May Day at Elmira College

by Erin Doane, Senior Curator

May Day is an ancient spring festival that originated in Europe to rejoice in the coming of summer. In 1902, Dean M. Anstice Harris started what would become a 65-year tradition of celebrating May Day at Elmira College. 

The very first May Day at Elmira College took place on May 2, 1902. The freshmen students were in charge of organizing the festivities. The event began at 4:30 in the afternoon with the campus population gathering on the green lawn next to the pond. First, the freshmen voted for a May Queen from among the sophomore students. After the queen’s name was announced, she was whisked away to be dressed in her ceremonial gown and robes. Once appropriately dressed, she returned with her court to be officially crowned. She took her place on the throne and the freshmen performed a May pole dance. This was followed by a general promenade and social hour before a picnic supper. The evening ended with a lecture by special guest Dr. A.F. Schauffler who presented “Ruin and Rescue” about his mission work in New York City.

Elmira College May Day, 1910s

The celebration was so well received that the second annual May Day festival followed the next year. The event grew more elaborate each year as the new freshman class worked to outdo the previous one. In 1907, there was a dragon and the personification of Winter terrorizing Earth and her followers. The May pole dance was performed by ten young women dressed as milk maids carrying bright tin pails. In 1908, the students had a luncheon at Watkins Glen to celebrate May Day. Watkins Glen became the preferred location of the event from the early 1910s through the 1950s.

May Day dancers, photographed by Fred Loomis, 1926

Each year the freshmen organizers chose a theme. Many celebrations focused on ancient Greek and Roman myths including the stories of Persephone, Diana, Orpheus and Eurydice, and Cupid and Psyche. Olde England was also a popular theme with traditional folk dances and music. Later, the themes became more diverse. In 1935, the students built their May Day around the story of Alice in Wonderland. The dancing and dramatic performances became quite elaborate. Faculty in the physical education department coached the dancers while those in the art department supervised the production of costumes and props.

Elmira College May Day, c. 1930, photographed by Fred Loomis

Music and dancing were always major parts of the May Day celebrations. In 1939, the organizers decided to try something new. Rather than using classic springtime songs paired with traditional choreography, they created modern dances based on Mussorgsky’s “Pictures at an Exhibition.” A newspaper report at the time called the performance “well received if untraditional.” In 1940, modern dance was paired with Tchaikovsky’s Fourth Symphony. Before the event, miss Catherine Finter, head of Elmira College’s physical education department, went on WENY radio to explain the meaning of the dances. A reporter with the Star-Gazette who attended the festivities reported the “most colorful of the abstract interpretations was that of the third movement –‘a succession of capricious arabesques which pass through the mind when one has drunk wine and feels the first touch of intoxication.’”

A preview of the dance program for Elmira College May Day, Star-Gazette, May 16, 1940

At the peak of its popularity, May Day was attended by upwards of 800 students, faculty members, friends, family, and community members. The arrival of the second World War, however, put a damper on festivities. Less ostentatious celebrations were held on campus throughout the 1940s. During the war years, more traditional American music and patriotic songs were added to the program. Post-war saw the celebration’s return to Watkins Glen and when Elmira College acquired Strathmont in 1961, May Day moved there.

May pole dance at Strathmont, Star-Gazette, May 13, 1965

By the mid-1960s the tradition was winding down. Rather than a major stand-alone event, May Day became part of Class Day. The last May Queen was crowned at Elmira College on May 10, 1967, thus ending 65 years of tradition.

The college replaced May Day with Spring Weekend, an outdoor festival with live rock music and alcoholic beverages. I myself participated in the very last Spring Weekend celebration in 1997. The following year, a new May Days event was created which had no connection to the earlier May Day traditions. The reinvented May Days is still celebrated today with a carnival on campus complete with food, games, and music. 

Stand up for Safety: Aviator Leon "Windy" Smith

 by Susan Zehnder, Education Director

    “It is mighty easy Mr. Praeger for you to sit in your swivel chair in Washington and tell the flyers when they can fly…”

Windy Smith in the cockpit

When Leon D. Smith sent this message, it ended up getting him fired from his job and blacklisted from the post office air service. It also set off the first ever pilots’ strike.

Born in Millerton, PA, in 1889, Leon D. Smith was the youngest son of Dr. Frank W. Smith and Mary Anne Miller Smith. His father was a dentist who opened a practice in Elmira at 328 East Water Street. Leon Smith had been called “Windy” since he was a child, because he talked a lot. In school, he was known as an athlete and excelled in football. 

His two older brothers went into farming, but Windy was looking for something different. It wasn't until he met and became friends with aviation pioneer Glenn Curtiss in nearby Hammondsport, that he discovered his lifelong passion for flying. In 1913, Smith graduated from the Curtiss Aviation School, and immediately became a flight instructor. He was 24 years old. The country had a growing need for more pilots. Less than one year later, World War I broke out, and the demand for skilled pilots increased even more.

Teaching flying in Alabama

Flying was new and people were looking for what aviation could offer including moving the mail farther and faster. The first mail flights were in 1911, but regular service didn’t begin until May 15, 1918. The first issued airmail stamp cost 24 cents. The early routes used government-operated planes, and pilots logged valuable long-distance flying time and aerial navigation experience. Establishing regular service meant the mail could be more reliable. The first flight of scheduled service consisted of six U.S. Army “Jenny” biplanes, piloted by military officers. President Woodrow Wilson and U.S. Postmaster General Albert S. Burleson were two of the dignitaries that attended to witness their take-off. Each of the six planes carried over a hundred pounds of mail from Washington, D.C., to Belmont Park, New York City. The flight was 218 miles, necessitating a brief stopover in Philadelphia. Of these six planes, one didn’t make it. The pilot became disoriented soon after take-off, and he needed to return to earth. Upon landing, the plane was badly damaged, so his payload of mail was loaded on a truck and driven back to Washington.

After four months, the Aerial Mail Service of the U.S. Post Office Department was established and took over mail delivery. Now, the department had a fleet of purpose-built biplanes staffed by a crew of civilian pilots. In December 1918, 28-year-old Leon D. “Windy” Smith was hired as one of those pilots.

Six months later, on June 22, 1919, the weather turned to heavy fog and the pilots complained to each other. Smith took it farther and wrote directly to Second Assistant Postmaster General Otto Praeger with his objections. He pointed out that only a week earlier, Charles Lamborn, whom he called one of the best flyers in the United States, had lost his life while attempting to deliver the mail.

Praeger immediately fired pilots Smith and E. Hamilton Lee for refusing to fly. This motivated all the pilots to go on strike and for weeks, airmail service stopped completely. When it was over, all pilots, except Smith, were rehired. Praeger held fast to his grudge against Smith.

Praeger had been appointed to his position by Postmaster General Burleson, his one qualification being that he was Burleson’s fishing and hunting buddy. Praeger was ambitious but lacked experience and understanding of the new kind of transportation. Between 1918 and 1926, thirty-five pilots lost their lives in service to the U.S. Postal Service. Being denied his job with the Post Office didn’t stop Smith from flying. 

Posing with his stunt woman

He went back to teaching pilots to fly, and he started “Windy Smith’s Air Circus,” an aerial acrobatics and stunt business. One of those daring stunts was covered in another one of our blogs titled FallingWomen: Elmira’s Lady Parachutists.

Leon D. “Windy” Smith, always known as a safe pilot, died in 1960 at the age of 70. He is buried in Woodlawn Cemetery.

 

True Crime Reporting

By Rachel Dworkin, Archivist

 

On March 15, 1964, 12-year-old Mary Theresa Simpson went missing after heading home from her cousin’s house. After a few hours of waiting, her father called the police. For the next few days, the police combed the city looking for her. On March 19^th, a trio of hikers stumbled across her body in a wooded area just off of Combs Hill Road in Southport. 

Mary Theresa Simpson

 This March, I received multiple research requests about her murder from self-identified true crime enthusiasts.

People’s fascination with true crime is nothing new. Beginning in the 1500s, British publishers began printing thousands of pamphlets and broadsides describing the exploits of various criminals. The publications tended to focus on the gory details of especially violent or unusual crimes and often carried strong moralizing crime-doesn’t-pay messages regarding the criminals’ eventual comeuppance. By the 1700s, America had its own criminals and presses with which to write about them. Newspapers provided readers with minute-by-minute accounts of crimes, manhunts, and trials as they unfolded.

The 21^st century is no less interested in true crime than our ancestors, although today the format is a bit different. TV documentaries about crime and criminals first gained popularity in the 1980s. Hits shows like Unsolved Mysteries and America’s Most Wanted, which presented new, real-life, stories each week, captivated audiences. In 2020, the streaming platform Netflix brought Unsolved Mysteries back. After the success of their documentary series Making a Murderer (2015), Netflix quickly became the king of the true crime docuseries with over 11 shows focusing on different cases.

True crime podcasts got their start in 2014 with Serial, the first season of which focused on the murder of 18-year-old Hae Min Lee in Baltimore in 1999. The podcast was an instant hit. Since its release, it has been downloaded 340 million times, making it the most downloaded podcast in the world. Its popularity spawned literally hundreds of copycats.

In US, women make up 73% of consumers of digital true crime media. Studies show that people who listen to true crime are more likely to be afraid of being victimized themselves, although it is unclear if that is a result of consuming true crime or the reason they seek it out. There are numerous complaints against true crime. The genre has been criticized for the way third parties make money off of other people’s trauma, often re-traumatizing them in the process. Some works blend actual facts with fictional elements and rampant speculation in ways that can give audiences distorted views of the case.

The true crime genre isn’t all bad. The first season of Serial, for example, helped shine a light on a miscarriage of justice that lead to a man being released from prison. Shows like Unsolved Mysteries and America’s Most Wanted have actually helped to solve crimes. The original run of Unsolved Mysteries helped spark renewed interest that lead to the solving of 260 cold cases. America’s Most Wanted helped lead to the capture of 1,400 wanted fugitives and the recovery of over 60 missing children.

In 1964, the local press gave extensive coverage to Mary Theresa Simpson’s murder. The day after her body was discovered, 50 men, including an Elmira Star-Gazette reporter, did a sweep of the area where her body was found. They uncovered her glasses, several buttons off her blouse, and an assortment of trash. Every part of the search was documented by the reporter’s camera. The newspaper coverage included interviews with her family, a timeline events, search photos, a map of the crime scene, and a detailed description of the girl’s body. In the days following her murder, the Star-Gazette and WELM Radio offered a reward of $1,000 for any information leading to her killer’s arrest.

Search in the area where Mary's body was found

 

Patrolman Robert Loomis with button found during search

 

The police were hard at work on the case. They established a joint special task force consisting of officers from the Elmira PD, state police, and Chemung County Sheriff’s Department. Together, the task force interviewed over 300 people across multiple states including some as far away as Arizona. Seven suspects agreed to submit to a lie detector test, but no one was ever charged. After six months, the task force was dissolved. After a year, the reward money fund was donated to the Arctic League in Mary’s honor.

Eight years later in October 1972, the Star-Gazette re-ran the details of the Simpson murder and offered $5,000 for information leading to an arrest. They created a special system for accepting anonymous tips that could still let people collect the reward. Over the next few months, tips flooded in. The Elmira Police Department briefly re-opened the case, but ultimately, nothing came of it. To this day, Mary Theresa Simpson’s murder remains unsolved. 

 

Star-Gazette's instructions on submitting tips to the secret witness program, 1972

By all accounts, Mary was a shy girl. Her family moved around a lot and she struggled to make friends. She was wary of strangers and once turned down a ride from an uncle because she didn’t know him well. No one except her killer knows how she ended up dead on Combs Hill. Maybe the renewed interest in her case will lead to justice, or at least answers. We can only hope.

An Artist’s Artist: Julius Lars Hoftrup

by Erin Doane, Senior Curator

Two different donors recently gave us paintings by Lars Hoftrup. One donated three watercolors and the other a single oil on board. It felt like an odd coincidence that these four paintings came to us in just two months’ time, so I decided I should write something about them for this blog.

The Haunted House, by Lars Hoftrup, 1947, oil on board, new donation

Upon doing some research online, I discovered that while the Swedish-born painter, who lived out most of his life in Pine City, was nationally-known in his time, there is very little about him on the internet outside of local sources. Elmira city historian Diane Janowski has a page about him and his longtime companion Armand Carmen Wargny on her website. There is also an active Lars Hoftrup and Armand Wargny Facebook group administered by Jan Kevin Liberatore. Otherwise, there are only a few very brief biographies on general art websites. Fortunately, the archive here at CCHS has a thick folder of information and a subscription to Newspapers.com.

Lars Hoftrup (standing) and Armond Wargny (seated) at Artstorp
taken by Star-Gazette photographer Wells Crandall in the mid-1940s
and reprinted in the June 1961 Chemung Historical Journal.

Julius Lars Hoftrup was born in Kjevlinge, Sweden in 1874 to parents Anders and Anna. He came to the United States with his family in 1881 when he was just six years old. At first, they lived on the top of Mt. Zoar before purchasing a farmhouse and barns on Curren Road near Pine City. The young Lars always wanted to be an artist. He got his primary education in Elmira schools then studied art in fits and starts when money was available. He attended Cooper Union in New York City briefly, worked to save more money, studied at the Art Student’s League for a time, then took a position as photographer with a small motion picture company. The company sent him to work in the Midwest and it was in Davenport, Iowa that his art career really took off.

Watercolor by Lars Hoftrup, new donation

While in Davenport, Lars became acquainted with the wealthy Mrs. Baker who bought a number of his paintings and became his first patron. With the money he made from the sales, he was able to take his first trip abroad. He traveled and painted throughout the Mediterranean, finding the South of France and Northern Africa particularly inspiring. After his journey, he moved back to New York City where he eventually became one of fifteen artists who established their own gallery called “The Fifteen Gallery.”

Play boat, Auray, France, by Lars Hoftrup, watercolor, new donation

During the summers, Lars spent his time painting at his family home in Pine City. When the Great Depression hit and the Fifteen Gallery closed, he returned to Pine City and settled there permanently. He established a studio there where he hosted artist friends and taught students. Sculptor Ernfred Anderson, another Swedish-born artist who moved to the Elmira in the 1930s, dubbed Lars’s residence “Artstorp,” meaning “art farm” in Swedish. Artstorp became a sort of mecca for established artists, watercolor enthusiasts, and students alike and Lars welcomed them all. The Elmira Art Club’s annual picnic was held there for many years.

Watercolor of Artstorp by Talitha Botsford, 1960

Many artists visited Artstorp but only one, other than Lars himself, lived there long-term. Armand Wargny was born in France in 1870. He came to the United States and studied art at the Chicago Institute. That was where he met Lars Hoftrup. The pair became close companions and in 1932, Armand moved in with Lars at his Pine City farm. According to Lars’s obituary in the Star-Gazette, “The men were such good friends that neither intruded upon the work or the mood of the other. Work over, they prepared their own meals and whiled away their evenings in artists’ talk.” Toward the end of his life, Armand became quite ill. Lars took care of him “with the loving care of a mother for her babe,” according to Rosamond C. Gaydash who spent some time at Artstorp. Armand’s death in 1947 was a severe blow to Lars.

Film of J. Lars Hoftrup and Armand Wargny
at Artstorp Studio, c. 1941

Lars continued to paint and travel. In the 1952, while in France, he underwent emergency surgery at the American Hospital in Paris. He never really regained his health after that. He returned to Pine City and died at home early in the morning on April 11, 1954. He was 80 years old. He was laid to rest in Woodlawn Cemetery. His beloved Artstorp was left mostly empty for years, only visited occasionally by the heirs of the estate. In the 1960s, vandals damaged the buildings and scrap metal scavengers looted the home and barns. In January 1972, the home was destroyed by fire. It was thought that vandals had set it ablaze.

Harbor Concarneau by Lars Hoftrup, watercolor, new donation

Long-time friend Ernfred Anderson described Lars Hoftrup as “an artist’s artist.” He was a modern impressionist working chiefly in watercolors but also in oils. The subject of many of his works was the beauty that he saw all around him on his travels throughout the United States and the world, and at home in the Chemung Valley. He once said, “real art is spiritual, not physical. It is the painter’s method of expressing emotion and is not made to sell.” His works have found permanent homes in major galleries such as the Brooklyn Museum, Cleveland Museum, Duncan Phillips Memorial Gallery, and the Arnot Art Museum, as well as right here at the Chemung County Historical Society and in countless private homes.

 

The Demise of the Beneficial Order of Earnest Workers

by Susan Zehnder, Education Director 

Every day when opening our social media accounts, we discover new scams aimed at tempting us to send money or provide personal information. Despite filters, and best intentions, it just seems to be part of doing business in the early 21^st century. A blessing and a curse, digital media have increased our risk, and artificial intelligence has made scams more sophisticated. But, is this different than before? A look back at newspapers from the late 19^th century proves that while the scale of scams may have increased, they are certainly nothing new.

One national scam with local impact took place in the spring of 1891. The Star-Gazette reported that over a period of four weeks, a group of citizens in Elmira lost a total of $1,500, or $50,000 in today’s money. The unfortunate group had joined a newly formed chapter of a national organization with the unlucky name of The Beneficial Order of Earnest Workers (BOEW).

Unidentified factory workers, 1890-1920, Elmira, NY

Headquartered in Philadelphia,  the BOEW boasted over 28,000 members nationwide, with the Elmira chapter counting for 128 members. The organization was one of a number of short-term beneficial societies that promised to pay investors $100 in return for their small investment in only nine weeks. At one time, the New Jersey branch took in over $25,000 in investments every week. Though not all beneficial societies were corrupt, this entire organization was.

Today, the name of the organization seems quaint, though it was a term used to describe a collective or cooperative financial group. Sometimes called friendly societies, benevolent societies focused on providing funds for a group financial or social purpose and were common before modern insurance or organized social services. Beneficial societies can still be found in countries where larger banks do not want to invest.

This society, however, wasn’t built on altruistic ideas. Instead, the officers schemed to extract hard-earned cash from anyone willing to risk their money. Men with titles like The Supreme President, The Supreme Treasurer, and The Supreme Secretary of the Beneficial Order of Earnest Workers enticed their unsuspecting victims.

When the scheme fell apart, after only a matter of weeks, various members were arrested in Philadelphia. At least one of these reportedly had his travel cases packed and tickets bought, knowing he needed to escape. One of the Elmira officers traveled to Philadelphia to recover money, but was unsuccessful. Sums lost ranged from $37 to nearly $700. Writing about the scandal, The Star-Gazette mentions a “prominent disinterested lawyer” in Philadelphia remarking that because the victims willingly invested, it would be hard to pursue justice.

It’s not clear if any of the victims ever recovered some or all of their investments. Certainly, the Elmira members were not the only ones, but for a few days in 1891, it made a dramatic story in the paper.

We like to think we’re smarter than that, but today’s schemes continue to lure unsuspecting victims. Below is information from the US government on ways to avoid being a victim of scams, and we encourage you to share it with anyone who might benefit. 

Ace Photographer

By Rachel Dworkin, archivist

 Over the years, I must have seen the logo of Ace Photo Studio on the back of a hundred photos in our collection, but I didn’t know much about the studio or George “Ace” Horsey, the man who owned it. Then two of his nieces came in looking to see what we had on their family. In the end, they wound up educating me! They kindly shared their family’s story with me so I, in turn, could share it with you.

 

 

George “Ace” Horsey Jr. (1926-1990) was born in Salisbury, Maryland one of the seven children of Danie and George Horsey Sr. He was always interested in photography. While serving in the United States Army Air Corps in World War II, he got an opportunity to take a training course on the subject. In 1950, Horsey, his wife Mary, and their young family moved to Elmira so he could take a job at the General Electric (G.E.) Foundry as the plant photographer. He took pictures for advertising purposes and the G.E. News, the company newspaper. In 1956, he was elected sergeant-at-arms in the plant’s Electrical Workers Union and served on the labor contract negotiation team at one point. 

 

From G.E. News, January 15, 1954

Outside of work, Horsey was a member of the Douglas A.M.E. Zion Church where he frequently took pictures of members and events. Quite a number of his photographs ended up in the local newspaper throughout the 1950s. In 1956, he began volunteering at the Neighborhood House where he served as the instructor for the Camera Club. He took kids on photo shoots to area parks, taught them how to develop film, and served as judge during their annual photography show. He eventually became involved on the Neighborhood House board of trustees, serving as treasurer for a time.

 

Douglas A.M.E. Zion Church choir, ca. 1960s

Horsey and his family prospered in Elmira. He and Mary had four children: Mary, Barbara, Vanessa, and George III. He encouraged his aging parents and siblings to join him here. Most did. Many of their children still live in the area today. 

 

Danie & George Horsey Sr. with children George Jr., Epluribus, Louise, Richard & Geneva, ca. 1950s

 

Horsey children Mary, George III, Barbara & Vanessa, ca. 1950s

Horsey children Mary, George III, Barbara & Vanessa, ca.1980

In 1958, Horsey opened Ace Photo Studio, Elmira's first Black-owned photography studio. It was originally located at 665 Lake Street, although the studio had a number of homes over the years. Horsey specialized in portraits, weddings, and commercial photographs. He was very interested in historic photography and also offered a service where he would make new copies of customers’ old family photos. Horsey retired and closed his studio in 1984. He died on May 29, 1990, leaving behind his family and a wealth of images documenting over 40 years of Elmira’s history.

Ace Photo Studio, ca. 1970s

 

The negatives from Ace Photo Studio are held by his family. One of his nieces generously allowed me to scan some for this blog. The truth is, there are so many fascinating people and stories in Chemung County and we here at the Historical Society barely know a tenth of them. It is only through the efforts and generosity of the community that we are able to learn about and share them. Thank you, Horsey family, for sharing your story. Thank you to the next person who shares theirs too.