Monthly Archives: August 2021

Natural Landmarks of (or Near) the Finger Lakes

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We live in a marvelous region, replete with sights and wonders. I suppose that just about every place is like that, if you dig deep enough. Another time, we’ll look at “man-made” landmarks in the region. But for this week, I wanted to enjoy compiling a list of NATURAL landmarks, in or around our Finger Lakes.

Each of our lakes is a natural landmark. But Keuka stands out. Because of its two northern branches, true – but even more so because of the arresting Bluff right between them. It dominates the main body of the Lake and both Branches, making a sight that dwells for decades in the memory. (It’s even MORE overwhelming if you’re actually IN the Lake, gazing up at it.)

NOT one of the Finger Lakes, but the last of the GREAT Lakes, is Lake Ontario. As a sight, well, it’s not MUCH of a sight. It’s the realization that this is an inland fresh-water sea, part of chain of such seas, joined by mighty rivers, in all spanning thousands of miles, that takes the breath away.

At Sodus on the southern shore of Ontario lies Chimney Bluff State Park, home to ever shifting geological formations, shaped and reshaped by wind, wave, and gravity.

Just a few rods south of the Conhocton River in Bath, a cliff and slope rise sharply for 500 feet. You can admire this from the village, for it looms like a wall as you drive south on Liberty Street (or just about any other street, for that matter).

But this view is especially remarkable because it works both ways. Head on up to Mossy Bank Park, drive or walk down to the Lookout, and the whole village, including Lake Salubria, spreads out below you like a playset. You can’t see Keuka Lake, but you can see the vale that wends toward it through the high hills. You can look westward along the course of I-99 toward Kanona. If the air is clear enough you can spot the wind turbines near Prattsburgh, and the set in Howard. If the season is right, monarch butterflies may rise up from the flat. If the stars are right, bald eagles may pass by.

The gorges of Stony Brook State Park and Watkins Glen State Park are natural landmarks, with the streams that rush through them continuing their millennia-long shaping and reshaping of their glens. The cleft of Letchworth Gorge is staggering to see, as is the Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania.

We’re blest with many waterfalls, each possessing its own beauty. Montour Falls and Taughannock Falls are two of the best, and it’s fun to stand in their spray on a summer’s day. And talking of falls, how could we omit Niagara? What must that have been like, for the first men and women to see it, ten-thousand years ago or more? First the roar… then the mist… and then a sight which they never could have imagined. And nobody else could either, so reports must have been scorned as travelers’ tales, until so many people had seen it that they had to be believed.

Being from Rhode Island, I long for salt marshes. None nearby, of course. But the Queen Catharine Marsh, between Watkins Glen and Montour Falls, is a huge beautiful flatland, girdled with a foot path created by the Finger Lakes Trail Conference. Harriers, redwings, waterfowl and wading birds abound. If you like marshes – don’t miss it!

F.L.T. and Me

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I was excited when we moved from Bloomfield to Bath, back at the end of 1995, because we’d be living close to the Finger Lakes Trail. And in the spring, guided by my official Steuben County road map, I started thoroughly enjoying it. It must have been a year or two later that I pulled a membership brochure from the registration box east of Aulls Road on M13, figuring that if I was going to keep walking on the trail, I ought to pay something to help with the upkeep.

And on I went, cheerfully hiking, until late October 2005, when I started to feel – off. And on November 1 I crashed. Losing weight. Dropping blood pressure. No interest in food. Constantly falling asleep. Losing muscular strength. Forgetting things. And feeling cold – horribly, horribly cold. I’d lie in a warm bath as long as I could manage, but would soon be shivering again. Our cat was my best friend, pressed up against me as I lay covered up in bed wearing multiple layers of clothing.

Not much hiking in the spring of ’06, though I just managed to lead a hike uphill along the Mitchellsville Gorge. As we approached the County Route 13 my vision suddenly became like a photo negative for about sixty seconds, and that was the last hike. By June I had lost almost 60 pounds, and I couldn’t sit up without a chair back to support me. I figured that I had less than a month to live, and most of my family and friends figured the same. At just about the last possible moment doctors pulled the right diagnosis out of a hat. Addison’s Disease – a vanishingly rare wasting condition, incurable but easy to treat, with steroids twice a day to replace those that my body no longer generates. I started taking them on a Saturday, and on Tuesday noticed just a little spring in just a few steps. One August day I had an explosion of strength and energy, climbing steep trails all over Mossy Bank Park.

But that was it. Just one day. I ate again, I regained weight, I stayed awake, I no longer suffered that Dante-esque cold – but I was still worn down, and beaten down. In February ’07 our elder son Josh dragged me out to Penn Yan and Keuka Outlet Trail, and we managed a few hundred yards each way, despite a cold wind and about three inches of snow. After we finished I was shaking at Dunkin’ Donuts – not from cold, but from depletion.

We went back a week later, and we even got an early spring that year, with snakes and frogs and turtles and all. I’d walked the entire route (a rail trail) before, and with Josh’s help determined to do it again, and by summer I had! (Twice, in fact, walking out and back in segments.)

I returned to the FLT, and at some point I completed walking the Main Trail from one side of Steuben County to the other. (Twice) Then I decided that I would work very deliberately on my recovery by completing Bristol Hills Trail. I had done much of B3, so piece by piece I finished it below Bean Station Road, then went on toward B2. The BHT has a lot of ups and a lot of downs, and some are steep and some are long, so it was a struggle for a guy doing this in order to recover his strength. And in early July of 2010 I walked from the north and west into a little shop in Naples and celebrated with a sandwich for finishing the BHT. Once I’d hiked back to my car I gave myself a round of applause for having end-to-ended it twice.

It took me a couple of years to get the new Crystal Hills Trail done (twice), and a couple of weeks later I started on the wonderful Interlaken Trail, just finishing (twice) before winter weather set in.

Being alone in the woods and the fields gives my PTSD soul a world of good. But now… literally… where do I go from here?

Though my Addison’s is under control, I still only get a few hours of output each day, and that’s EVERYTHING – hiking, driving, paying bills, writing articles, washing dishes – whatever. So driving an hour, hiking for two hours, and then driving back, withdraws four hours from the bank for that day, which is pretty close to the limit.

Soooo… I re-hike trails, of course. I’ll surely do the Interlaken again, and probably the Crystal Hills. I’ve just replaced my maps, so I’ve already started doing re-routes. There’s much of the Greenway Trail I haven’t done, and trails in Keuka Lake State Park. I’m doing the Outlet Trail again this year (and I’m almost done!).

It’s a blessing that my wife and our sons are incredible supporters, and are willing to live with my limitations. I owe the world to them, and to Josh in particular for dragging me out that day… and to my doctors… and to the Outlet Trail… and to the Bristol Hills Trail. And to the Finger Lakes Trail, a footpath across New York [the parts I can easily reach, anyway], forever.

Forgotten (or Repurposed) Holidays

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A week or so back I had to call a town office in my home state of Rhode Island, but wound up leaving a recorded message, because I’d forgotten it was V-J Day.

That may perplex some people, and stir vague memories for others. It’s the anniversary of Victory over Japan, and Rhode Island is now the only state where it’s still an official observance (second Monday in August, rather than the historical August 14). It’s a curious little holiday, late in a seaside summer. It used to be widely celebrated, but faded with memory of the war, pushed along no doubt by proximity to Labor Day.

Another holiday from my youth is Lincoln’s Birthday (February 12), which itself was overshadowed by Washington’s Birthday, ten days later. This meant two days off school in two weeks, possibly plus snow days as a bonus. George has long had an official national holiday but Abe hasn’t, and some places cram them together as “Presidents’ Day,” but eight states still celebrate Lincoln. This incudes New York, which I have somehow managed to miss in 25 years of living here. I speculate that it’s limited to closing government offices.

Thanksgiving goes back to a proclamation by Lincoln more clearly than it goes back to the Pilgrims, but Franklin D. Roosevelt shaped our modern celebration. It was traditionally the last Thursday in November, and also traditionally kicked off the Christmas shopping season. Some years November has five Thursdays, and the last one comes pretty late, so during the Depression FDR proclaimed it the FOURTH Thursday, to stimulate an extra week of retail business.

New Englanders and Republicans furiously celebrated on the fifth Thursday, and a mini-cartoon in the Bing Crosby movie “Holiday Inn” showed a confused turkey running back and forth between the two dates on a calendar. We’re all used to it now.

November has a second holiday, formerly called Armistice Day, celebrating the 11th day of the 11th month, when World War I ended. As memory faded, and as 17 million Americans went into uniform for the SECOND World War, this became Veterans’ Day, to honor all those who served.

Much to the exasperation of Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. (combat veteran and P.O.W.), who said “Armistice Day was a hallowed anniversary because it was supposed to protect future life from future wars. Veterans Day, instead, celebrates ‘heroes’ and encourages others to dream of playing the hero themselves, covering themselves in valor.”

Memorial Day started out as Decoration Day, to place flowers on the graves of the Union dead from the Civil War. (Waterloo claims the honor of initiating the holiday.) Former Confederate states fiercely ignored it, but… once again… as memory faded, and as two world wars brought hundreds of thousands of deaths, the day became Memorial Day for ALL the dead, and moved to the last Monday in May.

Believe it or not, the “Pennsylvania Dutch” used to be the about only Americans who paid any particular attention to Christmas, and even into the 20th century it was a normal work day for many people. Even as a gift-giving holiday, it had to compete with New Year’s.

Columbus Day has rightly come into scorn for celebrating a guy who, whatever his virtues, initiated an age of horror, with bigotry, imperialism, mass murder, and enslavement, all on scales such as the world had never seen. But holidays and statues, however much they purport to be about the past, are mostly about the times in which they are created. Columbus Day proclaimed the acceptance (at last!) of Italian-Americans (and by extension, other “new immigrant” groups) as full-fledged members of the American community. Maybe we should change it to Marconi Day.

The COVID — Looking Back a Year (Part 2)

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A couple of months ago, we looked back at some of the history we’d made during the COVID pandemic, in and around Steuben County. The chronicle of events that I’m compiling is now up to 124 pages, and today we’ll start by looking back to April 1, 2020, when we learned that Corning Incorporated Foundation, United Way of the Southern Tier, Triangle Fund, and Community Foundation of Elmira-Corning and the Finger Lakes had established a $325,000 fund “to support organizations that provide vital human services across [Steuben, Chemung, and Schuyler Counties] during this public health crisis.”

On April 2 Steuben County’s first death (an 89 year-old Bath Village woman) was announced. Four new deaths on April 19 (from Hornell, Wayland, and Corning) pushed the total deaths past 25 (from 23 to 27).

The Hornell area, where several nursing homes were badly affected, continued as the center of cases locally. School nurses and retired public health nurses were helping the County Health Department where needed. Sheriff’s deputies took over checking on those in quarantine or isolation.

Because of reduced demand from schools and restaurants, Hornell-area producers were dumping milk. Corning Inc. donated 150,000 masks to hospitals. Alstom donated masks, suits, and glasses. Regents exams were cancelled. Corelle laid off 500 people. People in many communities put up pictures of Easter eggs, for children to spot from the street.

A staff member at Hornell Gardens nursing home reportedly was fired after complaining about lack of PPE. Kanestio Valley D.A.R. made and donated masks. Steuben County parks closed all facilities. NYSEG donated over $50,000 to Food Bank of the Southern Tier. Corning Community College donated almost 30,000 pairs of gloves, plus other materials, to two hospitals. Siemens Painted Post donated 3000 face masks. A 102 year-old woman, who had survived the Spanish influenza, died of COVID in Hornell.

Corning-Painted Post School District lit up Memorial Stadium each Friday night to honor 2020 athletes and graduates. Colonial Days was cancelled in Painted Post. Many libraries, though closed, kept their wi-fi available for people on the grounds. Hornell, Prattsburgh, and Canisteo-Greenwood School Districts established multiple community hot spots for their students. Pizza Hut and Salvation Army announced multiple permanent closings in the area.

Corning Inc. withdrew its 2020 Estimate of Earnings. Corning’s Valor glass was earmarked for use as vials for vaccines, once developed. Thanks to increased donations, United Way of the Southern Tier gave an additional 2.46 million dollars to support those in need. GlassFest, Woodhull Raceway, and Gus Macker basketball tournament were all cancelled for the duration. All Memorial Day parades were cancelled.

On May 18, announced Steuben cases broke 250. Corning Pride conducted a vehicles-only parade. Corning City Council agreed to ban vehicles from part of Market Street during the summer, so that restaurants could set up more socially-distanced seating. This helped the restaurants, but hurt some of the retailers. Hammondsport adopted a similar program.

As of May 29, there had been announced 261 cases in Steuben County. The death of an 83 year-old Jasper man brought total announced Steuben deaths to 42. Although total cases would continue to rise in the county, no more new deaths would be reported until September 8.

“Merchants of Death”?

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World War I begins what I call “the Hell Years” (copyright!) – the Great War, the Spanish influenza, the postwar recession, Prohibition, the resurgent Ku Klux Klan, the Great Depression, and World War II.

Here at home, many Americans did very well on the Great War – so much so that some postwar analysts traced our declaration of war to the “Merchants of Death” who made fortunes making, selling, and financing military supplies.

That vastly oversimplified things, but many ordinary people legitimately made good money for a short time, right here in the Finger Lakes, in new industries that blossomed with the war, and would largely shrivel after it.

The most obvious example was GLENN CURTISS. He had just started producing a decent training plane, the Curtiss Jenny, and the British quickly ordered 250, then ran the numbers up into thousands. They also wanted seaplanes, and although the Curtiss shop in Hammondsport was quickly running 24-6, it was noplace near enough. He built, bought, or leased huge new factories in Buffalo, as the Hammondsport plant switched over to all engine production, especially the 90-hp OX-5, to get the Allies into the air.

Glenn employed almost 3000 people just in Hammondsport, but even with his Buffalo plants it still wasn’t enough. The Willys-Morrow factory in Elmira made Curtiss engines and Liberty engines under license, employing women and old men to help make up the numbers. We hear a lot about Rosie the Riveter in World War II, but we should also remember Wanda the Welder (copyright!) from World War I. Women had been working in American factories ever since the factories were created. Now more than ever, with millions of young men in uniform, they were needed. Neta Snook, who later taught Amelia Earhart to fly, worked in Elmira as an expediter for the British government.

As for the old folks, there was no social safety net in those days. You worked until you couldn’t and then you probably died pretty quickly, because you couldn’t pay for food, clothing, housing, or medical care. If you couldn’t work you also had no economic value, so the economy got no benefit from you continuing to hang around.

Up in Geneva, boatmaker Fay & Bowen built hulls for Curtiss seaplanes.

Several fellows who had cut their teeth at Curtiss had opened the Thomas Brothers Aeroplane Company in Bath, but they, like Glenn, had to expand when the war broke out in 1914. Six months later they had shifted to the larger town of Ithaca and forged a merger with Morse Chain Company. Thomas-Morse manufactured airplanes, especially the Thomas-Morse “Scout,” in respectable numbers.

Taylor Instruments in Rochester had been in business for over half a century before the first airplane flew. But by 1914 they were already supplying Curtiss, Thomas, and others with altimeters and other instruments (often under the Tycos brand) needed for flight. Sometimes the instrument face bore the name of the buyer, such as Curtiss Aeroplane and Motor Company.

By 1916 Ingersoll-Rand in Painted Post employed over 800 men and “several score” of women, and the shops were “running night and day, on war materials for the British and allied governments.” The Rand manufactured ammunition, or more precisely it made shells, with the powder and projectiles installed elsewhere. On a smaller scale Corning Glass Works supplied optical glass for the same governments. They bought Steuben Glass at this time, since the main company was unaccustomed to precision work.

Both the Rand and the Glass Works were patrolled by armed guards, with admission by pass. The Curtiss plant had a scare when a couple of former employees were arrested for espionage, but while details on output might have interested the Central Powers, by that stage Curtiss didn’t have any secrets worth pirating. Some employees were also charged with sabotage, for passing through unacceptable materials in order to make quotas.

No one was expecting war in early June of 1914, but it exploded two months later. By October the New York Times reported that the Curtiss plant was running ’round the clock, six days a week. By year’s end Ingersoll-Rand was filling two boxcars with shells every day. By January Thomas was relocated in Ithaca. By spring Curtiss broke ground for huge new factories in Buffalo. It was good money while it lasted, but tens of thousands would be unemployed without warning, when the Armistice was signed in 1918.