Grand Pictures

 by Susan Zehnder, Education Director 

If you’ve had a chance to wander through our exhibit “Grand, Domestic and Truly Comfy,” you’ve seen recreations of some of the rooms from the Langdon Mansion, once a landmark of the Elmira area. Located near the intersection of West Church and North Main streets in downtown Elmira, the property was first owned by Anson C. Ely. In 1862, Jervis Langdon purchased the home from Ely’s widow along with a neighboring lot. Four years later, he had the house remodeled and enlarged to meet his needs. Every interior surface was covered, with much of the work done by Pottier and Stymus, a top interior decorating firm and leading cabinet-maker out of New York City. As was the style for wealthy patrons in that era, the home was highly ornate. It truly was grand both inside and out.

View of the Langdon Mansion

Putting the exhibit together required our guest curator, Walter G. Ritchie, Jr., to do months of research. A critical part of his work relied on photographs taken in the mid-1870s. By this time Jervis Langdon had died, but his wife engaged the decorating firm once again to update additional rooms. And Van Aken was hired to document them. Many of the photographs Ritchie used have been enlarged and are mounted on the wall behind each of our room settings. As if frozen in time, they give us a glimpse of what each room looked like. If you look closely, you can find furniture and objects from the pictures on display in the settings. The photographs are one-half of a pair of stereographic images. The curved border at the top is a distinctive framing of many photographs done in this style. 

Stereographic images rely on viewers seeing two nearly identical images at the same time and our brains combining the two to “see” depth. This illusion, also known as binocular vision, can give viewers a life-like experience, as if they are standing in the same space where the picture was taken. In 1838, English inventor and physicist Charles Wheatstone had devised a system to create intricate drawings which viewers used to perceive depth. Imagine how relieved he must have been when advances in photography made depth perception much easier.

Sir Charles Wheatstone (1802-1875) photo by Granger

Beginning in the 1840s, stereoscopic images became a popular form of photography, and by the 1850s, they were a staple in many American parlors. We have a blog about them here. At the time, instead of scrolling through social media for hours, people entertained themselves with stereoscopic images of faraway places.

The photographs of the Langdon family home that our guest curator researched were taken by Elisha M. Van Aken, who ran a photographic studio in town. Van Aken was born in Rensselaerville, New York, in 1828, and took up photography in his early twenties, when the art form was new. He moved to Lowville, New York, where he set up a portrait studio over the village Post Office. In 1856, he was advertising his ambrotyping, daguerreotyping and photographing services. In 1873, now with a family and well-established career, he moved to Elmira.

Van Aken’s studio was first located at 134 West Water Street and later at 120 West Water Street. The 1870s were the height of stereoscopic imagery’s popularity, and his work in this and in studio portraiture was prolific. His photographs documented everyday life in Elmira of the late 19th and early 20th century, featuring street scenes, businesses, people, homes, and pets. 

In addition to his studio work, Van Aken was often seen hiking about the outskirts of town, lugging his equipment.

Elisha M. Van Aken and his camera

He photographed nature, people, events, and buildings, both inside and out. His son Charles joined him in the studio, learning the business, and became quite the photographer too. In the spring of 1904, the elder Van Aken fractured his hip and died a short time later at the age of 76. A notice about his death in the April 30, 1904 edition of the Star-Gazette declared “Mr. Van Aken did much for lazy people. He found the hundreds of scenes worth depicting around the outskirts of the city and his busy camera reduced them to paper so that they might be enjoyed by those disinclined to go and see for themselves.” 

Today Van Aken photographs can be found in national collections including those of the Smithsonian Institution, the George Eastman Museum, and The Getty Museum. We are fortunate to have many Van Aken glass plate negatives and prints too, including those hanging on the walls of our current exhibit.

Grand, Domestic and Truly Comfy: The Langdon Mansion in Elmira will be on display until May, 2025

A Friendly Family

By Rachel Dworkin, Archivist

 

It’s fascinating the influence a single family can have on a town, or even a nation. In the 1850s, four brothers immigrated to America from Bavaria, Germany. They were the sons of Josef M. Freundlich, a Jewish dairy farmer turned livestock dealer. Following a series of failed pro-democratic uprisings across the German states, there was an antiemetic wave which spurred many Jews to flee to the United States throughout the 1850s. The brothers Henry, Theodore, Samson, and Myer were part of this group.

The brothers initially settled in Cuba, New York, where they worked as peddlers. I was unable to find which brother arrived first, Henry or Theodore, but whichever did changed the family name to Friendly, the English translation of their original German surname. The younger brothers, Samson and Myer, came next around 1865 but found Cuba wasn’t to their liking. The boys headed further west to Lawrence, Kansas, which they used as a base of operations while they traded with the Native Americans out on the Great Plains. They soon amassed a small fortune trading in buffalo skins. Around 1875, they headed back east to settle in Elmira.

Theodore Friendly (1839-1933) came to Elmira in 1875 to establish Friendly Brothers dealership in wagons, carriages and agricultural implements with his brothers Samson and Myer. The business fell apart in the mid-1880s as each brother went his own way. Theodore opened a wagon store at 255-257 W. Water Street. He retired and moved to Los Angeles, California in 1908. His children were Abraham Friendly and Caroline Friendly Fybush. He had been a long-time member of Temple B’Nai Israel and he left them $500 in his will to establish a fund for building improvements and maintenance. 

Theodore Friendly

 Samson J. Friendly (1843-1919) left Friendly Brothers to establish a boot and shoe company. He brought his nephews, Myer and Solomon, into the business which they kept running after his eventual retirement. After retiring, he became a silent investor in a number of area industries and bought property here, as well as in Syracuse, Buffalo, and California.  He was an active member in Elmira’s Jewish community serving as president of Congregation B’Nai Israel from 1900 to 1908 as well as on the board of the Young Men’s Hebrew Association. He donated generously to both in his will, as well as the Arnot-Ogden Hospital, where he donated $5,000 to establish a fund for the care of indigent patients. The on-going renovation of his former home at 456 W. Water Street is currently the subject of a popular Instagram page.  

Samson Friendly

 

Myer Friendly (1848-1937) opened a wholesale/retail business in wagons, carriages, and farm implements on State Street after the breakup of Friendly Brothers. He and his wife Sarah built a stately home at 510 W. Church Street which eventually served as the first group home run by Glove House. He and Sarah had three children: Helen, Edwin, and Joseph, none of whom remained in the area. Edwin went on to become the long-time general manager of the New York Sun newspaper.  

 

Myer Friendly

Henry Friendly (1835-1910) was the eldest brother, but the last to settle in Elmira. Despite only being here a short time, he managed to have a pretty significant influence.  He came in 1891 at the urging of his sons, Myer and Solomon, who ran a shoe business with their uncle Samson. Henry served as the Elmira Park Commissioner under two consecutive administrations in the 1890s and early 1900s. At one point, he came under fire for the way he had ordered the willow trees trimmed at Eldridge Park. Apparently, he’d ordered the trees to be pollarded, a rather radical pruning that removes most branches in order to spur new, dense growth. Henry had to bring in a forestry expert from Cornell University to publically justify his decision. Three years later in 1909, the newspaper printed an apology agreeing that he made the right call and the trees looked better now. Henry joined Congregation B’Nai Israel where he served as president 1894 to 1897. He was a thrifty man and the fact that each of the city’s three synagogues had mortgages troubled him. So, he offered to pay off all the mortgages, providing each of the congregations agreed not to take up any new ones during his lifetime and five years after.

Henry Friendly

 Henry’s sons Myer H. Friendly (1862-1938) and Solomon H. Friendly (1865-1943) ran that shoe store I mentioned. After retiring in 1916, they both became real estate agents. Myer’s wife Leah was the founder of the local chapter of National Council of Jewish Women, which helped recent immigrants navigate the naturalization process and provided scholarships to Jewish youth. Stay tuned for the next paragraph about her and Myer’s son, Henry.  Solomon and his wife, Bertha, were unable to have biological children and instead adopted Bertha’s niece, Elsa, who became the modern languages teacher at Southside High School.

Henry J. Friendly (1903-1986), Myer and Leah’s son, is widely regarded as one of the most influential Federal judges of the 20^th century. He was the valedictorian of the EFA Class of 1919 and editor of the school newspaper, despite being two years younger than his peers. He attended Harvard College and Harvard Law School, where he served as editor of the Harvard Law Review. After graduation, he practiced law in New York City until he was named to the Federal Second Circuit Court of Appeals in 1959 where he served until his death in 1986. His name was once floated as an option for the Supreme Court, but it never panned out.

Although there are no longer any members of the Friendly family residing in Elmira, their influence still lingers on both locally, and across the nation.

New Project with the Smithsonian

 by Susan Zehnder, Education Director

There is no life that is not geographic.

-Ruth Wilson Gilmore

I heard this statement back in July at a workshop for the first group of educators involved in a new Smithsonian program. Another way to put it is who we are is shaped by where we come from, and that is what participating students in Chemung County will be exploring this fall in the Smithsonian’s Democracy in Dialogue, Virtual Exchange program. They will connect with other students from across the nation to talk about how our local history shapes us.

The Smithsonian designed the program to be part of the national celebrations around the 250^th founding of our country, coming up in 2026. They intend for educators to foster conversations and connections among young people, 13 to 18 years old, from different parts of the nation, to build a deeper understanding of what makes us the same and what makes us different. The first group of facilitators in the program consists of 20 educators, all classroom teachers except myself as education director of the museum, and a librarian in Idaho. Eventually there will be 80 facilitators across the nation.

Students here in Chemung County have been paired with students from a school in Laramie, Wyoming over 1,700 miles away. 

The student conversations will take place virtually. Over the fall semester, they’ll also be sending things to each other through the mail as they get to know each other. My co-facilitator in Laramie and I have chosen the theme of The Ordinary Becomes Extraordinary as a way for students to think about local history they want to share.  We’re having them start by introducing themselves through a chosen object, one that means something to them, and then sharing with the group.

To introduce myself, 

I’ve chosen a treasured button box that I inherited from my grandmother. It is a 6-inch -tall, highly decorated metal box with a thin metal handle and attached lid. Long ago, in the 1920s, it held cookies and part of the Lorna Doone shortbread label is still visible. 

When shaken, it makes a rattling sound because, as long as I’ve known it, it’s held buttons. So many buttons, that the box is full. The buttons are extras or cast offs from clothes my mother and grandmother made, or ones that I purchased while making my own kids’ clothes or Halloween costumes. The buttons remind me of my mother and grandmother. They remind me of clothes that were made for me, or clothing I’ve sewn.  They remind me of people I love and the joy of creating something special for someone who loved me.

My artifact tells a story of women creating. Our students will be exploring artifacts in our collection, and  will have virtual access to collections in the Smithsonian. They’ll be selecting an ordinary object, like my cookie tin, or a person, place, thing, or an event that has had an impact on others. They'll share that story by creating a 3-to-5-minute movie that the Smithsonian has the option to post on their site, and that we will post on our social media.

As an example, consider the story of John W. Jones, a compassionate and hard-working man who overcame many hardships in his life, and what he did as a conductor on the Underground Railroad, stewarding people to freedom, and what he did as he carefully buried the soldiers that died at the Civil War Prison Camp, helped shape Elmira’s identity. He wasn’t from Elmira, but is buried here and his story is woven through Elmira’s history.

We are excited to see how local history and geography inform what the students choose to share with each other and what they create to add to the American story. Already, some of the students were interviewed on local television. 

At the project's conclusion, we will be sharing their work on our social media. The Smithsonian has the option of sharing their work too!

The project has begun, but there is still room in the program for interested students. Please help spread the word about this amazing opportunity taking place this fall. Students can expect to spend about an hour a week and must be between 13 and 18 years old. 

Questions? Please reach out to me at the museum during business hours #607-734-4167 or write me at Educator@ChemungValleyMuseum.org 

 

Students being interviewed by WetmTV 18 reporter Nicolas Dubina

 

At the Corners of Church and Main Streets

by Erin Doane, Senior Curator

Map of the City of Elmira from actual surveys by G.M. Hopkins, C.E., 1865

Jervis Langdon was an entrepreneur, an abolitionist, a philanthropist, and the father-in-law of Samuel Clemens (aka Mark Twain). In 1863, he bought property from Anson E. Ely at the northwest corner of Church and Main Streets in Elmira. Jervis’s family lived there for over 75 years and the home became known as the Langdon Mansion. We currently have the exhibit “Grand, Domestic and Truly Comfy” on display here at the museum through May 2025 which showcases the mansion and its furnishings.

Residence of Anson C. Ely. Photograph, early 1860s,
courtesy of the Mark Twain House & Museum

Jervis had major renovations made to his new home soon after he purchased it. The original was in the Greek Revival style. It was cube shaped with wood siding and a square cupula on top. Had had the structure enlarged and transformed into a three-story Italianate brownstone with several wings that telescoped from the back. Throughout the years, the Langdon family made more changes to the home, including adding a porte-cochere and expanding the veranda in the 1890s.

The Langdon Mansion around 1900

So, what did Jervis Langdon see when he looked out from his home across Church and Main Streets in 1865? To the east, across Main Street, sat Trinity Episcopal Church which was founded in 1833. The church itself was built between 1855 and 1858. It was constructed entirely of brick, including its steeple, which is unusual. In fact, it is one of only 11 churches in the world with a brick steeple.

Trinity Episcopal Church, 1860s

South of Trinity Church, across Water Street, was the First Baptist Church. The church we see on that corner today is a massive brick building, but when Jervis first took up residence in the neighborhood, it was a much more modest wooden structure with a square steeple. It was originally built in 1830 and expanded in 1847. After a devastating fire, the new, larger brick church was built in 1892.

First Baptist Church, 1870s

First Baptist Church, 1890s

In the 1860s, there was still a burial ground next to the First Baptist Church. By the 1850s, they were running out of space for burials next to the church so Woodlawn Cemetery was created in 1858. Church sextant John W. Jones began moving graves from the First Baptist burial ground to Woodlawn Cemetery immediately after it opened but the task was not finished until 1877.

First Baptist burial ground, c. 1860

There were also strips of park land on either side of Main Street south of Church Street. It was probably nice for Jervis to have a park right across the street. His own property could be described as park-like, as well, with hundreds of trees and shrubs, flower beds, gravel paths, decorative urns, and fountains on the property. His wife, Olivia, personally oversaw the development and maintenance of the landscaped grounds.

View of the Langdons’ gardens, c. 1875

South of the Langdon Mansion, across Church Street and west of the park, was the Park Church. In 1846, 41 abolitionists broke from the First Presbyterian Church over the issue of slavery and formed the Independent Congregational Church of Elmira. Jervis and Oliva were among the founding members of the new church. The congregation built a white wooden church in 1851. Rev. Thomas K. Beecher arrived in 1854 and served as pastor until his death in 1900. By the 1870s, the congregation had grown so large that a new church was constructed - the large brick structure we see there today.

The Park Church and inset portrait of Rev. Thomas K. Beecher in 1854

The Park Church, 1905

Jervis Langdon passed away in 1870 and would not have seen most of the changes that made the intersection of Church and Main Streets what we see today, like the two large brick churches that dominate the area. The Langdon Mansion itself was torn down in 1939. We can, however, still enjoy of some of Jervis’s original view including the cool green space of Wisner Park and the red brick of Trinity Church’s steeple.

The Diarists of the 107th New York Volunteers

 By Rachel Dworkin, Archivist

The past is a foreign country, but, if you’re really lucky, you might just find a pen pal. As archivist at the Chemung County Historical Society, it is one of my great, and admittedly a little weird, pleasures to read historical letters and diaries. When it comes to the history of the Civil War, I am so lucky to work at the museum with the largest collection of diaries and letters from the 107^th New York Volunteers. History can be so dry with the dates and the facts and the battle casualty statistics. Letters and diaries though are intimate. They reveal not only what happened, but how the author felt about it in ways which help you get to know them as actual human people.

Although there were multiple Civil War regiments raised out of Chemung County, the 107^th is the only one to have a statue here in Elmira. The regiment was raised in the Summer of 1862 in response to Abraham Lincoln’s call for 300,000 more men. Two local congressmen, Robert Van Valkenburg of Bath and Alexander Diven of Elmira, personally raised and commanded the 1,021 men from Chemung, Schuyler, and Steuben counties.  The regiment fought at the Battles of Antietam, Chancellorsville, and Gettysburg and participated in the Georgia Campaign and Sherman’s March to the Sea. They arrived home to Elmira on June 8, 1865 to a feast, a parade, and the start of the rest of their lives.

107th monument in front of the Court House on Lake Street

Here at the Chemung County Historical Society we have the letters and diaries of 18 different members of the regiment. In some cases, we have multiple accounts of the same day or battle from multiple people. What an author chooses to include (or not) and the way that they describe it, reveals interesting things about their personality, priorities, and education. We have several diaries from the regiment which cover the start of the battle of Chancellorsville. While they describe the same events, they are stylistically quite different.

One of my favorite diarists from the 107^th is Arthur S. Fitch of Company B. He was 18 when he enlisted as a corporal in July 1862 and quickly rose through the ranks. By Chancellorsville, he was a sergeant and ended the war as brevet captain. After the war, he opened a book store in Elmira and was a founding member in several veterans’ organizations. He described the first day of the regiment’s involvement in the Battle of Chancellorsville (May 1, 1863) like this:

“We had no more than got under way than the boom of the Artillery broke upon our ears not a mile in our front and we knew the ball was open. We went rapidly ahead, our Reg. having the advance. We were soon up with the artillery and the shot and shell flew over us pretty lively. No casualties, however and after an hour or two cannonading we were ordered to retire. It was only a move to feel the enemy’s position and no general engagement took place except in the left wing where the 5^th Corps had some fighting. Our Reg. had quite a skirmish for our knapsacks; while out, we had laid them off before entering the woods and on returning for them we were fired upon by Rebel skirmishers. We brought them all away, however, but ran a narrow chance of being captured, as the Rebs planted a battery on the very ground we had just left before we were out of range. We got back to camp about noon, quite fatigued as the weather was very warm. Nothing more transpired until near sun down when the enemy advanced and a fight commenced. Our Regt. and the 13^th N.J. were formed in the edge of a wood with the rest of our Brig. in our front. We were to support them and if they were forced to retire relieve them. Soon the Artillery joined in and then it became quite lively, the musketry volleys were rapid and we lay anxiously awaiting for our turn at the enemy, but the Indiana & other Regts. in our front held them in check and we lay quietly on our arms that night. Only casualty of Friday is Capt. N.E. Rutter of Co. I who was mortally wounded by a shell about sundown and died less than an hour after.”

Arthur S. Fitch, ca. 1880s

 Bartlet Bennett enlisted in Company E at age 25 along with his younger brother Sylvester in July 1862. He joined as a private, but was a sergeant at the time of the Battle of Chancellorsville. I don’t know much about his life before the war. After it, he lived in Elmira and worked as a railroad flagman. While Fitch practically wrote a novel, Bennett wrote a poorly-spelled haiku. “May 1, 1863, The enemy atact us; laid on arms all nite. Built brest works.”  

Bartlet & Sylvester Bennett, 1862

 Russell M. Tuttle was a 22-year-old from Almond, New York who enlisted as an orderly sergeant in the 107^th immediately after graduating from the University of Rochester. He joined Company K, which was under the command of his uncle, Allen Sill. Tuttle had been promoted to second lieutenant shortly before Chancellorsville. After the war, he went on to be the editor of the Hornellsville Times and founder of the Hornellsville Public Library. His diary entry is happy medium between Fitch’s and Bennett’s.

“May 1st: Advanced on the road to Fredericksburg to cover a movement of Gen. Mead on Bunk Ford. Came back, and then went back to get knapsack. Slight skirmish. Back to camp and had a fight. 27^th Ind. ahead of us. Capt. Rutter was struck by a shell. Poor fellow, a sharp fight along the line. Slept on our arms.”

Russell M. Tuttle, ca. 1860s

I keep a diary myself every night. On the scale between Bennett and Fitch, I’m more of a Tuttle.  

Swimming in Wool

by Erin Doane, Senior Curator

There’s nothing better on a hot summer day than taking a dip in some nice cool water. For centuries people have used lakes, rivers, oceans, and pools to help beat the heat. But what if you had to wear layers of thick, heavy wool to go swimming?  That doesn’t sound refreshing at all.

Women posing for a studio portrait in bathing clothes, 1890s

Swimming as a recreational activity, especially for women, is a relatively new idea. By the mid-1800s, the growing middle class found themselves with more free time and disposable income. With railroads allowing for faster and less expensive travel, vacations to the shore where people would swim, surf bathe, and dive became very popular.

While women could go to the beach, they were required to preserve their modesty. They did this by wearing loose, full-length bathing gowns made of thick wool or canvas that wouldn’t cling to their bodies when they got wet. These outfits had high necks and full sleeves. They sometimes even had weights at the hem so the skirt wouldn’t rise up in the water. Another option was known as the Princess suit which was a one-piece garment of a blouse attached to trousers. A calf-length skirt was worn over top. Because of the restrictive, heavy clothing, women didn’t so much swim as just walk out into the water then walk back to shore again.

Two ladies testing the water, c. 1900, Harry B. Mitchell photographer

Actual swimming was left to men. Before the 1800s, it was typical for men to swim nude but as Victorian modesty took hold, men were required to also wear swimsuits. Their suits were also made of wool with long legs and sleeves but were much more form-fitting. As the 1800s progressed, men’s swimwear lost its sleeves and the length of the legs shortened to allow more freedom of movement.

Swimming the old fashioned way, 1890s, Robert Turner, Jr. photographer

Women wanted to move around more easily in the water too but the evolution of their swimwear was much more gradual. The bloomer suit, named after suffragist and dress reformer Amelia Bloomer, with shortened trousers underneath a short-sleeve tunic became increasingly popular through the middle of the century. Women wore these shorter suits with stockings and shoes to maintain their modesty. Through the late 1800s, the trousers became shorter until they could no longer be seen under the skirt. Knit fabric, while still made of wool, made for more comfortable suits. In France, women’s swimsuits lost their sleeves entirely and bottom hems rose all the way to the knees.

Local swim fashions c. 1900, Harry B. Mitchell photographer

In 1900, swimsuits with a sailor-style collar were very popular. They were typically made of dark colored fabric, still to preserve modesty, but were of a lighter weave. White trim around the hem and collar was also quite fashionable, as was wearing a soft cap or straw hat to complete the ensemble.

Edith Miller and Eva Derby modeling swimwear on March 8, 1901

The first modern Olympic Games took place in 1896. Swimming was one of the men’s events. In 1912, women were permitted to also compete in swimming in the Olympics. Leading up to women’s entry into the sport on the world’s stage, swimwear underwent major changes. In 1907, Australian swimmer Annette Kellerman was arrested for indecency at Revere Beach in Boston for wearing a fitted one-piece swimsuit that bared her arms and legs. The new style, though considered risqué, was much more practical for swimming and quickly caught on.

Annette Kellerman, early 1900s, from loc.gov

Swimsuits continued to become lighter and smaller through the 1910s and 1920s. Men’s and women’s suits actually looked strikingly similar during the 1920s. Both were one-piece garments with tank-style tops and straight overskirts with attached shorts underneath. They were also still made of wool. Some were even made locally. The Queen City Knitting Mills on Scottwood Avenue in the Elmira Heights manufactured wool bathing suits in the early 1900s.

The Carr family in Keuka Lake, 1929

By the 1930s, swimsuits were finally being made of different fabrics like cotton and rayon, and later other new synthetic materials. Swimmers during that era must have found the change refreshing.

Clinton Island in the Chemung River, c. 1910s