Monthly Archives: May 2021

Remember: Prisoners of War

On Memorial Day we mostly bear in mind those killed in action, or who died of wounds, in the U. S. Armed Forces. But the Day recognizes all service members who died in performance of their duties, which would include non-battle causes, and causes which are INDIRECT results of battle – in particular, as prisoners of war.

Corporal Reuben Shettler of Pulteney, who died in 1942 at a prison camp in the Philippines, was one of the first World War II dead from our area.

Numbers are fuzzy, and sources differ, but I checked those World War II battles where we suffered the most men AND women (such as Lt. Eunice Young of Arkport… like Shettler, in the Philippines) taken into captivity. You’re more likely to be captured when retreating or losing, or flying over enemy territory. You’re least likely while advancing, or stalemated, or at sea away from land.

Our first substantial block of prisoners, about 400, were taken when the Japanese invaded Guam with a much larger force – plus the people of Guam were now under Japan’s harsh rule. Then some 430 were captured at Wake Island after a long fierce battle, plus 1100 civilian contractors.

Around 370 survivors (out of a thousand men) were captured when U.S.S. Houston was sunk at the Battle of Sunda Strait, along with the Australian cruiser H.M.A.S. Perth.

Like Wake and Guam, the Philippines had been a U. S. possession since the Spanish-American War. By the time of surrender in 1942, a hundred thousand U. S. and Philippine soldiers were prisoners. Brutality, neglect, and bad staff work killed thousands. Survivors suffered years of torture, slavery, and privation. But that was the last large group of ground forces to be taken in the Pacific war.

Over on the other side of the globe, “green” American troops were bowled over at the Kasserine Pass (1942) in North Africa, and 3000 surrendered. At the Battle of the Bulge (1944-45), the captured and missing came to 26,600.

Then there was the air war. I knew a fighter pilot in the 9th Air Force who was told that if he went down and had to surrender, try to turn himself in to the German Air Force, for there was still some fellow feeling among fliers. If that was not possible, surrender to army or navy, which had a history and culture that included taking prisoners and the rules of war. If need be, surrender to S.S. or to civilian police, which at least were under some form of discipline. At all costs try to avoid being taken by civilians, who might well take reprisals against the destruction being rained on them from the sky. About 35,600 Americans were taken in the European air war.

The Pacific air offensive got going later – we had to fight our way closer to Japan – and at a time when Japan had lost much of its capacity to fight against the big bombers. About 5400 were captured. Jere Baker of Bath was starved and tortured, as were a great many others.

Germany more or less followed traditional rules of war with prisoners from western nations such as Britain, Canada, and the U.S., in part because we held many of THEIR men captive, and they didn’t want reprisals. As the end approached, though, suffering increased in the prison camps. Food and medicine weren’t getting delivered, and some guards began to take revenge. Others, though, tried to get chummy in hopes of better treatment when THEY became prisoners.

In Japan, on the other hand, if a soldier surrendered his own parents might commit suicide, so appalling was the disgrace. ANYONE who surrendered was disgusting and contemptible, so they had no concern for their own men in our hands. There weren’t very many in the first place, and to most Japanese they deserved any suffering that came to them. Japan had no incentive to treat our people well.

So even in this one war, tens of thousands of American military personnel died as prisoners – directly murdered, or killed through mistreatment, neglect, poor conditions, even through despair or suicide. Tens of thousands who survived suffered shortened lives, or blighted lives. They should be remembered too.

We’re From the Finger Lakes — Bet You Didn’t Know!

An ElderHostel guest at Watson Homestead told me that she had been on the Greek island of Corfu, when a voice behind her said, “Now there’s someone from Rochester, New York.” She turned around, and it was Mitch Miller – oboist, Columbia Records mogul, host of the wildly popular Sing-Along Gang on early 60s TV. When she asked him how he had known, he said, “I recognized the accent.”

In his line, Mitch must have had a superbly-trained ear, and he’d had plenty of time to study the accent. Born in Rochester, he went to East High, then Eastman School of Music, then played with the R.P.O. until lifting his sights to New York City.

So Mitch was a card carrying Finger Laker. Of course we know about such luminaries as Glenn Curtiss, Frederick Douglass, Harriet Tubman, and Susan B. Anthony, but who ELSE hails from the Lakes Country?

*Multimillionaire John D. Rockefeller was born (much poorer) in Richford, outside Owego.

*Twilight Zone creator Rod Serling was born in Syracuse. He then grew up in Binghamton, but summered almost every year of his adult life in Interlaken, and named his company Cayuga Productions.

*Cab Calloway was born in Rochester on the Fourth of July, four years ahead of Christmas baby Mitch Miller. Famed for his scatting vocals, Cab was a renowned big band leader, back in the days when jazz was jingling and swing was king.

*While making his way from Vermont to Illinois, Stephen A. Douglas paused for three years to attend Canandaigua Academy and begin the study of law. He beat out Abe Lincoln for a senate seat in 1858, and two years later was the only presidential candidate (out of four) with strong support in every part of the country. But this time it wasn’t enough to beat Lincoln, or to hold off the Civil War.

*President Millard Fillmore was born in Moravia, and grew up in Cayuga County except for an unhappy apprenticeship in Sparta. President Chester A. Arthur lived for a short spell in York (Livingston County). Curiously, they each became president on the deaths of their predecessors, and did not serve a second term.

*Many an aspiring president started out young by figuring ways to finagle “Robert’s Rules of Order.” General Henry M. Robert married and settled in Owego in 1901, when he retired from the army. He died 22 years later in Hornell.

*Like Mitch Miller and Cab Calloway, Joe Simon was born in Rochester. He went to high school there and then worked as a cartoonist for one of the city newspapers, then moved to Syracuse and did the same there. Moving to New York City at the age of 23, he fell into the brand-new field of comic books. He worked there for decades and had many accomplishments – but most memorably of all, he created Captain America.

*Daniel Shays fought at Lexington, and Bunker Hill, and Saratoga, but never got paid. Broke, indebted, and behind on taxes, he helped create the United States – by leading a rebellion in 1786. It failed, but it scared George Washington and other national leaders so much that they drafted a new constitution to strengthen the federal government and prevent (or crush) insurrections. We’ve been using it ever since. Pardoned, pensioned, unhappy and alcoholic, Shays drifted westward and finished his days in Sparta.

*By the way, Rochester must have had something very beneficial in its water way back when. All born within a six-year period, Cab Calloway lived to be 86, Joe Simon 98, and Mitch Miller 99!

Hammondsport Keeps ‘Em Flying in World War II

This year will mark the 80th anniversary of our entry into World War II. During that war tens of thousands of people here in western New York worked at the Curtiss-Wright plants in Buffalo, making airplanes and components for the war.

But the story comes even closer, to Hammondsport, where the almost-extinct Mercury Aircraft (down to one employee in the Depression) suddenly had 850 workers!

Army planners had designated Mercury as a major subcontractor for Curtiss-Wright, inundating them with orders for mountains of components – mostly oil tanks, gas tanks, tail fins, and control surfaces – to go to Buffalo and be installed on Curtiss airplanes, and from there be taken into combat around the globe.

Which warbirds was Mercury fabricating for? One obscure type was the O-52 Curtiss Owl, which was a “heavy” observation (scouting) airplane. The Owl was a good aircraft, but maneuvers in 1941 made the army recognize that the job could be done just as well by the smaller, lighter, cheaper Piper Cub and its imitators, so the Owl didn’t see much service in combat zones.

Not the case with the Curtiss P-40, also called Hawk, Warhawk, Tomahawk, and Kittyhawk! Curtiss made 14,000 of these fighters, and they were our fourth most-produced warplane of the period. British pilots in the Sahara painted the shark’s mouth on the nose, starting a world-wide fad. Those teeth have become just as famous as the airplane itself.

A great airplane for 1940, they were becoming obsolete by 1942, but they kept on flying, for America, Britain, France, Canada, New Zealand, China, and the Soviet Union, among others. They were designed to deliver a lot of firepower, take a lot of punishment, and bring the pilot home. Two inexperienced pilots at Pearl Harbor flew almost alone against both Japanese waves, shot down seven attackers, and landed safely at the end of it. Curtiss Museum is restoring a P-40, and has a 3/4-scale reproduction on exhibit.

Another aircraft Mercury made parts for is the C-46 Commando, or R5C in navy/marine corps lingo. This was a cargo airplane, less famous than the C-47, but those who’d flown them both loved the ’46. The Commando was bigger (carrying more cargo, or more personnel) and faster (burning less fuel on faster trips). It was also pressurized, making it much more comfortable and making oxygen masks unnecessary. So it was ideal for long high flights “over the hump” of the Himalayas, keeping China in the war from bases in India. That big airplane in front of Curtiss Museum is an original C-46. The U. S. military was still using them in Vietnam, and half a dozen are still flying worldwide.

The third major warplane that Mercury supported was the SB2C Helldiver, a three-man navy dive-bomber deployed from aircraft carriers. It got off to a bad start, and angry pilots called it by many a foul name. It did have a lot of bugs that needed to be worked out, but worked out they were. Also, you had to be a GOOD pilot to get the best from the Helldiver, and even in our navy, not every pilot could handle it. By the war’s last year or so, the SB2C had replaced all other dive bombers in our fleet. The list of battles in which they fought is long, and they shared in the sinking of two Japanese battleships.

By the way, Paul A. Schweizer told me that the army was originally considering Schweizer Aircraft in Elmira, rather than Mercury, as the major subcontractor. They changed their minds, though, after watching workers lower completed glider fuselages out through the window of the knitting mill, where Schweizer had the second floor! They did buy some training gliders, though.

Like Nature, but Better — Olmsted Parks, and Where to Find Some

Sometimes one person leaves a mark on the landscape… a mark that, for good or ill, shapes the land, and society, for generations… even if the person, and the person’s name, are forgotten.

Frederick Law Olmsted was such a person.

Despite severe health problems he worked as a journalist, the operator of a large farm, a crewmember on a sailing ship to China. He made extensive tours of Britain, and of the slaveholding south, and wrote of them in depth. With a partner, he planned the design and development of Central Park in New York City, but left that off to form and lead the Sanitary Commission, which first created and then operated Union army hospitals in the Civil War. When he finally quit, exhausted, he was 41 years old.

When he returned to New York City, he threw himself into parks, becoming an early avatar of the landscape architect. Central Park was still taking shape, but he now designed a park system for Brooklyn (then a separate city)… and Buffalo… and Rochester… and Niagara Falls… besides having a hand in designing a campus for the new Cornell University, where he was a trustee.

Besides being a pioneer in the “nuts and bolts” – such as sinking the cross streets in Central Park, so as to preserve the long vistas and minimize accidents – Olmsted could be said to have created settings that looked like nature, only better. REAL nature means brambles, brush, and poison ivy. Olmsted’s nature is tree-shrouded, to be sure. But it’s also open and rolling, perfect for rambling or wandering. REAL nature leaves boulders wherever the glacier dumped them. Olmsted’s nature places boulders where they look the best, or where you need one to sit on.

Olmsted gives you not so much an illusion of nature as an idealized nature.

He (and his company) did private commissions, such as the Wadsworth estate in Geneseo. But the closest place to get a good experience of his work is in Rochester.

Here, in the 1890s, he created not just parks, but a SYSTEM of parks. Between them, Seneca Park and Genesee Valley Park preserved much of the shoreline of the Genesee River, gifting the city with long swaths of green. After his retirement his sons would design the University of Rochester campus, while Mount Hope Cemetery would evolve in line with Olmsted’s principles, expanding the green footprint based on the river.

The campus and the cemetery join Genesee Valley Park with Highland Park, which Olmsted planned not only as a park but as an arboretum, showcasing tree and shrub species in natural(-like) settings.

Look back at November’s entries in this space and you’ll read, “Streets and trails in Highland wend and wander. The ground heaves up and drops down. Practically every step creates a new space, a new vista, a new delight. In the days of flu and COVID, Highland is a fine spot for the kids to run around, or for the old folks to ramble.
Highland Park is forested, but it’s not the forest that our forebears cut down. It’s a curated forest, an arboretum, designed in part to delight the visitor.

Mission accomplished.” And thank you, Mr. Olmsted.

Steuben County Sheriff’s Office — 225 Years

Just as this year marks the 225th anniversary of Steuben County… and the six original Steuben towns of Addison, Bath, Canisteo, Corning, Dansville, and Wayne… AND the Benjamin Patterson Inn… it also marks the 225th anniversary of the Steuben County Sheriff’s Department.

Sheriffs were appointed back in 1796, rather then elected, and that system continued until 1822. William Dunn (served 1796-1800) was Steuben County’s first sheriff. Like many of the early sheriffs, he was a prominent man in his own right. Sheriff Dunn was a member of Bath’s first Masonic lodge. He also owned a tavern, which was more than a bar in those days. Taverns were gathering places where business and politics were conducted, where mail was delivered, and where travelers brought the latest news. The tavernkeeper was at the center of all this activity.

His horse Silk Stockings raced Virginia Nell in Charles Williamson’s 1796 “World’s Fair,” which brought potential land buyers to Bath from as far as Virginia, Boston, and Montreal. He also, ugly to relate, owned slaves, and so did George McClure (1815-1819). Other sheriffs may have been slaveholders too, but these are the ones I’ve been able to identify.

Third sheriff Dugald Cameron is the first one for which we have a likeness… an oil portrait that hangs in the Magee House (built by our 12th sheriff, and now the Steuben County History Center). Dugald Cameron and Lazarus Hammond were prominent enough (and owned enough land) to have municipalities named after them – the Town of Cameron, and the Village of Hammondsport.

At least two sheriffs, Cameron and McClure, were immigrants.

McClure, like most of the others, was a very busy guy. He served as postmaster, town supervisor, and Surrogate Court judge. He was a significant miller and “arker”, shipping produce down the Susquehanna and eventually to Philadelphia or Baltimore.

He was also a brigadier general in the militia, and served in the War of 1812. So did John Kennedy of Kanona (1825-1827), who volunteered to enter Canada when his superior officer refused, and distinguished himself at Lundy’s Lane. John Magee was twice a P.O.W. in that war. Both men are in the Steuben County Hall of Fame.

Magee was the last appointed sheriff (1820-1822) and the first elected sheriff (1822-1826). He later served two terms in Congress, besides making a fortune in banking, highways, canals, coal, and the Fall Brook Railroad – not bad for a guy who started out his working career cutting wood for twenty-five cents a cord.

Kennedy was the first sheriff to be elected without having previously been appointed. Cornelius Younglove (1811-1812) is probably the first sheriff for whom we have a photo, though taken many years later. Jack Lisi (1970-1987) was our longest-serving sheriff. For thirty years the Jack Lisi Youth Award has annually given non-cash assistance to multiple Steuben youths who are often overlooked, who overcome obstacles, and who exhibit a desire to succeed.

Lynn W. Kellogg (1921-1924 and 1928-1930) was the third sheriff in New York to hire a woman deputy. When he died in 1930, his wife Alva stepped in as acting sheriff for the rest of the year.

Coming up to 1999, when Dave Taylor Smith’s doctor banned him from any further “jumping in the lake” (Salubria) to raise money for youth programs, Sheriff Walt DeLap stepped in and jumped in at less than 24 hours notice. Jim Allard, our 59th and current sheriff, followed him in 2017.

In the early days, sheriffs conducted (rare) executions along with their other duties. Here in the 21st century the Sheriff’s Office is detailed to provide “Law Enforcement, Corrections, Civil, Court Security, School Safety and Navigation Safety”… more sedate, perhaps, but certainly far more busy.