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.

Ghost Walk 2024

by Susan Zehnder, Education Director

Over 500 people joined us for our 18^th annual Ghost Walk in Woodlawn Cemetery. This event has a lot of moving parts, and once again, we’re grateful for the help and flexibility of everyone involved. In the years we’ve been doing this, we’ve covered more than 72 stories of people buried in the 166-year-old cemetery, and we would like to think we’ve helped to lift up some of the amazing lives from our community. For the curious, previous scripts are posted on our website under the Ghost Walk heading, and as a bonus, the staff will be reading this year’s scripts this Wednesday, October 30^th at noon, here at the museum. We encourage anyone interested to join us for this free event. Maybe you weren’t able to attend, want to hear the stories again, or have questions about the ghosts or process.

Here is a brief description of this year’s characters.

The Hungerford Brothers - Brothers Daniel (1886-1967) and Floyd (1888-1963) were fascinated by rockets and aircraft. They were early enthusiasts of all forms of aviation, and in 1909, they built their own airplane engine and worked as glider mechanics. To help make things a little easier for themselves, they invented a rocket powered soldering iron. As the field of aviation started to grow, they purchased their own aircraft. Inspired by what was happening overseas, they invented a rocket-powered automobile and called it the Shirley Lois Moon Girl after Daniel’s daughter. Unfortunately, they debuted the car in November 1929, just days after the stock market crash. It never caught people’s interest the way they had hoped. Actor Joe Edkin played the role of Daniel, and John Olcott was his brother Floyd.

Floyd and Daniel Hungerford

Leon “Windy” Smith (1889-1960) Smith was born in Pennsylvania and attended schools in the Elmira area. When he met Glenn Curtiss, his discovered his true passion was flying. After getting his pilot’s license, he trained pilots to fly in WWI. When the war ended, the demand for pilots and flight instructors diminished. He continued to fly, and took a job with the newly developed Air Corps. What happened next made history. Read more about Mr. Smith in this recent blog here. Actor Sam Claypool played Smith.

Leon "Windy" Smith

Alice T. Knapp ((1870-1917) Active in local politics, Knapp worked quietly behind the scenes to get things done. She took part in helping to set policies and organize campaigns that supported women’s suffrage, temperance, and prohibition. Local officials admired her so much that her name was proposed for the position of Elmira’s city police commissioner. They collected 800 signatures in her support, but the Common Council voted to delay their vote. One day later, Knapp fell ill and was rushed to Arnot-Ogden Hospital. She never recovered and died soon after. Actor Casey Winston played Knapp.

Alice T. Knapp

Sarah Wey Tompkins (1866-1929) Socialite Sarah Wey was married to wealthy businessman Ray Tompkins. Their lives revolved around being part of the community and donating generously to various causes. When she died, her obituary included a lot of information about the men in her life, rather than focusing on her accomplishments. Actors Cathy Wiggs and David Wigs played the socialite and newspaper seller.

Sarah Wey Tompkins and newspaper seller

All twenty-one tours over the three days went smoothly with the Hunter’s Moon rising to add the perfect atmospheric mood. We hope everyone who attended enjoyed themselves and we look forward to another collection of characters for next year.

  

A Tale of Two Brothers: Catch Him if you Can

by Susan Zehnder, Education Director

This is a story about two brothers who made a name for themselves. One became a well-regarded member of the local community, while the other went on to make national headlines for fraud, larceny, and deception.

J. Bernard and J. Francis Toomey were born three years apart and grew up in Elmira around the turn of the 20^th century. Their parents were Margaret and John Toomey and their father worked as a trainman for the railroad. The family lived at East Fifth Street in Elmira. In 1906, another brother, J. Florence, was born.

The oldest son, Bernard, was full of ambition. When he graduated from Elmira Free Academy in 1915 his senior yearbook declared him to be one of the school’s most popular boys. In addition to his studies, he participated in class entertainments also known as school productions;

managed the baseball team for three years; and dated many girls one of whom was Marjorie Shaffer. 

Bernard attended the University of Buffalo to study dentistry. It was World War I and when the United States joined the war effort, he enlisted in the U.S. Navy. After the war, he returned to Elmira and opened his own dental practice at 243 Lake Street. A year later, Bernard married Marjorie Shaffer and the couple had a daughter, Judith.

For the next 38 years, Bernard was an active member of the community. He was president of the City Club, founding member of the Elmira Area University of Buffalo Alumni Association, a member of the Chemung County Dental Society and of the Torch Club, and director of the Chemung Valley Savings and Loan Association. Bernard promoted conservation through his work with Fur, Fin, and Feathers, Inc. He belonged to the Elmira Elks Lodge, the Harry B. Bentley Post of the American Legion. He was also an active congregant of Our Lady of Lourdes Church. In addition to his private dental practice, he was a dental consultant for the County Welfare Department.

In 1959, when he was 64, Bernard suffered an acute heart attack and died. Newspaper obituaries listed among the survivors his mother, his wife, his daughter, and only one brother, Florence.

Why wasn’t his middle brother mentioned? Apparently, Francis had been leading a very different life. The earliest mentions of him in local newspapers are positive, citing various elementary school achievements, like good attendance, or moving on to next grade. A few years later, his name appears as a participant in a public discussion “The Social Club as an Agency of Moral Uplift.” But soon after, Francis’s name started showing up in less flattering ways.

Apparently one evening, he and a couple of buddies broke into George Ells’ Machine and Bicycle Repair Shop on Lake Street, not far from where he lived. The boys ransacked the shop and took a number of electric flashlights, cigar packet lighters and other small items. Their identity must have been known --a year later, the police revealed their names when Francis was caught for another crime. This time he and a buddy had broken into Dr. F.B. Greene’s garage. After rifling through the garage, they stole a motorcar and went on a joyride. When it got stuck on West Church Street, they abandoned it, leaving $50 worth of damage--over $1,500 in today’s dollars. The boys were told to make amends.

That same year, 1912, Francis disappeared for three months. He had been involved in an accidental shooting and feared being arrested. According to the paper, the victim, only identified as an Armenian, “was not seriously hurt.” Regardless, Francis made his way to New York City and took a job with the railroad. He was injured on the job and in order to receive full pay, he was required to get his parents’ signature. Instead he listed J.P. Sullivan in Elmira as his guardian and misaddressed the envelope hoping it would never be delivered. A postal worker caught the “mistake” and the letter made its way to his folks. His father went and collected him.

A year later, he was working at Sullivan’s furniture store on East Water Street in Elmira, when a suspicious fire broke out. The fire was contained on the third floor of the Grand Theater Block and a larger crisis was averted. Damage to the building was estimated to be $15,000. While he was questioned, Francis was never charged.

In 1917, his name showed up more dramatically. Trying to follow in his brother’s footsteps and join the war effort, Francis headed to Fort Niagara Training School to enlist. He was denied because he was underage. Undaunted, he returned to Elmira wearing a military uniform and was greeted like a hero. But when people start to question details of his enlistment, he took off for Cleveland. For a while he passed as a lieutenant and was treated well. He was wined and dined and made himself popular with the ladies. He also cashed fraudulent checks. Again, before he was discovered, he left for Chicago and repeated his impersonation. This time it didn’t end well. When he was caught, nineteen-year-old Francis received a sentence of two-years and eleven months to be served at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. This was eventually reduced to 13 months when a judge felt the sentence was too harsh.

A few years later, he was connected to larcenies committed in Princeton, New Haven, and New York City. Then in 1923, Francis tried to pass himself off as the son of E. M. Statler, a man who had made millions in the hotel business. For a while he was living in luxury until once again he was caught this time in Boston. When arrested, he was wearing a tuxedo, and pennants from various colleges were found in his room. He was fined $25 and sentenced to a year.

In 1935, he was arrested when he tried to enroll in graduate school at the University of Tennessee using a bad check. Things quickly unraveled for him. Authorities discovered he had not received a degree from Tulane University, as he claimed. He admitted to using various aliases including Archie G. Glenn, Justin F. Toomey, Floyd Stranhan, Richard Forgan, Francis Sullivan, Jack Allen, Millard Jones, and F. J. Sullivan. He also admitted to committing felonies in California, Pennsylvania, and Georgia and to having spent time in jail in each of these states including San Quentin. He was sent off to prison again. He was thirty-two.

J. Francis Toomey Photo courtesy of National Archives of Kansas City

Little is known of his whereabouts between 1935 and 1960. In 1960, the newspaper published a notice in the newspaper that he had violated parole and was being held without bail, but no indication of what parole he had violated.

Francis outlived his younger and older brothers by more than a decade. On November 15, 1970, the Star-Gazette printed a death notice for him. He had died in New York City four days earlier. A High Mass was held for him at St. Cecelia’s and he was buried at St. Peter and Paul’s Cemetery. No survivors were listed.

Paved Streets

 by Susan Zehnder, Education Director

Street grader in Chemung County

Driving during the summer can often be frustrating. Sometimes it feels like every road you come across is in the process of being built, or badly needs to be repaired. To add to the frustration, drivers navigating construction zones, summer weather, and road conditions often have a short supply of patience. It’s as if the smell of asphalt goes along with hot air and hot tempers.

In its purest form, asphalt is the hardened form of petroleum. Currently, the United States leads in petroleum production, and it was in our region that one of the world's first petroleum deposits, located in what is now western Pennsylvania, was used by the Seneca. As far back as the 15th century, the indigenous group was known to use the sticky substance for healing lotions and in ceremonial fires.

Road construction in Chemung County

Using asphalt for paving road surfaces starts to show up in the late 19^th century. At first, Elmira’s busier streets were covered with either vitrified (a heating process to harden) bricks over sand or Medina stone, a material discovered during construction of the Erie Canal. For a while, these surfaces stood up to ever increasing traffic. But when the area’s population passed 30,000 people, it became clear that the city’s roads needed more attention. Local officials turned to newer technologies.

Engineers had been using petroleum in liquid form as a road cover for gravel-covered streets. They found it helpful in keeping the road surface intact and reducing the dust kicked up by traffic. Then Edward Joseph de Smedt, a Belgian immigrant, chemist, and professor at Columbia University, came up with another idea for using petroleum. Using the material in hardened form, he developed what he called asphalt concrete.

De Smedt’s process mixed crude petroleum with construction materials, like sand and gravel, then dried the mixture into sheets that were laid down on a gravel road. The sheets were applied in layers, with each layer compacted to create a flexible and stronger surface. Through trial and error, de Smedt was convinced that the new layered pavement was successful. In July 1870, the first asphalt road was paved in Newark, NJ. Much to the chagrin of another man, de Smedt went on to be called the inventor of asphalt paving.

General Averell

That other man was General William W. Averell from Bath, NY. During his Civil War service, Averell had come across naturally dried petroleum or asphalt in the Carolinas. Seeing its potential, he formed the Grahamite Asphalt Pavement Company, and set himself up as its president. In 1870, while observing de Smedt’s approach, Averell saw problems. He went on to experiment on his own and in 1878, Averell filed a patent, “Improvement in Asphaltic Pavement” staking his claim to fame.

Amzi Barber: The King of Asphalt

Other investors and entrepreneurs swarmed to get in on the new financial opportunities. An American businessman, Amzi L. Barber, decided the best way to make money in the asphalt business was to control the source of petroleum. He set about buying mineral rights. Barber, later known as the Asphalt King, already held financial interests in real estate and the Locomobile Company of America, one of the first American automobile manufacturers. Barber believed that both of these benefited from having paved streets. Barber bought some of de Smedt’s patents and went into business with his brother-in-law, Buffalo industrialist John J. Albright, establishing the Barber Asphalt Company.

Barber Asphalt was competitive and bid for work all around the country. In 1895, Elmira leaders decided to pave the first roads in asphalt and awarded the contract to Barber over a local firm, Costello & Neagle. West Church Street, west of Main was paved that summer. The Barber Asphalt Company beat Costello & Neagle at least one more time in 1897, underbidding them by only .01 cent per square yard.

By the turn of the century, the Barber Asphalt Company had laid more than 12 million square yards of asphalt pavement in 70 American cities to the amount of $35 million, well over a billion dollars today. Most of Barber’s business ventures seem to have been successful, but they were not without controversy. Numerous reports of international bribes, faulty patent use, and coercion led to lawsuits against the company, including one filed by General Averell, who challenged Barber’s use of patents. Averell won and was awarded nearly $400,000, about $11 million in today’s money. Despite this vindication, Averell was never able to change the narrative of who invented pavement.

Star-Gazette March 6, 1896

Another unsuccessful Barber venture was his attempt to establish The Asphalt Trust by consolidating companies and creating a monopoly. It was ultimately denied by the federal courts and the trust collapsed. Even so, Barber’s wealth seemed to endure. When he died in 1909 of pneumonia at the age of 66, he left his second wife, Julie Louise Langdon, first cousin to Olivia Langdon of Elmira, and five children an inheritance said to be worth millions. However in the spring of 1913, the New York Times reported that six years before he died, he had sold off many of his interests to his brother-in-law for a guaranteed annual income of $12,000.

Today the majority of American roads are paved with asphalt. It continues to be one of the least costly methods to use even though it means that summer also seems like road repair season. 

The First Four Decades of Milling in Chemung County

by Monica Groth, Curator 

Arnot Mill on Newtown Creek, painted by Mabel Shoemaker, 1973

Living alongside creeks, rivers, and waterways has its many advantages. A river is not only a source of food and a means of transportation. Its power can also be harnessed to perform work for millers.

Almost as soon as the area which was to become Chemung County was settled by Revolutionary War veterans in the late 18^th century, it became home to a number of sawmills – that is, mills which process lumber into wood for building homes. As past curator Frances Brayton writes, “even before a church or courthouse is built, the mill, by a rushing stream is set up and in operation.”

The first sawmill in the area was built on Seeley Creek by Abraham Miller in 1798. If his surname is any indication, Abraham might have descended from a family of English millers. He served in the Continental Army during the Revolutionary War and was captured by the Haudenosaunee. Escaping around Seneca Lake on his captors’ route to Canada, Miller settled in New York. Historian Ausburn Towner names Miller “one of the most active, foremost and enterprising of the earliest settlers of the valley”.

Many equally enterprising settlers followed Miller’s example. In 1800, the first sawmills were built in Ashland and Van Etten. In 1805, Nathan Teall erected two mills, one in Horseheads and another in Millport. In the early years of the 19^th century, sawmills sprang up throughout the townships, as the plentiful lumber of the surrounding hills was harvested to supply the needs of the growing population.

Thirty years after Abraham Miller built the first sawmill, there were no less than 19 mills in Southport on Seeley Creek alone.

That year, Big Flats boasted 5 sawmills,

Catlin: 18

Chemung: 21

Elmira: 13

Erin: 4

Veteran: 36

This was before the Chemung Canal opened in 1833. Once completed, the canal greatly increased the efficiency with which lumber could be transported and greatly expanded the markets which it could reach. Trade increased and more mills were constructed to capitalize on this economic opportunity.

Lumber outside Rodbourn Sawmill in Erin, NY. Sawmills continued to thrive into the 20th century.

By 1836, when author Solomon Southwick published the pamphlet “Views of Elmira”, the area’s mills had modernized and were extremely productive. Southwick writes that the 6 mill complexes closest to Elmira produced nearly 20,000 feet of lumber daily.

You’ll notice I wrote of mill complexes – meaning buildings harnessing water power to perform a variety of different tasks. Sawmills used that energy the operate saws to cut wood. Grist mills used that energy to grind grain between heavy millstones. Some millers did both tasks, while other specialized in one mill type.

A mill pick like this one in our collection is used to "dress" or re-carve
the furrows on mill grinding stones

A millstone - most grist mills will contain two stones arranged horizontally atop one another. One, the bedstone, remains stationary while the other, the runner stone, rotates on top of it. Grain its poured through the center whole and moves outwards through the channels as it is ground into fine flour, which emerges at its edge.

Grist mills appeared in our county sometime after our earliest sawmills and were extremely important to the area’s first families. Though a matter of some historic debate, the first grist mill is believed to have been built by Daniel Carpenter on Newtown Creek around 1800. Prior to its construction, families would transport their grain south to a mill on Tioga Point to be ground into flour. Towner writes that grain was transported on horseback or more often, by boat, and it was “a tedious process in bringing it home up river”. “When the mill was built at the mouth of Newtown Creek,” Towner writes, “it was an enterprise of more necessity… than the completion of the Chemung Canal.”

Soon after Carpenter’s Mill was built, another early grist mill was opened by the Webb family in Southport (in the vicinity of the district which now bears its name).

Scale model of Webbs Mill, originally on Seeley Creek in Southport.
Webbs Mill was among the first grist mills in Chemung County

By Southwick’s observation, in 1836, the aforementioned mills nearest the city of Elmira were grinding approximately 800 bushels of grain a day.

However, there were still far fewer grist mills in the area than sawmills, and grist mills, performing a great percentage of their work to serve the local community rather than more distant markets, remained very important to Chemung County residents. When a fire destroyed the grist mill Sullivan's Mill (also known as the Tuttle or Arnot Mill) in 1836, The Elmira Gazette wrote that the loss of the mill and over 650 bushels of wheat would be “severely felt by the community, as there are few such establishments in the neighborhood.” The mill was immediately rebuilt the following season.

Poles Dancing

 by Monica Groth, Curator

Polish Dolls
Courtesy of Jackie Droleski

In 1983, the Chemung Valley History Museum's Bank Gallery was filled with dancers costumed in bright boots, flower crowns, and intricately embroidered vests.

The Tatra Dancers at CVHM, 1983

That day, the Tatra Dancers, a Polish folk dancing group, performed at the Museum before an excited audience. 

The Tatra Dancers at CVHM, 1983

The Tatra Dancers had been established as a club just seven years earlier with the encouragement of two local Polish cultural organizations: the White Eagle Society and the Polish Arts Club. These organizations were on a mission to revive interest in and appreciation for Polish art and culture among second and third generation Polish-Americans who were losing knowledge of their heritage. 

Polish immigration to Chemung County peaked in the late 19th century. Many immigrants had settled in the coal mining districts of northern Pennsylvania in the decades prior to 1900, but came to Chemung County when jobs in industrializing Elmira and Elmira Heights offered better economic opportunities. Organizations were immediately created to keep Polish culture alive. The earliest Polish organizations were founded through St. Casimir's Church, established in 1890 as the center of the Polish Catholic community. The St. Casimir's Society was founded in 1895, and the White Eagle's Society (which still thrives today and is part of the Polish National Alliance) was established in 1907. The societies generated income for members' sick/death benefits and hosted events within the community. Through the decades, Polish music and language were promoted at St. Casimir's church services and Polish-language classes were taught at St. Casimir's parochial school, run by the Polish-speaking Sisters of St. Joseph. 

St. Casimir's Church, c. 1890.
Image Courtesy of Jackie Droleski. 

St. Casimir's Church, 2002.
A large brick structure was built to replace
the original wood-frame church in 1912.
 The Church stands at 1000 Davis St., Elmira today.  

Over time, however, as Polish-Americans increasingly assimilated into multicultural America, the use of Polish language in church, school, and clubs decreased, nearly disappearing by the early 1950s. 

Minutes of Council 104 of the Polish National Alliance taken in Elmira, NY 1954-1955.
The book is open to the entry where records switch from Polish to English. 

In the early 1970's, the community experienced a cultural Renaissance, as parishioners of St. Casimir's reinitiated Polish music and language in Masses. A new Polish Choir was assembled and the Polish Arts Club was formed in 1973. The Club hosted language and crafts classes as well as lecture and film series on Polish culture. 

As part of this Renaissance, the Tatra Dancers were established in 1976. The name Tatra comes from the name of the Western Carpathian mountain region of Poland where many folk dances originated. 

The Tatra Dancers
Image from Elmira's Poles by Ray Winieski

The group learned and performed traditional Polish folk dances and were dedicated to authenticity. Group instructor George Bacmanski supplied the group with traditional costumes directly from Poland. In 1979, his daughter Rose Bacmanski studied at Poland's Koscuiszko Foundation, and in 1980, the group traveled to Poland to perform in the Rzeszow Folk Festival. 

Embroidered woolen vest made in Poland and
believed to have been worn by a Tatra dancer
Loaned courtesy of Marge Cowulich

There are many different styles of Polish folk dance, each deriving from the distinct culture of the region in which it originated. However, the so-called "national" dances spread throughout the country from their original regions and were danced by all classes. 

The five national dances of Poland include:

The Krakowiak: a fast paced exhibition dance featuring several couples following a lead pair. It hails from the Krakow region of Poland.

The Kujawiak: a slow, smooth dance from the Mazovian plains region of Kujawy. The dance is usually paired with the faster Oberek. 

The Oberek: a dance from the Mazowsze villages of Central Poland. Like many styles, the Oberek originated amongst peasants and spread to the nobility. It's name comes from the Polish word "to spin" or rotate and it is known for its jumps and spins. 

The Mazur: another dance from the Mazovian plains, the mazur has a popular if irregular rhythm and much foot-stomping and heel-clicking.

The Polonez: the aristocratic waltz-like "walking" dance is a slow promenading ballroom dance 

Popular regional dances from the Tatra region of Poland include the Goralski and the Zbojnicki, both known as highland dances. Both dances showcase the acrobatic talents of dancers and can use the ciupaga, or shepherd's axe, though the axe is more popular in the Zbojnicki, an all-male dance modeled after the exploits of the "zbojnik", or mythical robber, of the region.

Watch Polish dances being performed on this YouTube Playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLR18vxeMSzPSBEsjhKAOkzbBmYM29axyn

 

Cup featuring the Kujawiak 
Courtesy of Christina Markiewicz

Cup featuring the Mazur
Courtesy of Christina Markiewicz

Cup featuring the Polonez
Courtesy of Christina Markiewicz

Today, the exhibit Polonia in Chemung County is on display just off the gallery where the Tatra dancers performed fifty years ago. The exhibit showcases many items having to do with Polish dancing. Christina Markiewicz kindly loaned the Museum a series of porcelain cups displaying multiple dance styles and Bettyann Bubacz donated a ciupaga (dancing axe) to the Museum. Come check it out!

Polish Dancing Case in the exhibit Polonia in Chemung County
 On Display Now at the Chemung Valley History Museum
Objects loaned to the Museum courtesy of Bettyann Bubacz,
Jackie Droleski, Christina Markiewicz, and Jane Stalica 

The Duck that Laid the Golden Cure

by Monica Groth, Curator

An Illustration Satirizing Medical "Quackery" in the March 1867
edition of The Herald of Health medical journal .

The medical world of the 19th century was chaotic. Physicians were only beginning to understand that bacteria and viruses caused disease, and different doctors had different ideas about what constituted a wonder drug and how much of it was a poisonous dose. As a patient of the 19^th century you might be treated with calomel (which contained toxic mercury), cocaine injections (used to treat afflictions from eye ailments to in-grown toenails), or heaping tablespoons of the herb “Indian tobacco” (popularized by Samuel Thomson, who later faced murder charges due to the results it had on his patients). If you were interested in the reform-minded “Eclectic” medical movement, to which Elmira’s Drs. Rachel and Silas Gleason belonged, you might try various botanical and natural cures as well as novel electrotherapy treatments (using electricity to treat the body). The Gleasons primarily promoted clean air, exercise, and water treatments (which chiefly meant putting patients in baths of varying temperatures and salinities) at their Water Cure on Elmira’s East Hill (check out some objects from the Water Cure on display at the Museum now).

The 19th century was also the century of quack remedies – cures hawked by peddlers in get-rich-quick schemes. The popularity of such remedies coincided with a growing resolution among the lower and middle classes to shun the elitist medical establishment and be one’s own doctor in a democratic America. Numerous patent “formulas”, “syrups”, and “tinctures” contained dangerous herbs or metals dissolved in hefty quantities of alcohol or morphine. In 1868, The Herald of Health, a New York medical journal warned, “The quacks are generally a wide awake business set of fellows… If there is one species of dishonesty that is more wicked than any other, it is the attempt to thus play with those who are sick.”

One little-known and interesting treatment patented and publicized after the Civil War was Dr. Keeley’s “Gold Cure”. Dr. Leslie E. Keeley was an Army Surgeon who’d witnessed fellow soldiers become dependent upon alcohol. Against the backdrop of temperance movements across the country, questions swirled around what could be done to effectively “cure the inebriate”. A Herald of Health essay by J.B. Fuller Walker, director of the Cleveland Ohio “inebriate asylum”, attempted the use of Turkish baths and Swedish vibratory treatments, but admitted the difficulty in treating those who suffered from alcoholism and addiction. At the time, people were inclined to consider alcoholism a moral failing – not a treatable disease.  As put by the Elmira-published medical journal The Bistoury in 1877, “The moral aspect of intemperance is abundantly preached, while the medical bearing of the vice is seldom broached.”

Keeley broached the topic, and his treatment was soon to reach The Bistoury’s city. He famously announced that alcoholism could be treated, along with other addictions – by medicinal gold. After early experiments (of dubious success) conducted with temperance lecturer Frederick Hargreaves, Keely marketed his cure and established a “Gold Cure” institution in Dwight, Illinois where patients could come for treatment. While the chemical compound bichloride of gold was reportedly the key to the treatment, it was mixed with “mystery” ingredients to make a tonic, a teaspoon of which was taken by the patient 4 times a day. The “mystery” cure was then a closely guarded secret, but is now believed to have contained the toxic alkaloids strychnine and atropine, along with willow-bark, ammonia, and coca. In 1886, Keeley introduced the injectable version of his cure which, according to scholar April White, “left a reassuring golden stain on the upper arm” [1]. Patients lined up in “the shooting gallery” at the cure to be injected with a custom cocktail of blue, white, and red liquids.

Opinions on whether Keeley’s cure was genius or sheer quackery diverged. Some “graduates” of the cure swore to its efficacy, while others denounced it. Some thought laws should be established making the cure compulsory and government-funded. Keeley’s treatment spread rapidly, eventually leading to the establishment of over 100 affiliated “gold cures” across the country. Gold Cures directly affiliated with Keeley's Dwight Institute were established across New York State in Westfield, Binghamton, Geneseo, Babylon, and White Plains (this last establishment being infiltrated and investigated by the famous journalist Nellie Bly). Many more “imitators” opened their own cures inspired by Keeley’s treatment. Throughout the last decade of the 19^th century, the Elmira Star-Gazette announced the opening of independent gold cures in Corning, Seneca Falls, Bemus Point, Wellsville, and in New Athens and Blossburg, Pennsylvania. The administration of a course of the Keeley treatment at the Soldier’s Home in Bath in 1894 was also publicized in the paper. It wasn't long before the gold cure arrived in Chemung County. 

The Elmira city coroner Dr. J. A. Westlake and associate Dr. Frank A. Flood established a branch of the Monroe Improved Gold Cure of “the system...in vogue at Bemus Point, Chautauqua Lake” at Coroner Westlake’s Sanitarium on Lake Street in 1892. There, the gold cure was offered amongst other treatments until it was discontinued a year later “owning to the objections raised by ladies” who appear to have disapproved of the patients attracted to the cure.

But shortly thereafter, in 1894, a new gold cure arrived in Elmira. It was known as the Telfair Sanitarium after its parent institution - established by Dr. William Telfair in Rochester, NY. Dr. Telfair had sent a representative, a Mr. Jackson, to Elmira, and Jackson’s efforts and people’s interest soon led to the opening of Elmira’s own branch of the cure at 52 S. Main Street. Operated by Dr. Nathaniel Love and managed by the aforementioned Jackson, the cure appears to have been a success. One 1894 advert in the Star Gazette announces, “The success of the Telfair Sanitarium in Elmira is phenomenal. Why? Because they are making happy homes by their successful cures of those addicted to liquor.” The patients reportedly left the Sanitarium “changed individuals” and an 1895 article highlighting Dr. Love’s work deemed it “unequalled”.  

Advertisement for The Elmira Sanitarium Gold Cure in the Star-Gazette, Feb. 4, 1896

However, in 1895, Dr. Telfair announced he was breaking with the Elmira branch. As often happened in the world of treatment schemes, disciples became hated “imitators” when they became rivals and quickly lost favor with their early colleagues (just as Telfair had deemed himself superior to Keeley years before). The Telfair Sanitarium of Elmira however, despite losing its connection to Rochester, continued to promote its gold treatments, renaming itself the Elmira Sanitarium Gold Cure and advertising its services through the last years of the 19^th century.

The gold cure could be dangerous, and death announcements in the Star-Gazette attest that patients hoping to be cured often perished under treatment. One Elmiran succumbed at a Corning Gold Cure in 1893. Whether this was due to the gold injections, his poor health upon arrival, or both, is impossible to say. At least two other deaths were reported that year to have taken place at the gold cure in Blossburg, Pennsylvania.

Though Keeley’s tonics and injections weren’t medically sound, his institutes left an enduring legacy. Patients at the cures socialized and talked with each other about their habits and resolutions and after completing the cure the so-called “graduates” formed clubs to hold each other accountable and seek sobriety together. An Elmira branch of the Gold Cure Club was founded in 1896 and raised money to send those who wanted to take the cure to the Sanitarium. Many credit these organizations as forerunners of discussion based programs continued by Alcoholics Anonymous today.

[1] White, April. Inside a Nineteenth-Century Quest to End Addiction. JStorDaily 2016. https://daily.jstor.org/ 

Faces of Chemung County

by Monica Groth, Curator

The display surrounding Julia Stancliff Reynolds,
one of nine individuals featured in our newest exhibit

The Museum’s upcoming exhibit Faces of Chemung County features the portraits of nine distinct individuals. Each face has a unique past and story, and this exhibit invites you to step into the frame. A deeper look into the lives of those depicted reveals that in addition to great differences, our characters also share similarities across time and space. Viewing them side by side helps the visitor compare their contexts and contemplate the lives they lived in relation to each other – human lives filled with the same heartbreak, sacrifice, and perseverance present throughout all of history.

Julia Renolds (left) and Rachel Gleason (right):
notice their difference in dress as well as frame

Julia Reynolds (1836-1916) and Rachel Gleason (1820-1905) both led long lives. As women born in the early nineteenth century, they were subjected to many societal expectations –including the expectation to marry. Julia, born an Eldridge, married twice, experiencing a heartbreaking widowhood followed by a bitter separation from her second husband. She then lived independently abroad and in New York City for the last twenty-five years of her life. Julia was a wealthy woman and readers may remember that her mansion, nicknamed "Fascination" was mentioned in a previous blog of mine.  

Rachel’s husband, Silas, supported her desire to become a physician and encouraged her interest in medicine. Rachel became one of the first women in the United States to receive a medical degree, graduating from Central Medical College in Rochester, NY in 1851. Rachel knew that women not only experienced discrimination in what careers were open to them, but were also deprived of sound medical care. At the time, male doctors dismissed women as hysteric patients and many considered it “indecorous” to discuss female health problems. Rachel therefore specialized in treating women and educating them about their health. She lectured often and promoted her book Talks to my Patients, in which she wrote candidly about women’s health topics. She worked with Silas at Elmira’s Water Cure, established on the city’s East Hill in 1852, and even delivered Samuel Clemens’ (Mark Twain’s) daughters, being Livy Clemens’ personal physician. Both Julia and Rachel lived through Elmira’s Gilded Age, Rachel defying expectations on the city’s East Hill in order to reach success, and Julia fulfilling the responsibilities of a wealthy hostess downtown only to find it very lonely indeed.

Isaac Baldwin (left), Thomas Kane (middle), Colonel Liscum (right)

Beside each other in the exhibit are a young lad and an old gentleman – a 150 year old rocking horse, bedecked in a fine small saddle and bridle, within a few feet of a saddle blanket actually used in combat. Colonel Emerson Liscum (1841-1900), the owner of that saddle, died whilst leading a charge on the walled city of Tien-Tsin, China during the Boxer Rebellion. A career soldier who enlisted in the Union Army at only 19 years old, Emerson married Elmiran May Diven after the Civil War ended. May received a sorrowful letter accompanying the saddle blanket now in the Historical Society’s collection, expressing condolences over the loss of her husband. Known as Old White Whiskers, Liscum’s last words “Keep up the fire” became the motto of the 9^th US Infantry he commanded, and a monument and ornate silver bowl were commissioned in his honor. 

Young Isaac Baldwin (1869-1949), likely the proud rider of a rocking horse similar to that one on display, is only nine years old in his portrait. His childhood was comfortable, as his father was a wealthy real-estate mogul, and it is memorialized in the exhibit through toys from the 1870s-1880s. Among Baldwin’s associated objects are a toy cannon and game pieces from a political board game, reminding viewers of the irony of children playing at war and politics when soldiers like Liscum were in the midst of very real conflicts. 

Another veteran in this exhibit enlisted eighty years after Liscum at nearly the same age. Elmiran Pvt. Thomas Kane (1923-1978) was 20 years old when he joined up in WWII. USO artist Freda Reiter captured his likeness in a sketch while he was convalescing in a French military hospital a year later. His portrait, in between the innocent youth and the battle-hardened soldier, gives one a look into the eyes of a young man experiencing the trials of a very different war. Happily, Pvt. Kane survived his wounds and went on to a very successful career in the Postal Service.

Reverend Henry Hubbard (left); Harry York Iszard (right)

Kane may have known two figures who now make their entrances – Harry York Iszard (1893-1971) and Reverend Hubbard (1873-1957). The portraits of these two men were painted within two years of each other, the Reverend’s in 1953 and Harry’s in 1955. The 50’s were a time of great post-war growth in Chemung County, as citizens across the country recovered from the war. Harry Iszard inherited S.F. Iszard’s Department store upon his father’s death. He opened a new branch in the Arnot Mall and sponsored the annual holiday parade to increase business, a tradition which continues to this day. Hubbard served as rector of Trinity Episcopal Church from 1917-1953, retiring the year this portrait was painted. Archival documents reveal his congregation was very grateful for his leadership during both World Wars, and that he was a champion of programs for young people. Though one served the material needs of the community and the other its spiritual, these two be-speckled gentlemen had a great impact on their community.

Native American Woman tentatively identified as Sha-ko-ka of the Mandan tribe (left);
Black Woman tentatively identified as a member of the Williams and Underwood families (right)

It is equally important to draw attention to those individuals who are not always remembered by history – those who do not come from privileged backgrounds and are marginalized due to gender and race. The identities of two individuals in this exhibit have been lost to history. The first portrait is of a Native American Woman. Her portrait is thought to have been painted by the prolific western artist George Catlin. From 1830-1838 Catlin toured the native tribes of the American West, creating a portrait gallery.  In traveling up the Missouri River around his final years of work, he encountered the Mandan tribe of the Heart River area of North Dakota. There he painted a young woman named “Mint”, or Sha-ko-ka in her native language. This young woman bears some resemblance to the subject of the portrait we are now displaying and may be a rendition of her in different dress. Sha-ko-ka, like many Native Americans in the early 19^th century, were wrongly viewed as exotic people part of a romanticized past rather than as individuals with rights. Continued Westward Expansion, of which Colonel Liscum was later a part, pushed Mandan people from their ancestral lands and afflicted many with smallpox and disease. 

Another unidentified portrait in our collection is that of an African American woman, tentatively identified as Elmer Underwood’s mother and a member of the Williams extended family. The Black community in Chemung County faced much discrimination in housing, education, and employment throughout the late 1800s, the approximate date of this portrait. Yet, many political action groups fought against this injustice, including Colored Citizens of Elmira and the Elmira chapter of the NAACP. Five members of the Williams family were founding members of the city’s chapter of the NAACP, created in 1942, and worked to advance the status of the county's Black community. 

History is filled with unrecorded stories and the circumstances and biases which prioritize some lives whilst relegating others to footnotes. Both of these women’s portraits reveal unrecorded lives we must recognize in telling the county’s story and highlight our mission to turn historical omissions into learning experiences.

Faces of Chemung County is currently being installed. Visit the Museum to view the objects which accompany these portraits and see if you can identify more similarities and differences among them.