Monthly Archives: March 2022

“The Best Of”… In My Humble Opinion

Our region is packed with wonderful places to enjoy, but where are the BEST of each category? Here’s a subjective, incomplete, and individualistic – but heartfelt! – list of recommendations.

Best Open-Air Museum: Genesee Country Village, in Mumford. 600 acres to stroll, with 68 period houses collected from the region and re-erected as a developing 19th-century village. It includes an octagon house from Friendship; a mansion from Campbell; a country store from Altay; a church from Brooks Grove; a one-room school from Rush; and Nathaniel Rochester’s plank house, from when he was still living in Dansville. (But don’t overlook the Farmer’s Museum, in Cooperstown.)

Best Kids’ Museum: The Strong National Museum of Play, in Rochester. Toys, games, playthings, and recreational books – you MUST like at least one of those! (I like ’em all!) I’m not sure how many acres there are under roof, but it’s all dedicated to recreation and play – last time I was there, there was even a Penn Yan Boats fishing boat on exhibit. Strong also has the National Toy Hall of Fame (find your favorites, or make a nomination!), a large dollhouse collection, and a wonderful indoor butterfly garden. Even with all those playthings (many of the hands-on) just a few steps away, what is better than a butterfly?

Best Aviation Museum: The Glenn Curtiss Museum, in Hammondsport. Follow the life of America’s first aviation titan, who made multiple millions within seven years after he and his friends built their first airplane. (The first airplane they ever BUILT, was also the first airplane they ever SAW.) And explore the life of the little home town that rode the roller-coaster with him. Years ago, I was the director here. I think you’d like it.

Best Local History Museum: The Buffalo History Museum, in Buffalo. The museum is historic all by itself, for it’s the only building preserved from the 1901 Pan-American Exposition, or world’s fair. (President McKinley was fatally shot just a few blocks away, and the museum owns the murder weapon.) The museum is fun, but it also doesn’t pull any punches on facing the community’s history of prejudice. One fun little curio – former president Millard Fillmore was one of the founding members of the Buffalo Historical Society, which operates the museum.

Best Place to Lose Yourself in Flowers: Cornell Botanical gardens, in Ithaca. Tiptoe through setpiece flower beds, or ramble among broadcast dame’s rocket.

Most Beautiful Place to Hike: The Finger Lakes Trail section between Steuben County Route 13 (Mitchellsville Road) and State Route 54, outside Hammondsport. Sometimes deer and wild turkey… hepatica and may apple in season… always the woodland, the nearby gorge and stream, the Keuka Inlet, and the lovely vineyard in Pleasant Valley.

Best Gorge: Watkins Glen, in… Watkins Glen! Letchworth and Stony Brook rightfully have their boosters, but you can walk the gorge at Watkins and get wet along the way. The gorge hoots and hollers and sprays, but you meet it, and enjoy it, on a human level.

Best Waterfall, NOT Counting Niagara, Which is in a Class by Itself: Taughannock Falls, near Cayuga Lake, outside Ithaca. A half-mile walk-in, and a single drop longer than Niagara’s, although noplace near as wide. Close second goes to Shequaga Falls, right at the end of West Main Street in Montour Falls.

Best Scenic Overlook: Mossy Bank Park above Bath, and Harris Hill Park near Elmira. Local folks have been enjoying Mossy Bank for 200 years, and I imagine the same is true for Harris Hill. Sailplanes take off and land right near the Harris Hill overlook. This is also the spot from which young Tommy Hilfiger saw the wall of water thundering down the Chemung in 1972, then raced it back to his first shop to save the stock by rushing it to an upper level. Mossy Bank used to be part of the Davenport estate, and girls from the Davenport orphanage loved to hike up there for picnics. You sometimes see eagles nowadays. (More “Bests” to come, from time to time!)

Forgotten Freedom Fighters: Al Smith

He was funny, earthy, hard-working, and smart. And he was the most-hated man in America.
Al Smith was born poor on the Lower East Side New York City, with grandparents who were Irish, German, Italian, and Anglo-Irish. His father died, and when Al was 14 years old he told his desperate mother that he would support the family. School days ended, and so did childhood. Al liked to say that the only degree he held was F.F.M. – Fulton Fish Market.
It was hard, hard labor, but in his scant spare time he started running errands for the neighborhood politicians of the Tammany Hall machine. He was trusty, and some of them started talking to him. Over time they was entrusted him with bigger and bigger assignments, and finally they rewarded him with the Democratic Party nomination for state assembly.
When he was elected in 1904 he was far from the only uneducated legislator in Albany, but he felt his lack acutely, and kept his mouth shut – not at all surprising for a puppet (his colleagues supposed) expected simply to vote as Tammany ordered.
When he finally started talking, legislators were flabbergasted that was doing something that none of them attempted. He read every word of the proposed bills, and he had ideas about them – his own ideas, not the machine’s ideas.
His quiet competence, his hard work, and his Tammany connections led to a slow rise within the assembly, until the Triangle fire of 1911 killed 146 factory workers in New York City. Meeting with the families affected him deeply, and he was appointed, with State Senator Robert Wagner, to the Factory Commission, to investigate factories and recommend new laws to govern them. Wagner and social worker Frances Perkins took the public lead, while Smith continued his habitual quiet hard work – never missing a meeting, never missing an inspection visit, both of which required travel all across the state. He had strong opinions, but still recognizing his own limitations he told Perkins and Wagner to write the laws, while he concentrated on getting them passed.
Despite furious and unending opposition by many factory owners and money men, the Commission brought 64 bills to the legislature, and got 60 of them turned into law. The state was finally acknowledging and acting on responsibility for ALL its people, not just the ones with big money.
The factory owners screamed that these bills would kill all the businesses, and destroy the economy of New York, but as we all know, that didn’t happen. In 1918 New York’s voters made Al Smith their governor, for the first of four terms.
From the governor’s office he brought about civil service reform, and more laws to protect the workers and the poor. He arranged to pave the East Lake Road on Keuka. Along with Robert Moses he created a state park system, and a modern road system to reach the parks. (They acquired Stony Brook to become a park, though Letchworth and Watkins Glen were already state properties.) In 1928, Smith won the Democratic nomination for president.
And millions of Americans exploded with hatred and fury. It was bad enough that he came from New York City. Bad enough he spoke up the the working poor. Bad enough his parents had been immigrants (a lie – it was his grandparents). Most importantly, most enragingly, Al Smith was a CATHOLIC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
To their mind Catholics always obeyed their priests, and the priests always obeyed the pope, so with Smith in the White House we would actually be ruled from Rome, where the Pope was already rubbing his hands with demonic glee. Protestantism (to their mind, the only true religion) would be persecuted. America, they mistakenly insisted, had always been a Protestant country, and could never permit Catholics to rule.
Or do much of anything else, apparently. In Penn Yan the Ladies of the Klan (honest) made a list of “Businesses That Are Prodident” (their spelling), so they’d know to boycott the others. MANY local people, and local churches, openly supported the Klan, and hated Al Smith.
Fueled by anger at Smith, immigrants, big cities, Catholics, Jews, Black people, and anti-prohibitionists, white Protestant Americans signed up in tens of thousands for the Ku Klux Klan – robes, hoods, cross burnings, and all. In many cases, their pastors joined up with them, and they did the same right here. The Klan held rallies at Chemung and Steuben County fairgrounds, and in many local churches. They conducted parades and motorcades. A man in Painted Post named his business “K.K.K. Garage.” There are K.K.K. gravestones in Canisteo.
Franklin Roosevelt had called Smith “the Happy Warrior,” but when Smith campaigned by train in the plains states, burning crosses lined the tracks of his route for miles. He fought hard, but lost. His family said that he never fully recovered from having been the target of so much vitriol.
From there, it was a downhill slide for Al. He was one of a great many who vastly underestimated Franklin D. Roosevelt, wrongly assuming he could pull F.D.R.’s strings. He headed up the company building the Empire State Building (the first time he’d ever made any real money), and came to oppose Roosevelt’s programs and policies (which Roosevelt freely admitted had originally been Smith’s). But he was a fierce and outspoken foe of Hitler from the time Hitler seized power, and eventually reconciled with Roosevelt. He died in 1944, exactly five months after his beloved wife, still living, as he had been since he was born, on the Lower East Side.
Al Smith helped transform the nation into a nation that cares (and works!) for ALL its people. He helped build a government that would be functional in the 20th century. He fought against religious bigotry, and for the rights of ALL Americans to be equal Americans. He didn’t invent the expression, but he said it clearly and frequently, and lived it fully: “All the ills of democracy can be cured by – more democracy.”

A Day With the Dinosaurs, at Rochester Museum and Science Center

How far would YOU go to see robotic dinosaurs?
We had to go from Bath to Geneseo for an appointment last week, so we just kept on goin’ afterward, up to Rochester Museum and Science Center.
I love dinosaurs, and I was just about to write that I think MOST kids do, when I remembered that I’m 70 years old, and arguably not a kid any longer.
Except when it comes to dinosaurs. I think we’re all kids with dinosaurs.
I got a glimpse of this right in the lobby, where you meet your first dino, AND you can control it by using a panel of buttons. Raise and lower neck; swing neck side to side; turn head; open mouth; swing tail; roar. It was loads of fun, and by working several buttons simultaneously I could make it raise its neck, open its mouth, and roar all at once. A little girl, probably not quite two, was enthralled, showing no signs of fear at all. Dinosaurs are scary, but not frightening. (Even if we’ve seen Jurassic Park.)
The main exhibit is on the third floor, and we had scarcely gotten off the elevator when my wife laughed, and called my attention to the first informational panel. There was my childhood hero, Dr. Roy Chapman Andrews – the man who discovered the first dinosaur eggs, and many previously-unknown species, on the Central Asiatic Expeditions for the American Museum of Natural History. With his high boots, broad-brimmed hat, high-powered rifle, gun belt with pistol and cartridges, and expeditions to exotic and dangerous places, he was obviously an inspiration for Indiana Jones.
This third-floor space had multiple dinos, interspersed with artifacts, photos, diagrams, films, and explanatory panels – not only on dinosaurs and their lives, but also on the finding and interpretation of the beasts. You can operate the spike-tailed stegosaurus and the horned triceratops. But the albertosaurus – a smaller (only three or four tons) cousin of tyrannosaurus rex – operates on its own, either set to a timer or activated by motion sensors when someone approaches. The velociraptors, on the other hand, operate and squawk constantly. They could get on your nerves.
(There’s some artistic liberty – nobody knows how dinosaurs actually sounded, or what colors they were.)
The dinosaurs are great, but RMSC also dedicates much of its space to the story of Rochester and its people. There’s a huge diorama of the city as it was two centuries ago, and a mocked-up country store with historic post office boxes – from Ingleside, in the Town of Prattsburgh!
We walked our way through extensive exhibits on Native American life in the Rochester area, and in the United States at large. I made a stop, as I always do when we visit, at a large panel dedicated to Austin Stewart, who walked away from slavery in Bath when he was 22 years old, got legal help to assert his freedom, learned to read, and became an entrepreneur in Rochester. He was honored in the first class of inductees to the Rochester Business Hall of Fame.)
Austin Steward was also an activist fighting for abolition, a comrade of John Brown and Frederick Douglass. Local people asked him to give an address celebrating the end of New York slavery in 1827, and he lived long enough to see it ended throughout America. The exhibit incudes a late-life picture, from the frontispiece of his memoir… perhaps the only picture we have of a person who had been enslaved in Steuben County.
There are also hands-on science and technology exhibits, but our schedule precluded them on this particular day. The dino show goes through May 1. RMSC goes back to 1912, and it has over a million artifacts. You might like it. We sure do.

March On!

“March comes in like a lion, and goes out like a lamb.” I remember my parents explaining that many years ago, as I puzzled over the Sunday funnies back in Rhode Island – how the month often begins with blustery winds, and ends with the first sweet signs of spring.
Perhaps Charlie Brown was trying to fly his kite in those funnies, for March is kite-flying month.
One of those first sweet signs of spring… or maybe not-so-sweet… is skunk cabbage appearing where the ground is streaked with wet, after the snow is gone.
March takes it name from Mars, the Roman god of war… “martial” is another related word. The war god suits well with the blustering gusts.
Heavier-than-air travel came to Steuben on March 12, 1908, when Casey Baldwin piloted “Red Wing” 319 feet across the frozen surface of Keuka Lake. After Dayton and Kitty Hawk, Keuka may have been the next place an airplane flew in America.
March 17 is St. Patrick’s Day, when the ancient Irish saint is honored, and all things Irsh along with him. For many years Hornell has hosted a St. Patrick’s Day parade. (It’s also the day that Casey Baldwin wrecked the “Red Wing,” on its second try, making the first airplane CRASH in Steuben.)
The Super Bowl being over with, we now experience March Madness, the collegiate blood-bath that ends with one (very tired) team still standing.
March 4 used to be presidential inauguration day, but during the Franklin Roosevelt administration it was moved to January 20, communications and transportation having improved a little since 1787.
March 1 is the first day of METEOROLOGICAL spring, while the vernal equinox (first day of ASTRONOMICAL spring) comes on the 20th or 21st. Julius Caesar was assassinated on the 15th, despite having been warned to “Beware the Ides of March!” Daylight savings time begins in March.
The Salem witch trials began in March (it had been a bad winter), and Napoleon returned from Elba to once again threaten the peace of Europe. A hundred days later, with tens of thousands dead on the field at Waterloo, he was on his way to St. Helena. Few rulers have contrived to get so many men killed, in such a short reign, to such little effect.
The Boston Massacre also took place in March, and Santa Ana captured the Alamo. In March of 1918, scientists first recognized the Spanish influenza. In March 2020, we began COVID shutdowns. The March blizzard of 1888 killed 400 people, mostly in and around New York City.
The world’s first national park (Yellowstone, 1872) and America’s first National Wildlife Refuge (Pelican Island, 1903) were created in March – that alone makes March a great month. Michelangelo was born in March, and Johann Sebastian Bach, which is also very special. Almost 200 years ago a former Steuben County woman named her new baby Wyatt Earp.
The Peace Corps was formed in March, and so was the Civilian Conservation Corps.
As we observed last month, February usually begins the maple sugar season, but the sap often keeps on flowing in March. Many producers sell the raw sap, but some process their own, including the folks at Cartwright’s Maple Tree Inn, between Houghton and Angelica. Standing in line on a chilly morning, waiting for pancakes with Cartwright syrup, is a generations-long springtime ritual.
So, shake off the cloudy cloak of winter! Take a stroll around town, (watching out for ice patches). Put on waterproof shoes, and hit the Finger Lakes Trail. The days warm up, and the sun sets later. The drab, tired earth struggles, and then succeeds, to bring forth the first tiny splashes of color. So peek at the neighbors’ streetside flower beds, and see how the bulbs are coming up! Keep your eye peeled for the year’s first robin. Enjoy your March.