Frank Greene

Keep a Good Book in Your Pocket

by Anita Messina

Frank Greene doesn’t understand why people can’t sit down and calmly discuss their problems until their differences are worked out. Ongoing conflicts trouble him. They especially troubled him when he was Staff Sergeant Greene, 15th Infantry Division, serving in World War II.

He saw conflicts in the North Africa campaign in Sicily, Italy, Southern France and Austria. He was one of an elite group of 180 men trained for reconnaissance missions behind German lines. He couldn’t resist throwing some barbs when German soldiers were captured: “You guys are lousy shots. You’ve been shooting at me for quite a while now, but you keep missing.” In one skirmish Frank was hit, but a providential bit of body armor saved his hide. He always kept a small copy of the New Testament in his breast pocket, and that day the good word “saved my bacon” he said. Shrapnel ripped through the book and just barely pierced his skin. His grandson has that life-saving book in safe keeping along with Frank’s collection of military pictures and memorabilia.

Mostly he recalls his distant memories matter-of-factly or, in a few cases, with some chuckles. But he grows sober remembering a night when his small outfit lost 43 men. “You get to be good friends in that kind of close operation,” Frank said. “You rely on one another and to lose that many friends all at once in one night…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. His eyes look deep back into that tragic night, and he is silent. By time the war was over Frank was one of seven men from his reconnaissance outfit who lived to see their homeland once again. Every day he pays tribute to 173 friends who never went home.

After the war he was hired into the sheriff’s department in Auburn. “You didn’t get any training back then. You just got a badge and were considered ready to go out and arrest people,” he said. Gradually he worked his way through promotions and became Undersheriff for Robert Sponable. “That man, Frank said, “was a great human being.”

Frank was born on Cooper Street in Conquest. He’s moved about some. He’s lived in Victory, Ira, Auburn and in Cato where he operated a gas station for nine years. Now he lives in Port Byron next door to good friends and helpmates Sheila and Marion (“J”) Laird. Other good friends take him to Legion breakfasts or to other community events. But mostly his days are long and endlessly quiet.

Anyone who talks with Frank will glean considerable sage advice from a wise, experienced man. His most fervent words of advice center around Talking Books sent free from the Library of Congress. Postage paid arriving. Postage paid returning. The audiobooks service even furnishes the listening machine. “It’s a godsend for anyone with vision problems,” Frank said, vision problems like his own macular degeneration and glaucoma. He urges everyone who needs visual aid to subscribe to this service. And every time he sees State Senator Nozzolio, he tells him “Whatever you do, don‘t cut funds for Talking Books!” A stack of audio tapes are on the end table near his reading chair. The tapes keep him entertained through long days. The tapes keep him from remembering.

Sally Smith

Nonagenarian Dynamo: A Woman to Remember

By Anita Messina

Lithe and energetic Sally Smith kayaked, canoed and played a round of golf every Friday. And doing it all when she was well into her ninth decade.

The links game gave her pause to consider whether she should continue to play. She watched her once strong fairway shots dwindle to a series of short bounces from tee to green. But weighing the pluses and minuses, she knew it was better to stay on course than retire to the sofa, nursing an aging ego. And when you come right down to it, more swings are better exercise than a hole-in-one.

As an SU freshman she planned to major in physical education, but reluctantly Sally gave into her mother’s advice to major in home economics, a more “lady-like profession” than physical education. She sat through one semester learning how “not” to bake a chocolate cake. “That class,” Sally said “was the start of my migraine headaches.” After a series of failed recipes, her mother agreed maybe she should try “phys-ed” courses. Sally lost no time switching her major from baking to basketball and that’s how Port Byron got an inspiring, popular physical education teacher with an amazing sense of humor.

Sally came to her teaching position with a pre-formed liking for Port Byron because when she was small she had happy visits with her grandmother, Jennie Sprague, who lived here. The house is long gone, and Sally doesn’t remember exactly where the house was.

During Sally’s tenure an interesting turn of events happened at Port Byron High School. During the war years Principal Arthur Gates allowed a World War II rations distribution center to be set up in the cafeteria. Some of his staff – Sally was one – managed the rations assignment. Each woman was sitting at a different table. Now it came to pass that a dapper country gentleman, name of Wilbur Smith, Farmer Wilbur Smith, a Cornell graduate, came in to get his fair share of rations. Mr. Gates met him at the door and said, “Now, Wilbur, you pick out the most beautiful girl here and get your ration book taken care of.”

“Wilbur sat at my table,” Sally said, “his face red as a beet. Well what could the poor man do but sit right down? I was the first table in line.”

Happily Sally and Wilbur moved from rations to romance. They reared two daughters, Gretchen and Sue and one son, Douglas. Sally spoke often of enjoying activities with her six grandchildren and seven great-grandchildren at their summer home on Ramona Lake.

Through her last days on this planet Sally was out and about. “Every day I go someplace or do something,” she said. Golf and water sports continued along with volunteer work. She told people: “I can’t do what I used to, but at the very least I’ll bring a dish-to-pass.”

Sally’s Often Requested Salad

1 box of bow pasta 

Some onions

1/3 cup sugar

Some peppers

½ cup red wine vinegar 

Add bacon pieces

Sprinkle on pecans or walnuts

Sally believed that to live with vigor “a hearty salad and a trim figure keep the motor running.” And all through life it’s better exercise to hit a lot of short bounces rather than only one long fairway shot. That’s the sound advice echoing still from Port Byron’s blue ribbon physical education teacher, the one with the mischievous sense of humor. Sally is forever remembered, forever revered.

Hellen Davies

Tribute to Hellen Davies

Anita Messina

Some folks give and then they give some more. Such a rare community patron is Hellen Davies, historian, benefactor, researcher, perpetual teacher, a person with unbridled curiosity and amazement for all things past and present.

It’s safe to say that without her energy and the generosity she and her husband Jack showed toward Lock 52 Historical Society, there would be no historical society in this village. Once it was established, Hellen became the principle researcher giving historically authentic, often amusing talks on so many topics. We wondered what fuels her interest in history.

“Well look at that word,” she said. It ends in “story.” To me history is a big, fascinating story.”

Hellen’s curiosity budded and bloomed ninety years ago when, as a child, she lived and read in the Ward family home in a house that still stands next door to the Montezuma Hotel. It was there that she discovered books and their captivating stories. That there was no electricity in her childhood home was not a deterrent for the tiny bookworm. Nights, long after she was presumed asleep, her mother found her sprawled on the hallway floor, reading in the dim light cast by the kerosene lamp.

Not surprisingly the resolute four-year-old determined herself ready to go to school. When her older brother headed to school one fine September day, Hellen insisted she would go too. A sensitive first-grade teacher allowed her to stay thinking she would soon be bored and anxious to head for home. Anyone who imagined that was in for a surprise. Hellen stayed the day and was eager to get to school the next day. She whipped through her primers and her arithmetic facts, always in a great rush to meet new wonderments that lay ahead.

Year after year she read more and more. Her mother encouraged her and stated only one limitation: in the collection of adult books in her home was a copy of “Anthony Adverse.” Hellen was forbidden to read it, an order she was to disregard some years later.

During her teen years Hellen was smitten with a handsome young man named Jack Davies. Although they were not a couple, not even close friends at the time, hardly even acquaintances, she confessed to confidantes that she would one day marry him. To many that seemed a far-fetched notion, but, remember, also highly unlikely was leaping into first grade at age four. Hellen and Jack married, and he whisked her away to Port Byron where they filled 65 years with family love and happy times and stacks of books, shelves full of books, books on every available surface. Her mantra has always been “So many books. So little time.” All the while words tumble around in her brain like energetic popcorn. Some words are serious, some just for fun. Note the word play when she named Jack’s and her three daughters Penny Lee, Patty Lou, Polly Lyn. Patty Lou was the name of Jack’s old girlfriend – pre-Hellen days of course – but no matter. Their daughters’ names would all have PL initials, a double consonant, end in “y” and use eight letters.

When Hellen enrolled in SUNY/Geneseo her first order of business was to read “Anthony Adverse,” a story she hardly remembers “except some nuns were in it.” Certainly nothing offensive, she thought. But a couple of decades had passed. Victorian affronts faded, and if a book mentioned love affairs, a pregnancy, some wild night life, there was no shame in it by time Hellen was of college age.

Hellen earned her undergraduate degree in library science and followed it with graduate work at SUNY/Cortland. She vowed she would never censor a book, approaching each tome as “a teaching experience.” Words, ideas and research, always her preoccupation, now became her occupation when she was hired to be a school librarian in Weedsport.

Many years later when Jack heard that Mayor Frank Thomas hoped the community would form a historical society, Jack suggested Hellen put her research skills to good use and pursue the Mayor’s idea. Forthwith, she became a founding member and generous contributor to Lock 52 Historical Society. The Society honors her for her generosity, her creative programs and her accurate research.

Her community spirit thrives. When the village entertained the idea of building a memorial honoring military personnel, Hellen became a member of the committee, along with Bill Thurston, Bob Ware, Jay Moose, Joe Felice, Mark Emerson and Lucy Ware who serves as treasurer. Bob Ware said the Stabinsky family put up the main monument, and Boy Scout Troop 56 planted all the shrubbery. But he says “Hellen is the mainstay of the memorial committee, and her donations have been considerable.” It’s been a Davies family affair. Hellen contributed the main flag pole, Patty Lou donated many bricks. Penny Lee purchased the eagle that adorns the top of the pole and Polly Lyn bought a pole for a military flag.

In so many ways Port Byron is fortunate to have a woman with Hellen’s dedication to the community. Her gifts are unending and will always be greatly appreciated by the village and the Town of Mentz.

* * * * * * *

Lock 52 Historical Society of Port Byron

By

Hellen Davies

On June 7, 1978 a group of people met in the cafeteria in the old Port Byron Central School on School Street to wind up the business of the Village of Port Byron and the Town of Mentz Bicentennial Committee. Permission was granted by the village and town boards to disband the Bicentennial Committee and form a local historical society. Both groups agreed to transfer the money in the bicentennial’s account to a historical l society account.

At 7:58 p.m. the Village of Port Byron and the Town of Mentz Bicentennial Committee was disbanded and Lock 52 Historical Society of Port Byron was formed. I believe John Kieffer suggested the name, for he designed the logo.

The first Board of Trustees consisted of Hellen Davies, Carlene Flier, John Kieffer, Frank Thomas, Marie Van Detto, Teresa Van Detto, James Vitale, Marie Wenzel and Ronald Wilson. The first officers were Frank Thomas, president; Marie Van Detto, vice-president; Hellen Davies, secretary; John Kieffer, treasurer and Carlene Flier, trustee.

The meetings were 7:30 p.m. the first Wednesday of each month in the Port Byron Municipal Building. We did not meet in July and August.

In March 1990 Lock 52 Historical Society of Port Byron purchased the Moore House at 73 Pine Street from Merle and Marie Moore. It was thought to be the first frame house built in Port Byron with lumber brought down the Erie Canal, which flowed directly behind the house. But I haven’t seen any written evidence of this.

The original owners of the house were Aholiab and Annis Buck.

The Historical Society grew in number and had many interesting programs, some of which were about Indians of the area, a display of arrowheads, a slide presentation of the Erie Canal, the history of the Port Byron Telephone Company, a history of quilts and quilt patterns, the Warren participation in the Civil War a history of the Warren Mills, a display of dolls in period costumes, Christmas customs, the history of the Rochester, Syracuse and Eastern Trolley, railroad history and many more.

The Historical Society worked with the Gifted-and-Talented Children’s Program under Anne Krieling at the Port Byron Central School. We also had a few active members under the age of 20 and several young people in regular attendance plus visits of the Fourth Grade and later the Third Grade during holiday season for a special program.

Now all that has changed due to the stress of all the required testing the students have to take.

We have lost many members because they have passed away, moved away, are too ill to go out at night, and in many families both parents work and have work to do at home at night. The young people are involved in so many after-school activities they need their time for homework and rest.

We are trying to build up our participating membership again.

 

The Canal Route Change of 1857

In the 1850’s, a battle of wills ensued in Port Byron over the route of the canal that led to great harm in the business district of the village. What is odd is that this battle seemed to be waged by local landowners with the support of State engineers. In the 1931 obituary of Mrs. Harriet Johnson, who died at the age of 102, the paper wrote, “[She] was 28 years of age when the Erie Canal was enlarged from 40 to 70 feet. She remembered the squabble that took place among the residents of her village about the enlargement of the waterway. Some advocated the enlargement along a circuitous route and others a new and direct route. The will of the latter finally prevailed and the channel was cut through the most beautiful part of the village.”

            When the State decided to enlarge the canal in the mid 1830’s, it was understood that many mistakes had been made in the original construction of the canal and that the enlargement of the canal would allow for many of these mistakes to be corrected. One of the biggest problems with the old canal was the winding nature of the construction. It seemed that any obstacle that the original builders faced was simply bypassed by going around it. So in places the canal turned in ninety degree bends. This made it difficult for mule teams to pull the boats as they went around the tight bends and even more importantly, the twists even made it difficult for the water to flow and refill the canal. It was a mess. The rebuilding would give the State the chance to remove these curves as they enlarged the canal from 40 to 70 feet in width. In the end, so many bends were straightened that the canal was shortened by fifteen miles by the time the enlargement was complete between Albany and Buffalo.

            Unfortunately for Port Byron, the village was located on a curve, and it seems that some in the community saw an opportunity to profit if they could convince the State Engineers to move the route of the canal from the business district to the “flats” slightly north of the settled area. This flew in the face of canal law, which forbade any movement of the canal away from business areas; even it meant leaving a problem area in place. The curve that Port Byron sat on was in reality quite small and if removed would only save about a third of a mile in distance. But some in the village wanted the canal moved and petitioned the State. They got Canal Commissioner Fitzhugh to agree to the change in the route even though it went against the canal law. The businessmen of the village, the men who needed the canal to keep the money flowing, protested and got the Canal Board to reverse this decision and put the route back to the old route. This move put the canal back in the business district. But then the contractors who were hired by the State to build the new route sued and got the route changed once again. After all was said and done, the new proponents of the new route won. To satisfy some in the community, mainly the large mill, a stub of the old canal was left intact, however, it was not enlarged. After the mill burned and no one used the stub, it was quickly abandoned and the businessmen were paid off for the loss of the canal.

It took eight years to settle this matter, and all through this time, shippers west of Syracuse had to continue to use the smaller “pre-enlargement” boats since the canal through Port Byron wasn’t deep or wide enough to use the bigger boats. Shippers then began to use the Oswego route, robbing businessmen from Port Byron west to Buffalo the chance to ship larger loads on the canal. Thus, the mess at Port Byron became a state wide concern as it dragged on through the years.

Once the enlarged canal was completed in 1858, the larger boats could be used to ship to Rochester and Buffalo, but they couldn’t reach the businesses of the village. The village didn’t die, but it was harmed by the loss.

This 1857 map shows the two routes along with the original canal, all laid over a image taken from Google Earth. We thank Bill Hecht for doing this.

Harry King’s Port Byron Memories- 1955

This time, I am featuring a letter I found in the files. It is a great look back at the village and what was going on in the Erie Canal times. This letter was written by the Rev. Harry King to his brother Richard T. King, who many will recall was the publisher of the Port Byron Chronicle. The letter is wide ranging and covers a lot of topics. I have tried to research and clarify in my added comments which are in []. I have left words that I could not read as ****. All comments in () are Rev. Harry’s. I also reached out to Jack Miller, who has done a lot of research into the King family. His comments will appear in italics. Jack wrote: “I did enjoy reading the Harry King letter and I do remember Dick King who lived in Spring Lake with his sister Nell.   I graduated from PBCS in 1951 and will attempt to provide input as I best recall.  I do know that Bruce Carter worked hard on collecting the King family history to write “King of the Drumlins” which I do not think he ever finished. My mothers classmate and relative Nell King was also related to Richard and Harry King and lived in Springlake and married Dr. Willoughby Waterman, an educator and family friend who taught in Brooklyn. This letter was very interesting to me and I am sending it on to my sister, Dottie Paredes who lives in Tampa, Florida,  I am sure that Ted Wilt of Green Street if he is still around would find the letter very historic.

Jack Miller

Santa Monica, Calif[ornia]

Nov 21, 1955

Dear Brother Dick,

            With the exception that Elijah Wilson who lived on Green Street was a workman who made barrels there, I know not of the owner of the Cooper Shop, except Henry Dougherty. It reposed gracefully on the bank of the Owasco Creek at the west end of the bridge which spanned the creek at Rochester Street just beyond George Zeluff’s place (?) which was formerly owned by John Harnden.  Later Sam Harnden who I remember. This was in the days of old Jake Decker, who was a black, grizzled old pirate, who lived in the Harnden apartments directly in front of the King Manor just east of Tony’s abode. [A check of the 1904 New Century maps shows many of the names listed here. This cooper shop is shown on the northwest side of the Rt 31 Bridge over the Outlet.]

            L.H. [Lasuvious Harrison] King Sr.was Supt [superintendent] of Section 7 of the Erie Canal at the time of what was known as the “Nine Million” appropriation for the enlargement of the Erie and the installation of the double lock, permitting the locking of two canal boats at one time. The family name Lasuvious has always troubled me for the word lascivious according to Dictionary.com is defined as a girl-chasing old man. It was a big undertaking those days, and Nine Millions was a lot of money. Charles Barrett was Deputy Supt of New York State (Public works) and he and Tuffs, who married Julie Hayden of PB lived on street going by the School, had charge of the work. [It was during this period of the 1895 Nine Million dollar enlargement when the canal was deepened from 7 to 9 feet and parts were widened. In some circles, this is called the second enlargement. Mostly, it was a failure and directly led to the construction of the Barge Canal in the early 1900’s. There was a lot of work in Port Byron at the time as much work was done in and around Lock 52 and the drydocks. Harry is not correct in saying that the lock was doubled, it was built as a double in the 1850’s and lengthened in 1887. But his error is understandable, as the locks were rebuilt during this period.]

            Stephen Kearns had a grocery on the south side of the locks and Tony Debottis on the north side of locks. This Stephen Kerns was my great grandfather. It was at that time the Italian uprising occurred, when Frank Vanacora and Tony Debottis, Sr had a horde of Italians from the muck and laborers on the canal in an assault on the white workers of the administration at the locks, knives and guns were much in evidence, but no murders occurred, just sore heads and bodies, Tony Debottis and one or two others were sent to Auburn Prison by their part in the fray. At that time, the Italians on the canal enlargement, under LHK came marching a thousand strong up the canal from Weedsport way with picks and shovels. Looked like a revolution, but it spent itself and the Wali** [It appears that Harry was using a slang term for Italians, such as “Wallione”] sat down, pulled the coarse bread and bologna from the rubber boots, fed up, felt better and went back to work, a group of them occupied on Ma Kings lawn under the locust trees and ate themselves to peace. Those were interesting days for a boy like HK [Harry King]. [It is difficult to pin-point what Harry was describing here. The papers describe an 1897 uprising by Italian workers who marched from Port Byron to Weedsport, with many people thrown in jail because of the riot. What Harry describes is a riot at Lock 52 with people coming from Weedsport. Harry may have seen something else take place as a result or as part of the larger work place action.]

            Old Sam Dougherty had a grocery directly on the banks of the Erie at the foot of the stone steps on the River Street Bridge. It was, as you know, the canal ground floor of a good sized  *****, where several families dwelt. Sam lived there, and later T.E. Dougherty, the Mincemeat man and finally * Henry lived on the ground floor (north) with a neat and commodious lawn reaching to the street. Maurgarite Henry Crane was my mother’s classmate.  The Cranes had a dry goods store along with Bob Lowe. This later was turned over to the common herd. I think Ward Green lived there at one time (top side at bridge) as did also one of the McClelland woman, a widow at the time. Beyond the bridge, down the incline, was the home of B.C. [Benson C] Smith, father of Dora and Lizzie. [BC Smith ran a bending a carriage shop near Port Byron Depot]

            When the locks were put in service, after competition of the double locks, entirely new, such historic patriots as, George Washington Marsh, Nathan Elliott, Bill Hatfield, and George Washington Dinehard, with some others my mind detours, kept the citadel, let the boats thru, and played the favorite game of pinochle for many hours each day and evening. It was here at Frank’s grocery store that Harvey (one arm) Emmons, the great constable, brought a young desperado who was in his custody. The jail bird tangled with Tom Daggett, and drew a revolver on Tom which he swept around very menacingly, and caused some of us nearby spectators to hastily get out of range. Harve put his iron hook in the Cisco Kid’s ribs and things returned to normality.

            Port Byron, during this lengthy face lifting of the locks and the canal bed, grew to large proportions, about 5000. I believe and all sorts of boom town advantages were imported to the town. We had a lady barber shop, and Doc Lowe had a store with a boxing emporium in back, which drew many well known low down fighters to our doors. Black Frank [real name was Joe Dunfee], said to be the champion of Canada, came as a conquering hero, and there were not a few who sought honor locally in the fistic arena. At that time the travelling medicine show “Isdell’s Hot Drops” in the glamour of rattlesnake oil and jasmine ginger was ably presented by a group of experts who chanted “.25 a bottle, a 1000 bottles at .25 cents a bottle, a million people, two million eyes, a million bottles at .25 a bottle, there’s millions in it.” Well the days of the old Erie are exciting tales of pioneer adventure. [Isdell’s Hot Drops were made in Baldwinsville, NY]

            The Port Byron Academy late was burned down by a mysteries fire. The old Free School and Academy was destroyed by fire in 1898. My inside confidential fixes responsibility on the Students Debating Society. They met there, heated the stove shaker in red hot coals, and branded the initiates forthwith, the immediate contact being a cold poker. Of course the red hot poker was waved in front of the victim before the branding with the cold wrinkle. These were grand old Erie days, but the school burned when the shaker was not properly retrieved.

            Up in the heights of the old mill lot on Rochester Street, was the Canal Feeder, known as the ditch bank. Here the boys used to swim each summer day. There was a feeder house where the water went into a pipe line underground, to feed water into the Canal to keep at a proper level. [This structure remains to this day, although the iron pipe is rusting away] Your father tended this at one time where he learned telegraphy and entered journalism to become the Great One that he did. Remember, humble beginnings characterized the lives of many illustrious men. Great fields of sweet flag grew on both sides of Rochester Street, principally on the North Side, and all the boys used to pick the ears and eat them avidly and actually.

            Life was simple those days, and Old Ben Sly and his slimy bride lived, as you know, at the end of the old Blacksmith Shop. Poor Old Addy and Ben are long forgotten.

            I now pause for Station Identification.

            Oh, yes, one of the first owners and proprietors of the famous boat yard, which perched on the edge of the canal just east of the locks, was George W. Milliner, who eventually was succeed by O.B. Tanner. Tanner was a boat builder (canal boat) and great was the interest when he was about to knock out the blocks, and a fine canaler was sliding down the ways into the water, kicking up a great wave, and high heaven howls of delight from the assembled multitudes. Our old friend and Free Methodist George W. Ray was the owner and navigator  of a fine fleet of boats, usually painted an orchid and white, a lively sight, as they sped along under the momentum provided  by two three mule teams on the tow line. His sons, Ronald and Frank became exhorters for a brief time, and the gospel was full of power during each winter when boats were tied up. George Ray himself was no means **** of Holy Write. However Belle Root was the last of the notables filling the air and pulpit there. Daughter Carrie Belle Root wrote the History of Home in 1948.

            Along the banks on tow-path side, between River Street and Main Street bridges, nearest River Street, were two bridge shops, one conducted by John Tanner, and the other by Alonzo Ames, relation of your present supervisor, and father of Arch Ames of late notoriety. This was a good family friend – Major Allen Ames. Alonzo lived exactly where the Freeway cuts the Conquest Road at the west end of Green Street. He was a stalwart citizen, a man of integrity and of few words. They made bridges for the mules to en cabin, etc.

            Amos King ran a fleet of boats in Sam Dougherty’s Day and it was there he met Aunt Sarah. [He writes here of Amos King, who was born in 1821 and died in 1908. His wife was Sarah.] He enjoyed her as cook. She was a clever woman, and soon had Amos on the griddle. She knew many things, but never was a gran-Marion, altho a fluent and persuasion talker, as she fed Amos and all the relations including Pa [L.H. King] and Uncle Wells in good old apple cider and fried cakes for years on the old farm. The house of which was a famous Inn during the days of Clinton’s Ditch. Many prominent men had bedded down with eyes up on the great beams used even in its roof construction.

            Excursion boats from Lake Onondaga, one the MacMillian, came to P.B. every summer, and carried Methodist, Baptists, and Presbyterians en masse to Cayuga Lake Park, Ithaca and others places on the old Crooked (Cayuga) Lake. I think Keuka Lake was known as Crooked Lake. [Jack is correct here, Keuka Lake was also named Crooked Lake.] The outings were much enjoyed, and tended to make all willing to live at home again without complaint.

            Now, this is my contribution for the present. There is much more of local history which would interest you. I will write you a personal letter some day, if I survive, as present life is hard, and I can’t do to much. Thank God we are alive, have some food to eat and a place to stay, with some old clothes to wear. We pray for you and love you much. Don’t forget God he’ll forget you. Be Sharp now. Keep warm and cozy. Look out for the girls, they are on the march. Say your prayers, take your physical, from your ages and simple old brother, HK [Harry King]

This letter can be found in the files of the Lock 52 Historical Society.

           

July 29, 2012 Citizen Article

On the weekend of August 11^th and 12^th, many organizations along the route of the canal system will take part in “Canal Splash” events. In Cayuga County, we hold two activities on Saturday. At the Old Brutus Historical Society in Weedsport, the museum will be from 9 till 2. For a small Society, they pack a lot into their building and it is worth the time to walk through. Then over in Montezuma, the Montezuma Historical Society will be holding a guided walking tour of the Heritage Park, explaining the rich collection of canal and business sites. I will be leading the tour, which will take about two hours and cover about two miles at a very easy pace. If you ever had any questions about the canal or the historical use of the marshes, come get your questions answered. For more information about the tour, go to our Cayuga County Canal Tours blog at http://canalsplash.blogspot.com/.

By the time you all read this, we will have celebrated our last Heritage Days in Port Byron. The organizers have decided to end the yearly event, because of the lack of organizational help, meaning a lack of volunteers. As president of the Historical Society, I see this issue very clearly as our pool of volunteer help is getting so small that it is difficult to carry out programs. The loss of one or two good volunteers can mean a reduction of 25% of available manpower. Then of course, more work falls on fewer people and then everyone throws up their hands, as it isn’t fun anymore. So what to do?

The other day, a group of Society members were sitting about comparing their ages. I found that at 52, I am one of the youngest members, not by years, but by decades. This raises a question for me. These fine hard working people joined the Society not at age 70 or 80, but when they were in their 40’s, 50’s and 60’s. But we don’t have that replacement anymore. The 40 and 50 something’s out there are not joining and becoming active anymore. Nor are those in their 60’s. What happened that changed the way people lived and joined into community organizations that we are now living on the coattails of those who have been members for years? It is not a good situation to be in.

The loss of a yearly celebration can be easily dismissed, but the local historical society serves as the collective memory of the town and village. We tend to believe that our shared community memory lives in the old people. But with each passing, that memory is weakened just a little more. The historical society may not replace the people, but it can help to preserve the memories long term for us and for those not yet born. What happens when that is gone? And does it really matter? I think it does, which is why I donate my time to volunteer at the society. I hope that some others will think the same way before it is too late.

Michael Riley is the Town of Mentz Historian and the President of the Lock 52 Historical Society. The Lock 52 blog can be found at http://lock52hs.blogspot.com/. Michael can be reached at mriley20@twcny.rr.com

Masonic Building

The Masonic Building with the Port Byron Drug Store and Lowe Brothers Store. Below is an ad from the November 3, 1939 Chronicle.