Monthly Archives: October 2016

“The Worst”: Our Region’s Worst Flood

We’ve been looking occasionally at the worst disasters to strike Steuben County… the worst  fire, the worst road wreck, the worst railroad crash.  Judging by loss of lives, Steuben County’s worst flood lies well within living memory. This is, of course… and unsurprisingly… the 1972 “Hurricane Agnes” flood.

 

*This storm had already killed over a hundred people in the U.S., plus many more in the Caribbean. A tropical storm by the time it hit New York state, it no longer had its intense winds once it arrived in the Finger Lakes, but it still had rain, and it rained… heavily… for days. In the early morning hours of June 23, the rivers and streams exploded from their beds. One man had already been killed in Bath, but a staggering 18 people died in the Corning-Gang Mills-Painted Post area.

 

*That was by far most of the 24 dead in New York state – two of the remainder died just over the county line, in the Almond area. And those numbers don’t even include three men killed immediately afterward as they were doing an aerial survey of damage for the Army Corps of Engineers. Their helicopter struck power liners and crashed into Hornell’s Crosby Creek.

 

*And, of course, there was also catastrophic damage; Vice-President Spiro T. Agnew, touring the region afterward, said, “Conditions are worse than anything I have seen anywhere.”  President Nixon had gone to Pittsburgh, another one of far too many disaster areas.

 

*The whole Chemung River corridor… Gang Mills, Painted Post, Big Flats, Horseheads, Elmira… was a wreck.  So was the whole Susquehanna corridor… Binghamton, Endicott, Johnson City, Owego, down to Wilkes-Barre, Scranton, and all the way to Chesapeake Bay.  Even off those main river routes, every single community suffered.

 

*Two Corning radio stations joined forces… one had lost its transmitter, the other its studio.  The Leader and the Star-Gazette brought out a joint edition by mimeograph. No cell phones or Internet back then, and some families spent a week trying to find each other.  Utility lines and pipes were ripped to shreds.  This storm finally killed the Erie-Lackawanna Railroad, along with the short line that ran between Penn Yan and Dresden, the route of today’s Keuka Outlet Trail.

 

*Corning Hospital was flooded; patients were laid in the backs of station wagons and taken to Montour Falls.  St. Luke’s was flooded, and patients crowded into Arnot-Ogden.  Theoretically ambulatory patients there were told to clear out and just walk home.

 

*I don’t have figures to say for sure what the next worst flood death toll was for Steuben County, but the July 1935 flood was arguably worse overall, taking 44 lives in the Finger Lakes. Former Governor Roosevelt’s New Deal immediately started flood control projects – Arkport dam, Almond dam, C.C.C. drainage and erosion projects, new dikes for Corning, Avoca, and Addison. As bad as 1972 was, without these projects it would have been far, far worse.

Corning Museum of Glass — Again

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Well, a little while ago we both had some time off during the week, so we committed ourselves to do something that’s been on our list for quite a while, and we drove over to Corning Museum of Glass.

*Of course we’ve visited CMOG multiple times, but as it happens we haven’t been since the new wing was opened over a year ago.  And after the entrance cash registers, that’s where our visit started.

*This new wing is a very large space for contemporary glass art.  There’s lots of light, and the colors are very light, or even white — walls, ceilings, I think even floors.  That’s the memory I take away, at least.

*AND… there’s lots of space – half the space of the Curtiss Museum.  Space is always at a premium in museums, so maybe this will change over time, but for right now most of the pieces have a cushion of solitude in a space at once stark and inviting.  It doesn’t distract you, and the pieces on exhibit easily draw your eye.

*When you talk about contemporary, you’re wondering what comes next. Just as your feet and your eye are free to wander, the mind’s free to wander too, just as each artist’s mind did. Some museums take a “cattle chute” approach, herding the visitor onto and along a chosen path. Not the Glass Museum, which encourages the visitor to craft his or her own experience. There are, it seems from the website, thematic arrangements in this huge new space, but I confess that I missed them. I just wandered, following my attention.

*One thing you’ve got to admire about contemporary artists… they’ve got courage. They’re willing to take a chance, investing lots of time, materials, money, and studio space into a vision that could well be greeted with confusion, indifference, or disdain.

*The museum itself is investing heavily in contemporary glass art… this new space is dedicated to art and design of the past 25 years, while the “old” contemporary gallery, on the other end of the building, is now for glass from 1975 to 2000.

*In the galleries dedicated to historical works (35 Centuries of Glass) we also wandered, enjoying the geometric designs from the Muslim world and exuberant Renaissance pieces, along with tiny items from ancient times. We spent a while studying the Crystal City Gallery, telling the story of Corning and its growth, in step with the growth of the Glass Works.

*We were thrilled to explore the Changing Exhibitions Gallery, with its special show “Fragile Legacy: The Marine Invertebrate Glass Models of Leopold and Rudolf Blaschka.” You might be surprised by our excitement, but these are hundreds of exquisitely-fashioned teaching tools… models used in the classroom, acquainting the student with a world that was out of reach back in the 19th century.

*This set is on loan from Cornell, which we did not attend, but we are just old enough to remember when such items, by then often gathering dust in closets, were part of the ambiance of schools. These tiny artworks, with their breathtaking craftsmanship, belong to the world of art, and the world of science, and the world of social and educational history.

*In a lot of ways we had a light visit… there were many things on our mind, and we’d been there numerous times before. Maybe you have too. But you know, there’s always something new. And even if there weren’t, I’ll bet you haven’t got every single item memorized. There’s always something to experience that you haven’t experienced before.

*Having been in museum and tourism work for quite a while, I roll my eyes when someone enthuses over their WORLD-CLASS! attraction. Usually that just means that they’re excited, and have high (often unrealistic) hopes.

*To me, being world-class means that it’s the only one of its type in the world, and/or that people come in substantial numbers from around the world in order to see it. The Glass Museum qualifies. We have a world-class attraction in our back yard, and it’s worth repeat visits.

*Being a student of the history of technology, I always spend some time in the Innovation Center area. Besides enjoying the history, I unfailingly take time to listen to Joe Litttleton on video, telling the tale of his dad the scientist and his mom the housewife, and how they collaborated in bringing Pyrex to our kitchens. It’s always great to visit, once again, with Joe.

Where the Leaves Are

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On a fine fall Friday afternoon, what could we do but go for a walk?  So we parked on Kettle Road, off Robie Road, right by the little drive into the campfire area at Sandford Lake, and we walked along Kettle, which is dirt at this point, as it winds around the shore of the lake.

*In the bright sun and the blue sky, the autumn leaves sparkled.  Fall colors lay over the land like a blanket lain down on the rolling countryside.

*With a little hunting we found the oriole’s nest that had been active back on Memorial Day weekend… now empty but not forlorn… instead, fulfilled.  The lake at this end is smothered in lily pads, though most of the rest is open.  We were surprised that we didn’t see any waterfowl, but dragonflies and damselflies busied their way around us.

*The inlet on the north side seemed full and flowing, which surprised us a little, given how dry this year has been.  Once beyond the pond our way rises, taking us past white birches that remind us of our New England homes.

*In the past we’ve walked straight on to the little settlement of Sonora and done a turnaround there, but this time we took a left onto Sonora Road, which we don’t think either of us had been on before. The road rolls up and down along meadows and woodlots, and the blue jays screech in the trees. In one stretch Sonora Road is lined with tall old maples, and we relived our maple-sugaring days, for these stately ancients were surely tapped for many years, and probably planted for that purpose. A good-sized hawk flies from the woodlot, lights in a maple by the road, then doubles back when he notices us.

*There’s a medium-sized cemetery on the east side of the road, Sonora Cemetery, with many stones still easily legible, dating back to the 1830s. Here we make our turn and amble back southward, scaring a tall wading bird from the lake – so we saw a great blue heron, and a great big hawk.

*This is supposed to be our peak for this year’s foliage season, though I’m not sure how anybody makes that judgment. Sunshine on the leaves can make all the difference, and of course wind or rain can tear the leaves away. Plus it gets to seem routine, but autumn leaves are like Housman’s cherry blossoms… every year means one less season to see.

*So besides Robie Road, where else can you see good leaves – bearing in mind that with a good wind, this could be out of date ten minutes after I write it? From my experience of this season, I’d say:

*Village of Hammondsport… great place to see the leaves as a walker, not only in the village but on the slopes above, and even on reflections in the lake.

*Village of Honeoye Falls… a good scene again this year, and take in those lovely falls in the middle of town.

*Village of Dansville… get out of the business district (good and busy, but short on trees), and you may be pleasantly surprised.

*Interstate 390 between Bath and Dansville… very good right now, but keep your eyes on the road. Safety is job 1, leaves are job 2.

*Mossy Bank Park, overlooking Bath… not just in the park itself, but looking over the tremendous view you get from there.

*Pleasant Valley… there’s a reason they called it that, all the way back to the 1790s.

*Finger Lakes Trail, between Pleasant Valley and Mitchellsville Road… maybe the Trail’s most beautiful segment, and a vineyard as well. What’s not to like?

*So – how many more autumns are you going to have? Don’t waste this one. Get out and enjoy it.

Glorious Montezuma — Our Own National Refuge

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Couple of weeks ago, on a beautiful fall Saturday, we rolled on up to Seneca Falls (and beyond!) to visit Montezuma Wildlife Refuge.

*For the visitor, perhaps the greatest thing about Montezuma in the fall is the huge numbers of waterfowl and wading birds. Another fellow who was there volunteers at Missisquoi National Wildlife Refuge in Vermont, on Lake Champlain. When asked what brought him down to our area he answered simply, “This.”

*The fact that a fellow who spends his days in a National Wildlife Refuge would make a 300-mile trip to see THIS refuge speaks volumes.

*Montezuma and Missisquoi are both on major tracks of the Atlantic Flyway, that broad sky path from Greenland and the Arctic Ocean down to Mexico and the Caribbean. It’s an exhausting journey, and refuge is he right word. They are safe spaces where the birds may touch down to rest and recover for a night, or for a few days.

*Although other birds and butterflies use the flyway… we saw a monarch, and a monarch caterpillar on the milkweed… Montezuma managers engineer the site to maintain and expand the Cayuga Marshes, where shore birds and waterfowl have landed for millennia.

*After admiring osprey nests along Routes 5 and 20, we stopped at the very first pool, just past the entrance. The pool was packed, and immediately I spotted some green-winged teals. Not to mention mallards, black ducks, Canada geese, greater yellowlegs, and multitudinous gulls.

*Climbing back into the car, we headed down a short distance to the visitors’ center, where a birder had a spotter scope set up on a bald eagle perched on a distant branch, and was kind enough to give anyone a view. Here on the deck of the center you’re raised up a bit, giving you a better view of the pools and of the surrounding countryside. Sometimes we’ve watched deer from here, but not today.

*Today there were all the friends that we’d seen at the first pool, plus redheads, plus lots of small waders including snipe, plus killdeer… hundreds on hundreds of birds, mostly on their way to the south, coming in honking or quacking or squawking, then spreading their wings and shoving out their webbed feet as they glided the last few yards, splashed down, and within seconds were slowly and serenely sailing along.

*On this gorgeous day we walked the mile-long Seneca Trail, past a lone guitarist serenading the world from an observation tower. There were still blossoms, and there were still butterflies, while songbirds flitted in and out of the reeds and tall grass. A great blue heron strutted through the Cayuga-Seneca Barge Canal. Catbirds, robins, and blue jays vociferated in the trees. Back at the visitor center a northern harrier glided just above the reeds, creating a rolling stir among the birds in the water.

*We drove out on the long loop through the refuge, seeing coots, egrets, and cormorants as we drove, then doubled back to Seneca Falls for pizza before beginning our drive home to Bath.

*Bald eagles were established at Montezuma in hopes of repopulating them in New York, and the eagles we see in the Southern Tier today very likely descend from that flock. We also have the Iroquois National Wildlife Refuge within driving distance. Back in March we spent three days at Pelican Island – the very first National Wildlife Refuge, created by Theodore Roosevelt in 1903. The island itself lies in the Indian River Lagoon, which has just been lashed by Hurricane Matthew. As I write, we still wait for news. We hope that that wonderful place, so foundational to our nation’s history, has not been badly scathed.

The Worst: Steuben County’s Worst Fire Disaster

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We looked last week at Steuben County’s worst road accident (1943) and worst train wreck (1912) – counting by the number of deaths in each case. This week I want to look at our worst fire disaster.

*We’ve had plenty of them. EVERYBODY’S favorite pastime back in the 1800s was burning their town down. Construction was wood… you used fire for heat, light, cooking, and power… communications were slow, transit was slow, water systems were poor… fires were frequent, and were frequently devastating.

*On September 24, 1856, folks in Hornby and Caton were coping with widespread forest fires. No rain to speak of had fallen for three weeks, and on at least one day high winds blew. The hills were burning and on the eighteenth people had tried to contain the fires until sundown, when a heavy shower finally fell. But it quickly dried up again. Barns and log houses were lost, and smoke stung even indoors.

*On November 5, 1859, a fire started near the current site of the Chat A Whyle Restaurant in Bath. It quickly spread, reaching Steuben Street in the south and Gansevoort on the east, and creeping northward toward William Street. Thanks to hard work by fire fighters it never quite reached William, but everything else in that block was destroyed — homes, barns, the Eagle Hotel, the Beekman Sash Factory, a livery stable and numerous shops. Rebuilding began at once.

*Just after midnight on January 3, 1877, fire was discovered at the Arcade Restaurant on Pine Street in Corning. Trouble at the pumping station cut off the water supply, and the fire soon roared from Market Street to what we now call Dension Parkway. The restaurant, three clothing stores, a grocery, and a tobacco shop were lost. Erie station, a dry-goods store, and a lawyers’ office were damaged.

*Addison lost most of its downtown in 1879.

*A Painted Post fire on May 16, 1896 destroyed a hotel, orchestra hall, machine shops, barns, residences. 70 men were put out of work.

*On October 15, 1963 a small fire got out of hand on the dry hillside south of Bath. Soon two hundred firefighters were in action — and then five hundred. By the second day the fire roared for a mile across Mossy Bank, stretching between Babcock Hollow and Cameron Road. Backfires were started. Four thousand gallons of water were dropped by air. The fire took three days to bring under control.

*But our WORST fire was the “Steuben County Horror” on April 7, 1878 at the County Poorhouse outside Bath. Inmates in those days were locked in every night, especially in a two-story building for the insane, epileptic, elderly, disabled, and mentally handicapped… and their children.

*The superintendent locked things up and left. Reportedly an inmate who suffered seizures set fire to his cell, and the flame quickly spread.

*Not only were inmates locked in cells but the two-story building was itself locked up, and the keys were nowhere to be found. Staff enlisted able-bodied inmates from other buildings to fight the blaze, but with no equipment and limited water they could do little. A one-legged inmate broke a window and hauled a mother and child to safety, and the door was finally broken in, allowing ten or a dozen suffocating people to stagger out.

*Bath firefighters saw the glow in the sky and set off, but decided en route that they would be too late to help, especially considering that there was no water on site. They turned around and went home.

*Sixteen people died, down to and including an infant and a four year-old… it was illegal to keep children in such facilities, but Steuben was always lax about such requirements. A coroner’s jury found no one to indict, though to their belated credit the county supervisors immediately started taking the place in hand.

*And what was Steuben County’s SECOND worst fire disaster? Well, as far as I can tell it was an earlier fire at this same poorhouse, one which killed “only” seven people. The 1878 blaze was the third fatal fire at the facility in twenty years. The only bright spot is that it was also the last.