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

The Improved Order of Red Men

 by Susan Zehnder, Education Director

In August 1904, Michael J. O’Hara, in charge of records for the Improved Order of Red Men (IORM), left Elmira on a train for Utica where he planned to transfer and board another train destined for Buffalo.

Costumed IORM member 

The IORM was holding its annual state convention and delegates were gathering.  Elected in 1898, O’Hara had been a popular record keeper and he fully expected to be re-elected to the position. He wasn’t. He never made it to the convention.

A few days after not showing up in Buffalo, he surfaced in Connecticut at his brother’s house. He claimed he had met a fellow delegate on the train, someone he didn’t know. They chatted amiably and the stranger offered him a drink. Soon after taking a swig, he said, he passed out and never got to Buffalo. Because the record keeper held membership dues for hundreds of New York state IORM members, suspicions arose. Right away, local and national leaders arrived in Elmira to comb through his financial records. He was accused of various malicious activity. When things finally settled, O’Hara’s books were determined to be sound, and the hunt for the mysterious delegate ended. O’Hara returned to Elmira. 

Just what kind of organization inspired this strange event?

The Improved Order of Red Men was founded in Baltimore as a fraternal society in 1834. It claims to have ties to an earlier group called the Sons of Liberty who participated in the Boston Tea Party. These white men, dressed (they thought) like Indians and threw tea overboard into the Boston Harbor to protest British taxes. The IORM, while not open to indigenous members, used Indian-like names, rituals, and even regalia in their meetings, which they called Pow-wows.

Exclusive supplier to IORM

Their headquarters were called wigwams; state and national leaders were given the title of sachem, an appropriated indigenous title; local leaders and officers were called chiefs; and anyone not in the organization was a paleface. IORM Auxiliary women’s groups were called Daughters of Pocahontas. They were not looking to understand indigenous cultures, but took what they thought were native “activities” to further their group’s mission to support patriotism and American ideals. President Franklin D. Roosevelt was an honorary member.

Franklin D. Roosevelt in IORM headdress

While this cultural appropriation wasn’t unique to secret fraternal societies of the time, the IORM was one of the largest to do this. In 1921, its membership numbers was estimated to be over 500,000 nationwide, and it was the nation’s fourth largest benevolent society. According to the IORM website, there were groups located in 46 states and territories.

Elmira area IORM members and families, circa 1902s

Elmira's City Directory for 1903, listed 11 groups, called tribes. Some of the names they operated under were Ko-bus, Tomoka, Wetamore, Massasoit, Mimosa, Manhattan, Ogoyago. The groups held social balls, raised money for polio care, marched in parades, held boxing matches, and provided events for children. They also paid benefits to members down on their luck and marked deaths in memorial services. A splinter group of the national IORM broke off to form the Haymakers, these were men who advocated for more fun and mischief because they thought the IORM was getting too serious. Elmira had a group of them too.  One well-known member of the IORM was Matt Lockwood.

Accounting book with notice of M. Lockwood's death

Locally, the number of groups dwindled to four, then two, and finally none by the end of the 1950s. State groups, though, continued to gather and frequently used the Mark Twain Hotel in Elmira for annual state conventions. These multi-day events often included tours to Corning Glass or hosting speakers, like Dr. Erl Bates, a professor from Cornell University. Bates had established Cornell’s Indian Extension Program and a scholarship program for Haudenosaunee women. He spoke to the 1952 convention about the history of the Haudenosaunee or Iroquois nation. 

Nationally, membership continued to fall. Attempting to address this, the organization admitted non-white members in 1974. Today national membership hovers around 15,000. The national headquarters shifted from Baltimore, MD, to Waco, Texas. Today, there is a museum in Waco dedicated to the group. Its collection boasts a writing desk from Aaron Burr, a ring once belonging to Rudolph Valentino, and a blanket attributed to Geronimo. Today's members include five groups that still meet in New York State. They’re located in Johnstown, Lockport, Rochester, Vestal, and Watkins Glen.

So what became of Michael O’Hara?  He remained a member of the local IORM but never served in any leadership role again. After a few years, he left Elmira and moved to New York City, still a member of the IORM.

In 1931, Edward A. Davis, chief of the great wampum went missing after police started looking into his financial dealings. Davis was the national treasurer at the time. He left a farewell (suicide) note to his wife. His suitcase and hat were discovered on a boat, but no one remembered seeing him. Davis was never found. Guy Vinton of Rochester, stepped in and took over the duties of chief of the great wampum.

In 1938, O’Hara ran against Vinton for the position of great chief of records but ended up withdrawing his name. Vinton, unopposed, won.

Birthright Citizenship

By Rachel Dworkin

Birthright citizenship has been in the news lately thanks to President Trump’s recent Executive Order 14156. The order ends birthright citizenship for the children of undocumented immigrants and legal migrants in the country on temporary work, student, or tourist visas. At present, nearly every country in North and South America has birthright citizenship, but the practice is rare in the rest of the world. Historically, its application in the United States has been…complicated.

Like most things about the American legal system, birthright citizenship in the United States has its roots in English common law. Traditionally, anyone born in the king’s domain was automatically a subject of the king, including anyone born in the Colonies. Following the American Revolution, a series of court cases confirmed that people born in the United States or its territories were automatically citizens…with exceptions. In Dred Scott v. Sanford (1857), the Supreme Court held that the U.S. Constitution only granted citizenship to whites and no one of African descent, whether free or enslaved, born here or not, could ever be citizens.

Today, the Dred Scott decision is widely regarded as one of the worst rulings the Supreme Court ever made. It was effectively overturned by the Citizenship Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment (adopted July 9, 1868). The clause states: 

"All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside." 

Even following the passage of the Fourteenth Amendment, there were questions about just who qualified when it came to birthright citizenship. In 1873, Wong Kim Ark was born in San Francisco, California to Chinese immigrant parents who were ineligible to become citizens themselves thanks to the Naturalization Law of 1802 which offered naturalization only to free whites. As a young man, Wong left to visit China and was subsequently denied re-entry to the United States upon his return thanks to the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 and a customs official’s refusal to acknowledge his citizenship. The case went all the way to the Supreme Court as United States v. Wong Kim Ark (1898). The court decided that the children of foreigners born on American soil were American citizens, whether the parents were eligible to become citizens or not. They made just four exceptions: children of foreign diplomats; children born on foreign public ships; children of enemy forces engaged in hostile occupation of the country’s territory, and children of Indian tribes (which were effectively considered sovereign peoples). This last exception was subsequently removed by the Indian Citizenship Act of 1924 which granted citizenship to all Native Americans.  

 

Wong Kim Ark, ca. 1904 (courtesy of Wikipedia)

So how does one prove American citizenship? These days, with a birth certificate, but it’s a relatively new phenomenon. In fact, for much of American history, birth records were held by churches, assuming there were even records at all. During the mid-1800s, different states began making a concerted effort to record births. New York State, for example, began collection birth records in 1881. Some counties and municipalities across the state began doing it earlier. New York City began recording births as far back as 1847. Chemung County has records going back to 1875, although not at the Historical Society.

The U.S. Public Health Service has a standard form for registering births, although many states have their own as well. The forms are completed by the attendant at birth or a hospital administrator and forwarded to the state and local health departments. In Chemung County, birth certificates are issued and held by the Chemung County Vital Records office at 103 Washington Street in Elmira. Parents receive a free copy of their child’s birth certificate and additional ones can be ordered for a fee. Everyone should have a copy of their birth certificate. You will need one when applying for a passport, driver’s license, or non-driver’s ID. You can request historical birth certificates for genealogical purposes from the Chemung County Vital Records office as well. 

Form for attendants at birth, ca. 1910s

 

Executive Order 14156 was signed on January 20, 2025. It was immediately challenged by the attorneys general of 22 states (including New York) and multiple organizations. Although it was initially slated to go into effect on February 19, 2025, it may never go into effect at all if the courts find it unconstitutional.