When National News Hits Home

 by Susan Zehnder, Education Director

In the spring of 1970, students from colleges and universities across the nation were protesting the country’s involvement in the Vietnam War. On Monday, May 4, just after noon, reports of a deadly shooting suddenly hit the national news. In 13 seconds, the Ohio National Guard had fired 67 rounds of ammunition into a crowd of protesters at Kent State University. When it was over, four students were dead, nine others were seriously wounded, and hundreds of people had witnessed the event. In response, the university immediately shut down its campus, and for the next six weeks students had to meet off campus with faculty members to complete their semester.

Historians look at events like Kent State, through primary sources to build understanding and help provide context. In the case of Kent State, in addition to eyewitness accounts, numerous documentary films, dramatizations, writings, songs, music, and prize-winning photographs memorialize what happened fifty-five years ago.

Today it is accepted that what took place that Monday in north-eastern Ohio contributed to changing the trajectory of public opinion about American military involvement in the Vietnam War.

At the time, at least four students from Chemung County were attending the university: Mike Tacka, Jay Williams, William Leggiero, and Steve Saracene. These young men, all in their late teens and early twenties, were the same age as many of those being drafted and sent off to fight. They were also about the same age as many of the National Guardsmen who fired upon the protesters.

The Star-Gazette, May 6, 1970

College life in the 1970s looked very different than it does today. Students gathered information from radio broadcasts instead of social media. There were no cell phones with cameras or instantaneous access to the world stage. Newspapers were common, but campus newspapers were often not published on a regular basis.

Earlier that spring, there had been a call for college students to protest the country’s involvement in the war by organizing strikes to get attention. Many national papers covered this brewing unrest, including those printed on May 4. However, by that evening things had changed. Kent State had closed, and the Chemung County students had already returned home. Two days later they were interviewed by the Star-Gazette.

The young men shared their eyewitness and personal accounts. Imagine how brave they had to be to do this, since no one knew what kind of impact this incident would have, or if there would be backlash for or against anyone.

Mike Tacka declared, “it was just like a war zone.” Bill Leggiero said, “There was just a big pool of blood in the middle of the road.” And about the guardsmen, Jay Williams said that “some of them fired into the air. Others fired directly into the crowd.”

A fourth student, Steve Saracene, didn’t witness the shootings, but heard the gunfire. He noted that “the shootings alienated many students who previously had been middle-of-the-road and had taken no part in demonstrations.”

For anyone who experiences or witnesses events like Kent State, memories will persist. Making sense of what happened takes time. While in the middle of events, it is nearly impossible to see how things connect or contribute to the arc of history. For those brave enough to document their experiences to share with others, we are thankful.

A Case of Measles

By Rachel Dworkin, Archivist

 

Earlier in the year, I had a researcher who came every Friday for a month to look at our collection of reports of the Elmira Board of Health. I asked her what she was looking for. She explained that she was an ER nurse and was looking at historical records to see what the hospital might be in for if people stopped vaccinating their kids. “It’s going to be bad,” she said, looking over her notes. “It’s going to be really bad.”

At present, the State of New York requires that all students be vaccinated against measles, mumps, rubella, diphtheria, tetanus, pertussis, polio, hepatitis B, and chickenpox in order to attend public schools (unless they have a medical exception). Additionally, students in grades 7 through 12 are required to have the meningococcal disease vaccine while kids in day care or pre-k must have haemophilus influenzae type b and pneumococcal conjugate vaccines. Any one of these diseases can cause lasting debilitation or even death. Since the measles are in the news again after a series of deadly outbreaks, I’m going to focus on that one.

Measles is a highly-contagious disease which is spread through coughing, sneezing, etc. Symptoms include a high fever, cough, runny nose, inflamed eyes, white spots in the mouth called Koplik spots, and a red rash which spreads from face to feet. The symptoms appear within 10 to 12 days after exposure and usually last about a week. Common complications include diarrhea, ear infection, and pneumonia, but some unlucky sufferers can get inflammation of the brain resulting in seizures, blindness, and lasting brain damage. The virus causes patients’ immune systems to reset, making them susceptible to other illnesses, even ones they’ve already had, for several years after. Approximately 2.5 of every 1,000 modern cases results in death.

Looking at the historical record, measles was consistently the most common communicable illness in Chemung County. The exact numbers fluctuated from year to year. In 1925, there were just 49 reported cases in the City of Elmira. In 1949, there were 2,395 cases resulting in 2 deaths. In the days before antibiotics, patients were more likely to die of complications, especially pneumonia. In October 1869, an outbreak of measles at the Southern Tier Orphan’s Home resulted in 14 cases. Two children died. In an interview with the newspaper, the home’s matron said, “It is a comfort to think that these little ones, whose early life had been so darkly shadowed, are now safely gathered in a permanent Home, where sickness never enters, where want and orphanage are unknown, and where they may enjoy all the privileges of heirship in that beautiful land on equal footing with the children of wealth and nobility.” 

 

Elmira Board of Health, Annual Report, 1949

When cases were reported to the local Board of Health, officials would placard and quarantine the homes of patients in hopes of stopping the spread. In June 1897, there was a bit of a mystery surrounding the removal of a health placard placed at the multi-family home at 604 East Water Street. Mrs. Martha Tuttle, originally of North Chemung, was renting rooms there so her 15-year-old son might attend Elmira Free Academy. When he contracted measles, the home was placarded and quarantined. Mrs. Tuttle took her son home to North Chemung to recover and someone at the house removed the sign so the other residents could go back to school and work. The removal of a health placard without the approval of the health department was technically a crime, but no one was ever charged. While it was rare for people to just remove signs, it was apparently not uncommon for people to not report cases so as to avoid being placarded in the first place.

Elmira Gazette, June 30, 1897

The measles vaccine was first approved for use in the United States in 1963. There were subsequent improvements to the vaccine in 1968. A few years later in 1971, it was combined with vaccines for mumps and rubella to form the MMR vaccine. Children must receive two doses to be fully immunized. Thanks to the vaccine, measles was declared eliminated in the United States in 2000, but, since then, it has made a resurgence thanks to vaccine hesitancy among certain groups. According to the CDC, as of May 22, there were 1,046 confirmed cases of measles in 2025 across 31 states. 96% of those patients were unvaccinated, 12% required hospitalization, and three have died.

Knowledge of the past is essential for understanding the present. It’s also important for predicting possible future outcomes of our decisions. Most American’s Gen X and younger have never had measles, let alone known someone who died from it. And yet, a quick look at the historical record proves my researcher is right. Stopping vaccination will result in more infections and more death. The good news is, by arming ourselves with that knowledge, we still have time to make better choices.  

The Milliner’s Goldfish

by Erin Doane, Senior Curator

On September 15, 1939, Mrs. Bertha Whitley’s pet goldfish passed away. Such an event would not normally make the news but, in this case, the goldfish was reportedly 41 years old. If true, it would have been born around 1898. That was the year the USS Maine exploded in Cuba’s Havana Harbor, sparking the Spanish-American War. The same year saw the founding of the Goodyear tire company, the annexation of Hawaii by the U.S., and the discovery of radium by Marie Curie. The goldfish would have lived through the First World War, the Roaring Twenties, and the Great Depression.

Matt Richardson wrote about Mrs. Whitley and her goldfish in his “‘Round Town” column in the Star-Gazette on November 14, 1939. He sounded a bit skeptical about her claim that the goldfish had lived 41 years, but he didn’t push the issue. He wrote about her home about two miles west of Fitch’s Bridge with its $400 fence with two swinging ornamental iron gates and how she liked listening to the radio. He also mentioned that she had worked for nearly 50 years in the millinery and hair goods business in downtown Elmira, having been trained by Louisa Hoppe, one of the city’s best wigmakers.

After reading Mr. Richardson’s article, I dug a bit more into Mrs. Whitley’s life. She was born Bertha A. Valois in 1857. Her parents were of German and Swiss descent, according to the 1930 census. She married Eugene Whitley, three years her junior, on November 2, 1890 at the Park Church in Elmira. Rev. Thomas K. Beecher officiated. They did not appear to have had children. Mr. Whitley worked several different jobs. The city directories list him as a farmer, painter, gardener, and clerk over the course of about 30 years. Mrs. Whitley first appears in the 1893 directory as a milliner at 328 East Water Street. Around 1900, she moved her shop to 135 East Water Street where she remained for more than 25 years. The couple lived on West Water Street until 1910 when they moved to Maple Avenue. Around 1920, they moved into the house past Fitch’s Bridge where Mr. Richardson spoke with Mrs. Whitley.

The big question I could not find an answer to in my research was: when did the Whitleys acquire their goldfish? If the goldfish was born about 1889, one or the other of them could have had the fish before they got married. Was it Mr. Whitley or Mrs. Whitley who first brought the young fry home? While goldfish were very common as pets at that time, I can’t guess whether they appealed more to men or women. Either way, it seems the goldfish was with them their entire marriage.

Goldfish were first introduced to North America in the 1850s. The species of carp, originally from East Asia, quickly became popular as pets in the United States. Goldfish became so widespread by the mid-1900s, they were often given away as carnival game prizes. I always wanted to win a fish at our local carnival and I’m sure my parents were glad I never did.

A goldfish’s lifespan is greatly determined by its environment. A goldfish in a small bowl or container lives an average of 6 months to 5 years. A tank or aquarium, with good filtration and suitable food, can increase that to 10-15 years. The best environment for the little creatures is a natural pond where they can live for up to 20 years. For Mrs. Whitley’s goldfish to have lived 41 years is phenomenal, but not impossible. The Guinness Book of World Records lists the world’s oldest goldfish as Tish, owned by Hilda Hand of Thirsk, North Yorkshire, England. Tish was 43 years old when it died in 1999. Tom and Pauline Evans of Bradninch, Devon, England were owners of Goldie, a 45 year old goldfish who died in 2005. They, unfortunately, didn’t have the documentation needed to get into the record book.

Mrs. Whitley didn’t report doing anything special to keep her aquatic pet alive for so many years. She changed its water once a week and fed it fish food from Banfield’s. Now named Banfield-Baker, the seed and animal feed company was founded in 1880 by Frederick Jennings as Jennings Seed Company. It became Banfield-Jennings Corp. in 1920 and was located at 222 W. Water Street in Elmira. Mrs. Whitley would have gotten her fish food there until the end of her pet’s life. The business moved to Railroad Avenue in the 1940s and became Banfield-Baker in 1960. The Bakers had been involved in the company since 1935. In 1977, during Elmira’s urban renewal, the city acquire the company’s building, and it moved out of downtown to 2512 Corning Road. You can still shop at Banfield-Baker today, though I don’t know if they still sell fish food.

After her goldfish’s passing, Mrs. Whitley was left living all on her own in her tidy little house near the Bennett Crossing. Her husband had passed away just a year before their goldfish on October 7, 1938. She had retired from her millinery store downtown more than ten years earlier but still engaged in the business of false hair for women out of her home. In the summer, she also grew berries to sell, sometimes making up to $75 for a single crop. She passed away at home on June 13, 1940. She and her husband are interred in Woodlawn Cemetery in the mausoleum. There’s no record of the final resting place of her long-lived goldfish and I never learned its name.

Going up?

By Susan Zehnder, Education Director

Elevator call buttons from Gorton Coy building

In the late 1800s, one of the newest technological marvels started showing up in Elmira. Or to be more accurate, showing up and down, as the marvel in question was the passenger elevator. Elevator platforms lifted by a set of pulleys and cables, had around since Roman times. They were found to be useful when moving heavy objects. As buildings got taller, many were put to use but they were slow and dangerous. In Elmira, companies like the Elmira Stamping and Paper Manufacturing Company and the LaFrance Fire Engine Company relied on freight elevators to move equipment. They occasionally experienced mishaps or tragic accidents so the idea of using elevators to move people seemed unthinkable.

Attitudes changed with a simple demonstration at the first American World’s Fair in 1852. Raising a platform elevator before an anxious crowd at the Crystal Palace Exhibition, the lone passenger cut its retaining rope. Instead of crashing to the floor as expected, the platform held fast as its safety brake prevented it from falling. “All safe, gentlemen, all safe,” its passenger called out, and the crowd cheered. That man was Elisha Otis, and his company, Union Elevator and General Machine Works by Elisha Otis, went on to change its name to the Otis Elevator company, and is still in business today, over 170 years later.

Otis installed the first passenger elevator in the E. V. Haughwout department store in New York City. Although the building was only five stories high, the elevator’s novelty attracted crowds of curious people. Many of them admired the contraption’s noteworthy speed --one foot per second. Today the average elevator travels 5 to 10 feet per second. Inspired by its success and novelty, other businesses contracted to install their own elevators by retrofitting them into existing buildings.

The first mention of a passenger elevator in Elmira shows up in 1891 in the Star-Gazette newspaper. 
Unfortunately, it wasn’t for the best reason. The paper reported that late in the evening the elevator in the Robinson building got stuck for over an hour, and stranded the elevator operator. He was eventually freed by Mr. George Brooks, who worked in the building.

Other newspaper articles explained how elevators worked, what to expect when riding an elevator, and how to conduct oneself around others while riding an elevator. Unlike social expectations when men and women passed each other on the street, it was advised that while riding in an elevator men should keep their hats on to avoid catching colds.

Then there were reports of people coming down with a mysterious elevator sickness. Speculation was the motion of the elevator made some people feel ill.  

In 1897 the City Hall elevator made its first trip, and by the early 20^th century, many buildings around town had elevators, including the YMCA building, the Langwell and Rathbun hotels, and the Women’s Federation Building. 

By 1909, the city was soliciting bids to install a new elevator in City Hall.

While elevators became more common, accidents still happened and weren’t always as simple as just being stuck between floors. Reports of gruesome elevator accidents may have sold papers, but didn’t do much to reassure the public. 

Diagrams of how elevators worked were printed in the papers, and many buildings employed a dedicated elevator operator to assist passengers with opening and closing their heavy doors. It also became customary for operators to wear military-style uniforms to emphasize they were reliable and well-trained.

We can thank Alexander Miles, the father of young Grace, for one of the biggest improvements in elevator safety. When his daughter accidentally fell down an elevator shaft and survived, Miles, an African American inventor from Ohio, designed a device to prevent this kind of accident from happening again. Now when an elevator reached a floor, and only after it had stopped, the doors would automatically open and close. Not only was it a reassuring new safety feature, it saved businesses money by eliminating the need for operators. In 1919, the Second National Bank added Chemung County’s first automatic elevator.

Today the papers rarely publish reports of elevator accidents or elevators getting stuck. And no one wonders if they should leave their hat on or take it off.   

 

 

An American Manufacturing Story: American LaFrance

 By Rachel Dworkin, archivist

Last week I spent two days cataloging a collection of 163 photographs of the final assembly process for an American LaFrance fire truck. Paul Walker, the company’s Director of Engineering from 1983 to 1985, had taken the photos in January 1985 in order to document the process and see how it might be improved. It wasn’t like a modern auto plant with robots on an assembly line. It was just a team of guys working together to assemble a series of pre-fabricated parts to make a fire truck. 

 

The LaFrance Manufacturing Company, founded by Truckson LaFrance, built its first fire engine in late 1873. In those early days, the company made all sorts of things: rail fence machines, cotton pickers, corn shellers, and even railroad locomotives. By the 1880s, however, it was strictly focused on fire engines. In 1903, the company merged with serval other companies to found the American LaFrance Fire Engine Company. For the next 80 years, the company was the premier name in American firefighting equipment and a major Chemung County employer. Then the company left Elmira in 1985 for points south. For the next few decades, it dwindled in size and quality before being picked apart by vulture capitalists. The once-proud company filed for bankruptcy in 2008 and ceased operation altogether in 2014.

At its peak, the American LaFrance plant covered over 48 acres on Elmira’s Southside. The plant included a machine shop, paint shop, warehouses and a main office, plus buildings for pump assembly, cab & body assembly, frame and ladder assembly, engine assembly, and truck assembly. In 1957, 975 people worked at the plant itself with another 1,200 employed as salesmen throughout the country. At the time, they had an annual payroll of $6,500,000 (approximately $73,974,857 today). They completed two trucks a day.

Given the company’s long history in Elmira, it’s no surprise we have quite a bit of it. Here’s a quick rundown of our collections related to the American LaFrance Company:

1.    Two motorized and one horse-drawn fire engines
2.    Collection of 150^th American LaFrance anniversary celebration material, 1982
3.     4.5 linear feet of American LaFrance promotional literature and product guides
4.     2 linear feet of Blazes, the American LaFrance newsletter from 1919-1928, 1940-1954
5.    2 linear feet of photographs of American LaFrance facilities, products, and employees
6.      2 linear feet of glass-plate negatives of American LaFrance products, 1890s-1910s
7.      Nearly 100 technical drawings of American LaFrance products
8.     Papers of former American LaFrance employees including Carol A. Hall, Marshall Cecce, and John Darrow

While none of this material is currently on display, most are available upon request during our regular research hours from 1pm to 5pm, Monday through Friday. The fire engines are stored off-site and researchers must make an appointment at least a week in advance if they want to see them.

The last American LaFrance truck produced in Elmira rolled off the line on June 28, 1985. Paul Walker had a photo of that too. Thank you to his son who donated it along with all the others. If you have American LaFrance material or stories you’d like to share, we would love to hear from you. Contact me at (607) 734-4167 ex. 207 or archivist@chemungvalleymuseum.org. 

Last fire truck from the Elmira American LaFrance plant & team who built it, June 28, 1985

 

Arbor Day at Quarry Farm

by Erin Doane, Senior Curator

On May 7, 1909, 225 boys descended upon East Hill overlooking Elmira. Over the course of the morning, they planted some 3,000 pine and spruce trees at Quarry Farm. The Star-Gazette called it the most substantial observance of Arbor Day ever conducted in this city.

Susan Crane and the corps of tree planting boys at Quarry Farm

Arbor Day was the brainchild of J. Sterling Morton, a newspaper editor in Nebraska City, Nebraska and secretary of the Nebraska Territory. In 1872, at a meeting of the State Board of Agriculture, he proposed a tree planting holiday to be called Arbor Day. The first celebration took place on April 10, 1872 and more than 1 million trees were planted in Nebraska that day. Arbor Day became a legal state holiday in Nebraska in 1885 and by 1920 more than 45 states and territories celebrated. Today, National Arbor Day is celebrated in all 50 states. The most common date for observance is the last Friday in April, but some states pick a different date for when the weather is best locally to plant trees.

The tradition of planting trees on Arbor Day became widespread in school in 1882. In 1909, trees were planted in school yards throughout Elmira and Chemung County. A group of over 200 boys chosen from the seventh and eighth grades of the local grammar schools was also invited to participate in tree planting on three acres of land set aside by Susan Crane at Quarry Farm. It was the first time this type of reforestation project had been done in Chemung County.

Students planting trees at Quarry Farm, 1910s

Dr. Arthur Booth, president of the Chemung County Forest, Fish and Game Protective Association, led the project. The Association purchased 4-year-old saplings from the New York State Nursery in Saranac Lake and had furrows plowed to the right depth so that everything was ready when the boys arrived. Susan Crane planted the first tree and Rev. S.E. Eastman planted the second. Then the boys went to work. One boy deposited moist earth and water on the spot where the tree was to be planted. The next boy placed a young tree in position. Then a third boy tamped the earth down around the seedlings. This efficient method allowed the boys to plant 3,000 trees by lunchtime.

Statistics at the time showed that a large percentage of trees planted by school children on Arbor Day died fairly quickly. Youngsters and their supervising adults either failed to plant the saplings properly in the first place or neglected them after they were in the ground. Following the May 1909 tree planting at Quarry Farm, a drought hit the region. Many were concerned that the new seedlings would not survive. That summer, a state forestry inspector went to Quarry Farm. He discovered that the percentage of trees living from the Arbor Day planting was even higher than that of the trees planted in the Adirondacks by trained forestry men. Of the thousands of trees planted at Quarry Farm, the loss was only 8 percent.

Tree planting at Quarry Farm, 1910s

Dr. Booth was rightly proud of the results. He was one of the prominent speakers at the annual Forest, Fish and Game Association convention in Syracuse that December. His topic was “An Arbor Day Tree Planting in Chemung County.” He also ordered 5,000 more young white pines from the state nursery to be set out by the school children of Elmira the next Arbor Day.

These tree plantings continued for the next few years. In addition to Quarry Farm, they expanded to other locations around Elmira including plots of land at the tuberculosis hospital on Underwood Avenue, near Bulkhead on the Southside, and by the reservoir on West Hill. In 1911, 30 grammar school girls joined the planting crew.

Students planting trees northwest of Elmira, 1926

After 1913, reports in the newspaper become sporadic, so it’s unclear if the Arbor Day tree plantings had truly become a yearly tradition. On May 2, 1924, the Star-Gazette reported that a large delegation of seventh and eighth grade students attended the Arbor Day tree planting on East Hill. On May 3, 1934, some 15,000 trees were planted by public school children around Elmira. In that same article, the reporter expressed doubt that the custom would continue the following year. Over the previous two years, so many trees had been planted by paid workers as part of the Civil Works Administration (a New Deal program created during the Great Depression) that there wasn’t much clear land left for new trees. 

Star-Gazette, May 4, 1934

In 1918, nine years after the first tree were planted at Quarry Farm, a forest fire destroyed about 1,500 of the young trees. The trees were about eight feet tall and were a source of pride for the Chemung County Fish and Game Protection Association. It was thought that the fire had been started by some boys.