Hammondsport School was closed. On the streets and in the Square, scarcely a sound was heard. Shops stood idle, almost empty, and in some cases were even closed. In vain did the retailers peer wistfully through their plate-glass windows, hoping for a glimpse of potential customers. Hammondsport was empty. Everyone had gone to the Bath Fair.
Steuben County Fair was at the end of September in those days, and was so popular that school was indeed called off for Thursday and Friday of fair week, when the B&H groaned from carrying all those eager Hammondsporters down the line. Not only did the fair provide entertainment in a world with no TV, no radio, only a few hand-cranked gramophones, and only occasional crude movies; it was also an important educational showcase for agricultural products and techniques. Steuben County, like many rural counties, was still primarily agricultural in those days.
The State Fair in Syracuse ran from the 9th through the 14th; admission cost a quarter. September 11 was Carrie Nation Day at the Yates County Fair in Penn Yan.
There was another fair still going on in Buffalo at the time, of course—The Pan-American Exposition, or, as we would now call it, the world’s fair. Mr. and Mrs. C. G. Wheeler visited the Pan-Am from Catawba, as did Rua Gay and Elmer J. Orr of Rheims, not to mention Victor and Julia Masson of Hammondsport and a whole excursion from Steuben County Pomona Grange. The fair’s publicity director, former Hammondsporter Marc Bennitt, suavely recommended that visitors plan to stay at least two weeks, “to enjoy more fully this rare opportunity for pleasure and study…. No one who can possibly raise the money to visit the Exposition should for a moment think of denying himself this signal advantage.”
Admission was 50 cents, including all the grounds, the exhibit buildings, and the Stadium, where visitors could see athletic events, livestock shows, and vehicle parades. Midway concessions ranged from a dime to half a dollar. Fifty cents would get you comfortable lodgings, while accommodations closer to the Pan-Am ran as high as a dollar a night. Marc estimated daily expenses in Buffalo at no more than $2.50 “for those who want the best.” One visitor apparently decided to defray his costs by stealing the Mexican Liberty Bell.
President McKinley, who thoroughly enjoyed world’s fairs, visited and was shot on September 5. He later died of his wounds, as we aw two weeks ago.
Harvest was on the minds of many people. Delaware grapes were selling at $50 a ton, while potatoes got 65 to 75 cents a bushel, and peaches $1.50 a basket. Apple buyers paid $3.12½ to pick their own. Amos Roberts of Addison stated that “he never knew how uncertain things were until he invested in a vineyard.”
The baseball season was winding up, although “rowdies” from Penn Yan made an unfortunate presence in a game at Hammondsport’s Kinglsey Flats. Out on the lake, a tramp named Peter Gunning assaulted William Maxfield, an African-American fireman aboard steamer Halsey. When Gunning pulled a pistol, “Max” knocked him down with the flat of an axe. Gunning was subdued, trussed up, bustled off the boat in Penn Yan, and sent to Monroe County prison for four months. There was also considerable excitement at Sub Rosa landing, where a wharf collapsed and dunked 20 people waiting for a steamer, apparently without serious harm. More sedate excitement prevailed at Keuka College, which had just met its goal of raising $25,000, thereby qualifying for a $50,000 challenge grant from the Ball brothers, canning-jar magnates of Muncie, Indiana.
The plate glass for the new Hammondsport Opera House arrived damaged, which threatened to hold up the opening of the facility, but J. S. Hubbs’s new residence was proceeding on schedule. The Bath Fish Hatchery shipped 40,000 trout to Seneca Lake, while the Soldiers’ Home started its switch from female nurses to male nurses. Mrs. James Shannon of Mount Washington, whose husband had been killed by lightning in June, received her full $2000 from his life insurance policy with the Knights of the Maccabees Royal Tent #72 in Bath. Scientific American informed its readers that if you wore rubbers in a thunderstorm, and refrained from touching anything, you had nothing to fear. Do you think that would have helped Mr. Shannon?