Monthly Archives: October 2013

Glenn Curtiss — Telling his Story (With Pictures)

Along with my friend Chuck Mitchell, and often in collaboration with my friend Chuck Mitchell, I have put together quite a few books in the Arcadia Publishing series of historic photo collections. Most of them are arranged around communities – I’ve covered our Bath and Corning books earlier in this series.
But our first collaboration was Glenn H. Curtiss: Aviation Pioneer. I was working as director of Curtiss Museum at the time, and Chuck had already done books on Penn Yan and Hammondsport. We decided to work together on a photobiography of Curtiss.
Glenn is just about the perfect subject for a photobiography. For one thing, he spent much of his life doing exciting, newsworthy stuff – lots of photos were made.
For another, he started on his career not long after George Eastman introduced roll film, democratizing photography… now almost ANYONE could take pictures, and it seemed like almost everyone did.
On top of that, Glenn had actually worked at the Eastman Company during his teen years. He built his own camera, and worked off and on as a professional photographer. He understood the advantages and the power of the medium.
And finally, at the very beginning of his aviation career he worked for 18 months with Alexander Graham Bell. Bell had spent years in court, finally triumphing in the defense of his telephone patent. Bell’s policy was, photo-document EVERYTHING. Young Mr. Curtiss, the former pro cameraman, took the point.
So to finally wend to MY point – there are LOTS of photos available in the Curtiss Museum archives.
Then we had to decide how to organize them and how to use pictures for storytelling. We called our first chapter (1878-1900) “On the Shores of Keuka Lake.” The photos for this section were mostly the older, more formal type, especially portraits of young Glenn and various members of his family. As far as I know, there is no definite photo of Glenn’s father, who died when the boy was four. But his mother and sister are here, and his beloved grandmother, plus portraits of Glenn and his bride… some taken by Glenn personally. Here too is the bicycle phase of his remarkable career.
Chapter 2 (1901-1907) is “Motorcycles: ‘That Amazing Mr. Curtiss.’” This is the time when Glenn began to make a mark on the wider world with his feats and his motorcycles, meanwhile making a mark on Hammondsport with his ever-expanding factory. At this stage photographers rushed to his side as he shattered record after record, and company publicity shots are plentiful too. This chapter includes his flirtation with blimps, and his goofy three-wheeled propeller-powered road vehicle.
The next chapter, “The Aerial Experiment Association,” covers 1908 and 1909. This is when the Glenn Curtiss that history knows emerges, working with Bell and others to create some of the world’s first airplanes… not to mention such enduring features as ailerons, tricycle landing gear, and water-cooled aero engines. Here are the Independence Day flight of the June Bug, hang glider experiments in the snow, the first army aircraft.
With Chapter 4 (1909-1914) Glenn has become, in the words of contemporary sheet music, “The King of the Air.” He flies spectacularly in France, makes America’s first long-distance flight (Albany to New York), creates the float plane, the flying boat, the first naval aircraft, supervises the first aircraft carrier experiments, and flies before thousands.
In 1914 through 1919 (Chapter 5) we presented Glenn as “A Captain of Industry.” His products were successful but his business still shaky – there was still not much call for the 11 year-old technology – when the First World War exploded. Allied militaries needed airplanes – airplanes – airplanes! Photography lets us follow along as he buys, builds or leases giant factories, employs thousands coast to coast, and builds acres of airplanes… 6000 of the Jenny type alone. The Great War made Glenn (who ten years earlier ran a bike shop in Hammondsport) a multimillionaire.
The final chapter “A Life of Innovation,” is far too short (1919-1932) in years. We see Glenn with his young son born in 1912, trying out golf and archery, still taking to the roads on his bike. He develops new products such as the Curtiss Aerocar streamlined travel trailer. He develops new businesses and even new cities (Hialeah, Miami Springs).
Which leads, of course, to the final picture. This is a vital selection – it puts the cap on the whole story. We chose a shot from shortly before his untimely death at 52. Glenn Curtiss, who famously almost always looked serious or even sour when a camera was in sight, grins and waves from the cockpit of a Curtiss Condor airliner. He’s just made what turned out to be his last flight. He’s flown from Albany to Buffalo, just as he’d done so daringly and magnificently 20 years before. No one knows it, but he has two months to live. We leave him in an airplane, and we leave him filled with joy.

Glenn H. Curtiss -- Aviation Pioneer, with American and British naval aviators.

Glenn H. Curtiss — Aviation Pioneer, with American and British naval aviators.

October 1901: Ups and Downs

The Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo was ending, not with a bang, but a whimper. The Bath & Hammondsport Railroad canceled its twice-weekly special, though the Erie Railroad kept on. Pan-Am commemorative stamps were discontinued after the 31st. Germania Wine Company’s Grand Imperial Sec won the only gold medal for champagne, and Harry Champlin from Pleasant Valley Wine Company got a gold medal for his two-year-old stallion Star Chimes at the horse show. But the spectacular world’s fair was winding up its business at a loss, plagued by appallingly hot weather, the assassination of President McKinley, and its own astronomical expenses.
October was kind of a dreary month for a lot of folks. Sheep worrying was a problem around Hammondsport—dogs killed 13 at M. H. Dildine’s farm, two at L. Ward’s, and six at Abe Depew’s. A hundred people got food poisoning at a party in Cass Corners, requiring the speedy services of every doctor in the southwestern part of Steuben County. A Mr. Crinton broke his arm while working on the new Opera House in Hammondsport, then developed sciatica and had to go to the county farm. His daughter was sent to the Davenport Home for girls in Bath, but the son proved more difficult to place.
Grasshoppers and tobacco worms ruined 30% of the crop in the Southern Tier. Fred Shults, apparently intoxicated and asleep on the tracks, was killed by the B&H locomotive at the Erie yard in Bath. British troops in South Africa suffered a sharp defeat. A U. S. Infantry company in the Philippines was attacked at breakfast and nearly wiped out, suffering 48 dead and 11 wounded out of 72 officers and men. Over in London, King George had surgery for throat cancer. In the America’s Cup Race, Columbia beat Shamrock II in three straight. But the losing yachtsman, tea baron Sir Thomas Lipton, was such a good sport that he remained a hero on both sides of the ocean.
Of course, there was also plenty of pleasure to be found as fall slipped toward winter. The Hammondsport Band played October 12 in warm sunny weather (the first snow fell on the 23rd). Nationally-known cartoonist Sidney Smith gave a chalk talk at Hammondsport High School. Pleasant Valley Grange held its last dance of the year on Halloween. Back in the village, at the Presbyterian Church, the King’s Daughters hosted a 95-cent dinner that night, serving up rolls, escalloped oysters, salads, donuts, cheese, coffee, and pumpkin pie.
Speaking of pumpkins, the first ones came to Market in Hammondsport on the 17th. Chestnuts, which were “large and abundant,” sold at $2.50 a bushel, cabbage at $8 to $10 a ton. Hay was getting $10.50 a ton around Pulteney. Fifteen to 25 boxcars of grapes were shipping out of Penn Yan every day. But Hammondsport Preserving Company had too few apples to process, although it still had apple and other juices from the 1900 season. Speed and Snyder, cigar makers in Hammondsport, increased their work force – wonder how much they paid for tobacco with the crop so bad?
All this agricultural activity meant big business. H. M. Champlin invited farmers to take advantage of his Hammondsport Steam Roller Custom & Flour Mills and the Hammondsport Box Factory and Lumber Yards. This impressively-named institution offered new sheds for teams, new scales for weighing in, and up-to-date equipment, including “All the modern machinery for Buckwheat custom milling.” W. E. Cook offered much of the stoneware you would need for preserving your yield, including butter crocks at eight cents for each gallon of capacity and meat tubs at 10 cents a gallon. L. D. Masson had shears, picking boxes, covering slats, corn knives, stencil brushes, paste, rubber stamps, pads, and inks. At Smellie’s Pharmacy you could get feed that would keep your hens laying, bringing in $5.00 worth of eggs for every 25 cents spent on poultry food.
At W. T. Reynolds, fall footwear was in. Mr. Reynolds carried boots, shoes, and rubbers, “Not a scrimpy little lot in a few different styles, but big, generous assortments that make you feel sure you have come to the right place to be satisfied.”
In Buffalo a group of visionaries formed the Frontier Telephone Company. Over in Bayonne, France, bullfight promoters replaced the picadors’ horses with motorcars. All seven bulls ran away, and that was the end of that.

“A Passion for Color”

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Curtiss Museum currently has a major exhibition of quilts.
On our visit a couple of weeks ago, as we entered the museum we entered a Stonehenge of quilts hanging from free-standing racks — in addition to those hanging on walls, exhibited in cases, or otherwise being shown.
Just to give you some perspective… I started counting up quilts that could at least qualify as lap quilts. (Most were full-size.) I came up with a figure of 73.
PLUS a few dozen smaller items, articles of quilted clothing, and more. I don’t quilt, though my wife and my sister have each made a few. Being as historically interested as I am, and enthusiastic about folk tales and folk music as I am, you can guess that I enjoy looking at traditional quilts. But I ALSO have fun seeing newer approaches — tradition’s great, but so’s innovation.
“A Day in Lake Country,” by Jennie Peck of Alexander, springs to life in bright untraditional yellows and oranges. Happy fish swim in and out of underwater scenes. The small quilt “Mardi Gras” (Joyce Swackhammer, Bath) is very dark, shot through with bright metallic thread — to me, they suggested fireworks. “Let’s Build a Snowman” (Maureen Johnson, Bath) jumps right out with big white snowflakes on bright blue bands.
Maureen Johnson also created the “Carolina Lily” quilt tossed onto the gleaming black Studebaker sleigh, courtesy of John Wickes in Prattsburgh.
Virginia Gleason’s “Civil War Sampler” abounds in traditional geometric forms. Katherine Baumgardner (Thurston) created several quilts, including “Mama Says,” with redwork outlined scenes and quotes from mother.
Baumgardner is also exhibiting “Quilts in the Garden,” three outlined scenes of quilts on the clothesline, done in redwork outline embroidery. The scenes are set vertically, mounted in an old window sash.
“Needles & Notions” (Shirley Fleet, Bath) is a long hanging, picturing shears, needle, thread, measuring tape, sewing machine, and other quilting necessities. It’s her first adventure in paper piecing.
Several quilts had holiday designs, including three or four Halloween quilts that I wouldn’t want on MY bed, but to each his own. On the other hand I very much enjoyed “Over the River and Through the Woods,” with flying goose borders, traditional squares on the dividers, and a warm wintry scene.
One quilt is not only traditional but historic — perhaps 150 years old. It’s a spoke quilt, often done for fundraising, with 540 names stitched in. We’d love to know what community it’s from, but we’ve only identified one or two names with confidence. Take a look, and see if you can help.
Why Curtiss Museum? For one thing, it’s probably the biggest year-round exhibit space in the central part of the county. But for another, the very young Glenn Curtiss, already mechanically enthralled, was fascinated by his mother’s sewing machine — perhaps the most complex piece of machinery in most households back in the early 1880s. So she sat him on her lap and worked the treadle with her feet while a very small Glenn Curtiss pieced a quilt for her. Too bad we don’t have THAT to show today.

Walking into Autumn

I started at the end of August, and finished at the end of September. I started in the south, and finished in the north. I spent the “better” part of five days walking into autumn.
For a long time I’d been dreaming over my map of the Interloken Trail, through the Finger Lakes National Forest east of Seneca Lake. For a long time I’d been longing to make the hike, and in August I finished the Crystal Hills Trail. Twelve miles, I said to myself. An hour from home. I can do this comfortably in four or five out-and-back hikes.
I started at the southern end, on seasonal Burnt Hill Road north of Bennettsburg. In just a few minutes I wished I had my camera, for I was walking through a gap in a stone wall that made me feel like I was hiking with my dad, back home in Rhode Island. Acorns and hickories spotted the trail. It was a green and leafy walk through the forest, with just a hint of fall to come. But after a couple of miles I broke out of the woods into grassy space by the Burnt Hill Pond, a good spot to take a seat on a boulder and indulge in some peanut butter crackers.
Pushing onward, the trail got a little rocky and little bumpy… nothing hard to manage, just enough to keep you alert. I crossed the Gorge Trail and reached the Burnt Hill Trail. Almost three miles — 2.9, to be exact. About face, and back to the car.
For my next hike I parked at Matthews Road and doubled back southward six-tenths of a mile to reach my previous stopping point, then back to Matthews and on to the north from there. Here I was crossing into a pasture… the national forest permits grazing… and the apples on a large lone tree caught the morning sun, every one of them clamoring that although it might be still be warm, fall indeed was here.
Up till now I’d been hiking in forest, but now I could see for miles off to the westward. Not to Seneca Lake — it was too low. But I could see all across the forests and fields of Hector, to the heights above Rock Stream and Dresden in Seneca’s west shore… a tremendous view. After the pasture I was back in the woods, and shortly after I reached Blueberry Patch Campground on Picnic Area Road I was at mile 4.9.
When I parked there for my next walk, the day was damp and drizzly, following a night of HEAVY rains. Veteran hiker Ed Sidote had told us that the Interloken was a wet trail. I hadn’t experienced that yet, but on this day I could see his point.
I’d had the sense to wear my L.L. Bean duck shoes instead of my New Balance sneakers, and a good move it was, too! There were long muddy stretches to navigate, and even the boardwalks were wet enough to be tricky and slippery. The brush approaching Foster Pond was soaked, and the little outlet stream swollen where you have to ford.
BUT — I walked the whole way through a yellow wood. The leaves had changed, and even though their trees were various species, they’d just about all turned yellow, together. Now MANY acorns and hickories littered my way as I pushed on to my turning-back point, the northernmost crossing of Backbone Trail. Mile 7.4.
On my next expedition I parked at Searsburg Road, went south to Backbone, and once again doubled back to the car. Then I crossed the road and passed through another gate into another pasture. For that matter, I passed through a herd of black angus, who seemed puzzled by my presence rather than otherwise. Even so I didn’t want to take anyone by surprise, so I kept up a steady chant of ho, boss… ho, boss…though of course it’s very likely that they don’t understand Rhode Island bovine anyhow.
The cattle have beaten so many paths through this pasture that I had to thrash around for a while to find the gate on the far side. When you enter through the southern gate, you’ll see a small grove of trees to your left in the field. Make like General Pickett and angle toward the trees, then the gate’s on the same line at the other side.
After a bit more hiking I was chest deep in brush and flowers, especially aster (both white and blue) and goldenrod, passing along the lovely Teeter Pond, cicadas singing out the summer. Beavers have been active here, perhaps within minutes, to judge from the pile of wood chips. It seems that this one has joined the trail maintenance volunteers, as he’s gnawing through a tree that’s fallen across the way. I have an affectionate feeling for beavers, the more so as my Mayflower ancestor teamed up with Miles Standish, John Alden, and two other guys to buy a monopoly in the Plymouth fur trade.
A few steps past Teeter Pond I found Seneca Road — mile 9.8 — and turned around.
Two days later, back to the parking area on Seneca Road (a washboardy seasonal road), and through the pasture gate into Seneca County. At first the way follows an abandoned road, along a line of maples, but then ducks into the woods — still gloriously yellow. I think of many walks over many autumns with my father, who passed away in April at 87; he’d love this one. The track is now rocky, dark, and tunnel-like, and at one point carpeted with apples. I haven’t seen much wildlife in these trips, but after half an hour or so I scare off a garter snake enjoying a patch of fall sunlight. I greet some horseback riders, and then… Parmenter Road… mile 12.0. The end.
After some water and peanut butter crackers I hoist the backpack again, and thoroughly annoy that garter snake by coming back through. A hairy woodpecker poses perfectly above me. In the long gentle slope up to the pasture I’m in that shadowy yellow tunnel again, but up ahead is the tunnel’s end, an inviting square of bright blue sky. Ten minutes across the pasture, and I’ve done the Interloken Trail, twice (think about it — once each way)… and I even beat bow season. Back to the car. On my way. Home.