L. Libbie Adams and her Youthful Enterprise

 by Susan Zehnder, Education Director

Our exhibit Fit to Print, on display until July 31st, showcases printing materials from Chemung County. Although we have nothing (yet!) from a nineteenth century publication written, edited, typeset and printed by teenager L. Libbie Adams from Elmira, her story offers a fascinating glimpse into the area's early printing culture. 

Example of a small press from our collection

Laura Elizabeth or "Libbie" Adams was born in 1859 in Carbondale, PA, the only child of Lucy and Oscar H. Adams. In May of 1864, her father joined the Union army and mustered in Elmira as an assistant surgeon for the 8th NY Calvary out of Rochester, NY. He was scheduled to serve three years. One month later, following a disastrous raid on the Weldon railroad, he was reported among the 117 missing. It turned out that he had been shot in the head and captured. He was discharged in February 1865 and considered a pensioner for the rest of his life. In 1866, the Elmira City Directory lists Oscar H. Adams as a physician living at 400 High Street where he had moved with his wife Lucy and daughter Libbie.

400 High Street

Two years earlier, Libbie printed her first amateur journal, which she called the Youthful Enterprise. The word amateur was initially used to identify the age of the journalist, not whether they earned any money. Libbie was one of many young journalists who made use of the small novelty presses that became popular during the mid-nineteenth century. These tabletop-sized presses were first designed for shopkeepers to print labels but were soon adopted as a way for people to print their own cards, broadsheets and even newspapers, depending on the size of the press. Their small size and relatively inexpensive cost also attracted young people of modest means. In some ways, small presses were the social media of their generation: children and teenagers used presses as a new means to express themselves, sharing ideas and forming communities through print.

The idea of youth or adolescence as a distinct time of life was something new for nineteenth-century Americans. Earlier generations of young people were often expected to go to work after attending grammar school. Through efforts of the newly established US Office of Education, and the National Education Association, however, education changed. Students were now recommended to have twelve years of instruction: eight years of grammar school, followed by four years of high school. This change increased the number of US public high schools. It also influenced the growth of American higher education, which at the beginning of the century counted 23 colleges and universities, and at the end of the century tallied close to 1,000. It was also when the nation's first Black colleges, now known as Historically Black Colleges and Universities, were established. Post-Civil War, education was seen by everyone as a way to improve one's status in life. This change resulted in many students, aged 11 to 19, finding free time to fill. Some youths joined newly formed clubs, sports, and other social associations, while some middle-class youths embraced new technological hobbies like printing.

Most young printers were boys between the ages of 11 and 16. The journals or newspapers they produced followed a familiar template and included news, fiction, poetry, miscellaneous topics, editorials, puzzles, and anything else that they thought other teenagers would want to know. Some papers included advertising sections for products or services marketed for the first time to this age group. Young printers looking for social connection formed the United Amateur Press Association (UAPA). They called their world Amateurdom, or the ‘Dom and  organized regional fairs. In 1876, they held the first national meeting to share their work. 

There were apparently no girls at this first convention, but Libbie Adams and other girls were printing nonetheless. When Libbie first started the Youthful Enterprise in Carbondale, she printed her ten-page, thirty-column papers on an eighth-medium, hand-inking Star press, which cost $38 in 1873. In today's dollars that would be over $1,000. In addition to her editing, printing and editorial work, Libbie was a poet who wrote under the name Nettie Sparkle. When the family moved to Elmira, she continued her work and now used a quarter medium job press to print. A notice in the 1876 Carbondale Daily News reads:

 “Miss Libbie Adams, formerly of this city, is making an interesting paper of her amateur Youthful Enterprise at Elmira. Miss Libbie is improving rapidly as a writer, and we congratulate her thus far.”

Later that year, her work was challenged by a rival printer who questioned whether Libbie, a mere girl, was actually doing the work herself. Apparently, this was a common event among amateur printers who would then respond passionately and refute any claims. Libbie responded and not only printed a testimonial in her paper, but she had it confirmed by the Chemung County notary and signed by such local notables as Edwin Eldridge, John Arnot, Jr., H.W. Rathbone, and both editors of Elmira’s newspapers. 

In 1877, Libbie attended the second national UAPA convention, one of four girls to do so. She was asked to help draft a constitution for the Western New York APA organizing in Buffalo. It was enthusiastically adopted. 

In July of 1878, Libbie’s father, Oscar H. Adams, died. He was forty-four years and was buried in Woodlawn cemetery. No obituary was printed, but his death certificate lists cancer as the cause. The Elmira City Directory for 1879 lists Lucy A. Adams, widow of Oscar H., living at 400 High Street. The next year she is listed at 701 East Church Street. 

Libbie continued to print her paper but changed the name to the Elmira Enterprise. She used the money from printing to pay for college classes at Elmira Female College. There she met, fell in love and married Edwin B. Turner. He had been taking art classes at the college, and was notable for being the first man to enroll there.  After the couple married, he joined her in the printing business. Edwin B. Turner went on to start other businesses, some with more success than others, and the couple had six children. Edwin died in 1940, followed one year later by Libbie Adams Turner died. She was 82. Both are buried in Woodlawn cemetery.

We wish we had a copy of Libbie’s Youthful Enterprise, but in the meantime will have to print her story ourselves.

 

Embarrassing Moments

By Kelli Huggins, Education Coordinator

 

Embarrassing moments: we’ve all had them, and people in the past were no exception to this shame. While I won’t be sharing any of my own personal lowlights, I do really enjoy a regular column that ran in the Elmira Telegram in the 1910s which printed reader-submitted embarrassments for everyone’s enjoyment. If you spend some time reading them, you’ll realize that there are certain situations that are universally embarrassing, regardless of the decade in which they occur. However, some others are a little hard for us to relate to in the 21^st century. Below are a selection of some of my favorites:

The most embarrassing moment of my life was when I sat down on a custard pie at a picnic.

My most embarrassing moment was when I attended my first dance. I was not a good dancer and as the music stopped I heard my partner say under his breath, “Well, thank goodness!”

The most embarrassing moment of my life was when I went to a party with a girl. During the party it began to rain pitchforks. Another youth offered to take the girl home under his umbrella. She declined, saying she would rather go under my umbrella. Imagine my embarrassment later when I had to tell her I had no umbrella.

It was late when we arrived at the theatre and the house was dark. Our seats were in the balcony, and as I went down the aisle I laid my hand on what I thought was a post, but lo and behold. It began to move. What was my horror to find that the object was a man’s bald head. In my embarrassment I stammered in an audible tone, “O, pardon me, I thought you were a post.”

While parading down one of the streets in the loop I noticed that everyone looked at me. Being as homely as they make them, but perfectly healthy, I commenced to think I was getting better looking. After several passersby laughed out loud I looked at myself from head to toe and discovered that in my haste I had only one spat on. To make matters worse I had the spat on over a shoe and the top of the shoe was gray and the spat white.

My most painful as well as most embarrassing moment was when I once occupied the speaker’s platform with six men. I being the only woman. I had a new frock for the occasion, an airy-fairy thing that made me feel I was at my best. But not for long . How can I describe my physical torture and mental anguish when I discovered that I was not the only inhabitant of that dress? My right to be therein was being disputed by a flea! Squirm and writhe as I would and pat and smooth with my hands, I could not persuade that flea to leave nor yet to dwell with me in harmony. To leave the platform was out of the question and when in a few minutes my address was called I was frankly and plebeianly scratching!

Elmira’s True Rival City

By Kelli Huggins, Education Coordinator

 

What town or city would you say is Elmira’s “rival”? You’d probably say Corning, right? Well, if you asked an Elmiran in the 19^th and early 20^th century, they would probably have said Binghamton without hesitation. And it makes sense when you think about it. For a good chunk of our history, Binghamton has been the nearest, similarly industrial city. Elmira and Binghamton have had the typical political, sports, and school rivalries, but over the years, residents of both cities have found even weirder things to fight about.

Let’s go back to 1888 for an example. The Elmira press lamented that Binghamton, “a rival city in all respects,” held a far better 4^th of July celebration. Elmirans fled their city to go to Binghamton, leaving Elmira temporarily a ghost town. Of their own city, the reporter claimed, “Elmira is behind the age. It lacks all those things which give life and growth to a place. This may be an ugly statement but it is a true one.”

In 1893, the Elmira Daily Gazette and Free Press published an article, “Elmira and Bingo,” in response to a Binghamton Herald report comparing the two cities. That Binghamton article charged that Elmira disproportionately benefited from increased prominence after the Civil War and from the Erie Railroad. But despite those early advantages, Binghamton was catching up and fast surpassing Elmira. They cited the following statistics: Binghamton had 132 factories employing 15,000; Elmira had 86 employing 3,000. The reporter stated Binghamton had better architecture and infrastructure. They claimed governmental superiority, writing, “politically, Elmira is rotten.” 

The rivalry exploded on October 26, 1894, when the Elmira Daily Gazette and Free Press ran the headline “RESENT THIS!” “A New York Newspaper attacks Elmira and this valley. A Dastardly Canard.” Two days earlier, the New York Tribune had published the following:

“Elmira, with dirty streets, bad water and signs of stagnation and shabbiness on every hand, presents a melancholy contrast to the prosperity and beauty of its commercial rival, Binghamton, once inferior in wealth and populations, but now outstripping its handicapped competitor with enormous strides. The county, too, with its exhausted tobacco fields and declining population, exhibits the same symptoms of neglect and retrogression. In a county with such a floating and corruptible vote no safe estimates can ever be made of results at the polls.”

The defense printed in the Elmira Daily Gazette and Free Press was scathing: “Fie! For shame upon the scoundrels who would ruin the reputation of our valley! All hail those who will stand up and defend it against the onslaughts of a cowardly enemy!” The reporter went on to challenge many of the accusations levied by the Tribune and defended the city’s sanitation and the county’s fertile agricultural land. However, one must assume, that one of the biggest dents from the article to local civic pride, was the unfavorable comparison to Binghamton.

After that, the rivalry typically played out in smaller scale, such as high school sports or debates. It did sometimes get petty, though. In 1907, an Elmira newspaper printed the following: “The monthly meteorological summary for Binghamton for March shows that our rival city had only five clear days out of 31. Looks rather dark and gloomy for Binghamton, doesn’t it?”

In 1921, a Binghamton critic wrote an article tearing Elmira apart. Interestingly, the Elmira press used this as an opportunity for self-reflection, writing, “The river side of Water street is a disgrace. There is no denying that fact” and praising Binghamton’s municipal garbage disposal.

 

Program from Binghamton North High School vs. Elmira Southside High School football game, October 22, 1949

Over the years, particularly with the growth of Corning, the Elmira-Binghamton rivalry has cooled. By the mid-twentieth century, it was a matter of discussion, but didn’t seem to rile people like it did in the 1880s and 1890s. In fact, sometimes the rivalry could be downright charming. In 1920, the Elmira Kiwianis went to Binghamton for a meeting and reported, “the only rivalry discoverable anywhere was to see whether host of guest could be more friendly, sociable and heartily agreeable, and the net result of such rivalry is worth while.”

Read All About It: The Elmira Newsboys Club

You probably know that September 4 is Labor Day this year, but did you know that it is also Newspaper Carrier Day? No? Well, now you do! This fact made me recall this great photograph in our collection, showing the Elmira Newsboys Club. This got me wondering what I could find out about their organization.

The Newsboys in their clubhouse. The image below is from the newspaper, so the quality isn't as good (except for the rip in the original above), but it does include their names.

  In the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries, Elmira’s newspapers, the Advertiser, Daily Gazette and Free Press (later the Star-Gazette), and the Telegram, used newsboys to sell their daily papers. Newsboys were seen as entrepreneuring young men, but who could also be prone to a bit of mischief. There was an issue with newsboys hopping on trains without paying in order to move faster through their routes and to sell to passengers onboard. Still, many people were fond of the boys and they usually got generous tips and gifts around holidays.

Christmas and New Years' appeals like these were common. This one features a picture of my favorite Elmiran of all time, Colonel

In 1907, an official Elmira Newsboys Club formed. They met weekly at the YMCA, where they had a variety of guest speakers and visitors, who spoke on everything from health and hygiene to leadership to adventure travel. At each meeting, local women’s charitable groups served the boys dinner. Afterwards, the boys played in the YMCA’s gym and pool. The newsboys, who were mostly between 13 and 14 years old, were given clubhouse furnishings by local businessmen, some of whom had delivered papers in their own youth. By the second meeting, they had almost 20 dues-paying members. 

In that first year, an April banquet got pretty raucous. It involved thrown food, boys falling out of their chairs, confusing cheese and butter, and more questionable table manners. They were a spirited group!

In August 1907, the Elmira Newsboys Club took that energy on their first annual outing. The boys, who governed their own club, raised enough funds to pay for a trip to Watkins Glen. None of the boys had ever been to Watkins before. They took a steamer boat ride on Seneca Lake, which was offered to the club at a discounted rate. 

Invoice showing a Telegram newsboy, 1892

The first president of the Elmira Newsboys Club was “Joe the Newsboy.” Joe was an Armenian immigrant who was well-known and liked and most likely a good deal older than the rest of the boys. Joe’s full name is a little hard to discern. In the newspapers, his name was spelled in the following ways: Hosep Kumrou, Joseph Kroumrou, Housep Kmorou, Housep Koumrou, Joseph Komrouian, and Housef Koumrouryan. For simplicity’s sake in this post, I’ll just stick with “Joe.” Joe, with his ambition, out-going personality, and broken English, was sometimes the butt of local jokes. He wrote a letter to the newspaper after he was satirically called “Joe the Nuisance” in an article.

Joe the Newsboy

Joe the Newsboy represented the club at the Jamestown Exposition, a world’s fair held in Virginia in 1907. He sold papers there and by all accounts had a great time. He sent letters to the club members. Once, Joe sent back a phonograph record of his voice. This gift was well-received: “The newsboys have been doing little else today except listening to Joe’s voice on the record as he makes his greeting to them over and over again.”

In September 1907, Joe returned from the Jamestown Exposition. He was in poor health and decided to move to Los Angeles, California for the better weather. When he left Elmira, the newsboys accompanied him to the train station and saw him off. It was said that “no one has been more faithful and more persistent in speaking well of Elmira than he.” Joe died in Los Angeles on April 28, 1916 after a long illness. He was buried in Los Angeles. 

The Elmira Newsboys Club continued on. They still had weekly meetings through the 1920s at least. They had a baseball team through the 1910s. The club reorganized in 1923 and seemed to meet more sporadically through the 1930s and 1940s. 

Elmira Star-Gazette carrier route book belonging to newsboy T. Clair Perkin, ca. 1930s (above and below).

Elmira Star-Gazette carrier route book belonging to newsboy T. Clair Perkin, ca. 1930s (above and below).