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.

 

A Curious Story: Lillian Pagett Hobson

 by Susan Zehnder, Education Director

While our country was founded almost 250 years ago by immigrants, attitudes about immigrants and immigration have always been complicated. In Elmira in 1930, the citizenship of Miss Lillian Pagett Hobson was challenged on the grounds that she hadn’t lived in the country long enough to meet the residency requirements. My research seemed to confirm the objection was valid, but it was overruled, and Hobson became a US citizen on January 31, 1930.

Each country determines by law who is eligible to become a citizen. Requirements for becoming an American citizen have certainly changed over the years. The first US immigration and naturalization act was passed less than 15 years after the United States was founded. It excluded women, Blacks, and Native Americans from becoming citizens. Since then, more than 55 laws and 18 policies have been adopted to regulate who can and who cannot become a citizen. (Read this blog on a specific immigration law passed in the 19^th century.)

Today’s applicants for US citizenship must pay a fee, pass a civics test, meet residency requirements, prove they’re proficient in English, and if it applies, register for selective service. In Hobson’s day, the rules were much the same. Applicant names were printed in the local newspapers. If the person met the requirements, they were given the oath of citizenship. If they did not meet the requirements, reasons were given why not. Hobson’s case revolved around whether or not she had lived in the United States continuously for five years.

Lillian Pagett Hobson was born in Ireland. Her connection to Elmira was through her grandfather, William Pagett, called “one of the oldest of Elmira’s residents.”  In 1847 Pagett had left England for the United States. In 1855 he settled in Elmira. He and his wife, Anna, had a son and a daughter, Lillian’s mother.

Pagett owned and operated a successful tannery business. When the Civil War broke out, he was awarded a lucrative contract to feed prisoners at Elmira’s Civil War Prison Camp. With his earnings, he bought multiple oil wells in Pennsylvania and properties in Elmira, New York City, and Brooklyn. When he died in 1918, the properties passed down to his remaining heirs: his wife, a niece, and his granddaughter, Lillian Pagett Hobson. His wife died two years later.

Ten years after this, Lillian Hobson moved to Elmira. Two years later, she filed for US citizenship, claiming she had been living here with friends for five consecutive years. Her application was challenged by the District Director of Naturalization of Western New York, Leroy N. Kilman. Kilman determined that Hobson had gone back and forth between Ireland and the United States during the years she said she was living in Elmira. His objections were overruled by Supreme Court Justice Joseph D. Senn, and Chemung County Clerk John A. Matthews administered the oath of citizenship to Hobson on January 31, 1930. Right away, she applied for a passport to return to Europe to visit her father.  The district director filed another appeal, and that is the last mention of the issue in the papers.

Hobson’s name does show up again connected to another issue, and it may have influenced the judge’s decision to override the challenge. As one of two heirs to valuable property owned by her grandfather, Hobson already had invested in Elmira.

In early January of that same year, the Gorton clothing store and a nearby pharmacy, located at 105-107 East Water Street, were heavily damaged by fire. While they never determined how the fire began, both businesses continued to operate. Then less than 30 days later, just after Hobson had become a naturalized citizen, the company announced they would be constructing a larger, quarter-million-dollar, state-of-the art building and expanding their business. It would be located on property owned by the Pagett family at the corner of Main and Water Street. The building would be designed by distinguished architects Pierce and Bickford. The Gorton Company had agreed to lease the property from Hobson and her cousin Frederica Pagett Gates for 99 years at the cost of $20,000 per year.

The new building would be an economic boost to the city as the country had just entered into the Great Depression. However, not everyone thought it was a good thing. In April and through the beginning of June there was a contentious controversy over the new building’s footprint. The difference was 3 feet 4 inches and both the city and the developers did not want to budge. It affected how far into the sidewalk the building encroached. The developers claimed that construction was already set in motion and they couldn’t change anything. Opponents insisted that they change, which would mean a $140,000 to $200,000 debt to the city. The hearing was full of accusations, threats, and shouting. Only ten days later, things got much worse.

At rush hour on June 13, the construction’s temporary sidewalk collapsed, killing two people and injuring dozens more. After intensive investigations, the coroner declared that it was an accident and Gorton’s was not at fault. Construction continued. Many of the injured filed civil action suits against the Gorton Company and investors Hobson and Gates. Eventually, all cases were settled out of court.

The Gorton-Pagett building operated for 58 years, closing in February 1975.

Miss Hobson ended up staying in the area. Her name appears periodically in the paper, identified as a donor to charitable causes. Then in 1970 and 1972, two letters to the editor appear in the Star-Gazette. In both she complained about having to pay school taxes when she had no children. She is listed in the Elmira City Directory until 1976. In 1978 her name shows up one last time. It is printed in the paper for failure to pay property taxes on the East Water Street property.

 

 

 

 

A Bit of History Repeating

 By Rachel Dworkin, Archivist

Since February 17^th, prison guards across New York State, including at Elmira Correctional, have been engaged in an illegal wildcat strike in an effort to improve working conditions. They are demanding that the state increase pay, address chronic understaffing, and repeal the HALT Act, which banned the use of long-term solitary confinement for difficult prisoners. Under the New York’s Public Employees Fair Employment Act (1967), more commonly known as the Taylor Law, public employees are prohibited from striking. Despite the penalties associated with the law, that hasn’t stopped the guards. It didn’t stop them in 1979 either.

On April 18, 1979, union contract negotiations broke down and guards across the state walked off the job. Striker’s demands included higher pay and a roll-back of the post-Attica Riot prison reforms. The strike involved approximately 7,000 of the state’s 8,500 prison guards, as well as 600 guards at other state buildings and institutions. Among them were the guards from Elmira Correctional and the Elmira Psychiatric Center. In addition to the 385 Elmira corrections officers who went on strike, an almost equal number of prison support staff including clerical workers, teachers, specialists, and others refused to cross the picket line. Prison chaplain Rev. John H. Valk elected to remain at his post inside the prison for over a week in order to see to the spiritual needs of the prisoners while still supporting the strikers.

As with today, the governor was forced to call out the National Guard to take over the management of the prisons at a cost of approximately $400,000 a day. The Guardsmen who filled in at Elmira under the command of Major Richard S. Fidurski were primarily drawn from units based out of Buffalo, Binghamton, and Rochester. None had any experience working in prisons and struggled to make things work. All of them found their regularly scheduled lives disrupted. Two Guardsmen from Co. D, 102 Medical Battalion, Pfc. Levi Coram and Spec. 5 Candice Worthey, ended up having to hold their wedding in the prison’s chapel on May 1, 1979 and taking 24-hours leave for a quick honeymoon in Syracuse before resuming their duties.

Mr. and Mrs. Coram on the way to their honeymoon, May 1, 1979

 

Life inside the prison changed with the guards on strike. All visitation was halted. Parolees had their releases delayed. Prisoners were given more time to hang out on their block outside their cells. They had to eat inside their cells though, as there weren’t enough Guardsmen to manage the mess halls. According to an April 29 Star-Gazette article, inmates seemed to prefer the Guardsmen. “In almost six years, I haven’t been treated so good as I have in the last seven days,” claimed inmate Robert Cmor. Conditions at prisons across the state currently under the supervision of the National Guard vary wildly. Some places are operating almost normally. In others, prisoners are under 24-hour lockdown without showers or medical care. At least four prisoners have died.

On the picket line, the strikers threw rocks, eggs, and insults at National Guardsmen and at one point attempted to block a convoy from entering. Chemung County Sheriff’s deputies and officers from the Elmira and State police worked overtime to help keep peace at the prison gates. Meanwhile, many of the strikers were struggling financially. The strike started at the end of the pay period and strikers had yet to receive their last checks. They were eligible for food stamps, but the Chemung County Department of Social Services refused to offer emergency relief and instead insisted they undergo the usual application process which wouldn’t get them aid until mid-June. 

Sheriff's deputies clear a path through the picket line for National Guard convoy, April 27, 1979

 

Strikers outside Elmira Correctional, April 27, 1979

As the strike dragged on, more and more of the support staff made the decision to cross the picket line to return to work. Across the state, tensions were high between those who chose to strike and those who stayed on the job. The several families of non-striking workers were threatened and one man’s dogs were killed. Nothing like that was going on here, but at least one striking guard did attempt to incite a riot among the prisoners. Superintendent John B. Wilmot, who remained at his post throughout the strike, told reporters he was hurt and disappointed by the 64 non-union supervisors and clerical staff who refused to work.

The strike was finally settled on May 4, 1979 with workers returning to work at midnight. In the end, the strikers won a 7% pay boost the first year and raises of between 3.5-7% the second and third years depending on cost of living. Interestingly, this was the same deal they had rejected before the strike, but they did win a few other things. Guards also won special “training” bonuses of $300 the first year and $200 the next. The state also agreed to make seniority the top factor in determining promotions and begin payouts for on-the-job injuries on the day of the injury and not 30 days later as had previously been the case. The local union rejected the deal by a three-to-one margin, but still returned to work anyway. For violations of the Taylor Law, the union was fined $2.5 million and individual guards lost an average of $1,550 in pay. It was a Pyrrhic victory at best. The union’s demands for the repeal of prison reform were soundly rejected.

On February 27, 2025, a tentative agreement in the current strike was announced but ultimately rejected by the strikers. The state has begun firing some guards and plans to start suspending the health insurance of thousands more. It’s unclear at this point how things will end, but someone at this historical society will probably be writing about it 45 years from now.

***

If you were involved in the 1979 strike or have signs, photos or other material associated with it, please contact me at (607) 734-4167 ex 207 or archivist@chemungvalleymuseum.org. If you have pictures of the current strike, I’d love to hear from you as well.

Jesse Green Furrier

By Erin Doane, senior curator

On May 4, 1943, the Gorton Coy introduced their new furrier to customers in Elmira through an advertisement in the Star-Gazette. Mr. Jesse Green had recently taken charge of their fur restyling and fur storage departments. Fur fashions were his specialty, with 25 years of experience, and he was ready to restyle customers’ older furs. As mentioned in the ad, restyling was part of the war-conservation program. Jesse Green was happy to furnish estimates without any cost or obligation to the customer.

Jesse Green, Gorton Coy ad, Star-Gazette, May 4, 1943

Jesse Green was born in New York City in 1900 into a family of furriers. His grandfather and father ran a fur manufacturing business and both Jesse and his brother learned the craft. Jesse married Shirley Ehrlich in 1928 and the couple had two sons, Howard and Myron. In 1943, the family moved to Elmira where Jesse took the job as furrier at the Gorton Coy. He stayed there for three years before he and Shirley opened a store of their own at 513 Park Place.

Jesse Green Furrier, 513 Park Place, Star-Gazette, July 30, 1950

Inside Jesse Green Furrier, 513 Park Place, Star-Gazette, August 13, 1950

Jesse Green Furrier made and sold furs and offered insured, certified cold storage of fur coats. In 1953, Jesse became a member of the Master Furriers Guild of America, Inc. By that time, it was reported that he had cared for and handled at least 150,000 fur coats during his 35 years in the fur business. He sold his wares not only in Elmira but to customers in 45 states as well as Tokyo and the Philippine Islands. In both 1956 and 1957 he won American Fur Fashion Awards at the annual Master Furriers’ Guild conventions. He was also elected to the Guild’s board of directors in 1958.

Coat made by Jesse Green from pelts trapped near Williamsport, Pennsylvania

In 1964, the Greens moved their business to 208 W. Water Street. The newly renovated store was decorated in a baby blue and off-white color scheme and featured wall to wall carpeting, floor to ceiling mirrors, and air conditioning. They added womenswear to the store and their son, Howard, joined the business. Howard had worked with his father before enlisting in the military in 1950. He was a member of the 465^th Signal Construction Company and served in Manila.

In 1968, Jesse Green Furrier moved to a new store just next door at 210 W. Water Street. The new space was four times the size of the other store. This time, the décor was done in powder blue and eggshell. There was a separate fur salon to the rear with off-white carpeting and a fully mirrored back wall. By this time, Howard Green had taken over as president of the company. His focus was on trying to get younger women interested in fur. They still sold fur coats but also had cloth coats, both trimmed with fur and untrimmed, as well as suede and leather coats. There was also a new young miss, or junior, section. In 1969, they started advertising fake furs for sale.

Howard Green at Jesse Green Furrier, 210 W. Water Street, Star-Gazette, November 24, 1976

In the late 1960s, the anti-fur moment was beginning to get traction. On July 26, 1970, the Star-Gazette reported on the “Fur Coat Furore” caused by a Women’s Wear Daily advertisement. The ad from the Friends of the Earth included a pledge to no longer purchase products made from wild or endangered animals signed by 100 “well-known personalities.” Other furriers in Elmira said that they didn’t expect the ad to affect their sales at all but Jesse Green had concerns. While the pledge was not to purchase rare, wild furs, he worried that it would still affect the sales of domesticated and specially-raised furs because the public would not understand the difference. “Through advertising, you have to make women want to purchase [a fur],” said Jesse. “They want to but they’re afraid to – ashamed to. A woman who can’t afford one, now has an excuse.”

Mink capelet made by Jesse Green Furrier, 1950s

While the anti-fur activists got some attention, by 1976 fur sales were increasing nationally and Elmira furriers and merchants were enjoying greater profits. New garments in contemporary styles made with longer fur and leather were increasingly popular with younger women. Prices were also increasing, but that didn’t slow the demand.

By the 1980s, however, the animal rights movement was much more active. Bob Barker led anti-fur protests in New York City in 1988. Ricki Lake was arrested after storming the Fifth Avenue offices of fashion designer Karl Lagerfeld with anti-fur protesters in 1994. Super models Claudia Schiffer, Cindy Crawford, Christy Turlington, Naomi Campbell, and Tyra Banks were part of PETA’s (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) anti-fur campaigns in the mid-1990s.

The biggest protests took place in major cities – Macy’s was a particularly popular target for animal rights activists in New York City – but smaller cities and businesses were not forgotten. In 1987, 50 animal rights protesters confronted 30 people wearing furs at a photoshoot by the Clifford Fur Co. in Rochester, New York. Trans-Species Unlimited, an animal rights organization, held a protest at the Trapper and Dealers Convention in Hughesville, Pennsylvania (about 80 miles south of Elmira) in 1986. On the day after Thanksgiving in 1990, animal rights protesters were out in force around the country, including in Albany, Niagara Falls, Rochester, Syracuse, and Binghamton. In Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, a protester dressed as the grim reaper led 40 others in chants against the killing of animals for fur coats. While I couldn’t find any reports of protests in Elmira or other local shopping districts, a letter to the editor of the Star-Gazette on Mach 7, 1990 written by Jack Sincock, president of the Chemung County Federation of Sportsmen’s Clubs, Inc., mentioned that a billboard on Lake Road had been purchased by animal rights activists.

Marcher protesting the use of animals for furs on Central Park West in New York City, Star-Gazette, November 24, 1990

On July 19, 1990, the Star-Gazette reported on the end of Jesse Green Furrier after 44 years of business in Elmira. It’s unclear whether the anti-fur moment played any part in the business closing. As owner and president of the company, Howard Green declined to provide any details. He merely said, “I’ve had enough of the retail business.” His parents, Jesse and Shirley, had retired in the early 1970s and moved to Coral Springs, Florida. Shirley passed away in 1986 and Jesse died just three years later. The couple is interred side-by-side in the Franklin Street Cemetery in Elmira.

Jesse and Shirley Green, 1978, Star-Gazette, May 7, 1978