker went on to a career in Boeing and a successful marriage. And then finally, their last public appearance together was at a reunion of World War II glider pilots, where they were hailed and from by all accounts, were very, very happy to be reunited there.

    Emma: That was the last time she saw them. She died four years later from cancer. She was 64 years old, in 1974.

    Lauren: In her later years, Margaret was asked how she survived, and one of the things she said was, “When you have no choice, you have no fear.” You just do what has to be done, and it is amazing that they were able to set aside this traumatic event that they had just been through and figure out a way to survive. And with the help of the Army, they were actually able to have a successful rescue mission and go on with the rest of their lives. The story does deserve recognition, and I found it really fascinating. And it's so nice and refreshing to see a marker dedicated to a WAC like Margaret Hastings. It was such an amazing story.

    Emma: During World War II, or any war, it's always about men, of course. So when you have a female soldier, that makes your ears perk up. It was a world famous tragedy, so it wasn't like just people in Owego knew Margaret – it was people all over the world. She had the foresight to record all of those things every day, she endured the physical pain of her burns. Her demeanor and her professionalism was noted by her commanding officers. They all wrote about how strong she was.

    Mitchell: These three people showed tremendous fortitude, physical and emotional. They simply refused to surrender, and I think that's a remarkable part of their story.

    A New York Minute In History is a production of the New York State Museum, WAMC, and Archivist Media, with support from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation. This episode was produced by Jesse King. Our theme is "Begrudge" by Darby.


    Rapp Road and the Great Migration | A New York Minute in History Mar 03, 2022

    On this episode, hosts Devin and Lauren delve into the history of Albany County's Rapp Road Community, an African American neighborhood built by southern immigrants who moved north for a better life in the late 1920s.

    Marker of Focus: Rapp Road Community Historic District, Albany County

    Guests: Stephanie Woodard, board member of the Rapp Road Historical Association; Dr. Jennifer Lemak, chief curator of the history collection at the New York State Museum, and author of Southern Life, Northern City: The History of Albany’s Rapp Road Community

    A New York Minute In History is a production of the New York State Museum, WAMC, and Archivist Media, with support from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation. This episode was produced by Jesse King. Our theme is "Begrudge" by Darby.

    Further reading:

    Southern Life, Northern City: The History of Albany’s Rapp Road Community Jennifer A. Lemak (2008)

    Black Protest and the Great Migration: A Brief History with DocumentsEric Arnesen (2002)

    The Southern Diaspora: How the Great Migrations of Black and White Southerners Transformed AmericaJames N. Gregory (2005)

    Teacher Resources:

    PBS Teaching Guide: Exploring the Great Migration

    National Archives- Harry S. Truman Library and Museum: The Great Migration Lesson Plan

    Stanford University, Stanford History Education Group: Great Migration

    National Geographic: The Great Migration- Educator Guide

    Follow Along

    Devin: Welcome to A New York Minute in History. I'm Devin Lander, the New York state historian.

    Lauren: And I'm Lauren Roberts, the historian for Saratoga County. This episode is focusing on a marker which recognizes the history of a small African American community located within the city of Albany that came into existence as a direct result of the Great Migration. Now, this sign isn't a traditional blue-and-yellow historical marker. It is brown, and has white text on it, and it recognizes the inclusion of this community on the National Register of Historic Places. Located at 28 Rapp Road in the city of Albany, the text reads: “Rapp Road Community Historic District has been placed on the National Register of Historic Places in 2002 by the United States Department of the Interior. William G. Pomeroy Foundation, 2017.”

    The marker we're focusing on today is part of a different grant program offered by the Pomeroy Foundation. When a structure or a district receives that designation, there's no allowance of any kind for signage or a plaque, so the Pomeroy Foundation offers a program where you can apply to them for a marker, in order to increase awareness of the historic place.

    Getting back to the Rapp Road Community Historic District – as far as the location, it's located near Crossgates Mall. So it's near a lot of heavy commercial development today, but that wasn't the case back in the late 1920s and early 1930s, when the community was formed. The houses here have a different look than the rest of the nearby neighborhoods, and the general residential areas around it. So how, Devin, did the Rapp Road community get its start, and where did the founders of this community come from?

    Devin: The genesis of the story begins in the Deep South. The vast majority of the residents that would go on to live at Rapp Road here in Albany came from a town called Shubuta, Mississippi. Shubuta, Mississippi is located in eastern Mississippi, formerly on the lands of the Choctaw Nation, which were open to settler colonists during the period of Indian removal in the 1830s. Shubuta developed a role as a trading post and market for the surrounding cotton plantations during the antebellum period, and the vast majority of African Americans living in and around the area were enslaved. In 1865, the town of Shubuta was incorporated, and in the post-Civil War years, slavery was replaced with the almost equally oppressive sharecropper system. Racism ruled the day during this era of Jim Crow in the South, and Blacks lacked opportunities for education and good-paying jobs. Almost everything was segregated, and even walking on the wrong side of the street in Mississippi could get a Black person lynched. This horrific racial terrorism, along with the disenfranchisement of Blacks by the state of Mississippi, and the rest of the Deep South, led many to flee the area for a better life and better opportunities. This mass movement of Blacks towards an opportunity for a better life was called the Great Migration.

    Jennifer: Between 1910 and roughly 1970, over 7 million African Americans moved from the southern United States to the north and to the west – predominantly cities, but a lot of African Americans also moved to rural areas.

    Devin: We spoke Dr. Jennifer Lemak, chief curator of the history collection at the New York State Museum.

    Jennifer: Out of the 7 million African Americans that moved out of the South, 1.5 million of these African Americans moved to New York state. The majority of them moved to New York City because of the lure of Harlem, but thousands upon thousands moved all across New York state: to the Hudson Valley, because brickyards in the Hudson Valley were some of the first integrated places along the corridor; to Albany, Syracuse, Rochester and Buffalo. There were lots of opportunities for employment, particularly during World War I and World War II, because factories had high manufacturing rates, and they needed people to come and fill these jobs. Places like Albany, they had huge increases, particularly around the wars, but also between 1950-1960. We see, you know, thousands upon thousands, the African American population almost doubling. A lot of people consider the Great Migration kind of being over after World War II, but there was a steady stream of migrants coming all the way through 1970.

    Devin: The main force behind the settlement of Rapp Road was really Reverend Louis W. Parson and his wife Frances. Now, this is a very interesting story. They were both from Shubuta. They both left, originally trying to settle in Ohio, and things didn't work out there for them. And one day, the reverend looked to his wife and said, “Let's leave.” And they got in their car, and they drove – and they had no real idea where they were going, they just drove. And eventually they made their way into Albany, and they happened to be driving down Franklin Street when they noticed four women outside of a small church who were conducting a prayer meeting. And the Parsons stopped, and got out, and spoke to the women, and introduced themselves, and mentioned that he was a reverend. And the women said, “Oh, it's interesting that you stopped by now, because our church is trying to find a new reverend.” And throughout the rest of his life, when asked, “Why did you settle in Albany? What brought you to Albany?” his answer was, “God led me to Albany.” And that congregation was the First Church of God in Christ, which was established in Albany and is still here.

    After founding their church, the Parsons returned to Shubuta to recruit residents there to come north and join them. We spoke with Stephanie Woodard from the Rapp Road Historical Association.

    Stephanie: We have to think this is [the] Jim Crow [period], there was still lynchings in Mississippi. The people who left out of Shubuta were sharecroppers, so their parents would have been slaves. Some stayed in Mississippi after emancipation and became sharecroppers. So when they made the decision to leave to go to Albany, you know, it was a significant decision, because leaving a debt in Mississippi was a crime. And you could get killed for leaving that debt. So when Elder Parson would come, people who wanted to come to Albany, they just had to be ready. First come, first serve, you get in the car, he would take you up to Albany. They would leave at night, and they will leave on a Saturday night, because the sharecroppers were very religious people in the South. These people were very religious, so no work ever happened on Sunday. So if they left in the night, they could get to the Mason Dixon Line before day, [and] all day Sunday, no one would think anything, because there's no work being done on Sunday. Come Monday, they would be pretty much in Albany. So they would drive all night, and all day, until they came to Albany. They brought very little, maybe a suitcase, very little money, you know, maybe $1.75, or something to that effect.

    And so this went on for a very long time, until Elder Parson was being threatened to be arrested. And when that happened, Jack Johnson – that’s my grandmother’s first cousin – he also helped. And he would come at night, I think he would honk the horn or do his light, and that meant first come, first serve, you get in the car. And it continued, it continued for several years, and that's how people came up to Albany. They couldn't take the train. Some people did take the train if they had the funds, but even taking the train was dangerous, because that was segregated as well. If a sharecropper knew the people who were operating train, you know, taking tickets and so forth, they could go down and say “Hey, if you see so-and-so getting on this train, call me, because they’re trying to get out of the South, and go north.” And even driving through the different towns is very dangerous. You can’t just stop wherever you want to stop and get food and go to the bathroom and get gas, you know, you had to have a specific area where you want to stop and get gas. So The Green Book, if anyone's ever seen the movie, is true to fact. People of color had to be very, very, very careful. And then, not everybody could come, it was a decision of who's going to go north, and who's going to stay here. And if you are going to stay, where are you gonna go? Because you can't live in the same house, where the sharecropper comes to get you and say, “You owe a debt.” So even though we talk about this all happening during the ‘40s, it’s very, very scary situation for them, and families were split up. But they all came together once they got settled in Albany.

    I am actually a third generation of relatives who live out in Rapp Road. My grandparents, George and Dora Woodard came to Albany by Shubuta Mississippi and Mobile, Alabama. I would say it had to be in the ‘30s given my father's age. They came here because their cousins had settled here, and they were looking for a better educational system. Back in Shubuta, Mississippi, when my aunt got to high school, around high-school-age(ish) – they didn’t have a high school, and they had to go to a different county. I believe that's when my grandparents, particularly my grandmother, started looking at other states. So my grandfather had siblings in Alabama, and attended a Catholic school. But she still felt that there was a lot of segregation, and that they weren't getting the best education. So that's when they decided to move to Albany.

    Once people started coming into Albany, they were living in the South End of Albany and [there was] a lot of crime, prostitution, gambling, and people wanted to go someplace else. And what Reverand Parson did was he also purchased land out where we now call Rapp Road. He would lend money, and allow people to purchase their land out there on Rapp Road, and they began to build their homes by hand. So they would come in the evening, after work or on Saturday, and build, and live in the South End of Albany until the property was complete. Other people out on Rapp Road would help, and some people came with a lot of skill. Like the McCann's came with the skill of masonry. Other families came with other types of skills. So when they came out of the South, no matter where they came from, they did bring a lot of skill with them. And that's why their property is still standing today, because they were able to use materials in order to create their homes and build their homes.

    Lauren: The area of Rapp Road was much more like Shubuta than the South End of Albany, so it actually became a much better fit. They were able to practice gardening, they were able to carry on farming there. They talk about hunting. They had their own smokehouse, they would smoke their own meats. So it was important, I think, to those people coming up from Shubuta to have some continuity in their lives. Some of the things that they had done while they were living in Shubuta, they could continue to carry on while they were living in the north.

    Devin: I think that's a great point, Lauren. The South End was an urban environment, and these were rural people. And they were looking for something more akin to the lands that they came from, where they could own their own land, and farm, and grow their own produce, and hunt, and things like that. But I think one of the things we really need to remember too, is although Albany and the north during this time was much less dangerous, there was still overt and institutional racism that took place. And we get the sense from the history of the community that one of the reasons they wanted to move out of the city was to be among themselves.

    Jennifer: At least from my perspective, from talking to folks, life on Rap Road was pretty happy when they were on Rapp Road. The folks that lived out there were really in a close community, and there was not much around them – the Pine Bush was around, there were a few farms out that way, but the only folks that went out there, for the most part, were the ones that lived there, or if you were visiting family that lived there. I would guess that most of the challenges came when the community left Rapp Road and went into the city of Albany, and they would face discrimination in parts of their daily lives. But Elder Parson and Elder Johnson helped folks get jobs, got their kids into the right schools, and for the most part, they all became members of their specific congregations. Being on Rapp Road was such a special place, so up until a certain point, I think it was really, you know, they've called it the promised land.

    Stephanie: It’s a place where my grandmother went a lot, and the name “promised land” is exactly what it was. There was no traffic, you know, you just run around and play and, you know, people just got along to help one another. Everything was communal. There was a prayer house out there, so sometimes they didn't even have to come into Albany to do their daily prayer or their weekly prayer. Jennifer's correct, it wasn't until you went into Albany [that they experienced racism]. You know, [Albany citizens] weren't too receiving of all these African American people coming from the South, like it would be a burden on the Albany economy. And also it became dicey once Washington Ave Extension was built, because no one really even knew people even lived out on that area of Washington Ave. We did have an incident where the children couldn't get to school, which would have been, I think, a school on Western Avenue. The Albany public school system would not provide bus transportation, because they said the road was too narrow to get the bus down Rapp Road and over to Western Avenue. So Wilborn Temple First Church of God in Christ purchased the bus to get the children to school. But other than that, exactly what Jennifer said. And I have recollections more of Shubuta, because my grandmother and grandfather used to take us down to Shubuta. And so when I got older, and started coming to the family reunions, like in high school, I remembered Shubuta, Mississippi, and the community was exactly the same. Everyone knew each other, had their own land or property. And as kids, there was no traffic. So we used to play and have a great time. And I just want to give a shout out to Jennifer, because she, too, has been to Shubuta. Right, Jennifer?

    Jennifer: Yes, I have. One of the folks that I interviewed said that, you know, “God led Elder Parson to Albany.” And when you're out there, and you realize how similar Rapp Road looks to Shubuta, Mississippi – there are pine trees down in Shubuta, and kind of sandy soil, and that's very similar to what's out in the Pine Bush. You know, it's kind of otherworldly, that you're like, “How on earth did this happen?” You know, there's a connection.

    Lauren: When they were welcomed into the community, these [other community] members had already been in their position, so they were more willing to help with food and shelter and getting a job. And it was almost like a communal living environment where they were helping each other out of a shared common past –

    Devin: – that has its roots in Shubuta, for the most part. There were some folks who settled there who were not from Shubuta, but really the majority were from Shubuta, Mississippi, so they all knew each other, or at least knew of each other. You have to remember, Shubuta is a very small town. Today's population is about 650, I think back in the 1920s, it was maybe around 1,000. So it was never a big metropolis. It was truly a rural place [where] the families would have known each other, that people would have known each other. So, again, they have this deep-rooted community and network that really helped establish Rapp Road as a separate community within the boundaries of the city.

    Lauren: According to the national register nomination, between 1942 and 1963, 23 African American families bought tracts of land from Parson’s original land purchases. Today, approximately six families with connections to the original landowners still live there today. I guess that leads us into today. What is the community life like now?

    Devin: Now, one of the things we realized as we look at the history of Rapp Road, is that this kind of idyllic situation has been under threat – and continues to be under threat. Not so much by horrors of lynching or the Ku Klux Klan, but really by some of the commercial development that [Lauren] mentioned springing up around Rapp Road as the city boundaries expanded, and as the suburbs expanded. One of the things that really put pressure on Rapp Road was the Washington Avenue Extension that was built. And you mentioned Crossgates Mall, which was a major building project, and was really the pressure that [prompted] the Rapp Road Historical Association [to come into being]. And that's why they looked to place Rapp Road on the national register.

    Jennifer: Getting the Rapp Road Community on the state and national register was particularly important for the community members out there, and specifically for Emma Dickson, who was worried that the Pyramid-Crossgates Corporation would come in and kind of take over the community. Starting in the 1990s, there was a plan to double the Crossgates Mall. They started buying up little pieces of Rapp Road property that came up for sale, even if they were between houses or between different lots. The fear of the community was that Crossgates was going to come in and ultimately connect all of those pieces of land – and out goes the Rapp Road folks and in comes roads leading into the mall, or out of the mall, or drainage, or whatever. So that is where I came in to the story. I needed to do a research project for a history class at the University of Albany, and Emma Dickson needed somebody to write the historic significance statement for the state register nomination. And it was kismet that we met and started working together. And so my initial research paper was a significance statement for the state board review.

    Rapp Road was put on the state register in 2002, and then I think it went to the national register in 2003. The big deal with Rapp Road is that when it was designated it was still there. There have been other examples of Great Migration communities in New York state, not necessarily one that was originally rural, like Rapp Road, but neighborhoods in larger cities like Rochester and Buffalo, and even Harlem. But the fact that the community was still intact – is still intact, for the most part – [was significant]. It was unusual for African Americans to own property and own their own homes for most of the 20th century. The designation allows for some protections from outside development interests, and it allows for tax credits, if you do work on your home. From a private owner standpoint, a private homeowner can do absolutely anything they want with their home, even if it is part of a historic district.

    I think it's important for everybody to realize that there are still families out on Rapp Road, and the work of the Rapp Road historical society is never ending, because of the sheer proximity of where the community is, in the middle of a lot of development. And I gotta give a lot of credit to Stephanie and her colleague, Beverley Bardequez, who has been tirelessly working to continue to document the history of the community, and kind of protect it from all of those outside interests in development. And they are both so committed to keeping Rapp Road intact, and keeping the history alive.

    Stephanie: The Rapp Road Historical Association, we work on behalf of the Rapp Road Historical District. We provide support. These are very private families, and they are strong-willed and want to keep their homes, so they need help. We try to provide the help that we can. And then we of course, we work with people like Jennifer Lemak, like “Hey, what do we need to do? Can you help us, and to provide us with guidance?” Along the road, we've met different architects, historic architects who are always willing to help us. We also speak on behalf of the historical district, like now, when we've had the change with Crossgates Mall and Costco and the apartments – and we're involved in that whole process of approval. We’re really at the beck and call of the community in terms of what they want.

    Every year we look forward to two family reunions. One with the McCalls, which is done on Orange Street in Albany, and the other was coming to Rapp Road. And we would have so much fun. We would always tell our friends, “You know, they shut down the street, when we have our family reunions, they shut it down.” It’s just, it's always a place to learn more about your family, and who your family is.

    Devin: Putting a community like that on the National Register of Historic Places was a complex endeavor. We have to remember that during the early 2000s, and before, many of the properties that were placed on the national register were attractive houses, historically important because they were the site of something to do with a Founding Father or some other community leader. They weren't necessarily an essentially working class neighborhood. I think, also, it's important, as Stephanie Woodard noted, that even if the families aren't there anymore, many of the original houses are there. And these houses were hand built. These people were skilled.

    Lauren: And although it's a smaller number of families, it seems like the feeling of community still exists. The fact that they're still holding family reunions today speaks to the fact that they're hanging on to their heritage, and trying to continue the legacy of the original people from Shubuta, Mississippi who came here to try to make their own community and make a better life for themselves.

    Stephanie: I tell my friends, when you're coming out of Crossgates, you know, just take a slow ride through the Rapp Road. You know, just a nice little ride, and think about the history. Think about their families, think about where people came from. Think about how it's so important to preserve natural history, and how important it is to preserve African American history, because there's not a lot of national designations related to African American history. And we are so unique, that the designation was not about a pretty building. It's really about people who came from the South at a dire need, and said, “I'm going to go to Albany, New York and build a better life, not only for myself, but also for my family, and for my legacy.” And when I ride through Rapp Road, that's what I think about all the time – what we've been through, and how far we've come to this one community, just this one particular community.

    A New York Minute In History is a production of the New York State Museum, WAMC, and Archivist Media, with support from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation. This episode was produced by Jesse King. Our theme is "Begrudge" by Darby.


    Thomas Paine's Lost Body | A New York Minute in History Jan 28, 2022

    In the first episode of our new season, Devin and Lauren look to a William G. Pomeroy marker in Westchester County to learn about American patriot Thomas Paine, his influence on the American and French Revolutions — and just how and why his body went missing. Where is Thomas Paine today?

    Marker: Thomas Paine, New Rochelle, Westchester County, NY

    Thomas Paine William G. Pomeroy Marker

    Guests: Dr. Nora Slonimsky and Dr. Michael Crowder of the Institute for Thomas Paine Studies at Iona College

    A New York Minute In History is a production of the New York State Museum, WAMC, and Archivist Media, with support from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation. This episode was produced by Jesse King. Our theme is “Begrudge” by Darby.

    Further Reading:

    Tom Paine and Revolutionary America, Eric Foner (1976)

    The Thomas Paine Reader, Thomas Paine, with an introduction by Michael Foot and Isaac Kramnick (1987)

    Thomas Paine: Enlightenment, Revolution, and the Birth of Modern Nations, Craig Nelson (2007)

    Teacher Resources:

    New York State Museum Educational ResourceDownload

    PBS Teaching Guide: Thomas Paine: Writer and Revolutionary

    C-SPAN Classroom: Lesson Plan: Thomas Paine and Common Sense

    National Humanities Center: America in Class: Thomas Paine’s Common Sense, 1776

    Follow Along

    Devin: Welcome to a new season of A New York Minute in History. I’m Devin lander, the New York state historian.

    Lauren: And I’m Lauren Roberts, the historian for Saratoga County. Today we start our new season with a William G. Pomeroy historic marker located in the city of New Rochelle in Westchester County. The title of the marker is “Thomas Paine,” and the text reads: “Author of Common Sense and The American Crisis. 1784, New York state gave him a farm on this site seized from a loyalist. Paine buried here until 1819. William G Pomeroy Foundation, 2018.”

    Common Sense

    Devin: I don’t know if you’re like me, Lauren, but Thomas Paine is a name that I’ve heard a lot of over the years, certainly studying history – but I didn’t necessarily know that much about him. His biography, kind of who he was, what he did. I knew he was an author during the Revolution. I know he was a revolutionary. But beyond that, I didn’t know much about him until we started to dive into this episode. What I found out was that he was born in England, and lived there for the first 37 years of his life. In England, he was not very successful. In fact, he kind of had a tragic life: he lost a wife and child during childbirth, he was an unsuccessful corset maker, which is what his father’s occupation was. He was an unsuccessful tobacco shop owner, briefly a school teacher, a tax collector, and even more briefly, a privateer. But all of these things were not successful, and he didn’t certainly find riches doing any of these things.

    But he did become politically active while living in England, and probably, at least from my perspective, the most important thing he did was chance into meeting Benjamin Franklin when he was on one of his trips to England, and the two became friends. Franklin actually suggested that Thomas Paine move to America and start a school – advice that he followed in 1774, though the school never materialized. Instead, due to his association with Franklin and his own interest in politics, Paine became involved in the revolutionary movement underway at the time. It could be argued that Paine was the main PR person for the independence movement to break away from Great Britain.

    Lauren: I think that’s probably what most people know best about Paine. That’s certainly what I knew about before we started researching for this podcast – that he was the author of Common Sense, undoubtedly, the most famous pamphlet of the Revolution.

    Devin: Absolutely. In fact, it was published in 1776, so the year that Revolution began, and in that Paine argued for independence and a republican form of government. So he was talking about not only breaking away from Great Britain, but instituting a form of government in which the people make the decisions, unlike a monarchy or any other kind of feudal system. And the real important thing, I think, about Common Sense and really all of his writings, is that he wrote it for a more general audience. It wasn’t a pamphlet for the elites written by the elites. It was written by somebody who really had his thumb on the pulse of the average person, the average farmer, the average merchant, the average person living in any of the 13 original colonies. And it was an immediate success. Some historians argue that it was the most popular work written in the 18th century. It’s hard to know the exact numbers that it sold, but we do know it was a massive success. And actually, Paine donated all of the proceeds from the sale of Common Sense to the Continental Army during the Revolution.

    Lauren: So during the Revolution, Paine was a volunteer assistant to General Nathaniel Greene, though he didn’t earn a claim as a soldier. He was also famous as the author of The American Crisis, which was a series of 16 essays written over the length of the American Revolution, the first of which was reportedly read aloud to the troops at Valley Forge at the request of General Washington. And that first essay is probably the most recognizable to us today. It starts out with that famous quote, “These are the times that try men’s souls.”

    Devin: In acknowledgement of his important contribution to the revolutionary effort, the New York state Legislature gave Paine a farm in New Rochelle that had been seized from a loyalist – thus the location of the Pomeroy marker.

    Lauren: Though it was given to him in 1784, he really didn’t spend much time there, because he had an important role to play in other revolutions that were going on. And we spoke to two experts from the Institute for Thomas Paine Studies at Iona College who told us more about the next phase of Thomas Paine’s life.

    Nora: My name is Nora Slonimsky, and Gardiner Assistant Professor of History at Iona College, where I also serve as the director for the Institute for Thomas Paine Studies, ITPS for short.

    Michael: My name is Dr. Michael Crowder. I have a PhD in American history, and then I was lucky enough to begin working with the Institute for Thomas Paine Studies. And I’m now working on a new Paine biography, appropriately.

    So Paine didn’t spend very much time at all [at the cottage], and in fact, was absent from the property from 1787 until 1805, when he permanently moved to the property. So for a 31-year period, Paine didn’t see it, because he was in Europe for the vast majority of that time period, first in England, and then in France.

    Nora: Paine was not directly involved in the French Revolution until really 1791. And at this point, this was during that pivot, between what we might say is the first phase of the French Revolution, which was a reform for a constitutional monarchy, and the second phase of the French Revolution, which is the first republic. Paine did call for the abolition of the monarchy – he was very much a lowercase “r” republican, so he really did believe in as close to democratic rule as you could possibly get. And he was granted French citizenship and elected to the governing bodies of France at this period, but he did sort of break from what we might say the more radical group of the French Revolution in that, while he did believe that King Louie XVI should be removed from power – and that it was fine to put him on trial and find him guilty – he did oppose execution. He did oppose what ultimately happened to Louis and his family. And as a result, he ultimately found himself incarcerated. But he is ultimately released by late 1794.

    He really grapples in this period, which is when you see the third phase of the French Revolution, or the rise of the Thermidors, Thermidorians. You see him really grappling with the realities of the Reign of Terror. Paine was indeed a radical, but he was not an unreasonable radical. He was willing to make compromise, he did not say that there should be no practical governing structures. And you see this particularly in his dedication, for example, of his 1797 pamphlet, Agrarian Justice, where he dedicates it to the government that comes after the republic, the directory.

    So he’s not totally politically out of touch, but he does fall into a period of ill health. At this point, by the late 1790s, he is not in excellent health, and he does find himself in pretty hot water in England, because the work that he is doing, the publications he’s doing, are very, very pro-revolution. He basically says that Britain should become a republic as well. And he does advocate for united Irishmen to rebel. And he ultimately does return to America. Shortly after Napoleon’s rise, he does become somewhat disenchanted or dissatisfied with the French Revolution. He does ultimately critique Napoleon as well, but he waits ‘till he’s out of Europe before he does that. And that, I think, in so many words, really is the timeline of Paine’s relationship with the French Revolution. He maintained throughout his life its importance and its value. He is in no way as critical, it’s worth noting, of the different stages of the French Revolution, than he is, in some respects, to a perceived lack of follow-through of the more radical potentials of the American Revolution, or the failure of revolution to take root in England. He’s far more critical of those contexts than he is of France, but he is critical.

    Devin (to Nora): How much do you believe his kind of fall from public grace, by the time he returned from France, had to do with his atheistic viewpoints? I know, of course, Teddy Roosevelt famously called him the “[filthy] little atheist” or something like that in the late 19th, early 20th Century. So I’m just interested in especially The Age of Reason, which was another popular pamphlet that he wrote after the American Revolution that really challenged organized religion.

    Nora: So public opinion is a tricky thing. My understanding, and my read – and I am grateful to colleagues at the ITPS for sharing their knowledge with me – but it seems that Paine was not an atheist, that Paine was a spiritual person, that did have a belief in God. But it did not fit in with the belief system of many of his friends foes, believed, and that is why The Age of Reason, yet another term for what we now call The Age of Revolutions, or The Age of Empires, [is] where he doesn’t really fit.

    By the time that Paine returns to the United States, the landscape is very different. This is no longer a revolutionary moment. In fact, the Constitution has been in place for over 10 years, the Federalist Party, or Federalist Coalition, depending on how you view that period, had been successful for the first two elections. And now another political coalition, the Democratic-Republicans had residential power under Thomas Jefferson. There had been government bureaucracy, there was a Supreme Court, there was a Congress, there was taxes. And the kind of energy, for lack of a better word, you might want when you’re trying to stir people to revolution is probably going to be a pretty different energy than you’re going to want around when you’re trying to get people to respect their government institutions, pay attention to the laws, and really instill a sense of civic duty to the relatively newly-formed federal government. Figures like Alexander Hamilton, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson – across the political spectrum mind you, people from very different views on the major issues of the day, from slavery, to diplomacy, to taxation policies, and so on and so forth – there was a consensus that that type of revolutionary rhetoric was not necessarily as wanted. I wouldn’t go as far as to say he was unwelcome, but in some respects, this is why Paine developed many enemies. His radicalism – things like today, like universal basic income, or other forms of intense economic reform that he articulates in his pamphlet Agrarian Justice, his view of a secular world. If you’re looking for revolution, Paine is the person you call. Paine is the person you hope gets on Twitter. Paine is the person you want on your podcast. But if you are trying to create a very stable, authoritative governing structure, he might not be the person whose style you want.

    Michael: He spent a significant amount of time in the very last years of his life at the cottage, just at a moment when he began to really wind down in terms of his writing. I wouldn’t say [his] retirement, because he never stopped writing, but there’s a noticeable decline in his writings, specially published writings [by that point]. So he only lived there for the very end of his life. He died in 1809. So it was his last resting place, I guess is the best way to put it.

    Devin (to Lauren): So Lauren, the Pomeroy marker says that Thomas Paine was buried in that spot [at the cottage] until 1819. So he’s not there right now?

    Lauren: No. Well, maybe, but certainly his complete remains are not there. And it’s an interesting story about somebody who dug him up in the middle of the night and shipped him to England.

    Devin: I think this is the most fascinating part of this whole story. Obviously, the life and work of Thomas Paine is important, but understanding that he’s actually not there, and he’s not buried there because somebody came and stole his body, is really fascinating to me. And Dr. Michael Crowder, he told us a story that begins with local Quakers denying Paine’s burial request, and ends with a man named William Cobbett literally robbing his grave.

    Michael: So he died in Greenwich Village, and just before his death, in his final will, he asked that the Quaker meetinghouse in Westchester allow him to be buried in their burying ground, on the basis that his father had been a Quaker. Thomas Paine had partially been raised as a Quaker. The Quaker meeting rejected this request, primarily because he’d written Age of Reason. In his will, there were no other stipulations except that, if he couldn’t be buried in a Quaker burial ground, he wanted to be buried on his property. And he was taken two days later and buried [there].

    And because he was buried so quickly, there was very little time for the media to report upon his death, giving the impression that he died and nobody cared, when in reality, just given the obstacles to communication in the early 19th Century, his death was reported about a month after he was buried. And then there were much more voluminous commentary, both positive and negative. There was definitely interest in his death.

    So William Cobbett is fascinating. He is an English writer-turned-politician who lived in the United States in the 1790s. In fact, he lived in Philadelphia, having emigrated from England, where he wrote as a partisan Federalist journalist and newspaper editor. He wrote under a pseudonym called “Pierre Porcupine,” in which, amongst many other people, he attacked Thomas Paine. And at some point, right around Paine’s death. So right around 1808-1809, Cabot realized that Thomas Paine, the person that he mercilessly attacked a decade to 15 years before, should actually be somebody that is celebrated and venerated. And he decided in the middle of the 1810s that what he needed to do was travel to New Rochelle to Thomas Paine’s farm, to dig up his bones so that they could be transported back to England, so that they could be properly buried, and a monument to Thomas Paine constructed in England to celebrate his influence, and his democratic principles. So William Cobbett traveled in 1819, and in the middle of the night, had a couple of hired laborers dig up Thomas Paine’s grave, store his bones in bags and then immediately go back to New York City and take the first boat out to England.

    Devin: William Cobbett, he wrote about Thomas Paine after the publication of The Age of Reason, saying, “How Tom gets his living now, or what brothel he inhabits, I know not, nor does it much signify to anybody. He has done all the mischief he can in the world, and whether his carcass is at last to be suffered to rot on the earth, or to be dried in the air, is a very little consequence.” Again, he wrote this before Thomas Paine died, and then less than 10 years later, he’s robbing the remains of Thomas Paine, bringing them to England, thinking that they will help incite a revolution there.

    One of the things that I find interesting is some of the ideas that William Cobbett had for raising the funds to build this memorial that he was hoping to build in England. And this is a quote from William Cobbett himself: “The hair of Thomas Paine’s head would be a treasure to the possessor, and this hair is in my possession. I intend to have it put into gold rings, and to sell them at a guinea apiece beyond the cost of the gold and the workmanship. These guineas shall be employed with whatever shall be raised by Paine himself in the erection of a monument to his memory. This shall take place when 20 wagonloads of flowers can be brought to strew the road before his hearse. It is my intention, when the rings are made, to have the workmen with me to give out the hair, and to see it put in myself. Then to write in my own hand a certificate on parchment, and to deliver it with each ring. This will be another pretty good test whether the remains of the great man be despised or not.”

    Lauren: And as far as we know, he never went through with that, right?

    Devin: As far as we know, he never was able to go through that.

    Lauren: And he basically puts the bones in a box in his basement.

    Devin: Right, where they remain until he passes away, and his heirs are left in debt. And we’re not really sure what happened to the remains of Thomas Paine, although there’s some evidence that they’re dispersed among friends and or family members of Cobbett. There’s also the suggestion that at least part of the remains are at the British Museum. There’s no way to really tell, even with modern testing today, because Thomas Paine was an only child who had no children. So having a direct descendant through DNA analysis would be difficult.

    Lauren: What actually happens is that, fast forward to 1905, there actually was a grand monument erected in the memory of Thomas Paine – back in New Rochelle. And part of the application for the William G. Pomeroy historic marker includes a newspaper article that was printed about the dedication of the monument in 1905. And it gives some interesting clues about how the people of New Rochelle felt: there were several groups that were there to celebrate, including the sons of the American Revolution and school children. There were cannon salutes and patriotic songs being played – although there is a note that some of the decorations were lacking, because the people of New Rochelle were good Christians, and they still were a little bitter about the sentiments put forward in Paine’s Age of Reason.

    Devin: It’s a fascinating article, Lauren, from the New York Times in 1905. And it says: “The Paine monument at last finds a home, accepted by New Rochelle with a preacher’s benediction. Town refuses to decorate, but turns out for the exercises. Part of the patriot’s brain to rest under the shaft.”

    Lauren: Part of the brain?

    Devin: That’s what it says. It says a small piece of what is purported to be Thomas Paine’s brain was placed under the monument when it was erected, and remains there to this day. Again, I have no idea how they know that it was Thomas Paine’s brain. But that is what they’re saying in this article. They said it resembled a small piece of dried putty.

    Lauren: Interesting.

    A monument to Thomas Paine was erected in New Rochelle in 1905.

    Devin: All of this shouldn’t detract from the fact that Thomas Paine was an important figure during the American Revolution, and played a hugely important role in disseminating the ideals of the Revolution to the average person who was alive during that time. It was a fantastical story, it was a lot of fun for me to research, but it was also an important opportunity for us to pay respects and give relevance to Thomas Paine himself.

    Lauren: I think it’s important for us to remember that there’s so much mythology built up around the Founding Fathers that we tend to forget that they had personal lives, that they had shortcomings, that they had successes and failures, and that not everyone in their lives are going to continue in popularity. [Thomas Paine] comes from obscurity in England, he happens to meet Ben Franklin, he goes on to write the most significant pamphlet of propaganda during the American Revolution, which really convinces a lot of people that we need to call for independence from Britain. And then he kind of falls out of popularity for other beliefs that he has…But then you see that Iona College has an entire institute dedicated to the study of Thomas Paine. I wonder how many other radical players in the Revolution can claim that.

    Devin: It’s weird, he seems to ebb and flow, like his popularity.

    Lauren: Maybe his radicalism itself is what makes him such an interesting person. A lot of other major players in the Revolution seem to have a little bit more of an even keel – not that they weren’t radical, definitely they were all radical for their revolutionary beliefs, but Paine seems to have been over the top, and then he never really scales back. So maybe that has something to do with [it]. You can attach him to certain periods in our history where his ideas really can take hold.

    Nora: What’s been really interesting to notice and to observe over the last several years, is really an increased interest in Paine. Paine is definitely someone [people have] gotten a little bit more serious about, and yet that curiosity really does cross the entire political spectrum. And it’s always tricky, right? Because the political spectrum of the late 18th Century is, of course, going to be quite different than the political spectrum today. And this is where it’s really important, I think, to both really understand what is distinct, and the real context of Paine in his in his worlds, right? What was very unique to that time, as well as what exactly that can tell us about our present day, and the connections that that has to our present day. So that’s just been really interesting to see how people find multiple different things about Paine to connect to.

    The ITPS was founded at Iona College in 2011, really, to support and preserve the archival collection of the Thomas Paine National Historical Association, or the TPMHA. There’s a lot of acronyms in the world of Paine, so I do apologize to any listeners for that. But the TPMHA is still an organization that’s around today. It has a really, really fascinating history. You have really incredible artifacts. And then you have items from the antebellum period where Paine’s legacy begins to be disputed in the 1820s and 1830s. And then you have the history of the TPMHA itself: its minutes, its records, its correspondence. The understandings and arguments about Paine are very much about Paine, of course, but they’re also about the bigger period. These figures and these historical events are very much about their own time, but how we remember them, and how we think about them, tells us a lot about our present moments as well.

    Michael: The cottage sustained a significant amount of damage when Hurricane Ida came through the New York City / Westchester / Connecticut region, and it had just underwent a significant remodeling in the two years prior. In 2018-2019, and into 2020, there was a significant amount of work put into the cottage by the Huguenot & New Rochelle Historical [Association], the local historical society which owns it, to bring it back to a state that would most closely approximate the state in which Thomas Paine lived in the cottage. They did a wonderful job, and they’re working to recover, but they are accepting funds from anybody who’s interested in donating because of the damage. They have many different kinds of public programming that’s intended to engage the community – not just about Thomas Paine, although of course, he’s significant, but just to engage the history of the Revolutionary era and the early republic more broadly.

    Devin: Thank you for listening to the first episode of our new season of A New York Minute in History.

    Lauren: This podcast is a production of WAMC Northeast Public Radio, the New York State Museum, and Archivist Media, with support by the William G. Pomeroy Foundation.

    Devin: Our producer is Jesse King. I’m Devin Lander.

    Lauren: And I’m Lauren Roberts.

    Until next time, Excelsior.

    (Until next time, America.)


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