Sweet Dreams and Flying Machines in Pieces on the Ground

by Rachel Dworkin, Archivist

The concept behind the helicopter is centuries old and dates at last as far back as 400 BC in China where children played with bamboo flying toys.  Basically, the spinning of the rotor blades produces a downward pressure which, in turn, provides lift.  In the 1480s, Leonardo De Vinci created designs for a flying machine, but the lack of an available working engine meant it never got off the page let alone the ground.  The first truly functional helicopter was the Focke-Wulf Fw 61 designed by Professor Henrich Focke in 1936 and the first large-scale production of helicopters was undertaken by Sikorsky Manufacturing Company beginning in 1942. 

De Vinci Helicopter or ‘Air Screw’

Between De Vinci and Focke were a number of attempts at vertical flight, including one right here in Elmira.  The device, known as the Hiliocopter was designed by Captain Bell and piloted on its maiden voyage by J. Edwin Morrow.  Morrow was the secretary of the Willys-Morrow Company, a local manufacturer of car and machine parts.  The Hilicopter was built entirely at the plant in Elmira.  The exact date of the test flight is unknown, but it was likely either in the spring or fall of 1908.  The machine was lifted a full three feet in the air by the power of the engine before the whole craft began to twist in the same direction of the blades.  The twisting proved too much and the whole thing was ruined.

Flight of the Hiliocopter

So, why didn’t it work?  It lacked some type of mechanism to control the torque.  The most common of these mechanisms is tail rotor developed by Sikorsky.   The tail rotor creates force in the opposite direction as the main blades to keep the whole thing from spinning.  It also helps with forward propulsion and flight stabilization.      
  

Schweizer 300CBi Helicopter

Blood on the Water: Clubbing a Sea Lion on the Chemung

By Kelli Huggins, Education Coordinator

I usually like my blog posts to highlight the quirky, light side of history, like gum chewing controversies or vanilla extract scandals.  However, this week’s post has a decidedly darker subject matter.  In addition to being a museum professional, I am a historian of human-animal interactions, which entails subject matter of both great levity and tales of human cruelty. Unfortunately, the story of Bob the sea lion falls into the latter category.  

In 1903, Bob the sea lion escaped from his home in Trout Park in Cortland, NY.  He swam via the Tioughnioga and Chenango Rivers to the Susquehanna River and then to the Chemung.  All along his route, people gathered to watch the animal poke his head out of the water and swim around in the local rivers.  Some fishermen tried to catch him (there was rumored to be up to a $300 prize for his capture), but Bob eluded them all.
(Use the interactive map below to trace his journey and learn about Bob sightings).

Everyone had sea lion-mania.  The newspapers reported his movements in Towanda, Tunkhannock, Sayre, Chemung, and Elmira.  Some locals noticed that the Susquehanna and Chemung were exhibiting a reddish color, a feat that they attributed to Bob.  In a bit of pseudoscience, the papers claimed that when chased, sea lions gave off a red “exudation,” thus turning the rivers red.  The theory that one sea lion and his mystery excretions were enough to color an entire river was not believed by all. The fine folks of Sayre went on the record saying “no one here” believes Bob was responsible.

Accusations of coloring the rivers red aside, Bob’s jaunt along the waterways was relatively uneventful until he reached Elmira.  In the city, he was met by adoring crowds, but also by people who were intent on capturing him.  One party, John “Stub” Appleton, his son, John Jr., and Charles Bucholtz had made it their mission to wrangle the rogue sea lion, even almost capturing him in their nets several times.  In the morning of July 25 the men cornered Bob in shallow water.  They tried to wrestle the 150 pound sea lion onto the boat, but Bob put up a fight, allegedly lunging at Stub.  In “self-defense,” the men clubbed Bob to death.  

Bob, or "The Sea Lion We Chased"

It is not my job as a historian to pass judgment on people in the past.  I am supposed to remain as objective as possible.  S0, I will let the newspapers from the time speak for me.  Upon hearing news of Bob’s death, the public and the press were outraged.  The Elmira Daily Gazette ran an interview with Bob’s trainer recalling how the animal had toured around the world with Ringling Brothers’ circus.  The trainer exclaimed, “I could not feel worse if someone pointed a gun at my heart and knew that they would pull the trigger.”  The people of Cortland condemned the killing as “stupid, brutal conduct” and lamented the heartbreak of Bob’s pregnant widow, Duchess.

Unfortunately, the indignities of Bob’s stories did not end with his death.  Stub Appleton mailed Bob on ice back to his owner, who lived in Syracuse.  Upon the corpse’s arrival, the owner refused to pay the $50 shipping charge claiming that the sea lion wasn’t worth that much dead or alive, so poor dead Bob was shipped back to Elmira. With his victim back in his possession, Stub announced his intentions to have Bob stuffed and put on display.  Allegedly, Bob was displayed in the window of Berner’s Café on East Water Street.      

Here Comes the Bride but Where is the Groom?

by Erin Doane, Curator

While searching for objects to put on display in our upcoming exhibit ‘Til Death Do Us Part: Wedding and Funeral Traditions in Chemung County (opening to the public on October 18^th), it was not so much what I found that caught my attention but rather it was what I did not find.  CCHS has over fifty bridal gowns in its collection but only one groom’s suit. 

The wedding suit from 1880 with two wedding gowns of the same period
(photo from previous CCHS exhibit)

This 50:1 ratio seems high but I imagine it is not very unusual in museum collections.  Women’s wedding gowns, especially from the late 19^th Century through today, were often dresses made or purchased for that one, special event.  It was highly unlikely that the bride would ever wear her wedding gown again.  The dresses were kept and cherished by the bride and sometimes passed on to her daughters before ending up in a museum’s collection.  As many weddings seem to be focused on the bride – it’s her big day! – it makes sense that so much emphasis is placed on her dress.

 

Bridal portrait, 1957

The lack of grooms’ outfits may be that men are just not very sentimental about the clothing they wore at their wedding.  There are several other possible reasons why suits are so outnumbered by gowns.  The groom could, and often did, wear his suit again for other events and occasions.  It was not a one-of-a-kind, one-time garment.  Military men often wore their dress uniforms at their weddings, completely bypassing the need for a special suit.  And in modern times, many grooms rent a suit or tuxedo for their wedding that is returned after the ceremony. 

 

Groom and his attendants, 1959

The shortage of men’s wedding clothing could also be simply a lack of information in the museum’s records.  There are ten tuxedos in the CCHS collection though none have been positively associated with a groom.  This 5:1 dress to suit ratio is much better and will assure that the lovely bridal gowns we put on display will not be alone.  
 

Wedding portrait, 1880