tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90355762201699869332024-03-13T18:49:51.263-04:00The Buffalo History GazetteBringing You All the Updated News of Buffalo's Past. Time Travel Through Buffalo History as Old News Becomes New Again. (2nd edition)Jerry M Malloyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653949516092546466noreply@blogger.comBlogger99125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9035576220169986933.post-3805896619333431922023-09-14T23:11:00.008-04:002023-09-15T00:40:15.578-04:00William G. Fargo "Expressing" the Nation<p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEb559eq5-FGxXkSTLzVikhZ7H9uiEJMYTGsVNqP1uI4rqAC7Sh_VHXhTfI2v90t_NrXcES3CknDjlf1I0IBY7URsS0Rf6px6cRaXni3ecRvIvX90YZe1sTex2T_S36FSTuvA69L7YFVULiLcmgweQQxWCWNmIj1rsg7xOahKAmj3WApMv6XuRFY5GRzs/s2048/Fargo%20mansion2%20copy.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1315" data-original-width="2048" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEb559eq5-FGxXkSTLzVikhZ7H9uiEJMYTGsVNqP1uI4rqAC7Sh_VHXhTfI2v90t_NrXcES3CknDjlf1I0IBY7URsS0Rf6px6cRaXni3ecRvIvX90YZe1sTex2T_S36FSTuvA69L7YFVULiLcmgweQQxWCWNmIj1rsg7xOahKAmj3WApMv6XuRFY5GRzs/w640-h410/Fargo%20mansion2%20copy.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">The William G. Fargo Estate Buffalo NY</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div><span style="font-size: large;"><span> <b>William G. Fargo</b> and Henry Wells were 19th Century Entrepreneurs, who were the founders of the modern-day financial firms of American Express and Wells Fargo.</span><span> </span><span>Fargo also served as mayor of Buffalo during the Civil War (1862-1866). In addition to his prominent roles with American Express, Wells Fargo, and several railroads, Fargo also had directorship and shareholder positions in several Buffalo companies. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfFZ8AIeykfBlq5jUXXNCSQxcp9ni9LmJHD3tyatsTRlkfio-dErA6OkKBfxpeZpoNXfnqcf6ulSJQHbUpUJMpyXeUUEfDAU2PNNSWDT5rDdYMrI3Om1YDLAFvOsUt9cDGZpnXMS094AdLmUS66iIS-RLIFzRv0adaqhGCY4Nohbg8G_MVB0FRZBhc2kc/s691/William%20Fargo.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="691" data-original-width="553" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfFZ8AIeykfBlq5jUXXNCSQxcp9ni9LmJHD3tyatsTRlkfio-dErA6OkKBfxpeZpoNXfnqcf6ulSJQHbUpUJMpyXeUUEfDAU2PNNSWDT5rDdYMrI3Om1YDLAFvOsUt9cDGZpnXMS094AdLmUS66iIS-RLIFzRv0adaqhGCY4Nohbg8G_MVB0FRZBhc2kc/w320-h400/William%20Fargo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> <b>He built his French</b> Mansard-style mansion on a site bounded by Fargo and West Avenues, Pennsylvania and Jersey Streets, two city blocks. There was 5-½ acres of stately grounds surrounding it. Presidents Grant, Cleveland along with Mark Twain were among the many distinguished visitors to the mansion and was said to be the most elaborate and costly private mansion in the state outside of New York City. The mansion was built for $600,000, that is 15 million dollars today! There was a central tower five stories high. At his request it contained wood from all the states in the Union. It was the first home in the city to contain an elevator, had a barbershop, and the dining room had two stages for entertainment. It has even been said to have had gold doorknobs.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4FIjkGKRJJ-cxsUVyaOUT7Pa3tZ2Q3LVTDjiRamcgGBNh6TXLzt_wDyc6C_KP9J4Cr_YUF5gvw3K1AWUUzau0QqrR8gX88I9VSoNzNMNl6jIJwagyl5gHj4ybNZctJo4wZZMtAxt4FZAQnEAg0Js4yhOGkL9gNoUQU20XI0HI46YO3PGXKKJXBcrwNPY/s450/William%20Wellsjpg.png" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="360" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4FIjkGKRJJ-cxsUVyaOUT7Pa3tZ2Q3LVTDjiRamcgGBNh6TXLzt_wDyc6C_KP9J4Cr_YUF5gvw3K1AWUUzau0QqrR8gX88I9VSoNzNMNl6jIJwagyl5gHj4ybNZctJo4wZZMtAxt4FZAQnEAg0Js4yhOGkL9gNoUQU20XI0HI46YO3PGXKKJXBcrwNPY/s320/William%20Wellsjpg.png" width="256" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Henry Wells</td></tr></tbody></table></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> <b>In 1841 Fargo</b> became the first freight agent at Auburn Station for the Auburn & Syracuse Railroad, and with his excellent performance, his supervisor, Henry Wells, promoted him to express messenger the next year. Wells operated several small express companies along the route from Albany to Buffalo, New York. Wells started his own freight service in 1844 with Fargo and Daniel Dunning becoming his partners. Their Wells & Company offered "express service" from its headquarters in Buffalo New York to such western cities as Cleveland, Detroit, Cincinnati, Chicago, and St Louis. Wells eventually left to start a rival firm, and these two companies were soon engaged in cut-throat competition with a third firm, owned by John Butterfield.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> <b>In 1850 the three</b> companies merged in Buffalo, under the new name of "American Express.” When Gold was discovered in California, Wells and Fargo recognized the need for freight service from the Pacific coast to the business establishment on the East Coast. Butterfield and other directors of American Express objected to the extension of its operations to California. To shield American Express from any financial risk in this new service, they started a second firm, Wells Fargo & Company, in 1852. The company opened for business in the gold rush city of San Francisco. Within a few years the new Wells Fargo & Company was the dominant stagecoach line. The company contracted with independent stagecoach companies to provide the fastest possible transportation and delivery of gold dust, important documents and other valuable freight. It also served as a bank—buying gold dust, selling paper bank drafts and providing loans.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghE2yR5jeADymSBqsh_0HoY35To-XCjg36yCq9wzh6tQWZaxp0uOi8TEUOP_V-whFK7fvlMpJxZ7tB22JQOcIHsNAnzDQNyk3uY5WdDdZDXVv7E5AWsuu47MV4hjWxKgCvX5DOpK18zy0jXbvHiSbCVPyprvXuhP4bGdnCW3FvRrP-JcV4hmGSBMTh1gY/s1294/Screenshot%202023-09-14%20at%209.17.21%20PM.png" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="912" data-original-width="1294" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghE2yR5jeADymSBqsh_0HoY35To-XCjg36yCq9wzh6tQWZaxp0uOi8TEUOP_V-whFK7fvlMpJxZ7tB22JQOcIHsNAnzDQNyk3uY5WdDdZDXVv7E5AWsuu47MV4hjWxKgCvX5DOpK18zy0jXbvHiSbCVPyprvXuhP4bGdnCW3FvRrP-JcV4hmGSBMTh1gY/w387-h273/Screenshot%202023-09-14%20at%209.17.21%20PM.png" width="387" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Wells Fargo Stagecoach</td></tr></tbody></table></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Wells Fargo drivers</b> were well armed and the firm was known for its aggressive pursuit of robbers. With aggressive business tactics over the next decade, Wells-Fargo came to control virtually all shipping west of the Missouri River including a part of the Pony Express route. After Butterfield became disabled by a stroke and Wells retired, Fargo took control of the business as president of both companies. He employed hundreds of men across the nation including his own 11 siblings and invested thousands of dollars in live stock and various manufacturing enterprises. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs7Qpo0F-kRupI3vHE3QO-wQd-WkRDoSOGvxV1Knx9-F-2HUcqTBQ0Rz5A8WLgjzg9-8RyLMZDCYDT5y2m56OLMnsKB1N4JMroWDHjO-w_uelxGM69Ax-8hjjp3zouEPEQG-59bk70-f6ogFsG07mDpAl2SqHDPhBVN-hQ3W3SZn-e8gw8OcKpWDnn--M/s1200/samuel_morse_and_the_magnetic_telegraph.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="797" data-original-width="1200" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs7Qpo0F-kRupI3vHE3QO-wQd-WkRDoSOGvxV1Knx9-F-2HUcqTBQ0Rz5A8WLgjzg9-8RyLMZDCYDT5y2m56OLMnsKB1N4JMroWDHjO-w_uelxGM69Ax-8hjjp3zouEPEQG-59bk70-f6ogFsG07mDpAl2SqHDPhBVN-hQ3W3SZn-e8gw8OcKpWDnn--M/w256-h170/samuel_morse_and_the_magnetic_telegraph.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><b>The invention</b> of the Telegraph ended the Pony Express and the completion of the Transcontinental Railroad in 1869, caused both American Express and Wells Fargo to gradually shift their emphasis from shipping by train to banking and other financial services. Fargo became even richer, as he had heavily invested in numerous railroad companies, one of which led to the naming of Fargo N. Dakota in his honor. He always had a desire to be in politics and following his four years as Mayor of Buffalo during the Civil War made an attempt at NYS Senate, but lost. Fargo had stood against secession and supported the Union during the war. Fargo ensured that employees who served in the War would continue to receive partial salary during their enlistment.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwm3xDzXLmXKwAq141FgpPH9fV34rII4lwMy62byhu3BrpU0YlqC-PymC8TBt1km_8c6ktNTEk1umGJssAxnf9NFhtDVkAYEPv-c516DDHotU7iC96HOPJpcW4aj1x3ASWGIX1BHJt6ulWTLlBuMVu-edZdRivSgCbM46w1DW6nD3qpd88FIkYQk38HFc/s720/wells-fargo-logo.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="305" data-original-width="720" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwm3xDzXLmXKwAq141FgpPH9fV34rII4lwMy62byhu3BrpU0YlqC-PymC8TBt1km_8c6ktNTEk1umGJssAxnf9NFhtDVkAYEPv-c516DDHotU7iC96HOPJpcW4aj1x3ASWGIX1BHJt6ulWTLlBuMVu-edZdRivSgCbM46w1DW6nD3qpd88FIkYQk38HFc/s320/wells-fargo-logo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span> </span><b>Fargo retired </b>in 1872 and spent the remaining nine years of his life at his beloved estate. William Fargo died in 1881 and </span><span style="font-size: large;">his brother James succeeded him as President of American Express and introduced financial products such as money orders and travelers checks. He held the post till 1914. His widow, Anna remained in the home until her death in 1890. It was estimated that his estate in addition to his mansion that covered two city blocks was worth over two million dollars in 1881, over 60.5 million today!</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span> <b>Two surviving</b> daughters living elsewhere, were not interested in moving back to Buffalo and maintaining the estate. Too expensive to maintain, with no buyer to be found, the mansion stood vacant for ten years. It was demolished in 1900 and the block cut into residential lots in 1901.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">So when you see <i>Wells Fargo</i> logo on a building or vehicle, or use an <i>American Express</i> card, or live on Fargo St., you can be proud of the historical connections to Buffalo.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div>Jerry M Malloyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653949516092546466noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9035576220169986933.post-36903943265408198072023-09-05T19:28:00.012-04:002024-03-06T23:21:15.660-05:00September 5, 1901 - McKinley's Tragic Day<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: justify;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOH-kxXJWQipddy4cRkXlHY6Htgbvv7_eVs-yQ00iBf9KYyO2TfG-mNUcF4J-6pGhPynTJDae_vP5yk-tV5Dycqr0PeC6iYuF8VqvNpqPcgz-h38di7FFzg5bjpfMrvvRU0PjGiG7BCsbxiWE1pzMPolzMmRXJSm_xqXP6F7oi6bQkiC6E6TVXZ4NFMSM/s3073/Mckinley%20walking%20copy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2129" data-original-width="3073" height="463" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOH-kxXJWQipddy4cRkXlHY6Htgbvv7_eVs-yQ00iBf9KYyO2TfG-mNUcF4J-6pGhPynTJDae_vP5yk-tV5Dycqr0PeC6iYuF8VqvNpqPcgz-h38di7FFzg5bjpfMrvvRU0PjGiG7BCsbxiWE1pzMPolzMmRXJSm_xqXP6F7oi6bQkiC6E6TVXZ4NFMSM/w667-h463/Mckinley%20walking%20copy.jpg" width="667" /></a></div></div></span></span></div><p></p><span style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi-r9R5aQAfYVrBVWFEvX6rOqJIX3mfpkV6FwvZii1eoNloPXhFgXoh85rxBElQhvP8FBkbiNd0wmV4ysg7Kf6AVtcSjAO6U6zgaedMUGjiey2iailrsBLJ-eXmosTfPpaRBuulgnh36SWEnudjj2lcEI0HdxCy2Ij2TLLvNJmmT3edC7xqvdxgAUo7a8/s1196/McKinley%20Speech2.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1196" data-original-width="900" height="528" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi-r9R5aQAfYVrBVWFEvX6rOqJIX3mfpkV6FwvZii1eoNloPXhFgXoh85rxBElQhvP8FBkbiNd0wmV4ysg7Kf6AVtcSjAO6U6zgaedMUGjiey2iailrsBLJ-eXmosTfPpaRBuulgnh36SWEnudjj2lcEI0HdxCy2Ij2TLLvNJmmT3edC7xqvdxgAUo7a8/w398-h528/McKinley%20Speech2.jpg" width="398" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">His Last speech on Sept. 5 1901</td></tr></tbody></table> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 18px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 18px;"><b>MR. McKINLEY</b> was never in a more buoyant mood than on his Buffalo trip. This was marked by all who saw him. He had the springy step of light-heartedness and the receptive, merry eye of appreciation—appreciation of the welcome that he got and of the attention shown him. His temperament was somewhat mercurial. Depression he usually concealed, but elation he did not attempt to hide and at the exposition he found much to please him. There was the friendliness of the people and the general tenor of good feeling about the city which, with a grace seldom seen, was expressed in both the Democratic and Republican newspapers.</span></div></span><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 18px;"><b>The visit was</b> singularly free from all party bickering, and no petty personality, such as frequently obtrudes, dared show itself. The exposition had not been getting the crowds that were wanted and had looked forward to President's Day to pull it a good ways from the financial hole it was in. That day, September 5th, had been a good one. It had broken the record for attendance, and the speech of the President, long considered and marking an epoch in the history of the Republican party and in the political career of Mr. McKinley himself, had been well received, just as his diplomatic foresight had hoped it would. The public reception in the afternoon, with its half hour of deadening strain, was before, but the President always welcomed such opportunities for meeting the mass of the people. He liked the contact and believed that the close sight they got of the Executive's person was a simple gratification due them. Besides, it was a part of his political policy to meet and greet the public on friendly terms.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span> <b>His hand clasp was known </b>as the most cordial at such receptions that any</span></span></span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"> public man had shown in Washington in a generation. He was peculiarly positive in his clasp, giving the other fully as much of sincerity as was given—usually more, because curiosity prompts much of the attendance at these functions and curiosity is an impersonal thing at best, and sometimes an inhuman one. He fairly pulled the line along at the rate of 125 persons every minute. He tried always to utter some kindly word and usually gave a smile, so that he made a very personal affair of the meeting. </span></span><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 18px;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6h-IZJXLeQf5lvW34xui_e1NEoY_MlS74EH2u5fsOrM7RMG0PEqDA8s34NXWE4OhGMXXO41L-ynNHt-6mmlM5m_3d14vXmgkkG1mYU-0aXoNyEJsYki5gEB_5b_mYabVPtiAECjX_8l7kO9IbEj6wrXcchyIPv0SR7tYq5rAJLcEuof7kRv0dMuZp9m8/s4447/Government.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3269" data-original-width="4447" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6h-IZJXLeQf5lvW34xui_e1NEoY_MlS74EH2u5fsOrM7RMG0PEqDA8s34NXWE4OhGMXXO41L-ynNHt-6mmlM5m_3d14vXmgkkG1mYU-0aXoNyEJsYki5gEB_5b_mYabVPtiAECjX_8l7kO9IbEj6wrXcchyIPv0SR7tYq5rAJLcEuof7kRv0dMuZp9m8/w400-h294/Government.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Government Building</span></td></tr></tbody></table><b>At the Nashville</b> Exposition, in 1897, the Secretary of War, seeing the great fatigue of the President, ordered the door closed on a waiting crowd. 'The order was immediately countermanded by the superior authority of the President. He would brook nothing of the kind and insisted on treating the people generously. At Buffalo, on the afternoon of President's Day, there was a private reception to some 1500 in the Government Building. There, after a fatiguing forenoon the President found no difficulty in meeting the strain for twenty minutes. It was noticed, however, that it required some effort which, though concealed, was apparent to close observers, to carry him through the line of invited guests. This fatigue had disappeared on Friday, after a good night's rest and with a pleasant day ahead. In the morning, at 7 o'clock, before breakfast, he left the house of Mr. Milburn, where he was staying, for his usual walk. It took him, entirely unattended and carelessly playful in his enjoyment of the wonderful crisp September atmosphere, through several blocks of Delaware, the most beautiful avenue in Buffalo, a city of beautiful avenues.</span></div></span>
<p style="font-family: Georgia; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"> <b>The Milburn home</b> is in a locality almost deserted at that early hour. An assassin might have shot him down thus with ease, but there would have been no scene then, merely the motive for a drama. Delaware Avenue, in the morning of such a day, is ecstatically oppressive with its beauty, and no doubt the President lingered over it fondly, without the crowds, the jostle, the crush. He was gone twenty minutes, then he went to breakfast and then to the exposition.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: Merriweather;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_XCQpeDws1Iwsio1e48TtXE3UAUfuRKZxoDACEwBYPY_iUk0SdFj__sIdgt_CkWDYnXrOgcw-ZnNcxThioBDHiQCDb1o2CJrIs5eKoCvHHCAxSg7mjRb1rttm0r-gSQ_dJGPG5248Rd8tjjgwxFDPkJBoeuaM19qfDrZ8n7_oLDseo0nqa-j0AXnwTVA/s3439/McKinley%2025%20copy.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3439" data-original-width="2408" height="501" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_XCQpeDws1Iwsio1e48TtXE3UAUfuRKZxoDACEwBYPY_iUk0SdFj__sIdgt_CkWDYnXrOgcw-ZnNcxThioBDHiQCDb1o2CJrIs5eKoCvHHCAxSg7mjRb1rttm0r-gSQ_dJGPG5248Rd8tjjgwxFDPkJBoeuaM19qfDrZ8n7_oLDseo0nqa-j0AXnwTVA/w351-h501/McKinley%2025%20copy.jpg" width="351" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mrs. McKinley</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span> <span> </span></span>Mrs. McKinley</b> was with him. Her presence and her continued good feeling were the source of much gratification to the President. She had been with him conspicuously throughout the trip, and had had applause two to one, at times, to his. Another essential factor in the propitious character of the trip was the weather. It was fair throughout. The day of the speech and of the great crowds had been hot—almost oppressive with its sticky mid-summer humidity. Then came one of those cool, cynical-clear, Minerva-like nights that occur in the early fall in salubrious Buffalo. It followed a day whose low-drawn languor moved with soft dalliance through the flexible humors of sensitive persons. The sun rose in a </span></span><span><span style="font-size: medium;">mist on the morning of the tragic day and it came up red—a blood red—in a gauze of filmiest cloud that melted away before the forenoon was well advanced. Afternoon found everything sultry and enervating, a day that took the starch from women's clothes and the energy from men's bodies. The exposition ambulance picked up three cases of heat prostration before 3 o'clock. It was a real mid-summer day, such as reminds men on the fortieth parallel that the climate of Porto Rico is theirs.</span></span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="text-align: left;"> </b><span style="text-align: left;"><b>The President</b></span><span style="text-align: left;"> was not oppressed. His smile had never been cheerier, and his long rolling walk, like the spirited pace of a thoroughbred, had lost none of its eager charm. He covered the ground with the enthusiasm of a happy man and with the buoyancy of satisfaction. He spoke freely with his secretary, Mr. Cortelyou, with Mr. Milburn, the president of the exposition, and with several local friends who made the short journey with him to the Falls. This was uneventful. It was like that of almost any other of the millions who have visited the exposition, except that it did not take in the Canadian side.</span></div></span></span></span><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"><b style="text-align: center;">THE TEMPLE OF MUSIC</b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDrHK_nhZXTmtKJb4s2qoFstRMgeI6NibVl3S2rsaVrvzFsv2zkfDNutguoAHtQ6-PQjVpSRBzQNVvp7wL0Ae_wX0gFHtAWG7TY10Z4PkMhhvzyYptUwyFj4XPOyu0voThoDTF0NRRia1vQ6gRAEbhI-j83ENCS77WP9QKi7-JQhLEHOL6w5J4ewR0Dsg/s4297/McKinley%2038%20X%20copy.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2813" data-original-width="4297" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDrHK_nhZXTmtKJb4s2qoFstRMgeI6NibVl3S2rsaVrvzFsv2zkfDNutguoAHtQ6-PQjVpSRBzQNVvp7wL0Ae_wX0gFHtAWG7TY10Z4PkMhhvzyYptUwyFj4XPOyu0voThoDTF0NRRia1vQ6gRAEbhI-j83ENCS77WP9QKi7-JQhLEHOL6w5J4ewR0Dsg/w640-h418/McKinley%2038%20X%20copy.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Temple of Music Where Public Reception Took Place </span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"> <b>The President</b> arrived at the Temple of Music a few minutes before 4 o'clock. Mrs. McKinley had left him down town. Everything was in readiness. The newspapers had not been prodigal in heralding—they were too crowded with other things—though the noon editions bore the conspicuous announcement on their front pages that the President would hold a public reception, to last about half an hour, beginning at 4 o'clock, in the Temple of Music. The number of admissions to the exposition had been comparatively small, for the reaction from a great day is always a great slump. Over a hundred thousand had passed the gates on President's Day, but at 3 o'clock of the following afternoon there were less than sixty thousand persons on the grounds. Perhaps a third of these expected to attend the reception in the Temple. Idlers, partisans in the lower ranks, the distant worshipers of greatness, and, most of all, the intensely curious, formed the crowd—probably 99 per cent from the lower and lower middle classes of society. Gentility had had its reception on the day preceding; this was a time for the common people, from the very ranks of which the President had come and whose idolatrous support had given him his immense prestige. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b style="font-family: Merriweather;"><span> <span> </span></span><span style="font-size: medium;">As the Presidential</span></b><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: large;"> party, preceded and followed by platoons of mounted police and hedged about by secret service officers, drove from the station through a quarter-mile avenue of blue-coated exposition guards, the desultory crowds that lined the way threw out haphazard cheers. The applause at the Temple was not perfunctory. There were enough people there to create enthusiasm and the spirit of welcome was amply present. The President inspired a personal regard, always magnetic in such a crowd as greeted him there, and as he bowed in measured though sincere politeness, the sweaty noise came up to him in soothing greeting—a greeting upon which his appetite had long fed, and which he craved with much the same insistence that prompted it. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdsZSVRlOWr_w2jfOUvfXssg-bcw6fn2SflVAM1zy_8YXRRmxZXl7GNWlHsDCfeK4e7NUiqsuH1zPBZUe9LslADAppVCf9IsGtbSAJqCIlQ3HMS5clI_pa4z4eL-achXuxgzVaaC2GC9SxIwcIhb6tfnri6Y7JY0BegrJ40ZMAk0TVnP74PmZorpiLMKc/s4091/McKinley%20last%20ride.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3215" data-original-width="4091" height="457" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdsZSVRlOWr_w2jfOUvfXssg-bcw6fn2SflVAM1zy_8YXRRmxZXl7GNWlHsDCfeK4e7NUiqsuH1zPBZUe9LslADAppVCf9IsGtbSAJqCIlQ3HMS5clI_pa4z4eL-achXuxgzVaaC2GC9SxIwcIhb6tfnri6Y7JY0BegrJ40ZMAk0TVnP74PmZorpiLMKc/w583-h457/McKinley%20last%20ride.jpg" width="583" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Believed to be one of the Last Photos of McKinley before he was shot</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"> <b>The entire occurrences</b> of the two days—the beauty of the exposition, his wife's continued health, the presence of his friends, the favorable reception of his momentous speech, received, as he had hoped it would be, without a full realization of its import, the propitious weather and the strenuous applause—had by that time impregnated him with negative content and positive buoyance. He entered the Temple by a rear door, saw the arrangements were complete (he did not inspect them minutely, for he surrendered such details to others, and had always been lax in guarding his person), bowed to the guards and reporters present, walked up the aisle to the appointed station and said, pleasantly, that the place was cool. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;"></span></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; font-weight: bold; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjddyuRaqxcI1llZNl1KhY6SQVm33UzAAzMwxr4G8ty57J-R0JhJ2P8u_49PdEFgwV-UJfqYGYv2ynkNUAFZPXQONIZqBTP0qwpi2VU0qo1qu4M1sIIedx3sZ70WwdqrHe5je1jTQZlNN8270CPLjpN5yF0N9tjBmuBnM5M62AG5D204B0Y_GjNCiNF-Og/s2483/Milburn.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2483" data-original-width="2303" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjddyuRaqxcI1llZNl1KhY6SQVm33UzAAzMwxr4G8ty57J-R0JhJ2P8u_49PdEFgwV-UJfqYGYv2ynkNUAFZPXQONIZqBTP0qwpi2VU0qo1qu4M1sIIedx3sZ70WwdqrHe5je1jTQZlNN8270CPLjpN5yF0N9tjBmuBnM5M62AG5D204B0Y_GjNCiNF-Og/w371-h400/Milburn.jpg" width="371" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John G. Milburn<br />President of the Pan American Exposition </td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;"> <b>The Temple was cool</b>, for it had been locked up all day. This offered relief from the swelter without and seemed worthy of its august name. From a point just north of the center, extending southeast and northwest at a forty-five degree angle, slightly broken, were two aisles reaching from the apex like the bend in a finger. These aisles were formed by tightly packed folding seats, pushed back smartly, so that they formed a great inextricable jumble, spread over the floor in reckless confusion, whose edges at the aisle were nicely mended by long strips of purple cloth, pieced at the end in a continuous weave of undulating invitation—invitation to the President's stand at the center. </span></span>There, great palms lifted their somnolent, green shade and a yellow dome, like polished amber, reflected the soft lambent light that streamed in richly from the western windows. For guards there were the regulation exposition police, United States artillery men, city detectives and government secret service men. A short lull came, the President took his place, Mr. Milburn at the left, Mr. Cortelyou at the right, Detectives Ireland and Foster three feet away in front, several reporters behind, diplomats and officials surrounding, with the guards lining the aisle. </span></span><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"> <b>"Let them come,"</b> said the President. The doors were opened and the surge outside pushed in the tide of humanity. There was the usual push, the usual hot day sweat, the usual trodden feet, the usual quiet patience of the waiting thousands, and soon a steady stream of people was being pushed by the guards through the aisle and past the President, as logs are propelled down a sluice by men with cant hooks at a spring drive. This continued for about eight minutes, when there appeared at the door—unnoticed at the time—a well-knit young man, whose right hand, with seeming innocence, was in his back pocket. That hand held a pistol, and both were concealed from even the treacherous depths of the pocket by a dirty rag. The rag was a handkerchief, but it had been carried for several days and in the perspiring heat no face mop was presentable after such long usage. It was a cheap handkerchief, plain, unmarked, ordinarily small and sorely soiled, yet it held the deadliest venom on earth. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"> <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgfu3mDTpNzntYUo8bGcuXdMZjwaDLpfg5YJqea7bO_MBJVHn0r_CIcStU2ikzlyGt7TLgTD1yaB-m5ceZBf0kVQSUBMnx33LtEiBc2CGZPXHFrmWhqIVoZn-13vzs2o1diGU6JPdpP9rSdBZL1F2hBzwP-EMmLw025Dgj1DV3JEJ6czqf0RfBfOHaB-8/s2414/Leon%20Czolgosz.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2414" data-original-width="1887" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgfu3mDTpNzntYUo8bGcuXdMZjwaDLpfg5YJqea7bO_MBJVHn0r_CIcStU2ikzlyGt7TLgTD1yaB-m5ceZBf0kVQSUBMnx33LtEiBc2CGZPXHFrmWhqIVoZn-13vzs2o1diGU6JPdpP9rSdBZL1F2hBzwP-EMmLw025Dgj1DV3JEJ6czqf0RfBfOHaB-8/s320/Leon%20Czolgosz.jpg" width="250" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leon Czolgosz</td></tr></tbody></table> <b>The hand was slightly</b> nervous, so was the man. Only a close observer would have seen it. The precision of the next few moments would prove that he had nerves of steel ; the villain at the climax of a tragedy usually has stage fright, and the young man has since admitted that he came within an ace of backing out there, but was already in the Temple, while the crowd behind made retreat impossible, and forced him slowly to the precipice...</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"> <b>He was well built</b>, had a good wiry form of medium height, an intelligent face with a brow high but narrow, the aquiline nose of determination, a firm chin, a coarse sensual mouth and blue eyes. The eyes were responsive but not sympathetic, and at that moment were stolid, with little of the fierce light that burns in the basilisk iris of a fanatic. His hair was brushed in wavy brown disorder back from his forehead. At first glance he was not a striking figure. He wore a cheap, dark suit of woolen cloth, a flannel shirt and a string tie—all ordinary, all unnoticeable. He appeared as a mechanic, a printer, a shipping clerk, a worker at some high-class trade. He moved on down the line, drawing near the President. As soon as he was well past the door he withdrew the handkerchief-enclosed pistol from his pocket, holding both in front of him, as though the hand were wounded and in a sling. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: large;"><b>The ASSASSIN</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;"><div style="font-size: large;"> <span> </span><b>Czolgosz left Cleveland</b> on Saturday. He bought the pistol at a Main Street store in Buffalo on Friday morning. In the interval he was contemplating the act. In Buffalo he rented a small, cheap room at the home of a Pole named Nowak, on Broadway, a street partly stricken with poverty. He had not yet chosen the precise time, accessories and method for the act; was merely resolute in general purpose. On the morning of Friday, the fatal day, he rose early—this is had from his confession. He was then decided on the time. It was to be that day. The exact moment he was not sure of. He would choose the most propitious. After dressing, he tied in a bundle what papers he had and placed them in an inside pocket. Breakfast he had at a cheap restaurant near the Nowak house. He was early and ate with several bakery clerks employed next door. One of them remembers him only as a quiet, unpretentious man, deeply preoccupied. He wore good clothes, made to order in Chicago when on his last visit to Emma Goldman, and his dark negligee shirt—a nondescript in quizzical, unknown color announced his familiarity with the department store.</div><div style="font-size: large;"> <span> </span><b>The silence, which</b> is the one privilege Czolgosz gets for the enormous price he pays the electric chair, was broken to explain his source of revenue. His trade had been that of a wire puller, never earning more than $9 a week, but for 18 months he had not worked. The money for this long sustenance, the travel and the clothes, he says, he saved at the wire mill and on a farm outside of Cleveland, where he worked for a while. His clothes were bought since that time; his shirt before.</div><div style="font-size: large;"> <span> </span> <b>After breakfast</b> he went to the exposition grounds. On the way he dropped the bundle of papers in a sewer, where they still lie in the city's underground slime unfound by the most zealous scavengers. To reach the grounds he passed again through the low squalor of the city. Its indigent misery smote him with only a further numb realization of the wrongs he would try to right. He was like a man stupefied with narcotics and then given another infusion.</div><div style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWklJgMlFi65SyvJiMv5fZR8blKrazMzfDQlcGOEpkrbWoZQUB1FTj9iTYfRTXPBQvjz5bJiMElNyp6N5ak0NC_VgGq6PaKQf6iiyhIJcOP9xxfH-tcCuJwdKxKwaiPJ0LBV9vp6i3GRckCHwYitae8ZwY3nkoGVXTCbDeZ9a8A4AZaVXOW8lvdaA3Zds/s1856/ireland%20and%20foster.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1821" data-original-width="1856" height="487" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWklJgMlFi65SyvJiMv5fZR8blKrazMzfDQlcGOEpkrbWoZQUB1FTj9iTYfRTXPBQvjz5bJiMElNyp6N5ak0NC_VgGq6PaKQf6iiyhIJcOP9xxfH-tcCuJwdKxKwaiPJ0LBV9vp6i3GRckCHwYitae8ZwY3nkoGVXTCbDeZ9a8A4AZaVXOW8lvdaA3Zds/w495-h487/ireland%20and%20foster.jpg" width="495" /></a></div> <b>The tinted colors </b>of early fall had just touched the trees, whose deep shade copiously conceals the seared roughness of the houses there, and moving on past great charitable institutions, the green covered in uncut reverence the gentle mounds of graves. The exposition was in the gardeners' most gorgeous trim, and the sun, amply translucent in its forenoon flight, was brilliant. It seemed that if the exposition escaped suffocation in fresh greenery it must inevitably be drowned in sunshine. To that paradise on earth the assassin came. The fresh glory of the autumnal morning did not enter his soul; the pest behind had buried its venom too deep.</div><div style="font-size: large;"><div> <b>The young man waited.</b> He got to the grounds just after 8—early enough to see the President drive through on his way to the train for Niagara Falls. He had hoped there would be a chance for a shot then, but found none—everything was in a great hurry, there was no crowd and too many guards. He kept his pistol in his pocket and hung about with cool assurance. It was then that he chose the Temple of Music and made his minute plans. There was to be a public reception. He would enter the line, reach the President and shoot. He would fire as long as he could (there were five chambers in the pistol, each loaded with a 32-caliber ball), he would be stopped, and then—. " Well," he said, when told that he must die, days afterward, " that was the expectation from the beginning." </div><div> <b>There was an </b>immense, sonorous pipe organ in the Temple—one of the largest and one of the best ever built. An organist was playing. At the moment he had opened the lower diapason for a Bach sonata - a negatively religious invocation, charged with all the tremendous emotional and subtle aesthetic power that that master possesses. Its tremulous pulsation caused by the magnificent acoustics of the building surcharged the mellow air with intense unfelt weight—not oppressive, but formidable, like the deep displacement of a man-of-war. It was a solemn, solvent setting for the tragic scene to follow. Czolgosz was in the line, slowly moving toward the President, for from four to five minutes. Behind him was a tightly-packed crowd which blocked retreat. On all sides were alert guards, likely to detect his diabolical intention at any moment. A few steps away was the President—coming nearer, nearer—and there was to be the test of his resolution, there awaited success and death, or failure and disgrace….</div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ThL-JFi9PNTUNbF-fLVmqAZDyo8m_P2sX120OgdTfQv2WyzzdJfBUFKYnim1idIFVnvO_QBot-FpAkIsyePz7YbFJv8Vh209ewC6ZOBICtZQ-uU46tNnJvGTBMltkEQ6HlKhGalUuFr33hYzkbn5LLZlytx4rhmY3NrxL2xLFb736GB7ZTxb1CIyfzM/s3941/Parker.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3941" data-original-width="1703" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ThL-JFi9PNTUNbF-fLVmqAZDyo8m_P2sX120OgdTfQv2WyzzdJfBUFKYnim1idIFVnvO_QBot-FpAkIsyePz7YbFJv8Vh209ewC6ZOBICtZQ-uU46tNnJvGTBMltkEQ6HlKhGalUuFr33hYzkbn5LLZlytx4rhmY3NrxL2xLFb736GB7ZTxb1CIyfzM/w277-h640/Parker.jpg" width="277" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Herculean James Parker <br />at 6ft. 6in Assisted in securing <br />the Assassin</td></tr></tbody></table> <b>The scene itself</b> is but partially to be described, or rather to be described from varying angles, no one of which is obtuse enough to comprehend the gaps left by the others, for though hundreds were there, the few minutes of the shots and their denouement have left an inextricable tangle, about which everyone is sure of the exact happening and about which no two stories agree. </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">A detective saw the swathed fist and said in passing comment: " This man has a sore hand." Another had an inkling of suspicion. "I don't know about that," he said, and reached for Czolgosz's arm. </div><div style="text-align: center;">It was too late.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div> The first shot came, low—hardly louder than a cap pistol—than the second, as quick as the self-cocking trigger could work. A vague, startled thrill spread through the crowd; it had been hit a stunning blow and for the moment was numb. </div><div> <b>About the President,</b> action was decisive, sharp, bewildering. A dozen men leaped for the assassin. A black man, James Parker, burst through the crowd and elbowed his herculean way to an assistance which was too late. George Foster, a government secret service man, in momentary hot revenge, had smashed the assassin's nose, the blood spurting to the floor, where the two were grappling, Czolgosz struggling for a desperate last shot, his face smeared with red ooze and his eyes bleary with tigerish emotion. But his shots, so close that the peppery powder mottled the President's white vest for many inches with specks of frightful black, had been fatal, and the artilleryman who kicked the pistol from his hand got merely cold satisfaction for his rescue. The marines of the President's guard had meanwhile charged the crowd with fixed bayonets, crying, " Clear out, you sons of—," and were pricking some in driving them from the Temple. </div></div><div><div style="font-size: large;"><span> </span> <b>The President was</b> singularly calm. A huge, deep-rooted mountain oak, lightning stricken, stands as he stood then—alone, transfigured, mystified and silent—before toppling to its fall. Those who saw that face and noted its sweet grandeur and its indefinable surprised pathos will carry the memory to the grave. The President had been greeting little children and had just courteously bowed to an old man. He was cheery, light hearted, kindly, patient—such was his nature—and at that moment he was in the heydey of good spirits. Suddenly there was injected into his life this foul, dank crime, blacker than night, more hideous than a dungeon's horrors.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Lv_Bl4UzKYB2zRYuBKLxDvfrseCtTSvFIAsCo5LZI9HBjZzV_tPk9Eap0AFsxP96i6LaX1qREoH-KbUsuoF7h-Qogd4X5_kQjcTYbcbHpp3ibs5kcEaZi55EujyNNFwLEgIi73t-MgoXqTHEXOXtIt2MMwo3nFzUNo0CxUqpH9Cy04Yqte5yr68PnLw/s2157/pan%20am%20hospital%201.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1454" data-original-width="2157" height="329" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Lv_Bl4UzKYB2zRYuBKLxDvfrseCtTSvFIAsCo5LZI9HBjZzV_tPk9Eap0AFsxP96i6LaX1qREoH-KbUsuoF7h-Qogd4X5_kQjcTYbcbHpp3ibs5kcEaZi55EujyNNFwLEgIi73t-MgoXqTHEXOXtIt2MMwo3nFzUNo0CxUqpH9Cy04Yqte5yr68PnLw/w488-h329/pan%20am%20hospital%201.jpg" width="488" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crowds waiting for news on the president during surgery</td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="font-size: large;"><b><span> </span>His shoulders</b> straightened to their fullest, broadest height and he quietly surveyed the fiend still holding the smoking, hidden pistol before him. The smile, with its dimpled placid sunniness, left his face, his white lips pressed each other in a rigid line, their convex curving ends lost in the sunken contour of his mouth, and then for the briefest instant his eye assumed the penetration of a man who reads men as other men read books. For that space of time, measured by hardly more than the wink of an eye-lash, the two—assassin and victim—confronted each other. A multiplicity of emotions showed in the President's face, but two were lacking. There was neither fear nor anger. First there was surprise, then reproach, then pity, benevolence, compassion, a sympathy for the wretch, and then an inkling of astounded horror as he realized the enormity of the attack, and finally as the assassin was felled to the floor his great eyes welled with gentle passion and a tear on each cheek told of calm and chastened appeal for him who brought death that wonderful, black day. </div><div style="font-size: large;"> <span> </span><b>He did not once</b> lose consciousness nor self-possession. Such a scene was never looked upon before and probably never will occur again. Never was dignity better exemplified, yet it was pathetic. Though hope came afterward, no one then doubted that the President had been fatally wounded. His faithful secretary, George B. Cortelyou, a man of thin and resolute physique, of wiry courage and canny calmness, was more self-possessed than any other save the President. He caught his chief as he fell and with the help of John C. Milburn, president of the exposition, carried him to a nearby bench. Mr. Cortelyou leaned over the President and asked him if he suffered much pain. The President slowly drew his hand to his bosom, fumbled at his shirt and reached within, groped there with his fingers for a moment, then drew them forth, dabbled with blood. " This pains me," he said. It was the breast wound, not even serious, while the abdominal shot proved fatal. Then followed a moment of silence, during which the ambulance was being called and the prisoner secured. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimB5z-AmCyHZ-Jkin5us44fPIX-EKJJ35PRCNgwHZAFhEaehI0NEW6qSVZYSZm2kGRhIP1NLnqXfvStnp-pdPAU6WCvRLv6KU5xAjwhKkAwZlu0plOdt_ch20N6fJS2zI7a1idxRQzgmgNMwBIoWcTjkxVZ5k5TzbwAMexES8WF_dDCYQ8mE_ssHvKQfQ/s1402/Ambulance.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1025" data-original-width="1402" height="322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimB5z-AmCyHZ-Jkin5us44fPIX-EKJJ35PRCNgwHZAFhEaehI0NEW6qSVZYSZm2kGRhIP1NLnqXfvStnp-pdPAU6WCvRLv6KU5xAjwhKkAwZlu0plOdt_ch20N6fJS2zI7a1idxRQzgmgNMwBIoWcTjkxVZ5k5TzbwAMexES8WF_dDCYQ8mE_ssHvKQfQ/w440-h322/Ambulance.jpg" width="440" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ambulance for the Pan Am.</td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="font-size: large;"><span> <span> </span></span><b>The President</b> could be seen again moving his fingers inside and under his shirt bosom. He was calm, quiet, conscious, dignified. The movement to his breast was half halting, like a man groping in the dark, for he seemed dazed, though fully alive to the situation—just as a man in a trance who realizes all that goes on about him and yet is completely above the passing of the events. His hand came out again. He looked at the bloody fingers with circumspection but with no critical examination, as if mentally commenting on his own blood—blood drawn by an assassin—it might be his life's blood. The hand dropped to his side as of no further consequence—it had served its purpose as a barometer of the condition—and he stared into the filigreed wall opposite, where the evanescent afternoon shadows were making figured tapestry with the reflected light from the tawny-amber dome above and sat there blankly conscious, introspective with deep preoccupation. There were tears in many eyes. Respect withheld what might have been a curious crowd. The minutes slowly dragged their sullen feet away and out on the floor there was still some belated scuffling with the prisoner. </div><div style="font-size: large;"><span> <span> </span></span> <b>The President</b> noted it and was drawn by its disturbing clatter from the repose of isolation to which he had been brought. "Be easy with him, boys," he said, and then relapsed again for just the briefest space, the intervals all being hardly noticeable in point of time, then revived and whispered the name of his secretary. </div><div style="font-size: large;"><br /></div><div style="font-size: large; text-align: center;">Mr. Cortelyou bent over him and heard, spoken slowly:</div><div style="font-size: large; text-align: center;"> "My wife—don't let her know of this and if she does don't </div><div style="font-size: large; text-align: center;">let it be exaggerated."</div><div style="font-size: large; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="font-size: large; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEuhd-dBmVjxpOOCcSRWV1fnd8Jy6EB_er_E-89uAJIf5ybll1KL9s20ca3EZkcugAhHMO-aw7cGK-ceL263O08dyi6bJxS7YHOIl_p1hDrvIp15g7FcvIMY-cuhSH5qSfbT6fUrUCsrtNIZlOUhH6bGDvSCZ84OQM3ILJfRMk6lBOOZwEpKuWUAdpseo/s4143/Pan%20am%20copy.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1131" data-original-width="4143" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEuhd-dBmVjxpOOCcSRWV1fnd8Jy6EB_er_E-89uAJIf5ybll1KL9s20ca3EZkcugAhHMO-aw7cGK-ceL263O08dyi6bJxS7YHOIl_p1hDrvIp15g7FcvIMY-cuhSH5qSfbT6fUrUCsrtNIZlOUhH6bGDvSCZ84OQM3ILJfRMk6lBOOZwEpKuWUAdpseo/w666-h182/Pan%20am%20copy.png" width="666" /></a></div> </div><div style="font-size: large;"><b>At that moment</b> Mr. Buchanan, the director-general of the exposition, was admitted to the Temple. He found his way to within a few steps of the President, who recognized him and who had by that time taken wakeful observation of the happenings about him. He looked in Mr. Buchanan's direction and as the other approached nearer said: " I am sorry that this should have happened at the exposition." Those three thoughts were uppermost in his mind: desire for fair play with the assassin, anxiety for his wife, and regret for the hurt the exposition might receive. The arrival of the ambulance was six minutes after the shooting and throughout the ride to the hospital the President sat up.</div><div style="font-size: large;"><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk4EWF3F2P16A5m_aTVENzhCrovz1HbSNC-VMb4KA8ongqlLAvCo1lEtSi2_22Xz-Qo7FAUJgAVjpxhc7l5w77J-d8rl0wLWGat2JZTJYN8AO5FWDP2V8bEU5thBa_nM5lWHKrbX0PXVFo3x3hAiWqOuKlfVumW2i5tfBeNE20aPEezXnhDm89Dy4CjHY/s1543/Downton%20crowds.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1481" data-original-width="1543" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk4EWF3F2P16A5m_aTVENzhCrovz1HbSNC-VMb4KA8ongqlLAvCo1lEtSi2_22Xz-Qo7FAUJgAVjpxhc7l5w77J-d8rl0wLWGat2JZTJYN8AO5FWDP2V8bEU5thBa_nM5lWHKrbX0PXVFo3x3hAiWqOuKlfVumW2i5tfBeNE20aPEezXnhDm89Dy4CjHY/w400-h384/Downton%20crowds.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anxious Crowds reading Bulletins of McKinley's<br />Condition in Downtown Buffalo</td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="font-size: large; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;"><b>RECEPTION OF THE NEWS</b></span></div><div style="font-size: large;"><span> <span> </span></span><b>It was outside</b> the Temple of Music, about the exposition grounds, in the city of Buffalo, all over the United States and throughout the whole world that the news spread like a conflagration, ever widening in its grievous circle. It was but twenty years since Garfield had been assassinated and the memory of a single generation comprised the murder of another President, that a third should fall by a venomous bullet seemed incredible. A more unlikely time for such a deed could not be imagined. There was no personal ill will toward the wounded man. The fratricidal heat in which Lincoln was killed and the political frenzy that brought Garfield's doom were alike unknown. It occurred in the freest country on earth and in the fairest year of its existence. It is probable that never before in history had the expression " Like thunder from a clear sky " been more apropos. The incredulous way in which the news was received was everywhere alike and one instance will show the peculiar tenor of the feeling. In the Ohio Building at the exposition, the commissioners in their frock coats and their ladies in evening gowns were awaiting the conclusion of the reception in the Temple, for the President was scheduled to visit them there immediately to pay his respects to his home State. A man came in the rear entrance and announced that the President had been shot. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLCg9JhRfdytAXh7iHJR7rpI-ZXBhqdVqCaD4kHFM9OYuFwPfNkjtXGLjx8Slc3Q3qAu2YMaWv6iwvsBFa3Cr5o29qC20N5O36PEmiNIX55zwHNbssk5kVPHw2NkP31Z393DiHPt_YgEeGKqK1Y-t-sTIFvyY0VWTs9wVMNgedMQqzLrzwdEZQlKWYulg/s1372/triumphal%20Bridge.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1019" data-original-width="1372" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLCg9JhRfdytAXh7iHJR7rpI-ZXBhqdVqCaD4kHFM9OYuFwPfNkjtXGLjx8Slc3Q3qAu2YMaWv6iwvsBFa3Cr5o29qC20N5O36PEmiNIX55zwHNbssk5kVPHw2NkP31Z393DiHPt_YgEeGKqK1Y-t-sTIFvyY0VWTs9wVMNgedMQqzLrzwdEZQlKWYulg/w555-h412/triumphal%20Bridge.jpg" width="555" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Triumphal Bridge</td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="font-size: large;"><span> </span><b>No one paid</b> much attention to him at first and then one of the hangers-on told him he was crazy. He persisted, hunted up one of the commissioners and told him. A bystander heard the remark and said with quizzical foolishness, like the dash of farce that Shakespeare puts in his blackest tragedies: " Yes, I suppose so. Shot with a camera." And with that the incident passed in the light talk of the afternoon. But the man with the rumor was not to be downed, and finally in response to the expressed alarm of several of the ladies two of the men started out to investigate. When they reached the Triumphal Bridge they saw the doors of the Temple closed, a great, hushed, awesome crowd outside and a portentous stillness in the air. Something had surely happened! Everyone knew that the President had been taken to the hospital, but everyone also knew that the assassin was still inside and no one moved. The center of interest was with the man who had done the deed. He was about to be brought out and no one knew what to expect ; would he be lynched, would the officers run with him or would they take him off slowly and give the crowd a chance for a glimpse of him? Some half suspected that he might rise in quick anger, shake off his captors and shoot at the crowd itself; others would not believe that the President had been shot at all. There seemed to be stupor and only a numb, unconscious realization of the catastrophe.<br /> </div><div style="font-size: large;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfG1cpYDcA6xUEzliXtteFKbS3o25PJGaBSy989texljgCDdu2Mm4mFAif0u2uye3BkJB2zSggzpkf97bUvohJiu-f2wxHE-oqT-FWa1cqOfga1BXZakb80h3OeJi4M3KpXoIujR_O0ejco4au5Q39cm7kB3HMjGm-Oh3Z-7X0-7yJ58dqZMgunjmAdk8/s1398/crowds%20at%20Temple.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1016" data-original-width="1398" height="377" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfG1cpYDcA6xUEzliXtteFKbS3o25PJGaBSy989texljgCDdu2Mm4mFAif0u2uye3BkJB2zSggzpkf97bUvohJiu-f2wxHE-oqT-FWa1cqOfga1BXZakb80h3OeJi4M3KpXoIujR_O0ejco4au5Q39cm7kB3HMjGm-Oh3Z-7X0-7yJ58dqZMgunjmAdk8/w518-h377/crowds%20at%20Temple.jpg" width="518" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crowds gather outside the Temple of Music</td></tr></tbody></table><span> <span> </span></span><b>It was so absolutely </b>sudden and unsuspected that few felt its poignant pang; the nebulous throb of anguish and long-drawn tapering thrill of vengeful retaliation had not yet come home. In the midst of it the door was suddenly thrown open and the assassin appeared and halted there in full sight for the briefest instant—a pale, deter-mined, satisfied man. The brilliant afternoon sun stretched its searching rays past the golden finials of the western buildings and lit his defiant bust with rebuking fire. His collar was gone—lost in the scuffle—and his flannel shirt, torn open at the throat, revealed a hard and scrawny neck. His chestnut hair, almost red in the glinting sunlight, matched his blood-smeared cheeks, and his whole air bespoke the conviction of a man who " had done his duty," for such was the only reply he would make when asked why he had fired the shots. That pause, with its sight of the assassin, was short but intense. It brought its reply straight in the teeth of the dare-devil courage of the young man. </div><div style="font-size: large;"> <span> </span><b>"Lynch him," called several.</b> These cries were not pronounced or organized. No impetuous frenzy had yet seized the crowd. It seemed as though nearly everyone for the moment had lost all sense of outrage and of revenge. What cries there were scattered and sporadic. There was unrest and muttered discontent and imprecation. The marines were steadfast, and through the narrow lane they formed with their turned backs the detectives hurried Czolgosz to a covered carriage and jumped in with him. The coachman hit the horses a terrific cut. They bounded out as from released catapaults and the few who grasped the wheels in vain hope of staying the flight to unmerited safety were jerked from their feet. On through the prepared lane the horses sprang at a swinging gallop, over the Triumphal Bridge, which the day before had been the scene of the wildest, most buoyant welcome, through the long, beautiful residence avenues, to downtown, four miles away, and the assassin was safe. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU4or17-IuxCHUBBKy9ufPIInufanDdeQNMvZFt8R4spgRloDsnOKQTy-ziev6BM0ocugQqB09Vqalfr3vXNmPS3wvspxjfSpimyxtBdvrMa_NWHz-H1iTkk0RRTC0UqZq5ymR_a5QvpSX1CE55voI_sJYyT3_hmZaOpZh79q8ETjRGtSVy1uhqpTFKoY/s2803/Dr.%20Mann.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2803" data-original-width="2323" height="497" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU4or17-IuxCHUBBKy9ufPIInufanDdeQNMvZFt8R4spgRloDsnOKQTy-ziev6BM0ocugQqB09Vqalfr3vXNmPS3wvspxjfSpimyxtBdvrMa_NWHz-H1iTkk0RRTC0UqZq5ymR_a5QvpSX1CE55voI_sJYyT3_hmZaOpZh79q8ETjRGtSVy1uhqpTFKoY/w412-h497/Dr.%20Mann.png" width="412" /></a></div></div><div style="font-size: large;"><span> <span> </span></span><b>The surgeons</b>—the best in Buffalo—who had been called in, decided that an immediate operation was necessary. The President had been twice hit, the first shot striking the breast bone and glancing off with only a slight abrasion of the skin, but the second one had entered the abdomen and had pierced the stomach twice, burying itself in the fleshy muscles of the back. It has never been found. An hour and fifteen minutes after the shooting the President was unconscious with the ether that had been given him. When asked if the operation should be performed, he replied: </div><div style="font-size: large;"><br /></div></div><div style="font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: center;">"I am in your hands. You know what is best. Do that," and then as he sank into unconsciousness he muttered slowly to himself: " Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done."</div><div><br /></div><div> <span> </span><b>The details of the</b> operation are merely similar to those of any other such. " Laperotomy " is the surgical term for it. An incision was made in the abdomen by Dr. Matthew D. Mann, the operating surgeon, the stomach turned and the two perforations made by the bullet sewn up, the wound thoroughly cleansed, the stomach replaced, the incision sewn and the effects of the ether dissipated. The President was then removed to the home of Mr. Milburn on Delaware Avenue. </div><div><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmSU2KJveiod3Hwn87x8kJpGdLYLyUDVZu7Rj8Ghb-LWB7VL_AvjpCLIbAtyztzyA1_--g43DjannlExt4tjz9Dti8mp6Z2OEYFikzWwgw8__uAWxel_-K7b1wNimEn0rBoluE5HWYvX3_htHTp8F7Z1lCrY_414JJiRW5ScnDH-AJpcUJ4DHHk9BpqoM/s2832/Milburn%20Home.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1823" data-original-width="2832" height="365" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmSU2KJveiod3Hwn87x8kJpGdLYLyUDVZu7Rj8Ghb-LWB7VL_AvjpCLIbAtyztzyA1_--g43DjannlExt4tjz9Dti8mp6Z2OEYFikzWwgw8__uAWxel_-K7b1wNimEn0rBoluE5HWYvX3_htHTp8F7Z1lCrY_414JJiRW5ScnDH-AJpcUJ4DHHk9BpqoM/w565-h365/Milburn%20Home.jpg" width="565" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">THE MILBURN HOME IN BUFFALO<br />Hospitality extended to President and Mrs. McKinley for their occupancy <br />while in Buffalo<span style="font-size: large;">. </span></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie_8qwVUu3llss8eYqKiWhxeJ37wawpkxMlHBCmV7FTcYqrNMGM4ZhBuOLIZMTlhoYAnDFYG_ZLdEcCNjLqnvCI96q4ZJ7pCcw0mBDHC5h6HM3HP-HMEuFVE3WN4benTUQVdlyATKwcz7-44ZvyQS6Fz6rfEm6UnIC8UN4p8rD63EhzSmj5qfVgTnljGw/s3218/Nurses.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3218" data-original-width="2792" height="403" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie_8qwVUu3llss8eYqKiWhxeJ37wawpkxMlHBCmV7FTcYqrNMGM4ZhBuOLIZMTlhoYAnDFYG_ZLdEcCNjLqnvCI96q4ZJ7pCcw0mBDHC5h6HM3HP-HMEuFVE3WN4benTUQVdlyATKwcz7-44ZvyQS6Fz6rfEm6UnIC8UN4p8rD63EhzSmj5qfVgTnljGw/w351-h403/Nurses.jpg" width="351" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miss Catherine Simmons & Miss May D. Barnes<br />Attending Nurses to Surgeons & President</td></tr></tbody></table><span> <span> <span> <span> </span></span></span></span><b>For the next six</b> days hope mounted high. Everyone except the chronic grumblers thought the President would recover. Senator Hanna, his life-long, steadfast friend, "saw a rainbow in the sky and declared he believed in the McKinley star," and Vice-President Roosevelt, who had hurried on a special train to the bedside of the President, was so secure in his belief that he left for the Adirondacks, put civilization behind him and when he was next wanted was forty-two miles from a telegraph wire. The newspapers and the country looked for slow recovery and were counting the period of expected convalescence. The Buffalo papers were rather gleefully commenting on the probability of the city becoming what Secretary Root declared it might become," the summer capital." Even the doctors were deceived. There were several indications, however, that the President was not yet past the danger point; the feeding of food by injection became impossible because of threatened inflammation and on Thursday morning it was decided to give him a light breakfast. He had toast, coffee, chicken broth, beef juice and finished with rare relish by asking for a cigar. That day, considering everything, was a remarkably bright one. The weather was perfect and the President, said all, was on the road to recovery.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="color: #cc0000;"><span> <span> <span> </span></span></span>THE LAST DAY </span></b></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFT70klS-Clvapi122Rdn0nAvJlFRBxcnpvcIRAvSiCBn60iwtJEgVkm5w3Izjo6fgQcjTzt33-HtRlz6L5l_gah8718Gy236KvgtzSsHJtShvbcn25XQTaEFcxq3rAZ-ex6260ZZdL4AYUNfj2ipTSpTzumVbRkUEuFbM0wvS05eSfmXpZDi9VGF2dLg/s2802/McKinley%20Sisters.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2596" data-original-width="2802" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFT70klS-Clvapi122Rdn0nAvJlFRBxcnpvcIRAvSiCBn60iwtJEgVkm5w3Izjo6fgQcjTzt33-HtRlz6L5l_gah8718Gy236KvgtzSsHJtShvbcn25XQTaEFcxq3rAZ-ex6260ZZdL4AYUNfj2ipTSpTzumVbRkUEuFbM0wvS05eSfmXpZDi9VGF2dLg/w379-h350/McKinley%20Sisters.jpg" width="379" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mrs. Duncan and Miss Alice McKinley<br />Sisters of the President with Escorts.</td></tr></tbody></table><b>Thursday</b> <b>night </b>brought the first serious sign of danger. The physicians were obliged to give their patient violent purgatives and at 2:30 o'clock of Friday morning the collapse came. His life for the next twenty-four hours was an artificial one. That Friday fell on the 13th—doubly an unlucky day. The city woke to get the fateful news that the President's pulse had almost ceased its throb and from then on the tell-tale mincings of the official bulletins brought merely varied versions of a " hope against hope." There was a time through the morning when to hope seemed reasonable. </div></div><div><div style="font-size: large;"><span> <span> </span></span><b>The pulse and temperature </b>had gone back to their normal condition of the day before, but when Secretary Cortelyou, on his regular afternoon visit to the newspaper tent across the street, said with words which had been well weighed: "If the President lives until morning there will be grounds for hope, " the immediate analysis brought the conviction that there really was no ground for hope. Throughout the city, from then on, the fact of grave danger was so potent that the air was charged with the momentous import of the situation. In the sick room the day had been one of battle—a battle against death; and outside, to the world which did not know the details of that fierce fight, there was just as hard a struggle against the deadening fear of the worst. No one wished to admit the grievous fact, but the conclusion was irresistible. <br /></div><div style="font-size: large;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj884aOGLPjD-rlZ10xWcvXhKX-AS4TkVWHrYtZSA_p2bMhFGxJGNmDkuYBoQCcVpfHwNr_own-3BuRiKzh2J-yd7MlxSNUNmI47JZq7sCprUvI1GLFTSr2N3ZSNu59DdorHs3KKDSOG_9RuOq4cVJu2sxSTbrwbz8k8821SAy-nZSKfit5-Ds6JYGQJpc/s2769/McKinley%20brothers.png" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2610" data-original-width="2769" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj884aOGLPjD-rlZ10xWcvXhKX-AS4TkVWHrYtZSA_p2bMhFGxJGNmDkuYBoQCcVpfHwNr_own-3BuRiKzh2J-yd7MlxSNUNmI47JZq7sCprUvI1GLFTSr2N3ZSNu59DdorHs3KKDSOG_9RuOq4cVJu2sxSTbrwbz8k8821SAy-nZSKfit5-Ds6JYGQJpc/w400-h378/McKinley%20brothers.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abner McKinley Brother of the President<br />Reading a Special Bulletin </td></tr></tbody></table><span> <span> </span></span><b>Each person</b> who came from the Milburn house—physicians, cabinet ministers, senators, governors and members of the family—brought through the afternoon the word: "He is in peril," and as the careless radiance of the buoyant exposition beyond lit its way into, the starry sky all that could be said by anybody was: " He is still alive." On that last gray and awful night as the great heart beat slower, each feeble minute keeping sure count for the last lingering run of the life-sands, the tension among the watchers grew. It became a tremendous pressure. The creak of a sentry's boot on the pavement in front of the Milburn house, where armed guards paced with clock-like regularity, brought quick response from the newspaper men across the street. There were more than 1oo of them. It was no idle crowd, such as gathered down town swearing feeble vengeance against the triumphant murderer. Each was a picked man, chosen for experience and skill. The chief papers of Christendom and many of the minor ones were represented there. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcjBt94ajq-Xbzp3rRS8L7e7P8YAdJmrke-UEyXf0_LJfJy6G4tMfyipe39TIblsoDW25uFVOEK_ssZLYHy-hWcpYw0vAYMbh31lfcH8Elx7wRHtMMW5sdUMOYldQ3X8lF4-lEczIbHGki9pr_sFlx5Uybka3gY62SFaLBI80B0rAqt8DiryMM7eecOYI/s1986/Senator%20MarkHanna2.jpeg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1986" data-original-width="1904" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcjBt94ajq-Xbzp3rRS8L7e7P8YAdJmrke-UEyXf0_LJfJy6G4tMfyipe39TIblsoDW25uFVOEK_ssZLYHy-hWcpYw0vAYMbh31lfcH8Elx7wRHtMMW5sdUMOYldQ3X8lF4-lEczIbHGki9pr_sFlx5Uybka3gY62SFaLBI80B0rAqt8DiryMM7eecOYI/w384-h400/Senator%20MarkHanna2.jpeg" width="384" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Senator Mark Hanna<br />The Presidents Steadfast Friend, <br />Hastening to his side after the shooting.</td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="font-size: large;"><span> <b> </b></span><b>This immense tongue,</b> which was to tell the fateful news to 80,000,000 of William McKinley's fellow citizens and to other millions waiting wherever the telegraph tolls its disturbing click, was hushed in awful preparation for its direful loosening. At the word, that avalanche of news was to be poured onto the world—a thunderbolt from the night. The moments dragged, each one heavy with expectancy and each one supposed to be the last. Mrs. McKinley was induced to take rest and the entire number of those who waited were in the condition of a condemned man waiting for the rope to drop. A heart specialist from Washington arrived at midnight, at record-breaking pace, in an electric automobile, but it was too late; God Himself could not have turned the hour glass back then. </div><div><div style="font-size: large; text-align: center;"><span> <span style="color: #cc0000;"> </span></span><b><span style="color: #990000;">The End Came Quietly,</span></b></div><div style="font-size: large;"> like the ebbing of the tide, at that indistinct time of the early morning when lives most frequently go out. The President had been unconscious for seven hours; he died at 2 : 15. In the evening, before lapsing into mere breathing life, there occurred that spiritual uplift which was to place the final, lasting purport of a sacred benediction on his life's best effort. As his soul reeled on the brink for that concluding conscious moment before its dissolution, there came to him a flitting period of time wherein the memory of his long life of deeds and thoughts, his wife, his children and his friends, passed before him like the phantasmia of a dream, and with that vision in his already death-glazed eyes he murmured slowly : </div><div style="font-size: large;"><br /></div><div style="font-size: large; text-align: center;">Good-bye—all,—good—bye !—It—is—God' s—way.—His—will,— not—ours,—be—done." The rest was silence. </div><div style="font-size: large; text-align: center;">With that resignation in his heart he found eternity. </div><div style="font-size: large; text-align: center;">It was a simple, manly death-a death worthy the President of the United States.</div><div style="font-size: large;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #990000; font-size: large;">THE FUNERAL</span></b></div><div style="font-size: large;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKNUSmHEZYGQFDKoXIJQlaKM9Y9y4N1nM4o0Q0X2FKI64Rsb4NWNj1jGuSv13ygSLgIYHxqcj4lUyeqi7oQdStBigncN3Bdngn-Zu9rXnv8cAbcIOyPgtDnXZN8-7wXVFFD6hoZfahncRRpETr-6dYHZQx9S5lMQCbjQFrJKLpuHf0sk3r94LqDjMWyLw/s4504/Funeral.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2849" data-original-width="4504" height="405" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKNUSmHEZYGQFDKoXIJQlaKM9Y9y4N1nM4o0Q0X2FKI64Rsb4NWNj1jGuSv13ygSLgIYHxqcj4lUyeqi7oQdStBigncN3Bdngn-Zu9rXnv8cAbcIOyPgtDnXZN8-7wXVFFD6hoZfahncRRpETr-6dYHZQx9S5lMQCbjQFrJKLpuHf0sk3r94LqDjMWyLw/w640-h405/Funeral.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Presidents Body Lying in State in City Hall, Buffalo<br />Just before the opening of the doors to the hundred thousand mourners who <br />filed past the bier on Sunday afternoon, September 15, 1901</td></tr></tbody></table> <span> </span><b>There were three </b>funerals—one at the Milburn house in Buffalo; one along historic Pennsylvania Avenue, where the victorious armies of Grant and Lincoln had trod in elate confidence, and down which the dead President had twice marched in triumphant inauguration; and, the last, a simple country burial procession, magnified to collossal proportions, passing through the crowded, silent streets of the inland city of Canton. The details of that three days journey from the greensward of populous Buffalo to the velvet of the Ohio meadows are alike in showing suppressed, inexpressible emotion. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm0YK0dNd8_G0wpoUcuQB_HujxMHz0sSUTN9VRdbiN0WuZUz1jU6airPjykMNBaiOB-KHfALSz1Y87hdTnkX25dszbdV8PeIQ93O5o3ylcgnvzlvutdM7wqQ9WB-UIrQereZ1262-ktIFzz9VnifVWq85l8llGJkbFKK5PQV7GNefskhCGvBXrPgCaBtw/s4077/funeral%20processsion.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2762" data-original-width="4077" height="367" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm0YK0dNd8_G0wpoUcuQB_HujxMHz0sSUTN9VRdbiN0WuZUz1jU6airPjykMNBaiOB-KHfALSz1Y87hdTnkX25dszbdV8PeIQ93O5o3ylcgnvzlvutdM7wqQ9WB-UIrQereZ1262-ktIFzz9VnifVWq85l8llGJkbFKK5PQV7GNefskhCGvBXrPgCaBtw/w541-h367/funeral%20processsion.jpg" width="541" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Head of the Funeral Procession Leaving <br />the Milburn House</td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="font-size: large;"><span> <span> </span></span><b>It was perhaps</b> the most heart-felt pageant that ever passed through this broad country. Every home was a house of mourning, the cities were draped in black, and the States stood like crepe-veiled sisters, hand in hand in silent, deep commiseration. The hundreds of thousands who viewed the remains were but a small fraction of those who pressed forward for a chance. In Buffalo the crowds about the City Hall on Sunday afternoon were such that for four blocks the streets were impassable; a solid wall, broken only by the buildings, stretched back in patient confusion, each individual arrayed in Sunday finery, and each dripping with the soaking rain that poured down without let. Two days later, in Washington, the crowd that pressed forward at the Capitol found the same drenching, and met it with the same determined patience, and even in little Canton, swelled to three times its normal population by the influx of mourning guests, the entire afternoon was amply busy with those who demanded a last farewell. </div></div></div><div style="font-size: large;"><br /></div></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj25yA_XUo-SvOS6mWSHNKgdtegxKNt3VS0Kws0S7znUtoQKutEpvoo8aunaBhp5u7hLGAFKrpy7LQb4s7wB9fgSj-n6PtlFnr584jSCSuzw63v-qOTEhKdK7ryCVRRCrs08lo0gnPQuX-rvSapfmQ-YkAN4lJXiaTYMlJYyVhK-Grbokx8C4b7y2u0F-w/s4455/Wilcox%20mansion.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2821" data-original-width="4455" height="406" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj25yA_XUo-SvOS6mWSHNKgdtegxKNt3VS0Kws0S7znUtoQKutEpvoo8aunaBhp5u7hLGAFKrpy7LQb4s7wB9fgSj-n6PtlFnr584jSCSuzw63v-qOTEhKdK7ryCVRRCrs08lo0gnPQuX-rvSapfmQ-YkAN4lJXiaTYMlJYyVhK-Grbokx8C4b7y2u0F-w/w640-h406/Wilcox%20mansion.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Ansley Wilcox Residence, Delaware Ave. Buffalo<br /><div style="text-align: center;">Where Vice President Theodore Roosevelt took the Oath of Office & Became President</div></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><p style="font-family: Georgia; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 24px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #a40803; font-style: normal;"><b>Editor:</b></span> </p><p style="font-family: Georgia; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 24px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The entirety of this story was taken and edited from the book; <i> </i></p><p style="font-family: Georgia; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 24px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><i>” The True Story of the Assassination of President McKinley at Buffalo." </i></p></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><p style="font-family: Georgia; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 24px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">It was written in 1901 by <b><i>Richard H. Barry</i> </b>who was present during the historic events, beginning with the President's visit to Buffalo and ending with the last ceremonies at Canton.</p></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: x-large;"><b>Robert Allan Reid, Publisher</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: x-large;"><b>Buffalo NY 1901</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><p style="font-family: Georgia; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 24px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><a href="https://www.buffalohistorygazette.net/p/mckinley-last-speech-buffalo-new-york.html" target="_blank">McKinley's Last Speech in Full</a></p></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"> </span></div><p></p><div><br /></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><br /></p><span><a name='more'></a></span>Jerry M Malloyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653949516092546466noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9035576220169986933.post-34866958705543081662022-05-27T08:00:00.013-04:002023-05-16T23:40:33.735-04:00MEMORIAL DAY 2023<p><br /></p><p><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;"><b>MEMORIAL DAY </b></span></p><p> <span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><b style="font-family: Merriweather;">With all the due respect</b><span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Merriweather;"> we need to show our veterans, </span><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Merriweather;">Memorial Day</span><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;"> is set aside for </span><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville;">those who did not have the warm feeling of a walk down Main St. to cheering crowds, clapping hands and music. Their welcome home was more somber and private, if they were able to return home at all. </span></span></span></span></span><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #0b5394; font-family: Libre Baskerville; text-align: justify;">There were no shaking of hands, pats on the back or embracing hugs for these men and women.</span></p><span><span><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); float: right; font-family: Merriweather; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.va.gov/opa/publications/celebrate/flower.pdf" rel="nofollow" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: justify;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="1024" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg38jnB71QVraBI-chtlpK1nh2GWleeLatRltMBRPoQ3x6JXoqSBGk-ccQh6vUo8JHK3EO5SBJE1ukzLYpoeUnbkelg6POGVUPdQG7mgwSm74aYv2oSnNJa5lR4b_DkBj18lhQJvso08bE/w475-h297/The-Poppy-Flower-And-It_s-Significance-To-Memorial-Day_1-1024x640.jpg" width="475" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); font-family: Merriweather; text-align: justify;"><b>To them</b><span style="color: #0b5394;"> we must pay homage with photos, memories, prayers and tears. It seems so little for those who gave so much but in this physical world, that is what we have to offer. Our gratitude for your service and sacrifice for this country and free nations around the world is boundless. You will always be missed, and you will always be remembered. </span></div><div style="font-family: Merriweather; text-align: justify;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><b>To the families</b><span style="color: #0b5394;"> of those who we remember on </span></span><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #990000;"><b>Memorial Day</b></span><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #0b5394;">, may you find peace, along with the strength and support you need to carry you through life. </span><b style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);">God Bless</b><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);">.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); font-family: georgia;">Jerry M. Malloy</span></div><div style="font-family: Merriweather; text-align: justify;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><h2 style="font-family: Merriweather; text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;"><b>The Flower of Remembrance</b></span></span></h2><h3 style="font-family: Merriweather; text-align: center;"><i style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><span style="font-size: x-large;">In Flanders Fields By John McCrae </span></i></h3><div style="font-family: Merriweather; text-align: center;"><i style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></i></div><div style="font-family: Merriweather; text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><i><span style="color: #073763;">I</span><span style="color: #073763;">n Flanders fields the poppies blow </span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: Merriweather; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #073763;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><i><span>B</span></i></span><i style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><span>etween the crosses, row on row, </span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: Merriweather; text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><i><span style="color: #073763;">That mark our place; and in the sky </span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: Merriweather; text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><i><span style="color: #073763;">The larks, still bravely singing, fly. </span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: Merriweather; text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><i><span style="color: #073763;">Scarce heard amid the guns below.</span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: Merriweather; text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><i><span style="color: #073763;"> </span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: Merriweather; text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><i><span style="color: #073763;">We are the dead. Short days ago </span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: Merriweather; text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><i><span style="color: #073763;">We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow </span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: Merriweather; text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><i><span style="color: #073763;">Loved, and were loved, and now we lie </span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: Merriweather; text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><i><span style="color: #073763;">In Flanders fields. </span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: Merriweather; text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><i><span style="color: #073763;"><br /></span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: Merriweather; text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><i><span style="color: #073763;">Take up our quarrel with the foe: </span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: Merriweather; text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><i><span style="color: #073763;">To you from failing hands we throw </span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: Merriweather; text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><i><span style="color: #073763;">The torch; be yours to hold it high. </span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: Merriweather; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #073763;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><i><span>I</span></i></span><i style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><span>f ye break faith with us who die </span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: Merriweather; text-align: center;"><i style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><span style="color: #073763;">We shall not sleep, though poppies grow </span></i></div><div style="font-family: Merriweather; text-align: center;"><i style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><span style="color: #073763;">In Flanders fields. </span></i></div><div class="separator" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); clear: both; font-family: Merriweather; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville;"><i><b><span style="font-size: large;">This was the poem</span></b></i> <span style="color: #0b5394;">written by World War I Colonel John McCrae, a surgeon with Canada's First Brigade Artillery. It expressed McCrae's grief over the "row on row" of graves of soldiers who had died on Flanders' battlefields, located in a region of western Belgium and northern France. The poem presented a striking image of the bright red flowers blooming among the rows of white crosses and became a rallying cry to all who fought in the First World War. The first printed version of it reportedly was in December 1915, in the British magazine Punch. </span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>McCrae's poem</i></b> </span><span style="color: #0b5394;">had a huge impact on two women, Anna E. Guerin of France and Georgia native Moina Michael. Both worked hard to initiate the sale of artificial poppies to help orphans and others left destitute by the war. By the time Guerin established the first sale in the U.S., in 1920 with the help of The American Legion, the poppy was well known in the allied countries — America, Britain, France, Canada, Australia and New Zealand — as the "Flower of Remembrance." Proceeds from that first sale went to the American and French Children's League. </span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville;"><b><span><i><span style="font-size: large;">Guerin had difficulty</span></i> </span></b><span style="color: #0b5394;">with the distribution of the poppies in early 1922 and sought out Michael for help. Michael had started a smaller-scaled Poppy Day during a YMCA conference she was attending in New York and wanted to use the poppies as a symbol of remembrance of the war. Guerin, called the "Poppy Lady of France" in her homeland, and Michael, later dubbed "The Poppy Princess" by the Georgia legislature, went to the Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW) for help. Following its first nationwide distribution of poppies, the VFW adopted the poppy as its official memorial flower in 1922.</span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville;"><b><i><span style="font-size: large;">However, a shortage</span></i> </b><span style="color: #0b5394;">of poppies from French manufacturers led to the idea of using unemployed and disabled veterans to produce the artificial flowers. In 1924, a poppy factory was built in Pittsburgh, Pa., providing a reliable source of poppies and a practical means of assistance to veterans. Today, veterans at VA medical facilities and veterans homes help assemble the poppies, which are distributed by veterans service organizations throughout the country.</span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville;"><b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Donations received</span></i></b> <span style="color: #0b5394;">in return for these artificial poppies have helped countless veterans and their widows, widowers and orphans over the years. The poppy itself continues to serve as a perpetual tribute to those who have given their lives for the nation's freedom.</span></span></span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); font-family: Merriweather;"><span style="color: #073763;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="separator" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); clear: both; font-family: Merriweather; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); clear: both; font-family: Merriweather; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); clear: both; font-family: Merriweather; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><br /></div></div></span></span>Jerry M Malloyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653949516092546466noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9035576220169986933.post-44491949102339815082021-08-15T10:25:00.003-04:002021-08-15T10:34:01.027-04:00Citizens, Safety, and Civics The Hallmark of School 60 - The “Ontario School”<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: x-large;"><b>School No. 60</b></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 22px;"><b>Modern in Every Particular and is Ably Conducted by </b></span></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 22px;"><b>Principal Elmer J. Cobb</b></span></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 15px; text-align: justify;"> </span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Georgia; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: large;"></span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3-MXomJI-DDyfy__PvkrssZv9YP3ljPZdjpVhHDFVQO-Nm7KGI_OtbN2Dr2pUNE9wnFbPnOifZz4KDh6yWm3RcDhG3URY6vmm_X4I1Ws3EtXe_zPYVBOXgoCJ83qMNuyZeyBRTnF-lr8/s2048/school+60+blog.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1451" data-original-width="2048" height="473" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3-MXomJI-DDyfy__PvkrssZv9YP3ljPZdjpVhHDFVQO-Nm7KGI_OtbN2Dr2pUNE9wnFbPnOifZz4KDh6yWm3RcDhG3URY6vmm_X4I1Ws3EtXe_zPYVBOXgoCJ83qMNuyZeyBRTnF-lr8/w669-h473/school+60+blog.jpg" width="669" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Children Playing Outside School #60 in it's Early Days (Built 1897-1898)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville;"> <b><span style="color: #0b5394;">Buffalo Times - Feb. 16, 1902</span></b> Public School No. 60 is one of the new schools. It is located on Ontario Street and called after the street, “The Ontario School." The membership of the school, although now quite small, is steadily increasing and the principal anticipates a very much overcrowded school within a few years. The school is thoroughly heated and ventilated by a most complete system and always is kept in excellent condition by the janitor. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville;"><b> The principal</b> of the school is Elmer J. Cobb. He has been prominently connected with schoolwork since he graduated from the Cherry Creek, N. Y., Graded School, in 1881. Mr. Cobb was born in Cherry Creek. After graduating from school there he became teacher of the district school. He entered the Fredonia Normal School and graduated from there in 1888. He was appointed principal of the Brocton Union School in 1888, from there he went to the Dayton Union School as principal, became principal of No. 29 School in Buffalo in 1897. From there he went to School No. 60 where he has been since 1898.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1o20JDfHvKUKqcph0Xd_SKN2VgJNKM3GCW9K3RBPHbwW3EV6v6wb4PN12aTDlzlNdEgW2LmFkJB7-m2Rzum7UQ-BHLlaSzF3gDtTWisQ34XFW6VxLdd4-70kWl231OKBsJjk57kWpMfU/s2048/school+60+class+2.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1537" data-original-width="2048" height="461" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1o20JDfHvKUKqcph0Xd_SKN2VgJNKM3GCW9K3RBPHbwW3EV6v6wb4PN12aTDlzlNdEgW2LmFkJB7-m2Rzum7UQ-BHLlaSzF3gDtTWisQ34XFW6VxLdd4-70kWl231OKBsJjk57kWpMfU/w614-h461/school+60+class+2.jpg" width="614" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Students Posing at Front Steps of School #60</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville;"> <b>The teachers</b> employed in the Ontario School are as follows: Miss Eleanor F. Wood, ninth grade; Miss Rachel Turner, eighth grade; Miss Josephine L. Doyle, seventh grade; Miss Ada Seekings, sixth grade; Miss Isabella M. Thomas, sixth grade; Miss Christine Bernard, 5th grade; Miss Bertha A. Batty, fourth grade; Miss Augusta F. Kopf, fourth grade; Miss Mary E. Sweitzer, third grade; Miss Emelin A. Glasser; third grade; Miss Mabel B. Toppins, second grade; Miss Cora L. Millington, second grade; Miss Ellen C. Holweis, first grade.</span></div></div><div><br /></div><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3sWNXeVFRgHSWczVNZPQtKq8uWQ0_R2w3EnhaVqj60SLEcDssRGTgQ2D44dkNGrXGhnCiX0eePDRwKU65AkUjDSPnNrkOQY9cDNe1nqRKIRPsvloxweeFSo4swrWLdt0mu_PVHg2cKB0/s1246/school+60+Cobb.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1246" data-original-width="709" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3sWNXeVFRgHSWczVNZPQtKq8uWQ0_R2w3EnhaVqj60SLEcDssRGTgQ2D44dkNGrXGhnCiX0eePDRwKU65AkUjDSPnNrkOQY9cDNe1nqRKIRPsvloxweeFSo4swrWLdt0mu_PVHg2cKB0/w194-h341/school+60+Cobb.jpg" width="194" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elmer J. Cobb</td></tr></tbody></table><b><span><span style="color: #0b5394;">Buffalo Times - April 24 1927 </span> </span></b><b>There</b><span> <b>is a</b> section of Buffalo which, in a large measure, owes its growth and development to a public school. That is the Riverside district, and School No. 60 at Ontario and Saratoga Streets, of which Elmer J. Cobb is principal in the school. He opened the Ontario St. school thirty years ago, when that part of the city was almost a wilderness.</span></div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"> <span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville;"> <b>Immediately</b> he began putting into practice an idea all his own for training children to become valuable citizens. Here is what Mr. Cobb learned when he commenced: Of the 1600 boys and girls who have been graduated from the school, not one is known to have a criminal record. Nor has one been in court even on a minor charge, according to the principals records. And a majority of the graduates have settled in the Riverside district and now comprise its most influential citizens. and here is what Mr. Hartwell, superintendent of schools, said recently after a visit to No. 60:</span></div><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><b> Hartnell's Tribute.</b> "Riverside school is like a wheel, the hub of which, is good citizenship. And that, after all, is one of the main purposes of all schools. Of what use is all learning if we cannot make our boys and girls fundamentally good?" The work of making future citizens begins in the kindergarten in the Riverside school and continues until the child is graduated from the ninth grade. For this house of learning goes beyond the eighth grade and overlaps into the ninth, which is regarded and first year of high school work. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJUgRLnW6nh2rmF1SzFDwBDrSkzLMJ_HCNIiAiTmg5z5kJInba3TmQIHTC14SW1Dn4PpSthGMhNtpwbFU0BDAYiAhi6kgJJEIEIKX5EYBrg9aUUh6lnWnoN3q1_PZZop5fZN3HQYCLgbg/s2048/school+60+class+1.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1414" data-original-width="2048" height="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJUgRLnW6nh2rmF1SzFDwBDrSkzLMJ_HCNIiAiTmg5z5kJInba3TmQIHTC14SW1Dn4PpSthGMhNtpwbFU0BDAYiAhi6kgJJEIEIKX5EYBrg9aUUh6lnWnoN3q1_PZZop5fZN3HQYCLgbg/w640-h442/school+60+class+1.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Class Photo about 1905</span></td></tr></tbody></table></div></span><div style="text-align: left;"><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Osaka; font-size: 12px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville;"> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>Here is Principal Cobb's system:</b> A few days after school opens in September each year the grade teachers give a short talk about public meetings and civic affairs then before the public. Each teacher proposed that every class should have a club which shall hold meeting and be a part of the general patriotic society of the school. Officers are elected by popular vote and they run things for the year. </span></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLMoU_kmz3F1Cy0cWnPKQ03iWfbON8gZyvA29MP6EPp69AMRwuYvh0uThYA7j6nxAjznwL7xIDVBnQcqdpjt_0nOUlCnGdwjPGcRUdGObYYYpSEQu4XYxEtEf_uX-n5m8pVncNO11cOvQ/s2048/Student+school+60.png" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1539" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLMoU_kmz3F1Cy0cWnPKQ03iWfbON8gZyvA29MP6EPp69AMRwuYvh0uThYA7j6nxAjznwL7xIDVBnQcqdpjt_0nOUlCnGdwjPGcRUdGObYYYpSEQu4XYxEtEf_uX-n5m8pVncNO11cOvQ/w300-h400/Student+school+60.png" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Student From Above Class Photo</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville; font-size: large;"><b> When the children</b> have grown enthusiastic, the teacher suggests that they organize a little citizens club and elect officers. Meetings are held once a week and business is conducted according to parliamentary rules. And here is the first question put by the president to the other pupils: "What is the first duty of all American citizens?" And the answer is: It is the duty of all good American Citizens to love their country, to obey its laws and to respect its flag. </span><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville; font-size: large;">The idea behind these clubs, as Mr. Cobb explained it is to get the children thus early in life to realize their duties and responsibilities as citizens early in life. At the same time it gives them a working knowledge of civic life and adult organizations, so that when they grow up they can readily take their places as leaders in their respective communities.</span></p></div><div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><b>Teachers' Council</b></span></p></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: "Libre Baskerville"; font-size: large;"> </span><b style="font-family: "Libre Baskerville";"><span style="font-size: large;">Another</span></b><span style="font-family: "Libre Baskerville";"><span style="font-size: large;"> <b>organization</b> of the school is a students' council, and it is composed of a boy and a girl from each class of the seventh and eighth and ninth grades. Every Monday it meets for one half hour and listens to reports from the different committees-Safety, building and Grounds, and for the general good of the school. </span><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><b>There is a</b><span><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9SFUpCp9lCn1_33bs815ehRCsi1bTHgRA9XWvkbcseJTV6pyZ1Xd7bXWqvyQ75jGglwzXKKufDtQsMC7k70MH3RgJyEmScPyXHcBSbxJF_vhi2IKfAOL8nfa9qmvw37DMb5m-AZxADdc/s1552/school+60+flags-2.png" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1110" data-original-width="1552" height="369" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9SFUpCp9lCn1_33bs815ehRCsi1bTHgRA9XWvkbcseJTV6pyZ1Xd7bXWqvyQ75jGglwzXKKufDtQsMC7k70MH3RgJyEmScPyXHcBSbxJF_vhi2IKfAOL8nfa9qmvw37DMb5m-AZxADdc/w515-h369/school+60+flags-2.png" width="515" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Patriotic Celebration Behind School 60 - 1918<br />View along Saratoga St.</span></td></tr></tbody></table> safety patrol, made up of 10 boys, headed by two captains, who assist the traffic policeman at each assembly and dismissal of the school. Each boy is armed with summonses, which he hands to each erring pupil whom he discovers violating any of the traffic laws. The summonses are investigated by the Traffic Committee of the school, and offending lads and lassies are hailed before the tribunal to explain. On habitual offenders, severe sentences are handed out; for instance, one repeater for jay-walking was sentenced to write a 500 word composition on the dangers of jay-walking. To learn the result of letting the children to run things themselves, Mr. Cobb this year made a survey, and learned that there had not been a single accident involving pupils of his school during the entire year, including the long summer vacation and during Christmas and Easter. Truly, a record to be justly proud of. </span></span></span></div></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <b> Principal Cobb</b> said that the last spoke in the wheel of good citizenship which he has brought to the Riverside School is that of bringing the parents of his pupils in the closest contact with the work being done in the classrooms.</span></span></div></span><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"><b>"Twenty-five years</b> ago," said he, "this section of Buffalo was almost a wilderness.(1902) Early in the Spring, I gave the children packets of seeds and instructed them as to how they should be sown. And I told I would give prizes to those who should first bring things to me which would be the product of the vegetable seeds. You'd be surprised at the result of that experiment. They brought samples of everything and my office was actually littered with the goods. It almost made me a bankrupt to keep my word and give them the promised prizes.</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdzrEDPn2cEdm9JJqnoKtrxFPsO-42VxJE4bo85jom57yxCtdstmUsynEQ59MIDPTSdWWpa9Q25VBm2cPJt9HMCPerAI3eGTpPeEd_jPvGGf9lpQ3VjMVvYjVAJhvDd-pLkLaBjsqSmuQ/s2048/School+60+class3.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1394" data-original-width="2048" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdzrEDPn2cEdm9JJqnoKtrxFPsO-42VxJE4bo85jom57yxCtdstmUsynEQ59MIDPTSdWWpa9Q25VBm2cPJt9HMCPerAI3eGTpPeEd_jPvGGf9lpQ3VjMVvYjVAJhvDd-pLkLaBjsqSmuQ/w664-h452/School+60+class3.jpg" width="664" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Class Photo About 1905</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span></div></span></div><div><b style="font-family: georgia;">Parents Make Gardens</b></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Libre Baskerville";"> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>That experiment</b> was well worthwhile, however, for the parents of many of the pupils </span></span><span style="font-family: "Libre Baskerville";"><span><span style="font-size: large;">perhaps moved by what the youngsters had done, began to make gardens and so our district has grown into one of the very finest parts of Buffalo."</span> </span></span></div><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville; font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> <b>Mr. Cobb</b> did not tell the writer what the people of the section think of him nor how he is regarded there. But one of the teachers suggested that we ask him to show the ring given to him thee years ago by the citizens of the Riverside district in appreciation of his work. Reluctantly he showed the gift, which bears the inscription that it was given to Principal Cobb because he is an educator, a patriot and a friend.</div></span><span style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Libre Baskerville"; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville;"><b><span>The original</span></b><span> school was built in 1897, when Edgar B. Jewett was mayor and Henry P. Emerson was superintendent of education. The first registration numbered 495, and there were ten teachers. The registration at present(1927) is 1,375 pupils and there are 48 teachers besides the principal. Last year there was a graduating class of 90, and a like number is expected to be graduated this coming June. The school has all the modern equipment, including gymnasiums for boys and girls, domestic science and domestic arts classes, a swimming pool and etc.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville;"><span> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville;"><span>--------------------------</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville;"><span><b>A substantial three-story rear addition to School #60, was built in 1922 which included an auditorium.</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAe6Is4vcXEfLfCP8w16UmEp6eBcyFZHHl_BmMT9DK8L3abXv8cUZShuUUN531X7aGoTluy0V7JFNrCmtjZwavY32XYUpaMC1x0TrhkXjpFw8ymSijeehoHucpj5fdvpeWrP2SgePRV6g/s2048/School+60+addition.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1511" data-original-width="2048" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAe6Is4vcXEfLfCP8w16UmEp6eBcyFZHHl_BmMT9DK8L3abXv8cUZShuUUN531X7aGoTluy0V7JFNrCmtjZwavY32XYUpaMC1x0TrhkXjpFw8ymSijeehoHucpj5fdvpeWrP2SgePRV6g/w640-h472/School+60+addition.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">September 1921 view showing rear of School 60</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9aCHKu-lrshyphenhyphenhPfCcYoaRasCR5rvBOihwNwYaFQ7ELUwykL9HCZS5HG2_juoaeYCd9uoqbPwEmRqdQvPGI7wmvTfycXt9SWlD0PGoa939nyY55vTph6d_vtHUCMhB4uEkS1EGwO-oPO8/s2048/School+60+addition3.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1185" data-original-width="2048" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9aCHKu-lrshyphenhyphenhPfCcYoaRasCR5rvBOihwNwYaFQ7ELUwykL9HCZS5HG2_juoaeYCd9uoqbPwEmRqdQvPGI7wmvTfycXt9SWlD0PGoa939nyY55vTph6d_vtHUCMhB4uEkS1EGwO-oPO8/w640-h370/School+60+addition3.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">November 1921 - View from Troy Place</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglCOFv15CHluBtNUWqiGx6N9A7no9iVHN0pheJUW1EjHC664bR8qWHjKWwARuOxp-kdvOvuwhbYmzNQhVtB2C2lBueybGT75x0wjiDfk-yqVAx1nOimg_lviXn7sjSziSPC94GNdvLbN4/s2048/School+60+addition+2.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1089" data-original-width="2048" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglCOFv15CHluBtNUWqiGx6N9A7no9iVHN0pheJUW1EjHC664bR8qWHjKWwARuOxp-kdvOvuwhbYmzNQhVtB2C2lBueybGT75x0wjiDfk-yqVAx1nOimg_lviXn7sjSziSPC94GNdvLbN4/w640-h341/School+60+addition+2.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">November 29, 1921 - View from Saratoga St.</td></tr></tbody></table></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEithSwH3cQvpXWee-f81DsoOWB5xHcpQ54J5W8IhX5vTmE-Qxg7_NOwpQ0_eo7f4Wia_bcccP8i9yTEDQXdCsu41uzSgmilAyK1VZNzFl11wzEyUkARsgmx0lnLrw_BNldOB4vBRZNzlLc/s2048/School+60+addition+1.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1344" data-original-width="2048" height="421" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEithSwH3cQvpXWee-f81DsoOWB5xHcpQ54J5W8IhX5vTmE-Qxg7_NOwpQ0_eo7f4Wia_bcccP8i9yTEDQXdCsu41uzSgmilAyK1VZNzFl11wzEyUkARsgmx0lnLrw_BNldOB4vBRZNzlLc/w640-h421/School+60+addition+1.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">January 30, 1922 - View From Saratoga St.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span><br /></span></span></div></span><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p></div>Jerry M Malloyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653949516092546466noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9035576220169986933.post-28491494602559190012021-05-26T01:27:00.009-04:002022-05-25T00:26:27.653-04:00A SOLDIER'S WELCOME<h2 style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">Thank You to all the Veterans This Veterans Day</span></h2><h2 style="text-align: center;"> <b>Imagine this scene for just a small contingent of 36 soldiers who were the first to come home </b><b>after the war in 1919 </b></h2><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8V1UKFJCJzonjX_bfbFW2qbK3s908BXRhxpBXpwRN1Xwcnapj51trPY0N1mQ-tnvNC-NLbeZa6FHwqyBjDnOSmurTe_gyTSxkvBekCyDaiJJAtc5anXr-dGxmqBxwhxo1CnMVInTrPqY/" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1349" data-original-width="2048" height="357" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8V1UKFJCJzonjX_bfbFW2qbK3s908BXRhxpBXpwRN1Xwcnapj51trPY0N1mQ-tnvNC-NLbeZa6FHwqyBjDnOSmurTe_gyTSxkvBekCyDaiJJAtc5anXr-dGxmqBxwhxo1CnMVInTrPqY/w542-h357/1048148_513123502089759_2037481581_o-2.jpg" width="542" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The First 36 Soldiers to Return Were Greeted by Thousands!</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"> <b>Buffalo gave</b> a dramatic, joyful welcome to her first contingent of returned soldier heroes yesterday when thirty-six members of the 102nd Trench Mortar Battery, the old Troop I, came proudly home after several months in the war zone. They reached Buffalo on February 5, 1919, only a small band, but welcomed by thousands. From the time their train reached the station at 10:30 o'clock yesterday morning until the last dance had been finished at the Knights of Columbus service club last night, Buffalo poured forth its tribute to the lads who have brought glory and honor to the city. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> <b>The troops reached </b>the city on a special train over the New York Central, and, when they detrained, a clamorous, insistent throng of relatives, friends and admirers rushed past the station guards, brushed a cordon of police aside and gave them a greeting that must have been in strange contrast to the scenes through which they passed during the great conflict. The men of the 102d battery fell into line for their march of triumph through long lines of eager, welcoming thousands who flanked Main Street for blocks with a solid mass of humanity. With heads erect, eyes alight with vigor and health and their faces tanned to a ruddy glow the thirty-six men tramped through Main Street to the accompaniment of hand clapping, cheers and the shrieking of hundreds of whistles. Flags fluttered from every point of vantage and automobile sirens joined in the pandemonium of welcome. It was a scene that was strangely reminiscent of the peace day celebration, when cheering thousands poured through the downtown streets and cheered until they could no longer articulate.</div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzml-NB3Y08O9p7CK5iTTgRgZJ0ZK1B11Pt7iILNrCCsgf08xApGDov5nDdHtLH8JWasJl1cSZd23LJUHGW55PWKXym56vVUc9V5K_gHHpgGKTQnpbveuLgXgNSb1igpFVmTFMTKjmlZI/" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1324" data-original-width="2048" height="411" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzml-NB3Y08O9p7CK5iTTgRgZJ0ZK1B11Pt7iILNrCCsgf08xApGDov5nDdHtLH8JWasJl1cSZd23LJUHGW55PWKXym56vVUc9V5K_gHHpgGKTQnpbveuLgXgNSb1igpFVmTFMTKjmlZI/w637-h411/1040218_514843278584448_334531020_o.jpg" width="637" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><b style="font-family: times;"> </b><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b><i>Members of the 92nd Division of African-American troops return home from WWI.</i></b></span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Scene is on Exchange Street shortly after leaving the NYC Terminal. For a full detailed account of the organization & fighting campaigns of the famous </b><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #050505; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 15px; text-align: justify;"><i><b>Ninety-Second</b></i></span><b> as recorded by the division's official historian, <a href="http://net.lib.byu.edu/estu/wwi/comment/scott/SCh11.htm" target="_blank">Click Here.</a> </b></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b><br /></b></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> <b>Yesterday's march</b> through Main Street brought out thousands who gave full vent to long pent emotions. Mingled with the cheers and the cheery, 'God bless you,' of the crowd which lined the sidewalks and overflowed onto the pavements could be heard, now and then, the stifled sob of a man or woman as the scene brought to their memory lost ones who will never return. Factory whistles began their shrieking salvos of welcome at 9:55 o'clock, the time the train bearing the men was scheduled to arrive in the city. For more than fifteen minutes they continued their lusty welcome for the heroes. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> <b>The soldiers</b> were met at the station by a delegation composed of Colonel Newton E. Turgeon, chairman of the citizens' committee named by Mayor Buck in charge of the reception of homecoming troops, Councilmen Charles M. Heald, Arthur W. Kreinheder and Frederick G. Bagley, City Clerk Daniel J. Sweeney and Chairman Frank A. Darn of the Board of Supervisors. Their escort consisted of a detail of mounted police, a band, and a detachment of the 74th Regiment under command of Captain Ansley W. Sawyer. The line formed on Exchange Street and the route of march was Exchange Street to Main, to Tupper to Pearl. </div><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXmdi-jtnSLGQbcgDbz4NhwZXuKmYoG2PaOC7Aab64yCPWkm3yrzAnbakvVolstegUSmLK4pltytT2jwZvQdscpQPynEe8Wzm77vn5-ICXvXJFcrRkFZ9kay9VB3QrddRIlhgwXBjZoKU/s2048/1048344_510356282366481_1164954149_o.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1563" height="673" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXmdi-jtnSLGQbcgDbz4NhwZXuKmYoG2PaOC7Aab64yCPWkm3yrzAnbakvVolstegUSmLK4pltytT2jwZvQdscpQPynEe8Wzm77vn5-ICXvXJFcrRkFZ9kay9VB3QrddRIlhgwXBjZoKU/w513-h673/1048344_510356282366481_1164954149_o.jpg" width="513" /></a></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #050505; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 15px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;">27th Division Returns to Buffalo - view at Main & Genesee Streets at 10:30 a.m., April 1, 1919, when the 108th Infantry and 106th Field Artillery (old 74th and 65th) came home from France. Wounded Men in autos.</span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-left: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>Exchange Street</b> was a seething mass of human beings, each apparently intent upon being first to greet the soldier lads. As the column reached Main and Exchange streets hundreds of belated welcomers rushed from the lower end of the main thoroughfare and literally surrounded the returned heroes. Their progress through Main Street was repeatedly interrupted by enthusiastic friends who disregarded the Police escort and rushed into the street to grasp their friends by the hand to extend their heartfelt greetings upon their safe arrival home. </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505;"> A stirring scene</b><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505;"> was enacted at Pearl and Tupper streets, where relatives and friends of the men gathered in large numbers to greet them with all the cordiality and happiness they have been hoarding for weary months. The motor corps girls drew the curtain on this touching scene when they snatched up the men in waiting automobiles and whisked them away to the 74th Regiment Armory, where they received the official welcome of the city and what's just as important-their first feed in the home town in many months.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #cc0000; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: x-large;"><b>Memorial Day 2022</b></span><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #0b5394; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: x-large;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><b>With all the due respect</b><span><span style="color: #0b5394;"> we need to show our veterans as in the above story, </span><span style="color: #990000;">Memorial Day</span><span style="color: #0b5394;"> is set aside for those who did not have the warm feeling of a walk down Main St. to cheering crowds, clapping hands and music. Their welcome home was more somber and private, if they were able to return home at all. </span></span></span></span><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #0b5394; font-family: Merriweather;">There were no shaking of hands, pats on the back or embracing hugs for these men and women.</span></div><span style="font-family: Merriweather;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5);"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.va.gov/opa/publications/celebrate/flower.pdf" rel="nofollow" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: justify;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="1024" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg38jnB71QVraBI-chtlpK1nh2GWleeLatRltMBRPoQ3x6JXoqSBGk-ccQh6vUo8JHK3EO5SBJE1ukzLYpoeUnbkelg6POGVUPdQG7mgwSm74aYv2oSnNJa5lR4b_DkBj18lhQJvso08bE/w475-h297/The-Poppy-Flower-And-It_s-Significance-To-Memorial-Day_1-1024x640.jpg" width="475" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(click on picture)</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>To them</b><span style="color: #0b5394;"> we must pay homage with pictures, memories, prayers and tears. It seems so little for those who gave so much but in this physical world, that is what we have to offer. Our gratitude for your service and sacrifice for this country and free nations around the world is boundless. You will always be missed, and you will always be remembered. </span><b>Thank You</b><span style="color: #0b5394;">....and to the families of those who we remember on </span><span style="color: #660000;">Memorial Day</span><span style="color: #0b5394;">, may you find peace, along with the strength and support you need to carry you through life. </span><b>God Bless</b>.<span style="color: #0b5394;"> </span></div></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #990000; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;">Jerry M. Malloy</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #990000; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>Jerry M Malloyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653949516092546466noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9035576220169986933.post-20372775592405349882021-05-16T10:40:00.002-04:002022-03-26T22:56:15.760-04:00Knight's of St. John Storm the City of Buffalo<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: center;"><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(153, 0, 0); color: #990000; font-size: 36px; font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">CITY WELCOMES THE </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(153, 0, 0); color: #990000; font-size: 36px; font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">KNIGHT'S OF ST. JOHN</span></span></div><p></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 20px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;">10,000 Visitors From All Parts of the Country Expected Here This Week For Their Convention</span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 20px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><b>DELEGATIONS OF KNIGHTS THRONG INTO CITY </b></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 20px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><b>5,000 IN PARADE TODAY</b></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyIQGhQEoYIit1dxvtd1jLYtIVD9sMP2AcHJo9pSF2hiTlYjEdim7nyvx1vWG3qK_LvGDzLlTTEar0WS-tgwh4uc4SX1uBiqwkwhJ9g9XsiB_tM9nvGNz5F6pR-e7GTPsLUKx3voDxptU/s2048/Knights+arch+print1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1581" data-original-width="2048" height="495" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyIQGhQEoYIit1dxvtd1jLYtIVD9sMP2AcHJo9pSF2hiTlYjEdim7nyvx1vWG3qK_LvGDzLlTTEar0WS-tgwh4uc4SX1uBiqwkwhJ9g9XsiB_tM9nvGNz5F6pR-e7GTPsLUKx3voDxptU/w640-h495/Knights+arch+print1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Knight's of St. John Arch at Main & Clinton Sts. Buffalo, N.Y. 1906</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><p></p><div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Libre Baskerville;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Libre Baskerville;">JUNE 25, 1906</span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> <b>Thousands of Knights</b> of St. John from various sections of the United States are here. They came in a steady stream of glittering uniforms all yesterday, last night and this morning to Buffalo to attend the first biennial and 27th annual convention of this popular Catholic fraternal organization. Their convention opens at the Teck Theatre with a large attendance of delegates from many states of the union. Supreme Secretary M.J. Kane, estimated last night that fully 5,000 men, carefully drilled and uniformed, would pass under the handsome welcome arch at Main and Clinton streets in the parade, and as this army will be greatly swelled by the delegates and ladies, the number of strangers to arrive today will be close to 10,000.</span></span></div><p></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; clear: both; font-family: Geneva; text-align: center;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHC3BAFpH7P5b3itd0i4uPSBcxOjYJydZ3zk4cBKHI_9INJVzs-rbD41aXhDAxKXnGF66e3rDmBYvxVv3XU_SZb7QNCD_VGG0hn9HYtFcxcHWJIztgkSxWJbTEeT4V2MnK9p196deCVBk/s2048/Knight%2527s+arch+detail.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHC3BAFpH7P5b3itd0i4uPSBcxOjYJydZ3zk4cBKHI_9INJVzs-rbD41aXhDAxKXnGF66e3rDmBYvxVv3XU_SZb7QNCD_VGG0hn9HYtFcxcHWJIztgkSxWJbTEeT4V2MnK9p196deCVBk/w503-h378/Knight%2527s+arch+detail.jpg" width="503" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: georgia;">The Knight's Arch photo is from the collection of Joseph</span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Schneggenburger, Buffalo,(1872-1960),German sculptor & </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">artistic plaster worker. He may have been the creator of the arch</span></div></span></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><b style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Buffalo was</b><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> ready for the Knights. A large majority of the business places along Main St. and other business streets were early decorated handsomely with flags, bunting and Knights of St. John Insignia.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> Headquarters had been opened at the Lafayette Hotel and there the </span>delegates<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> and their ladies registered, </span>received<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> their handsome badges, and soon were ready for the day's events. </span></span><span style="font-family: Geneva;">The local Knights had the 74th Regiment Band on duty all yesterday and last night, and again this morning, meeting each incoming delegation that came in by train or boat and escorting them to their headquarters.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> <b>The hotels</b> have nearly all expressed an outward welcome in one form or another. A hotel on West Huron St. has all its balconies outlined in colored lights and draped with yellow and white bunting and the Lafayette Hotel is well adorned with red, white and blue bunting. The large department stores also have draped their fronts lavishly. The Hens & Kelly Company has elaborate decorations of yellow and white bunting, flags and shields and long strings of tiny flags stretched vertically down the rows of windows. The Hengerer building is very attractive with its spread of yellow and white and red, and its big white bow stuck with small flags, over the middle lower windows.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The majority of the buildings along the street have at least a flag in recognition of their guests.</span></span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Geneva;"> </span></div><p></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Geneva; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUZmrkarGrt_-aQ0oBV-1JwXwJ3KEiQ8GLogo1Z8v2o0e0YpwcxnUntO6cpzLk2BrkVCNyNGFn9P55rFjp1hBpAC-jTYjfPMKf9FYJwOk1kqBddZsBHB7hN6MCCu8VGDI9BYrM1A5u5KI/s2048/Knights+arch+night.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1512" height="511" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUZmrkarGrt_-aQ0oBV-1JwXwJ3KEiQ8GLogo1Z8v2o0e0YpwcxnUntO6cpzLk2BrkVCNyNGFn9P55rFjp1hBpAC-jTYjfPMKf9FYJwOk1kqBddZsBHB7hN6MCCu8VGDI9BYrM1A5u5KI/w377-h511/Knights+arch+night.jpg" width="377" /></a></div><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: verdana;"> <b>The big</b> public feature of the convention, the parade, is scheduled to take place this afternoon, starting at 3 o'clock. The parade will move through Genesee and Franklin streets to the Terrace, thence to Main, to Genesee, to Michigan, to Broadway, To Emslie, and then countermarching to Ellicott Square, where it will be dismissed.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: helvetica;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: verdana;"> <b>The big arch </b>at Main St. and Court is, however, the most striking object on the line of march. The 5,000 colored electric lamps which outline the structure and the words upon it will be lighted for the first time tonight. Beneath the bow of the arch, the word “Welcome” is spelled in electric lights and surmounting the whole is the large Maltese Cross of the order, in red, white and yellow and illuminated by a thousand lamps.</span></div></span><p></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Geneva; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 19px; text-align: justify;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"></span></p>
<h2 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="color: #990000;"><b>Who Are the Knights of </b></span></span><b style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #990000;">St. John?</b></span></h2>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Geneva; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"> <b>Following</b> the end of the Civil War, there existed a real need for physical and spiritual healing. The Knights of St. John was formed in 1873 in Buffalo, New York, USA with the formation of two Local Commanderies under the 2nd Regiment of Buffalo, New York. In 1879, these many organizations, including the Knights of St. George, the Knights of St. Paul, the Knights of St. Louis, and the Knights of St. John met to form a greater society of Knights. They met in Baltimore, Maryland and formed themselves into the Roman Catholic Union of the Knights of St. John, later shortened to the Knights of St. John. </span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Geneva; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"> <b>The Order was</b> officially incorporated in the State of New York on May 6, 1886 and took as its mission: “a filial devotion and respect for the authority of the Roman Catholic Church, a sense of honor, love of truth, courage, respect for womanhood and a indiscriminating charity motivated by love of GOD.” They sought to care for spiritual, social and physical needs of </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">their members and neighbors. In the pattern of the Knights of the Crusade, they cared for the victims of the war by forming a Widows and Orphan Fund.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">In 1992, the name of the Order was officially changed to the Knights of St. John International to reflect the global </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">structure of the Order.</span></p>Jerry M Malloyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653949516092546466noreply@blogger.com0414 Main St, Buffalo, NY 14202, USA42.885471 -78.87472079999999242.883898756581559 -78.8768665672119 42.887043243418447 -78.872575032788077tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9035576220169986933.post-46796603527517365832021-03-28T11:39:00.002-04:002022-03-26T22:53:25.439-04:00Making Faster Fruit<p style="text-align: center;"><span> <span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 28px; text-align: center;"><b>Fruit by Trolley</b></span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;">Suburban Trolley Service from Nearby Farms </span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;">has been put in Operation.</span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><b>Peaches From Olcott</b></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;">First Car brought 350 baskets 38 miles in two hours.</span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;">Revolution in Fruit and Garden Truck business.</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #990000;"><b><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"></span>September 5, 1901</b></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"> </span><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville;"> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>Three hundred</b> and fifty baskets of freshly picked peaches were brought by trolley from Olcott Beach to Buffalo Wednesday night. The car reached Buffalo at 1 o’clock in the morning, and shortly afterwards the fruit was unloaded at the Elk Street Market.</span></span><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Libre Baskerville";"><span style="font-size: medium;">This marks</span></span><span style="font-family: "Libre Baskerville"; font-size: large;"> an important epoch in the history of the fruit and garden truck business of Buffalo. The trolley car systems are certainly destined to revolutionize the hauling of the products of nearby farms into the city. To the officials of the Buffalo Railway Company is due the credit for successfully working out this plan, which affects every householder in Buffalo, or will in the near future, as soon as the scope of the work is extended.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji1r4IIe8ZWoSOCIVQq_D-7F-e7GKLMHKi_hMF4rssCo5ZiJqgfoJHJ5k37Q-dbsqlyNZ3YtI6qQeE90e9Ny1YEMavAW68wAbgyJ8wFV3WUkUgdSHdpXBnkM7hBOxbJ6NfRrutavW_5_w/s2048/olcott+fruit5.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1206" data-original-width="2048" height="377" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji1r4IIe8ZWoSOCIVQq_D-7F-e7GKLMHKi_hMF4rssCo5ZiJqgfoJHJ5k37Q-dbsqlyNZ3YtI6qQeE90e9Ny1YEMavAW68wAbgyJ8wFV3WUkUgdSHdpXBnkM7hBOxbJ6NfRrutavW_5_w/w640-h377/olcott+fruit5.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Street railway car designed specifically for the transport of fruit and <br />fresh market produce. Sign on car: Lockport & Olcott RY</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 17px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville; font-size: medium;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"> <b>In the near future</b> there will be an end to hauling of big farm wagons through Delaware Ave., Main Street, Niagara Street, Seneca Street and other main thoroughfares all night long. The transporting of fruit and garden truck to Buffalo from farms in Erie and contiguous counties has been a serious problem for some time past. Transportation by local trains has been a most unsatisfactory method even where the rates charged have not been prohibitory. The result has been that nearly all fruit and garden truck had to be brought into the city in wagons. It has always been necessary to start these wagons early in the afternoon or evening, depending upon the distance required to be traveled. During the many hours which the fruit was on the road it necessarily accumulated dirt and </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">dust. the result of this has been that Buffalo housekeepers have not had as fresh and sightly looking fruit and garden truck as they should have. </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville; font-size: medium;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijGVtZ-MNiXAA7ArJxf6QzZ_sIEeRTFeiiyUUOKI3IHTYlP8HYHoKdIhyphenhyphen5KgkQkmlxBLZMCY6be6pzadd9kWheajrGo7kjKl1IUWbOfOYxRx2YsUwHX5uyOUihjR9NvRJ4EyLn_EnbdbY/s2048/20210313_105221%25231.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1625" data-original-width="2048" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijGVtZ-MNiXAA7ArJxf6QzZ_sIEeRTFeiiyUUOKI3IHTYlP8HYHoKdIhyphenhyphen5KgkQkmlxBLZMCY6be6pzadd9kWheajrGo7kjKl1IUWbOfOYxRx2YsUwHX5uyOUihjR9NvRJ4EyLn_EnbdbY/w400-h318/20210313_105221%25231.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div><p></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville; font-size: medium;"> <b>On the other</b> <b>hand</b> the passing of the wagons along the streets at night has long been a nuisance. Take, for instance, Delaware Ave. The street is cleaned up early in the evening for the next day, but all night farm wagons pass over the street so that by daylight the next morning the street is littered up. Officials of the Buffalo Railway Co. took all these things into consideration, and determined to put an end to the trouble by establishing a nightly suburban trolley service for the handling of the products of farms within 40 or 50 miles of Buffalo. Nothing was said about the scheme, and consequently nothing was known of it except by those directly interested in the operation thereof. </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville; font-size: medium;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"> <b>At 11 o’clock</b> Wednesday night a special trolley car was loaded at Olcott Beach with 350 baskets of peaches. The car was built especially for this purpose in the shops of the Buffalo Railway Company. It is equipped with a motor and closely resembles a closed trolley car. It has a capacity of 600 baskets of peaches, and is closed so that all the contents are perfectly protected from the dust of the journey. </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The run of about 38 miles to Buffalo was made in two hours over the tracks of the Lockport & Olcott, the Buffalo & Lockport and the Buffalo Railway lines. The entrance into Buffalo was via Main Street, whence the car was taken to Perry Street and over to the commission house of Charles Richardson at 58 and 60 West Market Street. This morning the commission men on the market were extremely jubilant over the successful inauguration</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">of the suburban trolley car delivery of farm products, and asserted that it would prove of the inestimable benefit not only to themselves but to every householder in the city.</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville; font-size: medium;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> <b>Inquiry at the</b> <b>offices</b> of the Buffalo Railway Company this morning elicited the fact that the system has been permanently adopted. It was stated the another car would be put in service tomorrow; that a number of similar cars are now in the process of construction at the company’s shops, and that by next week several of these cars will be in successful operation.</span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjII3VOqQuC74Iw6MVOyQhyphenhypheneW_bOQzRYqlRt9W1nLxbank9uNLjL6tawiqYHKuXz0pKbDVTKhDMG3OuBaSDzpYnk1bCnrPzLK21g7lbzJQMzCHNZhYJoxz_w0R-E1I31c3hcUL1nYUfcZE/s1310/market.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="835" data-original-width="1310" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjII3VOqQuC74Iw6MVOyQhyphenhypheneW_bOQzRYqlRt9W1nLxbank9uNLjL6tawiqYHKuXz0pKbDVTKhDMG3OuBaSDzpYnk1bCnrPzLK21g7lbzJQMzCHNZhYJoxz_w0R-E1I31c3hcUL1nYUfcZE/w640-h408/market.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Elk Street Market, Buffalo N.Y.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville; font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville; font-size: medium;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"> <b>Officials of the</b> <b>Buffalo</b> Railway Co. promise that they can give a rate for transportation which will enable the farmers and fruit producers throughout Western New York to bring their products to Buffalo in a much better, quicker and more economical manner. Instead of 12, 15 and 20 hours being consumed in the journey, all the products from the farms can be gathered late in the day, loaded after dark, and reach Buffalo Markets </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">between 1 and 3 in the morning, fresh for the consumers.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Furthermore, this system will be in strange contrast to the transportation of produce by railroad from points not easily reached by wagon. All who have had anything to do with the handling of fruit and garden truck sent by train know the extremely stale and bad condition of most of it by the time it has been handled and re-handled before it reaches its destination.</span></span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville; font-size: medium; text-align: justify;"> </span></div></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Libre Baskerville; font-size: medium; text-align: justify;"><b> As the Buffalo</b> <b>Railway</b> Co., or the main organization, International Traction Company, controls all the suburban lines in and around Buffalo, the company is prepared to offer great inducements for the transporting to Buffalo of all products of farms many miles from Buffalo in almost any direction. The officials promise shortly, the cars now being constructed will be completed and will at once be put into daily service. </span></div>Jerry M Malloyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653949516092546466noreply@blogger.com0Olcott, NY, USA43.3378336 -78.714757143.237942559251607 -78.8520862015625 43.4377246407484 -78.5774279984375tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9035576220169986933.post-35062710050157511162019-12-30T22:23:00.002-05:002023-12-23T11:47:15.754-05:00Drying up the New Year<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; color: #38761d; font-kerning: none;"><b>1920 Ushered in With a Solemnity Born </b></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; color: #38761d; font-kerning: none;"><b>of the Dry Law</b></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><b>Quiet Celebrations Downtown, Except for those who carried drinks with them</b>.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><b>Streets Deserted Early</b></span></div>
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<b style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: 17px;">Crowds hurrying home from the watch-night services, only sign of life after midnight</b><br />
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January 1, 1920</div>
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<div style="font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 17px;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNrF6SiuM2PFiWzagnY8OqQhX8gTmCI5zjvkJ_yse-b4orrMf9p_tt8qQ7gIiQDKsnS7Gq6bkvG89Rs66TlVijAF4TQZv5BhPAN1cTdDNm_lGsWnEEhaxEJL3YzFHOQf6O_7SVUu2pMGQ/s1600/New+Years2.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="387" height="579" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNrF6SiuM2PFiWzagnY8OqQhX8gTmCI5zjvkJ_yse-b4orrMf9p_tt8qQ7gIiQDKsnS7Gq6bkvG89Rs66TlVijAF4TQZv5BhPAN1cTdDNm_lGsWnEEhaxEJL3YzFHOQf6O_7SVUu2pMGQ/w466-h579/New+Years2.jpg" width="466" /></a></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none;"> <b>The new year</b> literally sneaked in last night and Buffalo woke up this morning to find the year 1920 upon itself without as much as a headache. True it is that those who had some of the joy juice stashed away or obtain a bottle on the deposit of a right eye, became at least jocular during the course of the evening and early morning.</span> The old time racket of those who were wont to cut capers in Main Street as the new year came in, were lacking last night. Those people who visited the Iroquois (Hotel) and Statler showed signs of real life. All through the day and up to the times that the parties started, men were seen to follow the beaten path to the hotels, bearing queer sorts and sizes of packages, grips, valises, jugs and the like. Most of the celebrations were held in the homes.</span><span face=""helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"> The streets were deserted shortly after midnight, except for the crowds hurrying home from watch-night services in the churches.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"> <b>The only</b> apparent noise on the main stem previous to the sounding of the whistles at midnight was the raucous call of the street vendor in a vain effort to sell his ware. Mr. Young Man, who in previous years after someone had bought him a drink or two, occasioned up and bought almost anything, this </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">year kept a heavy triple pad-lock on his pocket. Many vendors along Main Street were forced to go to their homes carrying almost as much of the New Year noise makers with them as they had brought downtown.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></span></span><br />
<b style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;"> At five minutes</b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> before twelve at the Statler, Manager John Daniels had the lights in the banquet hall dimmed and as the old year passed out, Herter A. House, leader of the orchestra sounded taps. The year 1920 was ushered in with a sounding of a Chinese gong as two electric signs blasting 1920 were lighted. At the Iroquois the whole hostelry was thrown into darkness for a moment and the new year was ushered in with a lively Jazz piece by the orchestra. The cafe men in the downtown district reported it the most quiet celebration in their memory. The bars were practically deserted. </span></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;"> The police,</b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> who were out in great numbers for occasions such as has been held in former years, had nothing to do last night. The number of drunks was exceedingly small, even though it was not made hard by the “revenoos” to get a drink last night. Some persons with the evident intent to play a prank on the police, reported a holdup in a saloon on Washington St. There was a hurry call to headquarters and a dozen detectives headed by captain Zimmerman rushed to the number given by the complainants. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none;"> <b>When Clarence </b>Barton, the driver, reached Washington street he turned north and slowed down to look for the number given as the place of the holdup. He proceeded cautiously along the street only to find that the number given would be included in the block in which the Soldiers Monument stands. The police searched the neighborhood for a half hour then returned to headquarters." </span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhdsd3ZyCF4qMytUJw61eBschWo9eabbAuewv4PEzrXJU-AC0t7bXLN8MfuBt-iJCHucFQRC8wWR9ITBESpBwqIyGncu2ubY62FBWBsVIn34aqdBWuw7C3JIGDP7UGwo0Ipwf-qFJCd2U/s1600/new+years+1.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1234" height="656" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhdsd3ZyCF4qMytUJw61eBschWo9eabbAuewv4PEzrXJU-AC0t7bXLN8MfuBt-iJCHucFQRC8wWR9ITBESpBwqIyGncu2ubY62FBWBsVIn34aqdBWuw7C3JIGDP7UGwo0Ipwf-qFJCd2U/w501-h656/new+years+1.jpg" width="501" /></a></div>
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b style="font-size: 17px;">One hundred years</b><span style="font-size: 17px;"> ago New Years 1920 was a somber holiday poised on the "eve" of Prohibition which was to go into effect on January 17th. 1920. However, restrictions were already being levied at the direction of the courts and congress, due to the <i>War Prohibition Act</i> which the 18th Amendment fell under. </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 17px;">Called into special session to declare war in April 1917, the new Congress adopted temporary wartime prohibition as a measure to conserve grain for the army, America's allies, and the domestic population. The Lever Food and Fuel Control Act of August 1917 banned the production of distilled spirits for the duration of the war. The War Prohibition Act of November 1918 forbade the manufacture and sale of all intoxicating beverages of more than 2.75 percent alcohol content, beer and wine as well as hard liquor, until demobilization was completed. </span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 17px;"><b>Breweries</b> and</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 17px;"> distilleries were already winding down operations and planning transitions to alternative types of production in preparation for this inevitable day. Interests affected by this were challenging certain aspects of the Volstead Act and the War Prohibition Act in courts, especially the brewing industry. </span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18px;"> <b>The 18th Amendment</b> ratified January 16, 1919, made no reference to alcohol content, citing only "intoxicating liquors for beverage purposes" as being illegal. This gave many people the false impression that beer and even wine </span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18px;">with their lower alcohol content were not considered intoxicating and thus be spared restrictions. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18px;">But the resulting <i>Volstead Act</i> (the actual set of laws drafted by Congress to enforce Prohibition)passed on October 28, 1919 set the legal alcohol limit at one-half of 1 percent. The legal action that brought about the headline below was a brewer Jacob Ruppert to restrain the government from interfering with him manufacturing his beer with </span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 19px;">approximately 2.75 per cent alcohol, alleged to be non-intoxicating, and that Prohibition would not go into effect till January.</span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 19px;"> </span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">It was ruled that the Amendment being under the War Prohibition Act was in effect because the WP Act could not be cancelled until full de-mobilization of the armed forces took place.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> <b>Since the</b> 18th amendment, the Food and Fuel Control Act, the War Prohibition Act and the Volstead Act all overlapped in enforcement, Prohibition was essentially in place since 1917, </span><span style="font-size: large;">restricting the production, supply, transport and alcohol content of alcoholic beverages. So 1920 was the first New Years to be affected by Prohibition. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Things have changed a lot in regards to alcohol consumption as we approach </span><span style="font-size: large;">100 years since the 18th Amendment officially went into effect. For better or worse? Well that's a discussion for another time, but not here.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Decree of Highest Court Confirms Power of Congress </span><span style="font-size: small;">to Fix Alcohol Content </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">of Liquor </span><span style="font-size: small;">that May Not Be Sold - Sustains Law Prohibiting the Manufacture or Sale </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">of Beer </span><span style="font-size: small;">Containing More Than Half of One Percent</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span face="-webkit-standard" style="text-align: justify;"> </span><b><span face="-webkit-standard" style="text-align: justify;">So enjoy your New Years Eve parties and celebrations for 2023. Be Safe, responsible and happy that you can enjoy your favorite beverages legally.</span><span face="-webkit-standard" style="text-align: justify;"> </span></b></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<b style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://www.buffalohistorygazette.net/2010/12/happy-new-year-january-1st-mcmxi.html">New Years 1911 Story</a></span></b></div>
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Jerry M Malloyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653949516092546466noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9035576220169986933.post-49315906292805798982019-03-06T23:20:00.001-05:002020-09-09T10:26:56.773-04:00A Nickel and a Dream, The Bijou Dream Theatre<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Bijou Dream Theatre, Corner of Main and N. Division Streets - Courtesy of B&ECPL</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b>The Bijou Dream Theatre</b> at 347 Main St. with the large number “5” on the side, was a nickelodeon that started operating by March 1908. A nickelodeon, was the first type of indoor exhibition space dedicated to showing projected motion pictures. Usually set up in converted storefronts, these small, simple theaters charged five cents for admission and flourished from about 1905 to 1915. </span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nickelodeons usually showed films about ten to fifteen minutes in length, and in a variety of styles and subjects, such as short narratives, "scenics" (views of the world from moving trains), "actualities" (precursors of later documentary films), illustrated songs, local or touring song and dance acts, comedies, melodramas, problem plays, stop action sequences, sporting events and other features which allowed them to compete with vaudeville houses.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b>Nickelodeons were strong</b> throughout the years 1905-1914. </span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Statistics at the time show that the number of nickelodeons in the United States doubled between 1907 and 1908 to around 8000, and it was estimated that by 1910 as many as 26 million Americans visited these theaters weekly.</span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Nickelodeons however, became victims of their own success as attendance grew rapidly, it necessitated larger auditoriums. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">With the advent of the feature film, and as cities grew and industry consolidation led to larger, more comfortable, lavish movie theaters. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Longer films caused ticket prices to double from 5¢ to 10¢.</span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Although their heyday was relatively brief, nickelodeons played an important part in creating a specialized spectator, "the moviegoer,” who could now integrate going to the movies into his or her life in a way that was impossible before. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: left;">The nickelodeon explosion also increased the demand for new films, as thousands of theaters needed new product.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b>The Bijou Dream Theatre</b> was operated by W.K. Killmier and presented continuous shows daily. It had one screen, 300 seats and closed around 1914. The theatre was located at 347 Main St., corner of N. Division, where One M&T Plaza is now located. The sign atop the building, ”New Site for Bank of Buffalo” hints of it’s eventual fate, as in 1917 The Bank of Buffalo opened on that site. Photo courtesy of B&ECPL</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Bank of Buffalo Building was built on the site of the Bijou Dream Theatre & other Buildings<br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b>The Bank of Buffalo</b> was located at the north-east corner of North Division & Main St. and designed by McKim, Mead & White of New York. The bank opened on September 11, 1917. It was built on the site of the old nickelodeon “Bijou Dream Theatre” and other buildings. The Bank of Buffalo was incorporated on January 25, 1873 and originally located at Main & Seneca St. The Bank was consolidated with the Marine Trust Company in 1920. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">(Buffalo History Gazette Collection)</span></div><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><div style="font-family: -webkit-standard;"> <b>For those</b> who will be leaving a comment, be aware that they will not appear immediately. All comments are moderated by myself to screen out spam comments which are numerous. I check every few days so be patient, if on topic they will appear. Spam comments will not be tolerated so please, don't waste your time.</div><div style="font-family: -webkit-standard;"><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 17.600000381469727px; text-align: right;">Thank You - Jerry Malloy</div><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /></div></span></div>
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Jerry M Malloyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653949516092546466noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9035576220169986933.post-14590983015928632482018-02-11T22:50:00.001-05:002020-09-09T10:21:50.012-04:00New York to Paris, The Great Auto Race of 1908<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Thomas Flyer following trolley tracks somewhere in U.S.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b>February 12th, 1908</b> is a date that will live on in automotive history. Six automobiles from France, Italy, Germany, and the United States left New York City to begin a race around the world from N.Y. to Paris! 250,000 people cheered them on.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b>The race</b> was sponsored by the New York Times and Le Matin, a Paris newspaper. It was described as “the most fantastic, grueling, strenuous test ever devised for man and machine.” Held at a time when horses still shared the road with these less than reliable machines and many towns around the country and the world had never even seen an automobile yet!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b>The audacity</b> of a race of this magnitude, 22,000 miles, seemed incredible, especially when the average life of an auto in 1908 was about 10,000 miles, not to mention the idea of doing this in mid-winter! Roads were very primitive, or non-existent, mostly dirt except around cities or large towns. Where there were no roads they just went overland or on RR tracks. Cars were just expensive cantankerous </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">toys for the wealthy then. The Thomas Flyer of the E.R. Thomas Motor Car Co. of Buffalo cost $4,000, or equivalent to $85,000 in todays money. If you wanted reliable transportation to get somewhere, you were better off with a horse. Predictions were that none of the cars would make it past Chicago.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> <b>The original</b> route was to take them to the West Coast, a ship to Alaska then drive across the frozen Bering Strait to Russia. However Alaska turned out to be impossible to negotiate due to the lack of any roads. The </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">torturous New York to Paris Race route eventually became:</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">New York City to Albany, Chicago, San Francisco, Seattle, Valdez, Japan, Vladivostok, Omsk, Moscow, St. Petersburg, Berlin and Paris. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> <b>The Thomas Flyer</b> Team covered three continents and over 22,000 miles in 169 days. The 1908 Race was ultimately won by the American Buffalo made Thomas Flyer driven by George Schuster Sr. of Buffalo, NY. The feat has never been equaled. They still hold the world record over 110 years later! </span></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">For the complete story watch the </span></b><b style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">three</span> videos below.</span></b><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Cars waiting at the starting line in New York City</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Thomas Flyer at the starting line in New York City</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Following the trolley tracks somewhere in rural America</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8JNg8HVEOSckfKN2REFMw7usDxA91unlM1uhLTk6OIoZfjk5hKSCzkRlYND5kckzNWQWC02vTmNPIgvkbOzAlcwQaAAC2G8c_hkQYh4VnEq98H9e9rEmjC32xw3h47COMwvWeOI7LNa0/s1600/thomas7.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1150" data-original-width="1600" height="457" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8JNg8HVEOSckfKN2REFMw7usDxA91unlM1uhLTk6OIoZfjk5hKSCzkRlYND5kckzNWQWC02vTmNPIgvkbOzAlcwQaAAC2G8c_hkQYh4VnEq98H9e9rEmjC32xw3h47COMwvWeOI7LNa0/s640/thomas7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">When roads weren't available or drivable the RR tracks were the next best thing</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Digging the Thomas Flyer out with shovels</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The going was not great on most parts of the route to Paris</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Approaching the Rocky Mountains in Colorado</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJt9Xj9zCnr9W0iFHSyRTw_LL8VpZa_xpuF4ug1ZOMs88vNHtvAGy1SYTMzwO4AYBts8A-oOYKYKmMP_vsUcLdSREE7WFbd9VUeJbgHL1yPWTKchjxwqhJKyiwdfmE3CMUztQd_v7vF30/s1600/thomas+indians.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="966" data-original-width="1474" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJt9Xj9zCnr9W0iFHSyRTw_LL8VpZa_xpuF4ug1ZOMs88vNHtvAGy1SYTMzwO4AYBts8A-oOYKYKmMP_vsUcLdSREE7WFbd9VUeJbgHL1yPWTKchjxwqhJKyiwdfmE3CMUztQd_v7vF30/s640/thomas+indians.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Native Americans posing with the Thomas Flyer out West</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2PbPEQz1hgOGKDbd-GgOnpvvEgfPrjYV2ujPOq-OsrjHgsTyWTbRhgaLDPLR8nUdrYGUaUOJ-rObeFDyjnSbYO8dukj9Oc2L_UZhjieVyhmr2KD7bQkLa46KkApvzmNdlx_Ybumgncj4/s1600/wyoming+Flyer.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="536" data-original-width="736" height="465" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2PbPEQz1hgOGKDbd-GgOnpvvEgfPrjYV2ujPOq-OsrjHgsTyWTbRhgaLDPLR8nUdrYGUaUOJ-rObeFDyjnSbYO8dukj9Oc2L_UZhjieVyhmr2KD7bQkLa46KkApvzmNdlx_Ybumgncj4/s640/wyoming+Flyer.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Thomas Flyer in Cheyenne Wyoming</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Getting out of the mud in Siberia</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Thomas Flyer entering Berlin on July 27, the last city before the finish line in Paris</span></td></tr>
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<div style="font-family: osaka; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><b style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;"><div style="font-family: -webkit-standard; font-weight: normal; text-align: justify;"> <b>For those</b> who will be leaving a comment below, be aware that they will not appear immediately. All comments are moderated by myself to screen out spam comments which are numerous. I check every few days so be patient, if on topic they will appear. </div><div style="font-family: -webkit-standard; font-weight: normal; text-align: justify;"><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 17.600000381469727px; text-align: right;">Thank You - Jerry Malloy</div><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /></div></b></div><div style="font-family: osaka; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><b style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;"><br /></b></div><div style="font-family: osaka; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.greatestautorace.com/Home.aspx" target="_blank">Buy the DVD "The Greatest Auto Race On Earth"</a> </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://www.thegreatautorace.com/GeorgeNSchuster.pdf" target="_blank">Read George N. Schuster's Biography</a></b></span></div>
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Jerry M Malloyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653949516092546466noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9035576220169986933.post-14747225092606100392017-08-22T22:53:00.002-04:002017-09-26T11:53:07.584-04:00God Bless America! - The Misplaced Protests<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>Buffalo History Gazette Commentary</b></h2>
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<b>With so many</b> athletes disrespecting the Flag at sporting events, do they even know why? The Flag symbolizes the United States of America one of the most free countries in the world. That Flag gave them the right and opportunity to follow their dream and play a sport that has given them the immense wealth to do something good in the world. What is their gripe with that? If you're protesting what happened in Charlottesville, social injustice in general, fine, but that isn't the Flags fault or America's.</div>
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<b>Protest the relatively</b> few people who participated in that or other confrontations and condemn THEM, not the Flag. Better yet, if you're going to get down on your knees during the National Anthem then do so in PRAYER for those on both sides, so they might cleanse their hearts and see the senselessness of their actions. Then you would be kneeling for something. (See Tebow) PRAY for this country to be strong again in it's ideals. Unifying this country begins with you. Remember, you are not slaves. That may have been part of our history 200 years ago when the original Anthem was written, but Americans don't own slaves anymore. Get over that. </div>
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<b>Oliver Wendell Holmes</b> amended the Star Spangled Banner during the Civil War by writing a 5th verse with tribute to their new found freedom. (see link below) Bigotry and hate will always exist in some form. The flag doesn't represent social injustice. It GIVES you the freedom to protest against social injustice. You should be at the games praising the freedom that Flag represents and those that died to give you that right. Don't become part of the problem be part of the solution. Outside the stadium, go into the communities and help solve the injustices you feel are there. Make speeches, talk to groups and use your wealth to spur change that supports, but doesn't undermine the basic freedoms and human rights that we ALL presently enjoy.<br />
<b>Human respect</b> is what needs to be emphasized and that starts with each and every one of us. The American Flag and our National Anthem represents the people of America, and the very basis of our freedom. To protest the Flag is a protest against yourself, and an insult to me personally, for you and I are what makes up America and that Flag represents All Americans! You are fighting the right battles but the wrong enemy. AMERICA is not your enemy. The divisiveness you have created is not going to solve the problems. If you truly hate this country however, then that Flag also gives you the freedom to leave any time you desire.<br />
<b> President Trumps'</b> comments were comments we <i>needed</i> to hear from someone who took an oath to defend and protect the Constitution of the United States. When he sees the open hatred and disrespect on display, it is an insult to him and millions of other Americans. You say he used strong language? Not strong enough in my opinion. He reacted as any human being would who just got slapped in the face. Anything less from him would have been disappointing. He is a strong leader that speaks his mind no holds barred. It is great to see a "real" person in office for a change, instead of a politically manipulated robot. Very refreshing. </div>
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<b> Remember this</b> - On Sunday 52 million Americans went to church where everyone is welcomed and we all drink from the same cup. 62 million Americans volunteer in any given year, and 83% of American adults give to charity. 145 million Americans went to work today where people of every race, gender, ethnicity, religious belief, orientation, and ability, get along just fine. America is not those few hundreds who hate; it is those tens of millions who don't. <b><i>Let's keep our perspective.</i></b> </div>
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<b>Jerry M. Malloy</b><br />
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The 5th Verse of The Star Spangled Banner</h3>
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When our land is illum'd with Liberty's smile,</div>
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If a foe from within strike a blow at her glory,</div>
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Down, down, with the traitor that dares to defile</div>
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The flag of her stars and the page of her story!</div>
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By the millions unchain'd who our birthright have gained</div>
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We will keep her bright blazon forever unstained!</div>
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And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph shall wave</div>
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While the land of the free is the home of the brave.<br />
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<b><a href="http://www.npr.org/2017/07/04/518876922/the-star-spangled-banner-verse-youve-probably-never-heard?utm_campaign=storyshare&utm_source=facebook.com&utm_medium=social" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> Link with Full Story and Video</span></a></b></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">School 60 Buffalo NY - 1918</span></b></td></tr>
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Jerry M Malloyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653949516092546466noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9035576220169986933.post-20375297106108718752016-11-26T23:54:00.000-05:002020-03-08T18:36:35.297-04:00Over Niagara in a Barrel<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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A Womans Record</h2>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-weight: normal; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">October 24, 1901</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b>Mrs. Anna Edson Taylor</b>, a school teacher from Bay City, Michigan, celebrated her 43rd birthday on Thursday by going over Niagara Falls in a barrel. She is the first person, man or woman, who ever went over the Great Falls and lived to tell the tale of how her purpose was achieved. Her object was notoriety (says the " Evening News " correspondent) which she believed would enable her to get a music-hall engagement and thereby raise money to pay off a mortgage which is on her ranch in Texas. The barrel was 4ft. high and 3ft. in diameter. It had been previously sent over the falls with a cat in it as a test. Both the barrel and the cat withstood the shock. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>They went over</b> the Horseshoe Falls on the Canadian side with a sheer drop of 158ft. The barrel was lined with cushions, and the woman was fastened to her place by straps. At five minutes past four o'clock she started. Twenty-three thousand spectators saw the barrel go over the Horseshoe Falls. At 4.40 p.m. the barrel was captured and pulled on to the rocks, and the cover was broken open. Mrs. Taylor immediately raised her arm and waved her hand as a demonstration that she was still living. It was necessary to saw away a portion of the barrel, which was half filled with water, to get the woman out. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b> She had a cut</b> 3in. long on the back of her right ear; her shoulder was strained, and she suffered severely from shock. The doctors say she will be well in a few days. She said: I feel like offering a prayer that my life was spared. I feel sore about my shoulders. I am not a notoriety seeking woman, and have lived a quiet life. I was left a widow at twenty, and have devoted most of my life to others. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b>"If it was with</b> my dying breath, I would caution anyone against attempting the feat. I will never go over the Falls again. I would sooner walk up to the mouth of a cannon, knowing it was going to blow me to pieces, than to make another trip over the Falls. I was swirled about like a top, and the water seemed to come in on me in bucketfuls. I held tightly to the handles and thought only of preventing my head from striking the top of the barrel. Once, for a moment, I seemed to lose my senses. I struck the rocks three times. I made the trip voluntarily, but I would not do it again for a million dollars. My husband was a good man. I don't know how I can thank you all for being so kind to me."</span></div>
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Jerry M Malloyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653949516092546466noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9035576220169986933.post-5776999945180610982016-06-15T16:04:00.003-04:002019-03-29T21:56:13.196-04:00The Historic Buffalo River Tour and the Buffalo Grain Elevators - 34 Years<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b><a href="http://www.buffaloindustrialheritage.com/" target="_blank">The Historic Buffalo River Tour</a> </b>is now in it's 34th season. So much has changed on our waterfront since the day the Industrial Heritage Committee had the then "crazy" notion to shuttle people up and down the Buffalo River on small private boats in 1985 to see the Grain Elevators. Maybe we WERE a little crazy then but our faith in the idea was realized when demand quickly outgrew our meager means of carrying passengers. We took a leap of faith and turned to the "Miss Buffalo" to handle our problem. As demand warranted we sometimes had to run two of their boats on the same trip and probably could have run three but for lack of manpower. We were on to something and very excited! No one before us had done this, taking this mysterious, forgotten part of the city and making it a tourist attraction. Then Universities mostly from Canada but U.B was involved too, started booking our tour as a regular part of their academic programs. York University was a regular every year along with Carleton University and others that I can't remember right now.</span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"><b>Back then ships</b> were a common sight at the elevators, oil barges going up to the Mobil refinery, the sand boat, coal barges to the Huntley Station, cement boats to the Huron Cement elevator etc. Some of that is still there but on a far lesser scale. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">Ohio Street</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white;"> </span>was still a street with remnants of its' industrial heritage still holding on. The </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">Harbor Inn</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">, the centerpiece of Ohio Street, was a thriving "Visitor Center" to travelers from around the world along with truck drivers, sailors, steel, flour mill and RR workers, grain </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">scoopers</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">, downtown office workers, politicians and more, a regular melting pot of occupations. It was doing what it had done for the previous 116 years and doing it well, but new things were in the mix.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b> What was new</b> to the Harbor Inn was it becoming the home and meeting place for the many preservation organizations, then in their infancy, beginning to set the stage for the many battles they were anticipating in the future as </span><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: 0px;">Buffalo</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="background-color: white;"> </span>began it's transition from industrial center to who knows what? No one really knew then. But the "planning" meetings and battles were <i>on</i> for the next three decades. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguXtcR5M3lKQJ_ZrU5JMLYQBBm5_4JCpkefEY_VODxEOmwBEfDBoSY-uOtqlJxaa0G0DUm_UtmsXywJRJ9NCtmnIL9GY-oqSw8H63sge_WqSwLZLonWujhyphenhyphenEnTKuYKAVuIosKKLFavW6E/s1600/harbor+innX.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguXtcR5M3lKQJ_ZrU5JMLYQBBm5_4JCpkefEY_VODxEOmwBEfDBoSY-uOtqlJxaa0G0DUm_UtmsXywJRJ9NCtmnIL9GY-oqSw8H63sge_WqSwLZLonWujhyphenhyphenEnTKuYKAVuIosKKLFavW6E/s400/harbor+innX.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: 0px;"><b> The Industrial Heritage Committee</b></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">, <b>Inc.</b> believed then, as now, the Grain Elevators are the most historically significant architecture in Buffalo with a world wide recognition and importance, suitable for a UNESCO World Heritage Site and documentation by <a href="http://www.archives.gov/research/guide-fed-records/groups/515.html" target="_blank">The National Park Service.</a> The latter was achieved in early 1990s. So the Historic Buffalo River Tour continued as our platform to get the word out to the people, politicians and planners to include them in waterfront plans. Even though the tours continuously sold out year after year with people from every corner of the planet(and maybe beyond) it seemed to be falling on deaf ears of the local "powers that be." We had the world coming to Buffalo to see the elevators, but City Hall could not see them from just down the street. As other cities around this country and the world embraced their grain elevators and industrial heritage by making tourist attractions out of them and more, City Hall was intent on demolition and indifference. That's so Buffalo, stepping on it's own face. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikaKC6ipadrvw3pXb98y1kMiU8ze-pEpDZ2bw7Ph2oCqhkhTZufncIgcUyRaWgQrLJfrcL6qhdSzz7sWRr7y2hhRsfmI-1kZLL1T-T_3bc8YyAE87LCunCNzfqFQdJUbLo6Vjs1uqhWwM/s1600/IMG_5425+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="326" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikaKC6ipadrvw3pXb98y1kMiU8ze-pEpDZ2bw7Ph2oCqhkhTZufncIgcUyRaWgQrLJfrcL6qhdSzz7sWRr7y2hhRsfmI-1kZLL1T-T_3bc8YyAE87LCunCNzfqFQdJUbLo6Vjs1uqhWwM/s400/IMG_5425+copy.JPG" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b> Only in the last</b> few years has the attitude begun to change. A little. Too late for some of our most significant elevators that were needlessly removed in recent years instead of being repurposed with some very obvious re-uses that would have helped transition some neighborhoods. Some are now in the hands of "developers" which is scary in itself, others are in the hands of the city while a few are up and running as they should. At </span><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: 0px;">Silo City</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> we have seen improvements and events there, but the general theme for the area has yet to be defined in my opinion. I know what I'ld like to do with the area but that's a whole other story. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b> So here we are</b> 33 years later still doing our tour among all new waterfront surroundings. It's funny in a way but 33 years ago I was a younger man naive and hopeful, talking passionately about Buffalos' great history and helping plan it's future. Now thinking back, I am part of that history I'm talking about today! There is a lot of pride in this tour I helped create which has endured all these years. The tour has evolved from just a narrative of the surroundings to a "floating classroom" with old photographs, maps and video.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> <b>Because of the</b> ever changing waterfront the tour is never the same from year to year and even from tour to tour. So if you've been on before come back again and bring a friend. And If you've been curious about the elevators but haven't been on our tour then now is your chance in this fresh new season. Have a group? Get your tickets well in advance.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"> <b>Yes, there are</b> others who have jumped on the bandwagon of late with their own version of a grain elevator tour for which we are often confused with, (a similar name), but quoting some old advertisement, you've tried the rest now try the best. Experience does count. And please! The Historic Buffalo River Tour boards at Erie Basin Marina, <i>NOT</i><span style="background-color: white;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">Canalside, don't look for us there.</span></div>
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Jerry M Malloyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653949516092546466noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9035576220169986933.post-28184130578897834012015-08-07T16:11:00.004-04:002021-08-13T00:34:27.162-04:00Peace Bridge Dedication, August 7, 1927<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: x-large;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(11, 83, 148);">"Prince of Wales, Dawes Pledge Abiding Peace"</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMw5bgznX1oulOPdI484tM9r-DulvsB2vXTM9vVZgxYq_LkhUiENd6_HEyxKv2ne3XeC-rZSlNyx3f7oG_D7Gu4izVji_CS1J76v2kJlR-A57NKxX0rVj6K6HOw0Jm711nj5-zNetf0Ko/s1600/PeaceBridge.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="524" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMw5bgznX1oulOPdI484tM9r-DulvsB2vXTM9vVZgxYq_LkhUiENd6_HEyxKv2ne3XeC-rZSlNyx3f7oG_D7Gu4izVji_CS1J76v2kJlR-A57NKxX0rVj6K6HOw0Jm711nj5-zNetf0Ko/s640/PeaceBridge.jpg" title="PEACE BRIDGE RIBBON CUTTING" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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Vice President Dawes Greeting Edward, Prince of Wales at center of Peace Bridge Just prior to Ribbon Cutting</div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbGl2ezymOqMa1-qnZK1T93Z0rpvZRWUxYCOLyQK3jm9Qey1Jx1YNIZCapLtUYKq-NR_CNkINy4SNJBtPcwjov4FtN1KxLDUK3Cy1TDNBjHs78m2tI_p_Rf5OK4eFG4vrXDFiGs5AY41U/s1600/peace+bridge+color+sml.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1222" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbGl2ezymOqMa1-qnZK1T93Z0rpvZRWUxYCOLyQK3jm9Qey1Jx1YNIZCapLtUYKq-NR_CNkINy4SNJBtPcwjov4FtN1KxLDUK3Cy1TDNBjHs78m2tI_p_Rf5OK4eFG4vrXDFiGs5AY41U/s640/peace+bridge+color+sml.jpg" width="488" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">American End of Bridge June 28, 1926<span style="text-align: center;"> </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrDhCq7bMXp6NuuqaSiBTpun3AmbfhbsU3y4lmtbdIvV_RtQFUcApyiUyFH7kr3ZBKo1KGEdYnhWCpyMNzCm2BC_NNpDJcVf8sGHamnSf9-QQcSfwoVNwfs5RiVab4zwuSaUC4C_Oe3Y4/s1600/peace+bridge+colsml.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1222" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrDhCq7bMXp6NuuqaSiBTpun3AmbfhbsU3y4lmtbdIvV_RtQFUcApyiUyFH7kr3ZBKo1KGEdYnhWCpyMNzCm2BC_NNpDJcVf8sGHamnSf9-QQcSfwoVNwfs5RiVab4zwuSaUC4C_Oe3Y4/s640/peace+bridge+colsml.jpg" width="488" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Construction at the Bird Island Pier June 28, 1926</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhneA8bvWa6IBPPjp2DgBn-BDXagZdnoqGPOKWAL-nhQokw8Jf5RZACRHYtDpSgGlrvTAz6kb07FiBoePTifRTUcxMGBACMa4PNfdGzCfZON5L6TzmPDUjZAe2395mvHgwYUwCXWQh6qfU/s1600/peace+bridge+construct+copy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="829" data-original-width="1315" height="402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhneA8bvWa6IBPPjp2DgBn-BDXagZdnoqGPOKWAL-nhQokw8Jf5RZACRHYtDpSgGlrvTAz6kb07FiBoePTifRTUcxMGBACMa4PNfdGzCfZON5L6TzmPDUjZAe2395mvHgwYUwCXWQh6qfU/s640/peace+bridge+construct+copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Peace Bridge late 1930s</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><b>Prince Edward and V. President Dawes Heading to Ceremonies on American Side</b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Prince Edward and Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin of England, Prince George. </span></b></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Prime Minister Baldwin was the first prime minister of Great Britain to visit this country </span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>during </b></span><b>his term of office.</b></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 12px; text-align: justify;">Milton J. Cross and Graham McNamee, announcers of the National Broadcasting Company, introduced the </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">RADIO TO CARRY PRINCE'S WORDS FROM BRIDGE CEREMONIES TODAY</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">A great</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> ceremony</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> will be broad-cast today in honor of the peaceful relations of the United States and Great Britain, radio again proving its value to thousands who would be in spirit at the International Peace Bridge at Niagara Falls. Another international figure, the Prince of Wales, will be the main speaker today. Twenty-four stations have agreed, thus far, to broadcast the ceremonies in this country, starting at 3 P. M., Daylight Saving Time. WJZ and a great network will carry the voices and the music to the radio audience. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">In addition</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> to</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> the</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> Prince's speech, addresses will be made by Stanley Baldwin, Premier of Great Britain; Mackenzie King, Prime Minister of Canada; Howard Ferguson, Prime Minister of Ontario; Lieut. Gov. Ross of Ontario, Vice President Charles G. Dawes, Secretary of State Frank B. Kellogg and Governor Alfred E. Smith. Music will be furnished by three military bands and a chorus of 200 voices, Graham McNamee and Milton J. Cross, announcers of the National Broadcasting Company, will introduce the speakers and describe the scenes and ceremonies before a microphone which will be connected by land wire to WJZ's transmitter.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">Transmitting</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> simultaneously</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> with WJZ, New York, will be WRC, Washington, D. C.; WEEI and WBZA, Boston; WBZ, Springfield, Mass., WJAR, Providence; WTAG, Worcester; WTIC, Hartford; WGR, Buffalo; WFI, Philadelphia; WCAE, Pittsburgh; WTAM, Cleveland; WWJ, Detroit; WGN and WMAQ, Chicago; KSD, t. Louis; WCCO, St. Paul; WDAF, Kansas City; WGY, Schenectady; WHAS, Louisville; WMC, Memphis; WSM, Nashville; WSB, Atlanta, and WHAM, Rochester. The event will be broadcast in Canada by CFRB and CKNC of Toronto, and other stations. (Ed. This was the first "round the world" radio broadcast ever attempted. It was heard as far away as Australia)</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGVJAsxcPQNetpyVnO7R2CUc6BQsAAQVbGO8Q2xOcbZDO1cpJvmo_0OmzQXwSTw1DlJd_D43xTuYdp6gLt0Peo4jtz5p99fAcEc0JeLHiyo1iqNQ0n_HbOijqMXkA9llkhWKD5H2FZbX0/s1600/Scanned+Image+130150000.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGVJAsxcPQNetpyVnO7R2CUc6BQsAAQVbGO8Q2xOcbZDO1cpJvmo_0OmzQXwSTw1DlJd_D43xTuYdp6gLt0Peo4jtz5p99fAcEc0JeLHiyo1iqNQ0n_HbOijqMXkA9llkhWKD5H2FZbX0/s640/Scanned+Image+130150000.jpg" width="454" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Edward Prince of Wales & brother Prince George</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwmyDTDHG5sFBwXDZIy1LOFs8x7hcFq6FMmHAjtmWHCkhTxL1VULW-XRJflmjGiQkalkjE8_gnntymke5f0m50HJOi_-StQt-_qppDMetS93a_B8tOA6SsFfnu-K4oNBNoha6ZoaPuf7k/s1600/Scanned+Image+122900000.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwmyDTDHG5sFBwXDZIy1LOFs8x7hcFq6FMmHAjtmWHCkhTxL1VULW-XRJflmjGiQkalkjE8_gnntymke5f0m50HJOi_-StQt-_qppDMetS93a_B8tOA6SsFfnu-K4oNBNoha6ZoaPuf7k/s640/Scanned+Image+122900000.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">An estimated 100,000 people witnessed the Dedication <br />of the Peace Bridge. Speakers stand and gallery.</span></b></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivJfcE79QSl0gRJ1J17HZySlN8sMGY2NLR_Tb5zgUMY4ylqjjWX6tkPj9Yp5dK-S6BNgvQxliS61PcsHHMSKqVRnf2cHRu2sdlzw0QkTEeaessvKOZDDLSgg1eC1XBcJW4C2h16-iRajE/s1600/Scanned+Image+122860003.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivJfcE79QSl0gRJ1J17HZySlN8sMGY2NLR_Tb5zgUMY4ylqjjWX6tkPj9Yp5dK-S6BNgvQxliS61PcsHHMSKqVRnf2cHRu2sdlzw0QkTEeaessvKOZDDLSgg1eC1XBcJW4C2h16-iRajE/s640/Scanned+Image+122860003.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Vice President Dawes, Prince of Wales, Mrs. Dawes, <br />Prince George in speakers stand.</span></b></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj07bCP_rpWZflItgCbP3fIGbjVy8W2epC_xVBf4G3lwzIshLtSc5fJeQarfoumEkI43t5prlnQsKNe4M9ddPZCuoLF0TM9uxrDITv9L6-8F9tz43RRpzQ9UFrJkgdrSLwSSCcvKEkUUvc/s1600/sc005ee9f2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj07bCP_rpWZflItgCbP3fIGbjVy8W2epC_xVBf4G3lwzIshLtSc5fJeQarfoumEkI43t5prlnQsKNe4M9ddPZCuoLF0TM9uxrDITv9L6-8F9tz43RRpzQ9UFrJkgdrSLwSSCcvKEkUUvc/s640/sc005ee9f2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Vice President Charles Dawes in speakers stand.</span></b></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span>"What has<span style="font-weight: normal;"> been</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> said of the relations or the English speaking peoples and what I am to say is but the verbal acknowledgement of a common feeling, shared equally and alike by the Englishmen, Canadians and Americans who are gathered here. We speak the same language, we cherish the same ideals of citizenship, we hold a common principal in government, of individual liberty under the law. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span>"The foundation<span style="font-weight: normal;"> of this great peace structure which we dedicate today rests upon the firm bedrock of the Niagara, and the peace of the English speaking peoples is as firmly based upon common instincts and ideals. The instinct of self-preservation—The most deep-seated of mankind—binds us together, and in that unbroken tie is that ultimate guarantee of the safety and progress of Western civilization. That bond will never break." (C. Dawes)</span></span></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs7W2FqVAKw-TVDdvhd77Jd0iTYZSXw6azkJiYdO-hngYxYmgINoKt-Kr6q8Bh9bCulmcIRkS2MAkm13iPYvcX9DWTP4ZNgyuhyCivfNF6Ftt5uLcmCyNH51PEoymWKOTHGq7kWP0NOyg/s1600/sc005eae54.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs7W2FqVAKw-TVDdvhd77Jd0iTYZSXw6azkJiYdO-hngYxYmgINoKt-Kr6q8Bh9bCulmcIRkS2MAkm13iPYvcX9DWTP4ZNgyuhyCivfNF6Ftt5uLcmCyNH51PEoymWKOTHGq7kWP0NOyg/s640/sc005eae54.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Edward, Prince of Wales </span></b></td></tr>
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</h2>
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To Seek Peace and Insure It, is First & Highest Duty—Prince </div>
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sees in bridge symbol of maintenance of friendly contacts</div>
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between Canada and U. S.</div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-weight: normal;"> </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> The address<span style="font-weight: normal;"> of</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> the, Prince of Wales at the Peace bridge was brief but fitting. The Prince of Wales said:</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">"It gives me great</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> pleasure to be present on the occasion of the formal dedication of this bridge which commemorates the peace which has happily endured between the British Empire and the United States for more than a century.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">"May this</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> bridge</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> be not only a physical and material link between Canada and the United States", but may it also be symbolical of the maintenance of their friendly contacts by those who live on both sides of this frontier; may it serve also as continual reminder to those who will use it, and to all at us, that to seek peace and insure it is the first and highest duty both of this generation and of those which are yet to come."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span>The Prince</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> was</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> accorded an enthusiastic applause both when he arose to speak and when he concluded. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmrqi4acxvNu5C4gqXQR9OBy_pxm04z-uqDEeeQL_8pxas9OeUISY_cahdAaez1mMQ9aepQVjZ02_DV8kK_SFqWju6ID17yINDWMfjh2ge6NM1V-PpH_TNCD4LMbdxVlG9Cze8O6lD72c/s1600/Scanned+Image+122860006.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="526" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmrqi4acxvNu5C4gqXQR9OBy_pxm04z-uqDEeeQL_8pxas9OeUISY_cahdAaez1mMQ9aepQVjZ02_DV8kK_SFqWju6ID17yINDWMfjh2ge6NM1V-PpH_TNCD4LMbdxVlG9Cze8O6lD72c/s640/Scanned+Image+122860006.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Secretary of State Frank B. Kellogg</span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span>"Dedication<span style="font-weight: normal;"> of</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> the Peace Bridge marks another link between the United states and Canada which is symbolic of the ties of sympathy and interest between the British empire and Uncle Sam and will promote further intercourse and mutual acquaintance between the two nations." The President has commissioned me to extend to you a cordial welcome to the United States and to express his deep appreciation of your visit... "I consider it a great honor and a keen pleasure to participate in this celebration and to welcome to the United States such distinguished representatives of the British empire as His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales, the Prime Minister of Great Britain and the Premier of Canada."</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span>"This celebration<span style="font-weight: normal;"> is to dedicate another link between the Dominion of Canada and theUnited States. We believe it symbolic of the many ties of sympathy and interest between the British empire and the United States." (F.B. Kellogg)</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-weight: normal;">Please note:</span><span style="color: #990000; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;"> photos and illustrations (except newspaper pages) are all part of The Buffalo History Gazette Collection/Jerry M. Malloy. Re-use without my permission is strictly prohibited. Jerry M. Malloy</span></div>
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Following Movie of the Peace Bridge dedication </div>
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is from Youtube </div>
<span face=""roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal;">Film is shot on 16mm by Joseph A. Albrecht Sr.</span><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; text-align: start;" /><span face=""roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal;">Music is Jelly Roll Morton - Victor Recordings</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/j_U1I0sZniQ/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/j_U1I0sZniQ?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-weight: normal;"><i>Related Story:</i></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> <a href="http://www.buffalohistorygazette.net/2011/02/mather-bridge-1893.html"><span style="color: black;">Mather's </span></a></span><span style="color: black;"><a href="http://www.buffalohistorygazette.net/2011/02/mather-bridge-1893.html">Signature Bridge</a></span></div>
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Jerry M Malloyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653949516092546466noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9035576220169986933.post-26927896381519853212015-03-11T01:43:00.003-04:002022-03-26T22:57:48.902-04:00The Victory Garden<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Rooftop Victory Garden -- Mrs. Frances Malachowski tends to the plants in her </div>
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Victory Garden on the roof of her home at 262 Ohio Street. In boxes and pans of</div>
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all shapes and sizes she has raised carrots, beets, chives, onions, tomatoes, lettuce</div>
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and beans, set off by a colorful array of flowers. (Photo Frank Schifferle C-E)</div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Courier-Express, September 5, 1943</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Gossip About Gardens • • • </span></b></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">BY JANE W. CHAMBERLAIN </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> Customers at the White Front Restaurant in Ohio Street, have commented enthusiastically on the tasty additions to the fish fries served this summer by Mrs. Frances Malachowski, known lovingly to many Buffalo boys in the service as just "Ma." Parsley potatoes — fresh sliced tomatoes—hamburgers with home grown onions. "How do you do it," they ask. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Roof Garden Produces </span></b></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> <b>"My Victory Garden</b> on our shed roof" is her quiet answer. And it's true. There are long boxes in which tomato plants reach from the floor level to the railing and blend their sturdy sterns into a second tier of boxes. These are gay with marigolds, petunias, balsam and other annuals which form a spot of color against the outlines of neighboring roofs and chimneyed skylines. Boxes, flats and pans of all sizes and shapes are producing their quota of carrots, beets, chives, parsley and onions. Even a squash vine clings to the roof supports and reaches for the ground. A monthly blooming rose bush in a tub was called to the writer's attention as the story was un-folded of the days in early spring when dirt was carried to the roof top and precious seeds planted "because we wanted to do our part, and we also like to grow things. Attention also was called, at the end of the visit, to a row of service flags along the wall behind the bar downstairs and to pictures of the boys in many branches of Uncle Sam's service.</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> <b>Victory Gardens</b> were encouraged by the government during World War II to help offset the difficulty in getting produce to markets because of labor & transportation shortages, and to help people have more food for their families than the War rationing allowed. Nearly 20,000,000 Americans participated planting gardens in empty lots, </span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">backyards and even rooftops as my Grandmother did above, behind the White Front.</span></span></span></div>
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Jerry M Malloyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653949516092546466noreply@blogger.com1262 Ohio St, Buffalo, NY 14204, USA42.8701519 -78.869444514.559918063821158 -114.0256945 71.180385736178849 -43.7131945tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9035576220169986933.post-50767080419635808872013-06-30T16:08:00.006-04:002022-07-02T01:16:45.503-04:00I AM AN AMERICAN!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div> I<b>n 1917,</b> <b>Buffalo</b> had </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiww-wJ3AFDAt7Z2zHgxb4J-gnPQAWu1nE-Cygn1gs09fm4_V05b-p7zSIfpTjagV4dyETQAZlcLgRA3LGXFgyIA0ujPIzwK2ZIB8PUSQ_NqHHfp2J2_TWhW4g4V6yTJSi9fI6eWbCmmxE/s415/flag.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="505" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiww-wJ3AFDAt7Z2zHgxb4J-gnPQAWu1nE-Cygn1gs09fm4_V05b-p7zSIfpTjagV4dyETQAZlcLgRA3LGXFgyIA0ujPIzwK2ZIB8PUSQ_NqHHfp2J2_TWhW4g4V6yTJSi9fI6eWbCmmxE/w364-h505/flag.jpg" width="364" /></a>awaited with keen interest the President's message which was read in Congress on April </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">2nd. It was generally anticipated that it would be a war message; most of the people, </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">though not anxious, were ready for a declaration of hostilities. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>The young men</b> especially had caught the enthusiasm of the hour, and the schools rang with patriotic songs and martial airs. Promptly at 12</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">'clock noon on April 2nd, as Congress was called to order, upwards of 75,000 children and more than 3,000 teachers of the public and parochial schools assembled at their respective schools for patriotic exercises in recognition of the gravity of the situation with which Congress was about to deal. The program was simple. At exactly 12 o'clock the children sang "The Star Spangled Banner." The song concluded, they joined in rousing cheers for the President, for George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Teddy Roosevelt, Mayor Fuhrmann, and everyone else who in their minds typified the American Government or American institutions. Appropriate resolutions were adopted, and the ceremonies concluded with the singing of "America"and a salute to the flag</span>.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b>President Wilsons</b> war message to Congress, the patriotic fervor of the Elmwood Music Hall meeting, and the declaration of war itself served to set the blood of the people a-tingling and fill the city with martial airs. The month of April found bankers and merchants flinging the flag to the breeze. The practice quickly spread to the householders, if it did not originate there. Large industrial plants added something akin to a renewal of allegiance by surrounding the flag raising events with ceremony and song. In many of the plants, workmen purchased and raised the flags themselves. Commissioners Malone and Kreinheder, Mayor Fuhrmann and other city officials were much in demand as speakers at flag raising ceremonies. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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Be Proud You are an American</h2>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBIM41lqpE9lXbEvxsCGtzqlebGYB_hbF74gfUigaTUUT2m9XyjBevKiDoWXPtmvbPcIkxKE4cJdtIl3qoGgq1Ij3iRcyHKHGkTdw2iAoodxrj80_PQfXBgwLLyT3hYQ09X0iuigHVhNs/s1600/flag.jpeg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="411" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBIM41lqpE9lXbEvxsCGtzqlebGYB_hbF74gfUigaTUUT2m9XyjBevKiDoWXPtmvbPcIkxKE4cJdtIl3qoGgq1Ij3iRcyHKHGkTdw2iAoodxrj80_PQfXBgwLLyT3hYQ09X0iuigHVhNs/w640-h411/flag.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Children in Buffalo School Yard<br /></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b> Though the</b> <b>practice</b> began in April it lasted through the entire year and at times the number was so large it seemed as though the city would burst out in one great American flag with the entire population cheering. The daily papers were filled with accounts of these jubilees. The first flags raised with ceremony were at the Pierce-Arrow plant in Elmwood Avenue, and at the Niagara Street branch of the Curtiss plant. Peter A. Porter, a former member of Congress, and Colonel Charles Clifton were the speakers at the first named ceremonial, while Mayor Fuhrmann delivered an address of patriotic character at the Curtiss plant. The following day, "Old Glory" was unfolded at the New York Central stockyards in East Buffalo, with Alfred D. Sears as master of ceremonies and Edward L. Jung as the speaker. A squad of fifteen members of the 74th Regiment participated in the observances and fired a salute to the flag.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b> In the days</b> intervening between June 1st and 5th, 1917, churches, societies, clubs and like organizations sounded a patriotic call from pulpit and banquet board. Class, creed and color rapidly lost distinction. In those days, from early morn until late we saw only, alone, above every-thing else, a mass of stars, in a field of blue with flaming red and white stripes. Speakers of the hour painted the picture of a thoroughly united America. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>An illuminating schoolhouse incident of that June day tells the whole story: </i></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Scene at Buffalo Public School #60</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b><i>At a meeting of the school children, one boy, </i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b><i>a descendant of Native Americans, spoke as follows: </i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>"I am an American.</b> My father belongs to the Sons of the Revolution; my mother belongs to the Colonial Dames. One of my ancestors pitched tea overboard in Boston Harbor; another stood his ground with Warren; another hungered with Washington at Valley Forge. My fore-fathers were American in the making; they spoke in America's council halls; they died on her battlefields; they commanded her ships; they cleared her forests. Dawns reddened and paled. Staunch hearts of mine beat fast at each new star in the Nation's flag. Keen eyes of mine foresaw her greater glory; the sweep of her seas, the plenty of her plains, the man-hives in her billion-wired cities. Every drop of blood in me holds a heritage of patriotism. </span><br /><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><b><i>I am proud of my past. I am an American."</i></b></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b><i>Then a foreign-born boy arose and said:</i></b></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-weight: normal;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>"I am an American.</b> My father was an atom of dust; my mother was a straw in the wind to His Serene Majesty. One of my ancestors died in the mines of Siberia; another was crippled for life by twenty blows of the knout; another was killed defending his home during the massacres. The history of my ancestors is a trail of blood to the palace gate of the Great White Czar. But then the dream came—the dream of America. In the light of Liberty's torch the atom of dust became a man and the straw in the wind became a woman for the first time. 'See.' said my father, pointing to the flag that fluttered near, 'That flag of stars and stripes is yours; it is the emblem of the promised land. It means, my son, the hope of humanity. Live for it, die for it'. Under the open sky of my new country I swore to do so; and every drop of blood in me will keep that vow. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I am proud of my future. </span></i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">I am an American."</span> </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: center;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Flag-raising fever</b> ran riot in those days and every factory and shop, every railroad and steamboat line, every club and church and society had its flag and its flag unfolding ceremony. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><b>Be proud and happy you are an American</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="color: red;">Happy</span><span style="color: #cc0000;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: red;">Indepe</span><span style="color: blue;">ndence</span></span> <span style="color: blue;">Day!</span> </b></span></h2>
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Jerry M Malloyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653949516092546466noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9035576220169986933.post-50389306779407806992013-03-22T12:27:00.000-04:002014-08-06T23:15:08.735-04:00Samuel Wilkeson, He Built Buffalo By Building Its Harbor: Part 5<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-H-VZ8PcDN_hEq_Aeu9AHKairYDbgS_8dazqlsddxMwoBoVuiF8inWXNGGOkU-jyLwDZsiE15xGkt5q-v8TZ6m2oncJrZVVUnwhYmNZ3Hrlivu95ZlqPDGdA29Trs0c23kzWGVaEhv4I/s1600/PTDC0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-H-VZ8PcDN_hEq_Aeu9AHKairYDbgS_8dazqlsddxMwoBoVuiF8inWXNGGOkU-jyLwDZsiE15xGkt5q-v8TZ6m2oncJrZVVUnwhYmNZ3Hrlivu95ZlqPDGdA29Trs0c23kzWGVaEhv4I/s640/PTDC0001.jpg" height="283" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Buffalo Harbor Around 1888</span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b>In the history of Buffalo there has been nothing to match the building of the first harbor here as an exhibition of public spirit and a demonstration of what powerful leadership can do for the Community.</b></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b> The pier was</b> completed, and the creek carried by a new and straight, although shallow, channel into the lake. The fact that the pier built in 1820 had endured the storms of one winter uninjured, encouraged the company to believe that the outer pier, although more exposed, would, by being better secured, prove strong enough to resist the swells, and in future protect the channel from the moving sands which had yearly barred it up.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi36VPVTTxBhrS-Vwn2nzLhQj2ruajZlViumODIsz-IIcIJzBOuVAfrtPTc8FoX1pgYnoqJpIRqIa0JShKoolhg6W5LeV9APFS3sVF01Hm6-h46O5OwshMkuCaQWA5tr6tkaASBBi323MI/s1600/Scanned+Image+130590004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi36VPVTTxBhrS-Vwn2nzLhQj2ruajZlViumODIsz-IIcIJzBOuVAfrtPTc8FoX1pgYnoqJpIRqIa0JShKoolhg6W5LeV9APFS3sVF01Hm6-h46O5OwshMkuCaQWA5tr6tkaASBBi323MI/s320/Scanned+Image+130590004.jpg" height="282" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b> It was expected</b> that the spring freshet would so widen and deepen the channel as to permit the lake vessels and even the Walk-in-the-Water (the only steamboat on the lake), to enter safely. This boat had been built at Black Rock, and run to that place, not ever touching at Buffalo. It was a source of annoyance to Buffalonians that this fine steamboat passed their village on each voyage but never stopped there, so the</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> very prospect of having a steamboat arrive and depart from Buffalo, was highly encouraging. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> <b>Named in honor</b> of a great Wyandot chieftain, the Walk-in-the-Water sailed on her maiden voyage on Aug. 15, 1818, carrying 29 passengers for Erie, Grand River, Cleveland, Sandusky and Detroit. She reached Detroit over this course in 44 hours and 10 minutes, developing a speed of about 7 1/2 miles an hour. Like Robert's Clermont, upon which she was patterned, she used sails in fair weather to save fuel. (First Hybrid?-Ed.) </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Under command of Capt. Job Fish, the Walk-in-The-Water earned a handsome profit for her owners. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">They knew the vessel still required the help of <a href="http://www.buffalohistorygazette.net/2011/02/a-few-horns-head-of-steam-we-good.html" target="_blank">Capt. Thompson's "Horn Breeze"</a> to breast the current of the Niagara and gain the waters of the lake from her home port of Black Rock. They argued that Buffalo's harbor, entering directly upon the lake, would be a more economical and efficient base of operations for the ship.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Wreck of The Walk-In-The-Water near the<br /> Buffalo Lighthouse</span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>But on her</b> last voyage of the season in 1821, the year the new channel for Buffalo Creek was completed, the Walk-in-the-Water left Black Rock. </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In the night a furious gale arose and Captain Rogers, who was then in command, put back, but was not able to get into Buffalo Creek. The captain, seeing the impossibility of saving the steamer, ordered her beached. With skilled seamanship she was sent broadside on. A rope was stretched from boat to beach, and the passengers were ferried to shore in the small boat. <span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Salvage workers saved her engines, boilers and furniture but the ship it self was lost.</span> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b> The wreck of</b> the vessel ended the hope of Buffalo bringing the </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Walk-in-the-Water</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> to the new harbor, but gave rise to another. With the engines and fittings of the ship salvaged, it was expected the owners would build another. If the vessel was to be built in Buffalo, the role of the village as a port would be recognized and a thriving shipbuilding industry would be established. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The citizens of Buffalo, without loss of time, addressed the directors of the company, presenting the advantages that would accrue to them by building their boat at Buffalo. The company, immediately on learning of their loss, made a contract with Noah Brown & Brothers, of New York, to build a boat at Buffalo, if it could be constructed as cheaply there as at the Rock, and if there could be certainty of getting the boat out of the creek.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih-HkCiSOs65s37ttk7d0XuLlymcWlfEKT970MCnMoGnUqtsnGwg6x4iNriMBTHjlNNKgwaLtZLBkGSJMnQcSmbQUDjtmXw6TpPqNl8FYr1cU2pHlZ4sOYhTVcue59vhG5i5rqut-wobA/s1600/IMG_2370.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih-HkCiSOs65s37ttk7d0XuLlymcWlfEKT970MCnMoGnUqtsnGwg6x4iNriMBTHjlNNKgwaLtZLBkGSJMnQcSmbQUDjtmXw6TpPqNl8FYr1cU2pHlZ4sOYhTVcue59vhG5i5rqut-wobA/s320/IMG_2370.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Mansion House, white building on right. </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: small;">Main & Exchange Streets</span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>Brown came on</b> early in January, passing on to Black Rock without even reporting himself in Buffalo, nor was his arrival known here until he had agreed to build his boat at the Rock, and engaged the ship-carpenters of that place to furnish the timber. The Black Rock contractors, gratified with their success, agreed to accommodate Brown by meeting him at the Mansion House in Buffalo in the evening to execute the contract. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Thus, Brown's hands almost were tied before anyone in Buffalo knew what was going on. But the news leaked out. Sam Wilkeson and most Buffalo citizens were incensed. They gathered in the bar-room of the Mansion House and demanded an immediate interview with Brown. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> <b> "Mr. Brown,</b> why do you not build your boat at Buffalo, pursuant to the wishes of the company?" "Why, sir, I arrived in your village while your people were sleeping, and being obliged to limit my stay here to one day. I thought to improve the early part of the morning by commencing my inquiries at Black Rock and consulting the ship-carpenters residing there, who had aided in building the Walk-in-the-Water.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyFZLQ8gYx95IMel-DVNtnUIAGEfhi-KB9MsINJuPuMRRoNPGcLWhaDtlf_4vdl-ymqoOMzYm6cUGzR0AVAaWOi0GT8GcDi70ll82IkD_DWNXFXQ9947eUsCWJRcFrNwi-Hk-38we03-M/s1600/Scanned+Image+130710014+-+Version+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyFZLQ8gYx95IMel-DVNtnUIAGEfhi-KB9MsINJuPuMRRoNPGcLWhaDtlf_4vdl-ymqoOMzYm6cUGzR0AVAaWOi0GT8GcDi70ll82IkD_DWNXFXQ9947eUsCWJRcFrNwi-Hk-38we03-M/s400/Scanned+Image+130710014+-+Version+3.jpg" height="243" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Village of Black Rock</b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> <b> While there,</b> I was told that your harbor is all a humbug, and that if I were to build the boat in Buffalo Creek, she could not be got into the lake in the spring and perhaps never. Besides, the carpenters refused to deliver the timber at Buffalo. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Mr. Brown, our neighbors have done us great injury, although they no doubt, honestly believe what they have said to you about our harbor. "Under the circumstances, I feel justified in making you a proposition which will enable you to comply with the wishes of the steamboat company, and do justice to Buffalo without exposing yourself to loss or blame. The citizens of Buffalo will deliver suitable timber at a quarter less than it will cost you at the Rock, and execute a judgment bond to pay to the steamboat company </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">$150 for every day's detention of the boat in the creek after the first of May." Mr. Brown accepted the proposition and the judgement bond was signed the next day. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>From the building of the Superior in 1822, </b><br />
<b>Buffalo established numerous shipyards </b><br />
<b>in the </b><b>19th century, becoming the largest </b><br />
<b>shipbuilding city on the Great Lakes</b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> <b> </b></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Despite the great</b> risk involved, Buffalonians were delighted. Securing the shipbuilding contract was a genuine triumph. It so encouraged Wilkeson and his group they decided immediately to send an agent to DeWitt Clinton, president of the Erie Canal Board, to inform him Buffalo harbor had been completed and to urge that the canal be extended immediately to Buffalo. At the same time, the agent was instructed to tell Clinton that Buffalo "had established a shipyard." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>With the engines,</b> boilers and fittings of the ill-fated Walk-in-the-Water on hand, the shipbuilders began their work. The new vessel was to be called the<i> <b>Superior</b></i> and news of its progress was watched with vital interest in the village. The work went on all winter. There appeared little doubt that the vessel would be ready to enter the lake on the required date. Much depended upon whether the spring freshets would cut the channel to the required depth. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The flood came but with it, as so often through the entire harbor building operation, came disaster. The trouble stemmed from a solid block of ice which rose from the lake floor to above the surface. The ice extended from the western end of the pier to the shore. Throughout the winter, it blocked the current of the creek.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> <b> The ice still</b> had not melted when the first flood came. It removed a large body of sand and gravel, and opened a deep, wide channel from the creek to the lake. But where the creek flowed into the lake, the ice blocked its path and the sand and gravel piled into a new bar that extended for more than 300 feet. The news stunned the village. At the last moment, the final proof of the worth of Buffalo's harbor had been stayed by a malicious prank of nature. The channel was blocked and the Superior was imprisoned in the creek. May 1 was approaching rapidly. Unless the channel was cleared, and the ship floated free by that date, it would cost the signers of the agreement $150 per day in penalties or $24,000 "for the summer." </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIhNYpinKDCzIpr-1VB5GB65lvXzV3Z7vbbt78VJVrVBNg0U4m9zasZB8MRqpfg5aB-RayjMr1J2QU7j0uPKgV2iFuLvfEJHSgOmbyA8VGqTLn1iCth7G90TOSXM34nJKg7oa-bdU7qpg/s1600/PTDC0011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIhNYpinKDCzIpr-1VB5GB65lvXzV3Z7vbbt78VJVrVBNg0U4m9zasZB8MRqpfg5aB-RayjMr1J2QU7j0uPKgV2iFuLvfEJHSgOmbyA8VGqTLn1iCth7G90TOSXM34nJKg7oa-bdU7qpg/s320/PTDC0011.JPG" height="301" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>The Pier 1870's</b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>As hard to</b> bear was the thought that Black Rock's low opinion of Buffalo harbor would be vindicated 'and' that the Erie Canal commissioners would be convinced of the hopelessness of the effort and vote to terminate the canal at Black Rock. Sam Wilkeson was away from Buffalo when the disaster became known. News was sent to him and he hurried home. He arrived about the middle of March. The same day, a general meeting of citizens was called. The cost of dredging the channel was estimated at $1,600 and a fund drive was launched. But only $300 was pledged. Wilkeson did not wait for more. It was necessary, he said, to begin at once and to work every day, regardless of weather, if the obstruction was to be cleared by May 1.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">About 25 laborers</b><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> were immediately collected. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">No dredging</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> equipment was available. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Wilkeson improvised a substitute.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The pile driver prepared for use, and a line of piles driven, 200 feet from the pier, on the nor</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">th side of that part of the channel which was obstructed. Two harbor-scows were made fast to these piles, and a platform of timber and plank extended over them. Four capstans were set up in these scows about 20 feet apart. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Scrapers were made of oak plank with bevelled edges shod with iron. These were loaded with scrap, so they would sink, and then dragged back and forth across the bar-by means of ropes and wind-lasses, held in place by driven piles. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Two men stationed on the pier could, by the small ropes, pull back the four scrapers as fast as they could be drawn home by the men at the four windlasses, each of which was worked by four men at the levers, and one to handle the rope. The men could work dry, but the labor was excessively exhausting.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> The crude mechanism worked-well,</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> and other capstans were prepared for use. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">For three days the work was unobstructed. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Saturday night came and the workmen were dismissed until Monday morning.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOxPjfQ0BnoGRC-z2a2CaDCne-80lxjCzz8hKZdBOqD4oglF3722X6kVFVjwGD5LJh-sIJpKlsTF50OUlT9Po5IBLsA1UyKWaf7LvtPh3stKoFgNftVnxzUdLoas1YyT5TpsOBM5V2nlE/s1600/IMG_4432.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOxPjfQ0BnoGRC-z2a2CaDCne-80lxjCzz8hKZdBOqD4oglF3722X6kVFVjwGD5LJh-sIJpKlsTF50OUlT9Po5IBLsA1UyKWaf7LvtPh3stKoFgNftVnxzUdLoas1YyT5TpsOBM5V2nlE/s400/IMG_4432.JPG" height="241" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>During the night</b> a heavy gale set in, and increased in violence until about noon on the Sabbath when the ice began to break up, and the lake to rise. Soon the ice was in motion, and driving in from the lake, was carried up the creek with such force as to destroy the scows and all the fixtures. The pile driver, being securely fastened by strong rigging to the piles, it was hoped would remain safe, but the fasts gave way, and it was driving towards shore where it could scarcely escape destruction. It was saved by the extraordinary exertions of two individuals who (making their way to it by the aid of two boards each, which they pushed forward alternately over the floating ice agitated by the swells), succeeded in fastening it with a hawser to a pile near which it was floating. This was not done without imminent hazard to the men, who, several times losing their position on the board, came near being crushed by the moving mass of ice. The scow being secured, the anxious and disheartened citizens and workmen retired to their homes.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDDUNwsGm0hCR8rwBBel1O3Fyn_jz4wANko89tAlWYrMJ6PnKBHz0KpoYGD8mFwLD_He1E9cct93fdLz88eVCBsGWqTlB0e8QOUnX626iUIx5FCbgxYsj1FHIEYpwizDSWnZfspPooLRg/s1600/Scanned+Image+130710011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDDUNwsGm0hCR8rwBBel1O3Fyn_jz4wANko89tAlWYrMJ6PnKBHz0KpoYGD8mFwLD_He1E9cct93fdLz88eVCBsGWqTlB0e8QOUnX626iUIx5FCbgxYsj1FHIEYpwizDSWnZfspPooLRg/s320/Scanned+Image+130710011.jpg" height="320" width="241" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Judge Samuel Wilkeson</b></span> </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>The situation was</b> now desperate, more money was needed. Wilkeson again called together those who had signed the indemnity bond and demanded action. To fail this time meant certain ruin. A list was circulated and $1,361.25 in cash was raised. In addition "a certain cow with white head" and "100 pounds pork when called for" were promised. But the work, could not be resumed at once. From the day of the meeting to the middle, of April, there were only two days without snow or rain and work was impossible. On April 15, the weather cleared and, remained good to the end of the month. The work picked up at a frantic pace. Once again Sam Wilkeson was at the heart of the challenge. Once again the destiny of the village rested in his hands. He drove himself as unsparingly as he drove his men. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b> Tuesday morning</b> two rows of piles were put down, on which to erect platforms in place of scows and rafts, which had been destroyed. These platforms were raised several feet above the water to protect the workmen from the spray of the swells which broke against the piles. Six scrapers were got in motion during the day, and notwithstanding the laborers were exposed to a heavy rain, rapid progress was made in removing the sand. Although the heavy swells, which continued to roll in from the lake, rendered it difficult to keep the empty scrapers in line, yet they carried the sand, removed from the channel, towards the shore, and prevented its accumulation. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Wilkeson Homestead - Niagara Square - On present</b><br />
<b> site of City HallBuilt 1823, torn down 1915</b><br />
<b> for a gas station</b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b> The laborers</b> continued their work without returning to the shore until dark, eating their precooked dinners where they stood. The labor was so hard, and the exposure so great, that it was difficult to obtain the necessary help; indeed it would have been impossible but for the labor furnished by the citizens, many of whom sent their hired men for a day or more until their places could be supplied. So the crews labored from dawn to dusk and slowly the sludge was cleared from the channel. But when May 1 came there were still about 40 feet of channel which had been cleared only to a depth of 6 1/2 feet. By this time the owners of the Superior were in Buffalo, demanding the agreement be met. They did not seem overly concerned with the possibility of their ship sticking in the sand. The $150 per day indemnity was more than the vessel would earn in lake traffic and they could afford to take the risk.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>The pilot of</b> the Superior, Captain Miller, had no intention, however, of running his ship aground on its maiden voyage. The boat was put in motion, and fortunately the pilot, Captain Miller, having made himself acquainted with what channel there was, ran her out into the lake without difficulty. The bond was cancelled! From the shore, a cheer went up. Buffalo born, Buffalo built, there the Superior floated, the symbol of a new age for the village which finally had won through over its old rival, Black Rock. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The boat was, however, light; and when fully loaded would require much more water. The scraping was, therefore, continued.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghHxFCEAIjq8jdVE4qOuQrYS2kQG9a3WzOpPeHJ_3g2tzi0NgOBprNDtRJL0ZXni5RhTC2rII-3ZK6DS9Yge7EF9N59VOPSUuH6LFMFzYA9tXjNZmzLxSFoHIUIRCj-hMwyVLHnuxHgDQ/s1600/Scanned+Image+130730000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghHxFCEAIjq8jdVE4qOuQrYS2kQG9a3WzOpPeHJ_3g2tzi0NgOBprNDtRJL0ZXni5RhTC2rII-3ZK6DS9Yge7EF9N59VOPSUuH6LFMFzYA9tXjNZmzLxSFoHIUIRCj-hMwyVLHnuxHgDQ/s640/Scanned+Image+130730000.jpg" height="340" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>An Early View of Buffalo's New Harbor after the Erie Canal opened in 1825</b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> "<b>When the boat</b> was finished, the citizens were invited to take an excursion on the lake. It was feared that if the boat should be deeply loaded with passengers, she would ground in the new-made channel. Although this would be a trifling occurrence in itself, yet circumstances had recently occurred which led them to regard the experiment with the deepest, anxiety. An act had passed a few days before, authorizing the canal board to contract for the construction of a harbor at Black Rock, which if completed, might secure the termination of the canal at that place, and supersede Buffalo harbor. The subject was to be acted on by the canal board in a few days, and even so trifling an incident as the grounding of a steamboat might influence their decision, and deprive Buffalo of the fruits of all her toils and exertions in building a harbor."</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RfKbQ57dv9E/UUIrjJQrnPI/AAAAAAAABoc/UOgFyPEsS4M/s1600/walk+on+the+water+sm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RfKbQ57dv9E/UUIrjJQrnPI/AAAAAAAABoc/UOgFyPEsS4M/s320/walk+on+the+water+sm.jpg" height="220" width="320" /></a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> "<b>An effort was</b>, therefore, made either to postpone the steamboat excursion, or limit the number of passengers, but in vain. Neither the captain, nor a majority of the citizens, could appreciate the solicitude of the few. The whole village crowded on board, and the boat grounded. This was the more mortifying, as many of our Black Rock friends were on board, who had always predicted our failure. But after a few minutes' delay in landing some of the people on the pier, the boat moved forward, went alongside of the pier, took on the passengers, and proceeded up the lake, with bugles sounding and banners flying." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><span style="color: #38761d;">THE END.</span></b> But really, it was only the Beginning. Ed. - I may write a post-log to this story, because actually Black Rock didn't give up in it's efforts to gain the Erie Canal Terminus, even after Buffalo Got it's Harbor. </span><br />
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<b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="http://buffalohistorygazette.blogspot.com/2013/03/samuel-wilkeson-he-built-buffalo-by_19.html" target="_blank">Chapter Four</a></b><br />
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<b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="http://buffalohistorygazette.blogspot.com/2013/03/samuel-wilkeson-he-built-buffalo-by_16.html" target="_blank">Chapter Three</a></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><a href="http://buffalohistorygazette.blogspot.com/2013/03/samuel-wilkeson-harbor-builder-part-two.html" target="_blank">Chapter Two</a></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<b style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="http://buffalohistorygazette.blogspot.com/2013/03/samuel-wilkeson-he-built-buffalo-by_13.html" target="_blank">Chapter One</a></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">(Ed.) So now you know who Sam Wilkeson was, and why the house which was torn down recently for a <i>parking area for trucks,</i> was so important to save. It could have been moved. Buffalo, almost 200 years after this historic event, had a physical connection to this man who virtually jump started Buffalo when it could have been easily left behind. Together, while being beaten down by the weather, financial and legal difficulties, Wilkeson rallied Buffalo against all odds, and gave Buffalo what it needed the most, with no financial gain for himself. Not even Joseph Ellicott would support their efforts. Yet he sacrificed everything he owned to get the job done to put Buffalo on the map. And this was just one of the many episodes in his life. More needs to be done to recognize him, somewhere on the inner harbor.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> I will be adding additional biographical info about Wilkeson to this page in the near future.</span><br />
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<br />Jerry M Malloyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653949516092546466noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9035576220169986933.post-69342750060694452512013-03-19T02:35:00.000-04:002015-08-05T16:10:07.547-04:00Samuel Wilkeson, He Built Buffalo by Building It's Harbor, Part 4<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Partial View of Buffalo Harbor in 1888</span></b></td></tr>
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<i><b>The development of Buffalo as a city has been inseparable from the development of its harbor. The building of that harbor was a turning point in Buffalo's fortunes unlike any subsequent event in the City's history. </b></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>The winter was bitter</b>. Storms beat with unremitting fury against the newly built pier. Snow fell upon snow. The waters of the lake rolled in frigid agony. Ice jammed against the cribs and timbers. In the village, the homes and stores were almost lost in the drifts. The loose top snow curled and twisted in the wind, like white smoke. Logs burned steadily in fireplaces and the villagers stayed close to home. December passed into January and the bleakness of February. And still the bitter blasts blew across the waters. But in March the wind lost its icy edge. The ice floated free in the water, tinkling like broken glass as the floes nudged each other in the trough of waves and broke into fragments.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>Then April</b> grass and leaves showed green against the earth and the branches of trees. The wind sighed. As it passed through the village it rustled the buds and carried the smell of earth and water, the scent of forest and plain, the ever- renewed feeling of spring that all is well, that all things can be done. And all was well. Throughout the winter the pier held firm. Not a timber was missing, not a crib had been moved. The stone fill was as firm as when it had been laid down. It began to look as if Buffalo would have a harbor after all. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>AS SAM WILKESON</b> surveyed the work that spring, he decided the attempt of the formation of the new channel, must come before further work on the pier. About the 20th of May, laborers were engaged, and the pile driver put in operation. Two rows of piles six feet apart were driven across the creek, in a line with the right bank of the intended channel, and the space between these rows of piles was filled with fine brush, straw, damaged hay, shavings, etc. This material was pressed down by drift logs, which were hoisted into their places by the use of the pile driver. On the upper side of the work, a body of sand was placed, making a cheap and tolerably tight dam, by which the creek could be raised about three feet.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b> The first job was</b> to dam off the creek at the desired point. The dam was built on a line with the right bank of the proposed channel. Once it was erected, the water in the creek rose about three feet. With part of the channel dug, the sandbank at the western end of the dam was broken. The pent up waters rushed forward with sufficient force to scour out about 15 feet of the adjoining bank to a depth of eight feet.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">View of Buffalo Harbor - 1825</span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>Then the dam</b> was extended across the new channel. Again the water rose. When it was brimming over the top of the dam, another sluiceway was opened and the water rushed out again to do its work, and every dam full of water let off, removed hundreds of yards of gravel and deposited it not only entirely out of the way, but at the same time filled up the old channel. The process was repeated until the channel was pushed within a few feet of the lake. Through this ingenious method, Buffalo Creek cut its own way along the desired path. It seemed victory was assured. Then, without warning, a freak of nature struck and the victory became almost total disaster.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>WORK WAS PROCEEDING</b> steadily, and when the new channel had been pushed to within a few feet of the lake, and the strongest hopes were entertained that the channel extended to the end of the pier, would make the harbor immediately available, the work was arrested by one of the most extraordinary rises of the lake perhaps ever witnessed. About 7 o'clock in the morning a tremendous swell suddenly rose in the lake. It was inexplicable. One moment the waters were serenely blue. The next a wave of gigantic size was roaring down upon the astonished workers. In a panic, men dropped their tools and ran for their lives. The wave struck the improvised dam with the fury of an enraged beast. The shoulder of water, traveling at frightening speed, blasted over the few feet of sand separating the works from the lake itself and flattened everything in its path. The logs which secured the materials in the dam were splintered. The east side of the dam shuddered under the impact and began to disintegrate. The west end, which was made of planks, was destroyed completely. The planks flew into the air like chips and the cracking of lumber could be heard even above the roar of the water.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHduVG7qBxlyst3B80rManxmjOl9jpU51YMyGdyfejy763BPM9kHxLQEDm8_Te9oN4GdPKIsz_C-L-w2pNCF_oFgATIU4-MgqukDkQ6iQRhdnkrF_CFA7z4VMHOm0HdCAmrfHSrP4ogWA/s1600/Wharves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHduVG7qBxlyst3B80rManxmjOl9jpU51YMyGdyfejy763BPM9kHxLQEDm8_Te9oN4GdPKIsz_C-L-w2pNCF_oFgATIU4-MgqukDkQ6iQRhdnkrF_CFA7z4VMHOm0HdCAmrfHSrP4ogWA/s320/Wharves.jpg" width="289" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>Working equipment</b> was turned into a shambles. The pile driving scow, which had been moved to aid in the channel work, collapsed. The blind horse which furnished the motive power for the pile driver fell into the stream. From long habit, it persisted in swimming in circles and was rescued from drowning only, by a narrow margin. All the lumber, timber, piles prepared for use, with the boats, scows, and every floating article within the range of the swell were swept from their places and driven up the creek.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>THE SUDDEN SWELL</b> was caused by a tornado which crossed the lake a few miles above Buffalo. So powerful was this wind that it cut a swath through timber on shore, felling even the stoutest trees. After securing the scows, boats and lumber which had been put afloat, the condition of the dam was examined, revealing the dam had lost its west end completely as well as 38 feet of the east end. In addition, the structure had been weakened throughout. The waters of the creek were now uncontrolled. They rushed through the dam with damaging effect. It was a hard blow and it was evident that unless repairs were made within 24 hours the entire project was doomed.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirXfZb8_e2OG70AaJmPFBjR6OZPIpC-VB7NSTdMX84tA85g76quG9B9l4dzYe9_dTvSLMECYO7qmcU2U7Xk7ip4ToL5BBv-a7H9BLLU85xymxAtEP-Lv0MMJyoknCV9UM1SQ_GnE4Ce9A/s1600/buffharbor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirXfZb8_e2OG70AaJmPFBjR6OZPIpC-VB7NSTdMX84tA85g76quG9B9l4dzYe9_dTvSLMECYO7qmcU2U7Xk7ip4ToL5BBv-a7H9BLLU85xymxAtEP-Lv0MMJyoknCV9UM1SQ_GnE4Ce9A/s400/buffharbor.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>But this was</b> not the sum total of the trouble. In the wake of the tornado, a northeast wind commenced blowing, accompanied by a heavy rain and appearances indicated its continuance. Although a flood had been wished for, to aid in deepening and widening the new channel, the disastrous accident which had just occurred destroyed the only means of controlling it, and turning it to account. A freshet then, might open the old channel or perhaps enlarge the new one in a wrong direction, and even undermine the pier. But the rain increasing, and the weather being uncommonly cold, it was soon discovered that without a large additional force the dam could not be so far repaired as to resist the flood, which might be expected within 24 hours. The recent disaster and the importance of immediate help was communicated to the citizens, a large number of whom, as the rain fell in torrents, repaired to the dam. The pile-driver was put in operation to restore the breach at the east end of the dam. The rain beat heavily, sluicing over the men as they trudged to the dam. The dam was giving way slowly, running off in rivulets of mud. The creek beat against it from behind, the rain from above.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>Wilkeson assigned</b> the men in groups. Some collected brush, others logs, others shoveled the crumbling earth back on the dam as fast as it was washed away. The work went on without pause. The weary men staggered over the soggy sand, bowed under their loads. And still the rain came down. Late in the afternoon a short break was taken for dinner. The meal consisted of bread and beer served to the men standing in the rain. Finally the rain slackened and stopped. Torches were lit and the labor went on in the flickering light. But the pace was beginning to tell. Men were falling away in sheer exhaustion. The creek was now a torrent. The headwaters and tributaries had felt the rain too. A mighty flow rushed toward the lake.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Buffalo Harbor Around 1850</b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>But Slowly, </b>the men gained on the crumbling dam. Their first effort was directed at preventing further damage. With that accomplished they worked to restore the dam as near as possible to its original condition. Slowly, the planks and logs and earthworks were re-built. The dam began to hold. The men retired to rest, after having been exposed to the rain, cold and water, for more than 12 hours, the battle was won. The work of destruction was halted. Without this help of the citizens, it would have been impossible to make the necessary repairs on the dam; with it, and by continuing the labor of the harbor workmen by torchlight until late at night, all was done that human effort could do to prepare for the flood.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOxPjfQ0BnoGRC-z2a2CaDCne-80lxjCzz8hKZdBOqD4oglF3722X6kVFVjwGD5LJh-sIJpKlsTF50OUlT9Po5IBLsA1UyKWaf7LvtPh3stKoFgNftVnxzUdLoas1YyT5TpsOBM5V2nlE/s1600/IMG_4432.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOxPjfQ0BnoGRC-z2a2CaDCne-80lxjCzz8hKZdBOqD4oglF3722X6kVFVjwGD5LJh-sIJpKlsTF50OUlT9Po5IBLsA1UyKWaf7LvtPh3stKoFgNftVnxzUdLoas1YyT5TpsOBM5V2nlE/s400/IMG_4432.JPG" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>The rain, having</b> continued through the night, in the morning the flood was magnificent. The strong northeast wind which had prevailed for nearly 2-1/2 hours had lowered the lake two or three feet, and added much to the effect of the water in forming a new channel. It wasn't until after the storm had subsided that Wilkeson and his men realized how great had been their victory. In stemming the disaster they had won more than they had bargained for. The torrent which had poured through the gaps in the dam had swept 20,000 cubic yards of gravel and heavy stone from the new channel bed. The creek was now flowing straight to the lake. More than that, the water had moved with such force that the stone and gravel had been carried out far enough out into the lake so that it could never again block the entrance.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>Had Wilkeson tried</b> to remove the stone and gravel by hand it would have taken more money than was in the entire harbor fund. From the day the storm passed the channel of Buffalo Creek was 90 feet across at the bottom and 5-feet deep. "From this time," Wilkeson later wrote, "small vessels could enter and depart from Buffalo Harbor without interruption and the entry of two or three vessels in a day excited more interest then, than the arrival of 100 large vessels and boats would now."</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfElBLTUB7QEoLaLZLzASVtsmGI_T8Ilc2fEscrsHdXaLk9FGImhrV2ZRQkJ6S48of8rw4m-k8-SAm00EZe5Q70RxxUMxuDvAc8dijtfqpQvUzKwZGQImEyzLOcxVeqmA3qXZK_NfPvto/s1600/PTDC0011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfElBLTUB7QEoLaLZLzASVtsmGI_T8Ilc2fEscrsHdXaLk9FGImhrV2ZRQkJ6S48of8rw4m-k8-SAm00EZe5Q70RxxUMxuDvAc8dijtfqpQvUzKwZGQImEyzLOcxVeqmA3qXZK_NfPvto/s320/PTDC0011.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>SO THE HARBOR</b> builders had succeeded. But that was not the end. The pier had to be extended to deeper water. A second pier was planned. Old troubles returned. The original $12,000 loan was exhausted. More money was needed. Townsend, Forward and Wilkeson made a public appeal. Scrip was issued, entitling the bearer to a pro-rata interest in the harbor. Over $1,000 of this scrip was disposed of, for a small part of which cash was received, but the greater part was received in goods, etc. Those who pledged to the fund knew they had small chance of getting their money back. It was called a loan, but actually it was a gift.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>Wilkeson decided</b> to lay down a pier 200 feet long, several rods south and west of the pier already built, but in the same direction. This pier would form the western termination of the harbor. It was found much more difficult to erect piers in 10 or 12 feet of water, than in the more shallow water in which they were put down the preceding year. One difficulty attending the pier work was that of procuring a supply of stone. About 20 cords were required for each crib. The loose stone easily raised from the reefs near the harbor, had already been used, and now stone had to be brought from the Canada shore. Boats were scarce and the pile work proved to be a tedious and difficult job. An average of 100 strokes of the hammer were required for each pile. The interruption from the swells made it necessary to work at night during calm weather. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>The pile work</b> was at length completed, but when secured in the best manner that could be devised, was a very imperfect barrier to the swell, and a very poor substitute for a pier. Improvements were made to the pier, adding stone where needed to reinforce, and ties six inches apart on the windward side for added security. By fall the pier was lengthened to 1,300 feet and reached water 12 feet deep.</span></div>
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<b style="font-size: medium;">Portion of 1825 Map Showing the Pier Completed by Samuel Wilkeson </b></div>
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<b style="font-size: medium;">and all the Buffalonians Who Helped as Paid Workers and Volunteers Alike. </b></div>
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<b style="font-size: medium;"> The original route of Buffalo Creek turned where you see the inlet at the foot of </b></div>
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<b style="font-size: medium;">Vollenhoven Ave. </b><b style="font-size: medium;">It was the first man-made harbor on the </b><b style="font-size: medium;">Great Lakes.</b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>Thus was completed</b> the first work of the kind ever constructed on the lakes. It had occupied 221 working days in building (the laborers always resting on the Sabbath), and extended into the lake about 80 rods to 12 feet of water. It was begun, carried on and completed principally by three private individuals, Charles Townsend, Oliver Forward and Samuel Wilkeson, some of whom mortgaged the whole of their real estate to raise the means for making an improvement in which they had but a common interest.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>The harbor builders</b> believed the next spring floods would so deepen and widen the entrance to the channel that even the Walk-in-the-Water could enter it. That now became their dearest hope. Their victory would be complete when the only steamboat on the Great lakes forsook its home Port of Black Rock and made Buffalo its home. But the Walk-in-the-Water was destined never to enter Buffalo harbor. It was through events surrounding the Walk-in-the-Water, however, that Buffalo finally was to win through to the place it had sought with such effort and valor.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #990000;">End of Part 4:</span> </span></b><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://buffalohistorygazette.blogspot.com/2013/03/samuel-wilkeson-he-built-buffalo-by.html" target="_blank">PART 5</a></b></span><br />
<b><a href="http://buffalohistorygazette.blogspot.com/2013/03/samuel-wilkeson-he-built-buffalo-by_16.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">PART THREE</span></a></b><br />
<b><a href="http://buffalohistorygazette.blogspot.com/2013/03/samuel-wilkeson-harbor-builder-part-two.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">PART TWO</span></a></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://buffalohistorygazette.blogspot.com/2013/03/samuel-wilkeson-he-built-buffalo-by_13.html" target="_blank">PART ONE</a></span></b></div>
Jerry M Malloyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653949516092546466noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9035576220169986933.post-59581268967516863462013-03-16T19:52:00.000-04:002014-08-06T22:46:04.880-04:00Samuel Wilkeson, He Built Buffalo By Building It's Harbor: Part 3<div style="text-align: left;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Buffalo From the Light House</span></b></td></tr>
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<i><b>In all Buffalo's history no event was so significant to the future welfare of the city as the building of the first harbor. This task, carried on despite tremendous physical and economic obstacles, was an act of civic zeal unmatched in the later annals of the city. </b></i></h3>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b> THE exact date</b> in which the harbor work was begun is not on record, but it was some time before May 20th in 1820. The rains were heavy that spring when Sam Wilkeson got his cook shack and sleeping quarters built. Day after day, clouds hung in leaden-gray banks over the lake and then moved inland before the wind. The rain came in driving blasts against the village. The earth was sodden. Men sank almost to their knees in mud when they walked in the streets.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKL0Hy9rAx7JnF_jbd9hENvd34M4dde6pIeHvf9qeZ2lCHhqg9bPUdbr1eubkL0OE5HH9NLUEmhcdiptsKU8vQTqiMYj6INx4aLGhzSaA1A2dey6lFf936RVacrA1viMBKhSSbXTa12dc/s1600/sc0042560b01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKL0Hy9rAx7JnF_jbd9hENvd34M4dde6pIeHvf9qeZ2lCHhqg9bPUdbr1eubkL0OE5HH9NLUEmhcdiptsKU8vQTqiMYj6INx4aLGhzSaA1A2dey6lFf936RVacrA1viMBKhSSbXTa12dc/s400/sc0042560b01.jpg" height="205" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b> INSIDE the homes</b> of the frontier village, fireplaces were still lit against the dampness. Trees stood dark and forlorn in the rain, black with water, writhing in the wind. Against the lake shore, waves crashed in roaring spray as the wind churned the surface into, whitecaps which gleamed, even in darkness, like bared teeth.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA8TizuVPVo9lLzIQNJxryJJN9xOyFh-aTKNQyELg08bn6wrFhLzamivElWwEnKQqMbdbOlFphQFuZp1PNyF3qN2VYHuGYwd_Jd2g-DXjQFQufXFcj5ul86-ZQPRTotyh2BhuR9jPOeOE/s1600/Scanned+Image+130710011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA8TizuVPVo9lLzIQNJxryJJN9xOyFh-aTKNQyELg08bn6wrFhLzamivElWwEnKQqMbdbOlFphQFuZp1PNyF3qN2VYHuGYwd_Jd2g-DXjQFQufXFcj5ul86-ZQPRTotyh2BhuR9jPOeOE/s200/Scanned+Image+130710011.jpg" height="200" width="142" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b> IT was not</b> the kind of weather in which men liked to leave the snugness of their homes. The day after the cook shack and sleeping quarters were built, Wilkeson sent out a call for laborers to assemble at daybreak. Only a few responded. He called the work off. For several more days the project was stalled. Then, with characteristic determination. Wilkeson broke the bottleneck. He made a standing offer of $2 a month more than the regular wage, if the men agreed to work regardless of weather. The result was gratifying and the problem was solved. Thereafter the men worked six days a week, from dawn to sunset, with a half hour break for breakfast and an hour for lunch. There was little absenteeism and only one case of intoxication on the job. Almost without exception, the men who began the project worked through to the end. There were no fights among the workers.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>Wilkeson writes:</b> “Two plans had been proposed for the work; One by driving parallel lines of piles and filling up the intermediate space with brush and stone, and the other by a pier of hewn timber, filled with stone. The latter plan was adopted. The timber intended for piles was used in the construction of cribs, three of which were put down the first day.” Since few tools were on hand, the cribs could be put down only when the lake was perfectly smooth. As far as possible, they were fitted on shore. The opposite timbers were made secure with six-foot ties bored and numbered and then floated to their places. There they were assembled. The trunnels, two feet long and made of oak or hickory, were driven home. It took an hour to put the crib together. On the same day it was assembled, it was sunk and secured with stone.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfXX5hEChKTx5Y9Q_Haw-jiUc0yFpQyaoi78IAWw-SXREzm6ymOhaIiGb33qkDseHvwl6zEoekedGFElt91aYkOWqyPK7JIEsfoYEfSDhO_QKJC_UBKeHxWaBhJRxtUxF49U_frUB_tcg/s1600/Scanned+Image+130710013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfXX5hEChKTx5Y9Q_Haw-jiUc0yFpQyaoi78IAWw-SXREzm6ymOhaIiGb33qkDseHvwl6zEoekedGFElt91aYkOWqyPK7JIEsfoYEfSDhO_QKJC_UBKeHxWaBhJRxtUxF49U_frUB_tcg/s640/Scanned+Image+130710013.jpg" height="380" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b> ON the first day</b> of work the lake was calm. Three cribs were built and sunk. The weather remained good the second day and the work proceeded. But late on the second night, the wind rose suddenly. There was no breakwater to protect the shore. The waves chopped their way landward, lashing against the cribs until daybreak. When Wilkeson arrived at the scene in the morning, it was as if ruin stared him in the face. The waves had eaten away at the sand and gravel on which the cribs had been sunk. Almost all the cribs were out of line. In some cases the sides were sunk, in others the ends were deeper. They jutted this way and that, “the whole presenting a most discouraging appearance.”</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkBavWYq8Um3-9kCE4Hksm4GBiKpmSKDi6myhHWbCS1rV-aLRVuYcv_zJ3HSS7FbIMQBfPG1ORyFAhpl89_ABrPcYNkFNWZEqeK9DXEeSIagyyaYL45BoY4dgVJGVwpup0TRhuz2eY-9c/s1600/wave.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkBavWYq8Um3-9kCE4Hksm4GBiKpmSKDi6myhHWbCS1rV-aLRVuYcv_zJ3HSS7FbIMQBfPG1ORyFAhpl89_ABrPcYNkFNWZEqeK9DXEeSIagyyaYL45BoY4dgVJGVwpup0TRhuz2eY-9c/s200/wave.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>But as he</b> waded into the water to examine the worst damage, He writes: "Fortunately a little brush had been accidentally thrown to the windward side of one of the piers, which became covered with sand, and preserved this pier from the fate of the others." There he found the key to his problem. "Profiting by this discovery every crib subsequently put down was placed on a thick bed of brush, extending several feet to the windward of it."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b> JUDGE Wilkeson's</b> faithfulness to the underlying principle of the undertaking, economy; is indicated in the following paragraph of the record: "Neither clerk, nor other assistant, not even a carpenter to layout the work, was employed for the first two months, to aid the superintendent, who, besides directing all the labor, making contracts, receiving materials, etc., labored in the water with the men, as much exposed as themselves, and conformed to the rules prescribed to them of commencing work at daylight and continuing until dark, allowing half an hour for breakfast and an hour for dinner. Besides the labors of the day, he was often detained until late at night, waiting the arrival of boats, to measure their loads of stone, and to see them delivered in the pier, as without this vigilance some of the boatmen would unload their stone into the lake, which was easier than to deposit it in the pier."</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Heck, "I could do this blindfolded." </b><br />
<b>A Blind horse and a cannon begin work on </b><br />
<b>Buffalo's Harbor</b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b> THE improvised</b> pile driver was pressed into use. It took 100 strokes of the old Army mortar to drive each pile to the desired depth. As the work progressed out into the lake a platform was built for the blind horse which furnished the motive power for the pile driver. The horse plodded round and round on the wooden planks; a few feet above the surface of the lake. Two months after the work got under way, Wilkeson hired a carpenter at $1 a day to build the timbering of the piers above the lake surface. By autumn the pier extended almost 800 feet into the lake and Wilkeson's crews were sinking cribs at a depth of 7 1/2 feet. As the pier-construction proceeded, and the deeper water was reached, "the cost of the work alarmingly increased." It was decided "to suspend operations for that year." Possibly they hoped to gather additional funds during the winter months. But if the future of the harbor was uncertain, in matters of money and of use, the builders had had the satisfaction of seeing that the cribs could make a harbor.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b> ON SEPT. 7, 1820</b>, the still incomplete project underwent it first test. The timber work was finished but the pier was only partly filled with stone. That afternoon two small vessels came under the lee of the pier and made fast. The captains went ashore to conduct some business. As evening approached, clouds piled in threatening banks in the sky. The wind rose suddenly. A storm was definitely in the making. Fearful that, if the storm came, the two vessels might carry away the part of the pier to which they were fastened. Wilkeson sought out the two captains and asked them to move the ships. But he was too late. While they were talking the gale broke. The wind drove spray like buckshot. The water seethed, waves, broke with a roar against the pier. To move the ships now was impossible, unless they were simply to be cast loose and allowed to run on shore. Despite the fact their vessels could be damaged seriously in the process, the two captains agreed to do-this if it appeared the pier would collapse.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b> THE ships rose </b>and fell in the pounding waves, crashing against the pier as the water bore down an them, pulling with tremendous weight at their lines as they rolled away. In the blur of wind and water, Wilkeson waited for the storm to pass. Then he saw for the first time how well the challenge of the elements had been met. Neither the pier nor the ships, were damaged. The next day the work of filling the pier with stone was resumed. The pier, which at this time extended 50 rods into the lake, was in a few days filled with stone, and the operations upon it suspended for the season."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>NOW</b> another problem had to be met. The pier was only part of the harbor plan. The most difficult part was yet to come. This involved cutting a new straight channel for Buffalo Creek and it also was the most dangerous element in the entire operation. No one knew whether the plan for the new channel would succeed. If it did not, there was no additional money on hand to meet the emergency and the entire harbor project was doomed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b> AT that time,</b> Buffalo Creek entered the lake about 1,000 feet north of its present mouth. For some distance it ran almost parallel to the lake shore behind a bank of sand. The new channel was to be cut across this sand-spit, thus making it possible for ships to sail directly from the lake into the creek without navigating the sharp bends.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Map showing Harbor Pier Built by Wilkeson near bottom of </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Map. Original </span><span style="font-size: small;">route </span><span style="font-size: small;">of </span><span style="font-size: small;">Buffalo Creek at the Foot of </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b> THE plan was</b> to scrape through the sand, dam the stream, form the beginning of a new channel, and hope that spring floods would scour it to sufficient depth. Tools were gathered and a call went out for volunteers. The villagers responded quickly. Work was begun in November. The volunteers walked out over the sandpit, took their places along the route of the desired channel, and started to dig and scrape. But just a few feet below the surface heavy stone and gravel were encountered. The stone was of such size it was doubtful whether the spring freshets would carry it out to the deep water of the lake. If it was not carried far enough, it would serve only to block the channel at another point.It was late in the year. The wind was sharp and there were hints of early snow. The new problem, could not be solved in time. The scraping of the channel was suspended before water level was reached. It was something that would have to be resumed in the spring.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But while all</b><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> work had stopped, Wilkeson's worries had not. All during the remainder of the fall and through the winter, Buffalonians watched the pier with anxiety. Its fate was out of their hands and they could only wait. Snow, sleet and hail, the pounding of frigid waters, the razor-edged scraping and tremendous weight of ice, the winter winds which howled across the lake with unremitting fury--if the work should be destroyed by gales, or by ice, "the fund remaining would be insufficient to repair the damage. These were the challenges the pier now had to meet. By spring Buffalo would know the answer.</span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #990000; font-size: large;">End of Part Three: </span></b><br />
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://buffalohistorygazette.blogspot.com/2013/03/samuel-wilkeson-he-built-buffalo-by_19.html" target="_blank">Part Four</a></span><br />
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://buffalohistorygazette.blogspot.com/2013/03/samuel-wilkeson-harbor-builder-part-two.html" target="_blank">Part Two</a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://buffalohistorygazette.blogspot.com/2013/03/samuel-wilkeson-he-built-buffalo-by_13.html" target="_blank">Part One</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://buffalohistorygazette.blogspot.com/2013/03/samuel-wilkeson-he-built-buffalo-by.html" target="_blank">Part Five</a></span></div>
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Jerry M Malloyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653949516092546466noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9035576220169986933.post-47567309020135171992013-03-14T16:15:00.001-04:002023-10-05T20:15:59.057-04:00Samuel Wilkeson, Harbor Builder, Part Two<br />
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<i>The Walk-In-The-Water.....built in Black Rock, spurred Buffalo ambitions. The small group of citizens who overcame tremendous physical and economic obstacles to construct Buffalo's first harbor laid the foundations for this city's future greatness....Without them, Buffalo would have remained just another frontier village. </i></h4>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>THE PLAN</b> to Make the Village of Buffalo a great harbor city had its origins not only in the development of the Erie Canal but in a bitter commercial rivalry with the Village of Black Rock. The rivalry had existed almost from the time the two villages were founded. When Joseph Ellicott was commissioned by the Holland Land Company to lay out a village near Buffalo Creek, he saw at once that Black Rock had more natural advantages than Buffalo. Fearful that his work would be undone, Ellicott wrote in 1802 to Paul Busti, general agent of the company, urging that the lands at Buffalo be opened for sale immediately. Black Rock clearly "was equally or more advantageous for a town than Buffalo," he wrote, and Buffalo's opportunity might be lost if the land sales were delayed.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Main Street Buffalo 1825</span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>The Holland Land Co.</b> purchase did not extend to Black Rock and Ellicott could not carry his work that far. There is no doubt that, if he could, he would have laid out the Village of New Amsterdam, as he intended to call the community, near Tonawanda Creek instead of Buffalo Creek. Ellicott realized immediately Black-Rock had a natural harbor while the mouth of Buffalo Harbor was blocked by a sand bar which prevented all vessels but canoes from entering. This sand bar was for many years a tombstone on Buffalo's hopes. In dry weather it could be walked across. Even when rain was frequent, the water rarely rose higher than a man's waist.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b> IN BLACK ROCK</b> there were forces which made the rivalry more intense. Peter B. Porter and his brother, Augustus, were making strenuous efforts to monopolize Black Rock's harbor facilities. Long before Buffalo could dream of such a venture, the Porter brothers were busy with shipbuilding and shipping. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">But Busti</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> heeded Ellicott's plea and Buffalo began to grow. Still, there was no portent of the village's future in those early days. The eyes of early Buffalonians were turned more to the earth beneath their feet than to the water at their doorstep. It was natural this should be. The land around Buffalo was fair. From Lake Erie to the Genesee, pine grew in the ridges and hemlock in the valleys. Upon the plain, mile after mile, stood an unbroken stand of maple, oak and elm.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Village of Black Rock</span></b></td></tr>
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<b>But along Buffalo</b> and <span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Tonawanda Creeks, the land was swampy. In summer, thick swarms of mosquitos and flies rose from the water's edge. Just before the swamp, near the banks of the stream where the beginnings of Buffalo were to be made, were thick groves of basswoods. The prehistoric lake beach, of which the Terrace is now a part, was a stretch of treeless bluff overlooking the lake. Below the lake beach, along the easterly border of the Niagara River, was a succession of sand dunes. This was not a country to which harbor builders came. In spring it was the scent of bursting buds that carried on the wind, not the smells of water and ships. In October, the smell of wood smoke hung in the air, not the whirling of trade winds. In winter, part of the lake was frozen. There was no way to leave. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b> Black Rock,</b> proud of its reputation as a shipping center, busy and prosperous as a result of its role in the salt trade, which was the main commodity of commerce on the lakes at that time, shrugged off Buffalo's protestations of equality. It watched, almost with condescension, the reconstruction of the village the British had burned.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>While Buffalo struggled</b> for sheer survival, Black Rock made plans for its future. But the idea of the Erie Canal grew. And with it the conviction of Buffalo's citizens that the western terminus of the canal must be located in Buffalo. This was to be the Phoenix springing from the ashes of burned Buffalo. Black Rock was a shrewd and resourceful opponent. Its men were working as vigorously as Buffalo's to gain the great prize of the canal. Letters were dispatched, wherever there were men to be influenced or policies to be decided, lobbyists for both sides were hard at work. In 1817 construction on the first portion of the canal got under way near Rome. It was expected that 10 years would elapse before the project was completed. But Black Rock didn't wait. Just one year after the first canal excavation was begun, Black Rock took a mighty step in its campaign to become the western terminus of the canal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>A group of</b> New York businessmen were persuaded to finance the building at Black Rock of the first steamer to be put afloat on the Great Lakes. It was a major effort and on the day the ship was launched in August of 1818, there was a civic celebration in Black Rock. The steamship was called the Walk-In-The-Water, not only because of its sailing characteristics but in honor of a neighboring Wyandotte chief. It was built along the general lines of Robert Fulton's Clermont and used sails as well as steam. But instead of closing out Buffalo's claim as the logical terminus of the canal, the launching of the Walk-In-The-Water was fuel for the flames of Buffalo's ambition to overcome its old rival.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b> Despite its steam</b> boilers and sails; the Walk-In-The-Water could not breast the rapid current of the Niagara. The vessel was ready for use about the middle of August. Again and again it poured all its power into an attempt to steam upriver into the lake. Each time it fell back, its engines too weak to force the passage. After several days of this unavailing effort, the owners of the vessel swallowed their chagrin and asked Capt. Sheldon Thompson of Black Rock for the loan of his celebrated "Horn Breeze," the ox teams which dragged sailing vessels against the current until they reached the relatively calmer waters of the lake.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>On Aug. 23,</b> the final effort was made. The "Horn Breeze" was attached by cable to the ship and a pounding head of steam was built up in the vessel's boilers. The stokers flung wood into the fireplaces, the drivers cracked their bullwhips, the oxen strained against the line, and to the cheers of spectators and shouting of drivers and crew, the vessel finally moved upstream. Thus, with the aid of one of the most ancient motive powers, the age of the newest motive power was inaugurated on the lakes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <b>BUT THE EXPERIENCE </b>of the Walk-In-The-Water proved that if vessels were to use this end of the lake with regularity, a harbor would have to be built in Buffalo. Only thus would the time-consuming and expensive method of hauling the ships against the Niagara current be overcome. Samuel Wilkeson, a man who saw this city, at perhaps, its most degrading time in our history, had, along with three other resolute Buffalonians, recognized that Buffalo's fate, lie in its getting a harbor. A good harbor, would most certainly bring the termination of the Erie Canal to Buffalo.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #990000;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">End of Part Two</span></b></span><br />
<b style="color: #990000;"><a href="http://buffalohistorygazette.blogspot.com/2013/03/samuel-wilkeson-he-built-buffalo-by_16.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Part Three</span></a></b><br />
<b style="color: #990000;"><a href="http://buffalohistorygazette.blogspot.com/2013/03/samuel-wilkeson-he-built-buffalo-by_19.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Part Four</span></a></b></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://buffalohistorygazette.blogspot.com/2013/03/samuel-wilkeson-he-built-buffalo-by_13.html" target="_blank">Part One</a></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://buffalohistorygazette.blogspot.com/2013/03/samuel-wilkeson-he-built-buffalo-by.html" target="_blank">Part Five</a></b></span><br />
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Jerry M Malloyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653949516092546466noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9035576220169986933.post-4314325142340233122013-03-13T06:55:00.000-04:002017-03-31T19:56:47.443-04:00Samuel Wilkeson, He Built Buffalo, by Building It's Harbor<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In it’s pioneer days Buffalo was a Village without natural advantages or economic prospects. Then a harbor was built and it became the key-stone upon which the Village grew to greatness, becoming a City in 1832, and one of the largest ports in the world 75 years later. The building of that harbor by Samuel Wilkeson and a small group of citizens, is a story of heroic vision and sacrifice unmatched in the later annals of the city. This is the first in a several part series telling that story.</span></i></span></h3>
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">BEGINNING OF BUFFALO's HARBOR </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica";"> </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The war which had swept over the Niagara frontier, had impoverished the inhabitants of the little place that has since grown into the City of the Lakes. Their property had been destroyed—they were embarrassed by debts contracted in rebuilding their houses which had been burned by the enemy; they were without capital to prosecute to advantage mechanical or mercantile employments; without a harbor, or any means of participating in the lake trade, and were suffering, with the country at large, all the evils of a de-ranged currency. In the midst of these accumulated embarrassments, the construction of the Erie Canal was begun, and promised help. However distant might be the time of its completion, Buffalo was to be its terminating point, and when the canal was completed, our village would become a city. But no craft larger than a canoe could enter Buffalo Creek. All forwarding business was done at Black Rock, and the three or four small vessels that were owned in Buffalo, received and discharged their cargoes at that place.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sailing vessels at the time, unless of very light draft, had to lie a half a mile or more off port, or drop down below the Black Rock Rapids to find anchorage.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">The Earliest Picture of Buffalo Known - View of Fort Erie <br />From Buffalo Creek - 1811, Drawn by E. Walsh 49th <br />British Regiment</span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica";"> </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>A harbor was</b> then indispensably necessary at the terminus of the canal and unless one could be constructed at Buffalo before the western section of the canal was located, it might terminate at Black Rock. This was the more to be apprehended, as an opinion prevailed, that harbors could not be made on the lakes, at the mouths of the rivers. But a harbor we were resolved to have.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b>The great project</b> upon which the Village of Buffalo was staking its future had lain dormant for years. The delay was costly. With each passing day the initial upsurge of enthusiasm for the project had receded a little more. Times were hard. Buffalo was impoverished. The grim hand of economic misfortune laid itself with cold finality upon the zeal for civic improvement. One by one, seven of the nine men who had signed a petition for a $12,000 loan from the State to build the harbor, withdrew their support. All that had been done in Buffalo in the seven years since the British had put the village to the torch had accomplished little more than sheer survival. The rebuilding had been carried on steadily, but it was a grueling process and required much sacrifice. The British had been thorough. When they departed, there remained standing in the black and smoldering ruins only two stone buildings, a blacksmith shop, the jail and a frame dwelling owned by Mrs. St. John.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Black Rock in 1825</span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b> Two years later</b> as many buildings as had been destroyed were rebuilt. Now, in 1820, there even were a few new structures. Sam Wilkeson had built a fine house. Charles Townsend and George Coit had built a store in which they were running a drug business and, at the same time, were venturing into shipping affairs. Others who had arrived since the first villagers straggled back to survey the embers of their homes and properties also were adding to the reconstruction. But, for the most part, the village struggled merely to stay on its feet. </span></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b>It was little</b> wonder, then, despite the first great wave of enthusiasm, that seven of the nine men had withdrawn as sponsors for the $12,000 loan. The money was intended to finance the building of a harbor in Buffalo. If the harbor could he built, there was a strong possibility De Witt Clinton and the Erie Canal commissioners could be persuaded to make Buffalo the Western terminus of the canal. Otherwise, The Village of Black Rock, three miles distant, aggressive, more prosperous, with more natural advantages than Buffalo, was destined to secure the great prize. If it did, Buffalo would never be more than a frontier village, a tiny settlement which the mainstream of history had bypassed! </span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Judge Samuel Wilkeson</span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b>These were the stakes</b> and they were tremendous. But there was doubt that the project ever could be executed. Tough-minded men in the State Legislature had laid down stern conditions for the loan. It was to run for 12 years and was to be secured by twice its amount in personal pledges of money or property. If the harbor was not built, the security was forfeit. If the work was carried to successful completion, the State could accept or reject it. Should the harbor be rejected, no reimbursement was to be made. The builders could recompense themselves by charging tolls for the use of the port. It was a take-it-or-leave-it proposition. Buffalo took it. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> <b>With nine men</b> behind the loan it seemed a simple matter to raise the $24,000 security. But with seven withdrawn, the whole project was a lost dream. Still, a few did not give up. Charles Townsend remained stead-fast and so did Oliver Forward. But their resources were too slim to make up the $24,000 mortgage. A third party </span>was needed. Someone with the same bold vision, the same spirit or daring, the same tenacity of purpose. There was only one man in the village to whom they could turn. Sam Wilkeson. Wilkeson had not been among the original nine sponsors for the loan but he understood the need for harbor development. He agreed to help back the loan. With each of the three men pledging $8,000 in personal property as security, the loan was secured. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Joseph Ellicott - Surveyor for the <br />Holland Land Company</b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b>That had been</b> a year ago and still nothing had been done. Just having the money did not solve the problem. And with each passing day their risk grew greater. Black Rock was lobbying vigorously for the canal and seemed almost a certain winner. In Buffalo itself there was doubt and opposition. So eminent a Villager as Joseph Ellicott was against them. He brusquely refused to lend the only pile driver in the area for the work. The three harbor builders were not only without a plan and men to execute it, but without even the most necessary tools. Ellicott's refusal to co-operate hurt. They decided to go over his head. Together with George Coit, Towsend’s partner, the three men wrote to Paul Busti, general agent of the Holland Land Co., asking his support for the work.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b>The letter came</b> directly to the point. Since the loan had been granted the year before, a great deal of political manipulation had taken place and the entire problem of where the canal was to be located was still open to question. The four men were frank. They admitted under present circumstances it seemed more reasonable to suppose the canal would terminate at Tonawanda Creek, not Buffalo Creek. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">If it did, the harbor planned at Buffalo would be useless to the state and to the men who built it "as the business of the place would be removed to the vicinity of Grand island." </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But, the four men continued, not withstanding all this they intended to proceed with their plan for the building of a pier if the Holland Land Co. would back them. And would Mr. Busti, please, tell Joe Ellicott to stop guarding the pile driver as if it were made of gold and allow them to borrow it so they could get on with the work.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilsiKq-bDN1E0C0w9oVsVwdW9iEH3Z8hDgDb5Bmn5n4mzz46RrnU-aT7XwndIqO6DNfLqK9Ji9Ow_WsSoNjYX6Ul02UXEGLhrbnWbGo8yGLHDb2Ptby9rO9cgZcz167I20TDq7jvPE0EM/s1600/paul_busti.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilsiKq-bDN1E0C0w9oVsVwdW9iEH3Z8hDgDb5Bmn5n4mzz46RrnU-aT7XwndIqO6DNfLqK9Ji9Ow_WsSoNjYX6Ul02UXEGLhrbnWbGo8yGLHDb2Ptby9rO9cgZcz167I20TDq7jvPE0EM/s1600/paul_busti.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b>It was a month</b> later, in May, 1820, that Busti replied from Philadelphia. He was polite but uncooperative. He could not place the Holland Land Co. behind their scheme, he wrote, because experience had shown that public works carried out by private individuals or companies did not have the same assurance of being completed as those undertaken by the Federal or State Government. He even turned them down on the pile driver, claiming he had no authority over it, "Mr. Ellicott is the master to do with the pile driver as he sees fit," Busti said. But, he added, "I believe him to be too reasonable as to deny you the use of it on suitable terms."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b>So that was that,</b> and they were on their own, Joe Ellicott glowered when they approached him again on the pile driver, he was not so reasonable a man as Busti assumed. He would not, lend it and he would not rent it. They decided to build their own pile driver. The rigging was not too hard to construct, but they had no hammer. Finally, a good substitute found. Wilkeson located an old Army mortar which had been used in the war but which had lost one of its trunnions. They broke off the other trunnion and bored two holes in the end of the mortar, a staple by which to hoist it. It worked excellently and had a driving weight of 2,000 pound. The machinery to lift the hammer was simple and cheap. A blind horse was attached to a line and raised the hammer simply by walking in a circle. Now they had both the money and the pile driver. There was only one way to find out what could be accomplished with both. That was to get on with the job.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnWScsyM9kieQq-5qPKVX2FmK_ugTD16sulpd_8m4dZC925MHT4yp6dgXNEI2edlmfe_1m0zt9o6aBe26qn_Evn4mc6OMPad2YLFDwcTPWKcrpj2m5vJWKgHBP65Q9FdAQbTnShE6usVU/s1600/BuffaloHarborIdentified.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnWScsyM9kieQq-5qPKVX2FmK_ugTD16sulpd_8m4dZC925MHT4yp6dgXNEI2edlmfe_1m0zt9o6aBe26qn_Evn4mc6OMPad2YLFDwcTPWKcrpj2m5vJWKgHBP65Q9FdAQbTnShE6usVU/s400/BuffaloHarborIdentified.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>A construction</b> superintendent who boasted of harbor building experience was brought to Buffalo at $50 per month. His start was an expensive one. Flint stone for piers was purchased at $5 per cord. Four hundred hemlock piles, 20 to 26 feet long, were ordered at a cost of 31 cents each. Within a few week's, $1,000 of the precious $12,000 was spent and still no actual construction was under way.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b>At this rate,</b> it was easy to see the loan would never carry the project through. Again something had to he done. Wilkeson, Townsend and Forward did it. They fired the superintendent and decided to carry on the work themselves. But Townsend was ill, almost an invalid. Forward knew nothing of harbor work. Neither did Wilkeson. Yet it was Wilkeson to whom the others turned. It was an all or nothing gamble and they knew it. Their personal fortunes and the ultimate destiny of the village they believed in was at stake. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Judge Samuel Wilkeson</b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b> But Wilkeson</b> had a business which consumed all his time. He had a family. He could not afford to ignore either.</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Wilkeson had never seen a harbor, and was engaged in business that required his un-remitted attention. But rather than the effort should be abandoned, he finally consented to undertake the superintendence. Thus it was that the morning after his final talk with Townsend and Forward, Sam Wilkeson appeared at the site of the proposed harbor at daybreak </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">to mark out a spot for the erection of a shanty on the beach between the creek and the lake </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">so that the men who would work on the harbor project would not have to leave the site. He</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> hired a few laborers, gave the necessary orders for lumber, cooking utensils and provisions. The boarding house and sleeping room were completed that same day. </span></div>
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Without suitable tools, without boats, teams or scows, and neither the plan of the work, nor it's precise location settled, THE HARBOR WORK WAS COMMENCED. </h3>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-size: x-large;"><b>End of Part One </b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #990000;"><b><a href="http://buffalohistorygazette.blogspot.com/2013/03/samuel-wilkeson-harbor-builder-part-two.html" target="_blank">PART TWO</a></b></span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><b><a href="http://buffalohistorygazette.blogspot.com/2013/03/samuel-wilkeson-he-built-buffalo-by_16.html" target="_blank">PART THREE</a></b></span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><b><a href="http://buffalohistorygazette.blogspot.com/2013/03/samuel-wilkeson-he-built-buffalo-by_19.html" target="_blank">PART FOUR</a></b></span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><b><a href="http://buffalohistorygazette.blogspot.com/2013/03/samuel-wilkeson-he-built-buffalo-by.html" target="_blank">PART FIVE</a></b></span><br />
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<a href="http://www.zazzle.com/t_shirt_buffalo_ny_grain_elevator-235904439288768210" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">Main Street Buffalo Store</span></b></a></div>
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Jerry M Malloyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653949516092546466noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9035576220169986933.post-26596298520373609982013-02-18T02:17:00.000-05:002019-01-08T18:03:31.984-05:001825 - A Memorable Year for Buffalo<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The year 1825</b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> was one of the most memorable of Buffalo's early years. In it occurred notable events, and many evidences that the future of Buffalo was bright. "Since the close of the war, no such eventful twelve-month period had ever passed over the county of Erie." </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A State census was taken in June, 1825, and showed the population of Erie county then to be 24,316. The village of Buffalo represented 2,412 of that total. How important one of the great events of that year was to Buffalo, is seen in the fact that during the next five years the village quadrupled itself in population. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">First, was the</b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> trial of the three Thayers, accused of the murder of John Love on December 15, 1824, near the hamlet of North Boston, Erie county. John Love, a Scotchman, bachelor, and of some means but of roving disposition, was wont to spend part of the winter in the home of the three Thayer brothers-Nelson, Israel, Jr., and Isaac, young men ranging from twenty-three to nineteen years. They were in debt to Love, who had returned from a summer of work on the lake with considerable cash. They murdered him. </span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi15avA1O81d2_mRaA_jkcZ9djH7MeYsrSYn8t6hp4ZgMY-yuNOrJrsIZdlMQEgCH7rX-3ptbvLY8REsMid2_ko22ZYhJ7Br3hDl3quPofQTSP0_S1dSrR3mqIfFRkkOqHaIvnH5JxEn30/s1600/BuffaloHarbor2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi15avA1O81d2_mRaA_jkcZ9djH7MeYsrSYn8t6hp4ZgMY-yuNOrJrsIZdlMQEgCH7rX-3ptbvLY8REsMid2_ko22ZYhJ7Br3hDl3quPofQTSP0_S1dSrR3mqIfFRkkOqHaIvnH5JxEn30/s640/BuffaloHarbor2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">View of Buffalo From the Light House</span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b> In the latter</b> part of February, two of the brothers were arrested, the third son and also the father then passed under arrest, and all were subsequently tried in Buffalo. The sons eventually confessed; and in due time, on June 7, 1825, were hanged on Niagara Square, Buffalo, "in the presence of the largest throng of people ever, assembled in the city at that time." The father was released on the morning of the execution. <i>It was one of the noted cases of that decade, discussed far and wide throughout the United States, and the execution drew to Buffalo from 20,000 to 30,000 spectators, a greater throng than there were residents in Erie county!</i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM5bxLGLMdVKgqb0QsY54YhjiuKww7pqmcaIjAJd0bJnn-UpW2qHh4-ykMJYj9b3Dpq7-E7FU2OI2KSVF13VixzD_aJfywd98TJMUDWQSBhKhsst0CFL9WiDLHPaOu_y4iVchT6QSDP14/s1600/WeddingOfTheWaters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM5bxLGLMdVKgqb0QsY54YhjiuKww7pqmcaIjAJd0bJnn-UpW2qHh4-ykMJYj9b3Dpq7-E7FU2OI2KSVF13VixzD_aJfywd98TJMUDWQSBhKhsst0CFL9WiDLHPaOu_y4iVchT6QSDP14/s400/WeddingOfTheWaters.jpg" width="400" /></span></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> <b>The opening</b> of the Erie canal and the visit of Governor Clinton to Buffalo occurred on October 25, 1825. It was a great occasion for Buffalo. </span> Early on the morning of the 26th, the Village of Buffalo was thronged with people from a great range of the surrounding country, who had assembled to witness the departure of the first boat. To guard against the disappointment that might have arisen from accident retarding the work beyond the specified time, arrangements were made for the firing of a grand salute, to be commenced at Buffalo at a given hour and continued to New-York by guns stationed at suitable points along the whole distance. The cannon used were those with which Commodore Perry won the victory of Lake Erie, and by way of a compliment to Lafayette, the chief gunner was a lieutenant who had belonged to the army of Napoleon.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b>At about</b> 9 o'clock a procession was formed in front of the Courthouse, in which the various societies of mechanics appeared, the whole preceded by the Buffalo Band and Capt. Rathburn's company of riflemen. The procession moved through the street to the head of the canal, where the boat Seneca Chief, elegantly fitted out, was in waiting. Here the Governor and Lieut. Governor of the State, the New York delegation, and the various committees from different villages, including that of Buffalo, were received on board. Several addresses were made in the open air, and then, everything being in readiness, the signal was given, and the discharge of a thirty-two pounder from the brow of the Terrace announced that the boats were under way. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eagle Tavern Tavern and Other Buildings, Main Street - 1825</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b>There were</b> four boats in all. The Seneca Chief of Buffalo led off in fine style, drawn by four grey horses, fancifully caparisoned, and was followed by the Superior, next to which came the Commodore Perry, a freight boat, and the rear was brought up by the Buffalo of Erie. The whole moved from the dock under a discharge of small arms from the rifle company, with music by the band and loud and reiterated cheers from the throng on shore. The salute of artillery was continued along from gun to gun across the state, in rapid succession, and in eighty minutes came back an answer from Sandy Hook - the quickest telegraphing that had been known up to that time. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b>A public</b> dinner succeeded, and the festivities of the day were closed by a splendid ball at the Eagle Tavern, "where beauty, vieing conspicuously with elegance and wit, contributed to the enlivening enjoyment of the scene." </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">The Marquis de La Fayette</span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>General Lafayette</b> visited Buffalo on June 4, 1825, coming on the steamboat "Superior." He was met by a guard of honor consisting of Captain Vosburgh's cavalry, and Captain Rathbun's Frontier Guard. </span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">At Buffalo as well as elsewhere in the nation, he received "an outburst of affection praise and veneration. The village band, two detachments of militia and a committee on arrangements met him at dockside to escort him to the Eagle Tavern. The spacious three story brick structure, located on the west side of Main Street near Court, was renowned as the finest hotel in the western part of the state. An elegant platform had been constructed in front of the hotel and it was here that village officials formally welcomed the newly-arrived traveler. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Seneca Chief Red Jacket was there <br />to greet Lafayette.</b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b> Present among</b> the dignitaries were Village President Oliver Forward and his arch-rival from Black Rock, General Peter B. Porter. Political animosities had been set aside for the occasion. A former congressman and a hero of the War of 1812, Porter participated in Buffalo's ceremonies because he was a leading figure in business and society on the Niagara Frontier and had considerable influence at Albany and Washington. Forward opened the formalities by recalling Lafayette's voluntary sacrifices in support of liberty and asking him to accept "the humble tribute of our respect, in conjunction with what has been and will continue to be proffered, not only by every citizen of the American nation, but by every friend of liberty and of mankind." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b>The venerable</b> Frenchman acknowledged the welcome by requesting village officials to convey "the tribute of my grateful respect to the citizens of Buffalo." At the behest of the Buffalo arrangements committee, General Porter then presented him to the people and a public reception followed. Among those who shook Lafayette's hand was the great Seneca Indian chief Red Jacket whom he had last met forty years before. A civic dinner was held the same evening as was a gala ball where the beautiful and charming Letitia Grayson Porter, member of the influential Breckenridge clan of Kentucky, joined her husband at the head of the reception line to introduce the Marquis to the guests. The next morning at six o'clock, Lafayette's party departed for Black Rock.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b>It was in I825</b>, it is stated, that the original Dutch names of streets in "New Amsterdam," or Buffalo, were changed. Main street as far as Church was originally called Willink Avenue, while above Church it was Van Staphorst Avenue; Niagara Street was Schimmelpenninck Avenue; Erie Street was Vollenhoven Avenue; Court street was Cazenove Avenue; Church street was Stadnitski Avenue; and Genesee street was Busti Avenue. The Terrace above Erie Street was called Busti Terrace, and below it Cazenove Terrace. Then many of the Indian street-names were changed, Oneida Street becoming Ellicott; Onondaga becoming Washington; Cayuga becoming Pearl; Tuscarora becoming Franklin; Mississuaga becoming Morgan. Delaware; Huron, Mohawk, Eagle, Swan, and Seneca Streets were so named originally, but Exchange was once called Crow street. It seems, however, that the buildings in streets were not designated by number for some years after street names were changed</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Major Mordecai M. Noah</b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"> <b>On September</b> 2nd 1825, </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Major Mordecai M. Noah was in Buffalo to dedicate the cornerstone that was to mark a place on Grand Island as a Refuge for the Jews of the world, to be called "Ararat'. Being that not enough boats could be secured to transport the great throngs of spectators to Grand Island for the dedication, the ceremony was held in St. Paul's Episcopol Church, with the Rev. Addison Searle, presiding. Festivities opened Sept. 2nd, "at dawn of day a salute was fired in front of the court house, and from the Terrace facing the lake. At eleven o'clock a parade moved down Main Street from the Court House to St. Paul's with city officials, bands and members of the Masonic order in line." Center of all eyes was Noah himself, a gentleman of forty, proudly erect of carriage, florid of face, keen of eye, sandy-haired who strode just ahead of the rear guard of Royal Arch Masons and Knights Templar. Over his black costume, majestically austere, were thrown rich judicial robes of crimson silk, trimmed with the purity of ermine. From his neck depended a medal of gold glistening from high embossments." The major conducted the ceremony with all the solemnity benefitting the occasion. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Cornerstone for the City of ARARAT</span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b>"On arriving at</b> the church door, the troops opened to the right and left and the procession entered the aisles, the band playing the Grand March from Judas Maccabeus... On the communion-table lay the cornerstone. "On the cornerstone lay the silver cups with wine, corn and oil. "The cornerstone, was consecrated during the ceremony in both Hebrew and Episcopal rights. Mr. Noah rose and pronounced a discourse, or rather delivered a speech, announcing the re-organization of the Jewish government, and going through a detailed Proclamation of many points of intense interest... He declared the Jewish nation reestablished under the protection of the laws of the United States. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b>Meanwhile hundreds</b> of people lined Niagara's river bank, from Tonawanda down to Buffalo, hoping to catch a glimpse of the colorful ceremonial, which they thought was to be held on Grand Island. Many of them came up in carriages in time to hear the Inaugural speech. After the ceremony, the procession returned to the Lodge, and the Masonic brethren and the Military repaired to the Eagle Tavern and partook of refreshments. The church was filled with ladies, and the whole ceremony was impressive and unique. A grand salute of 24 guns was fired by the Artillery, and the band played a number of patriotic airs. A day or two later, everyone, including Noah, had left Buffalo and nothing further happened regarding the establishment of the Jewish City of Ararat. (See <a href="https://www.buffalohistorygazette.net/2011/05/noah-grand-island-refuge-for-his-people.html" target="_blank">"Noah's Grand Island"</a>)</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnWScsyM9kieQq-5qPKVX2FmK_ugTD16sulpd_8m4dZC925MHT4yp6dgXNEI2edlmfe_1m0zt9o6aBe26qn_Evn4mc6OMPad2YLFDwcTPWKcrpj2m5vJWKgHBP65Q9FdAQbTnShE6usVU/s1600/BuffaloHarborIdentified.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnWScsyM9kieQq-5qPKVX2FmK_ugTD16sulpd_8m4dZC925MHT4yp6dgXNEI2edlmfe_1m0zt9o6aBe26qn_Evn4mc6OMPad2YLFDwcTPWKcrpj2m5vJWKgHBP65Q9FdAQbTnShE6usVU/s640/BuffaloHarborIdentified.jpg" width="640" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"> <b>Buffalo in 1825</b> was a place of between 400 and 500 buildings and </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">among the inhabitants were: Four clergymen, seventeen attorneys, nine physicians, also three printers, two bookbinders, four goldsmiths, three tin and coppersmiths, seven blacksmiths, two cabinet makers, three wheelwrights and coach builders, two chair makers, one cooper, three hatters, two tanners, five boot and shoe makers, two painters, four tailors, one tobacco manufacturer. These were all master-tradesmen, some of them employers of many men. For instance, the five boot and shoe makers employed thirty-five men, and the seven blacksmiths seventeen others.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"> <b>In addition</b>, there were fifty one carpenters and joiners, nineteen masons and stone cutters, three butchers and one brush maker. Industrially, Buffalo was even then, it would seem, giving evidence of its destiny. There were a far greater number of retail establishments than one would imagine would be, or could be, maintained in a village of 2,400. For example, there were twenty-six dry-goods stores and thirty-six groceries, numbers which seem out of all proportion to the size of the place. There was evidently much outside trade; and possibly some of the shopkeepers were looking forward with great optimism to the future, the waterway from the East being now open. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE96e2bJqUklevhFZDJfysqmIGYq43QnZGufwVyv57pQoFUqfwYYYCQ4jy9-Zq8GItPYY75vy-MLT0IKzYF1I4rYFuIpvfqJ2mq5Z7D8pdUgQqSgqmoPHbUjOQBbHYsLfDVB8H6gTjFWw/s1600/gazette.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE96e2bJqUklevhFZDJfysqmIGYq43QnZGufwVyv57pQoFUqfwYYYCQ4jy9-Zq8GItPYY75vy-MLT0IKzYF1I4rYFuIpvfqJ2mq5Z7D8pdUgQqSgqmoPHbUjOQBbHYsLfDVB8H6gTjFWw/s640/gazette.jpg" width="640" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b>The village</b> could boast of the possession of four newspapers, three printing houses, eleven places of public entertainment, a brewery, a reading room, a public library, a Masonic hall, a theatre, three church edifices, "a young ladies' school, a young gentleman's academy, and four common schools, and several other public buildings, including a brick court house, a very handsome designed building," which however "remains unfinished." The writer adds: "The buildings in the village are principally of wood, and not very compact, with the exception of Willink avenue; this street is filled up and is the most business part of the town.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> <b><i>So 1825 was a busy year for Buffalo, recovering </i></b></span><b><i>remarkably<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> from it's ashes just 12 years </span></i></b><b><i>earlier, already becoming a significant town in young, western America, with the best yet to come.</i></b></span><br />
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Jerry M Malloyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653949516092546466noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9035576220169986933.post-38066055371764363402013-01-25T00:09:00.000-05:002016-08-22T00:55:28.623-04:00Buffalo's Central High School and The Free School System<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Central High School 65 Court St. between Franklin and Niagara Square</span></td></tr>
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Buffalo was the first city in the state(1838) to establish a free public school system. The Central High School (above) fought to save itself from taxpayers trying to have it abolished.</h3>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b>The original</b> High School on this site was actually in the Burt House formally occupied by General David Burt. The homestead on Niagara Square, was the handsomest house in the town at that time, surrounded by extensive grounds and lofty elms. It was exstensively remodeled for school purposes around 1853. The remodeling had, however, entailed far greater expenditure of City funds than had been estimated. So much so that many thought the city had made "a great mistake in thus establishing the Central." However, no open or organized hostility showed itself, but a treacherous under-current of hostility ran for many years. Imagination among some of the more gloomy taxpayers "ran riot"; "a free college or university was ominously prophesied".</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b> In 1858</b> a rebellion of students occurred, the "Courier" classing the rebellious students as "those instigated by outsiders." The "Express", was then of the opinion that "the school is a disgrace and should be closed. " However an examination of Central School Pupils made in 1859 by the principal of the Buffalo Female Academy gave "ample testimony that the teaching was thorough and systematic." Once on the subject of "economy", a resolution was offered in the Council "that the school be abolished when the contracts of it's teachers should expire," and a petition "numerously signed and praying for the abolishment of the school was presented to the Council." From January to December of 1859, there was un-remitting effort to accomplish the utter ruin of the school. But the school was saved thanks, to some extent, to Superintendent Warren, who drafted a bill, which became law in 1861, placing the school under the supervision of the Regents of the University of the State. A financial advantage was thus gained, and perhaps that is all the opposition sought.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b>In 1870</b> a wing was added fronting on Franklin St. In 1885 the original Burt Building was torn down and a new brick, three story structure was built adjoining the Franklin Street wing. It served for the Central High School until 1914, when a new Hutchinson-Central High School was built on Elmwood Ave. It was the only High School serving Buffalo until 1897 when Fosdick-Masten opened. It was torn down in 1927 for the Mahoney State Office Building.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Bird's eye view of downtown showing the Central High School, </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">in the right center of the picture.</span></div>
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<b>Be sure to visit <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Buffalo-History-Gazette/167465306655582" target="_blank">The Buffalo History Gazette's Face Book Page</a></b></h3>
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Jerry M Malloyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653949516092546466noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9035576220169986933.post-12046204767713478272012-08-07T15:11:00.000-04:002019-08-15T11:11:08.416-04:00First Erie County Fair Held in Buffalo Courthouse<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The Ladies were a bit reluctant to attend the first Erie County Fair in 1841, so officials announced: <b>"Constables will be on grounds to preserve order and the visits of the ladies will be welcomed to the exhibition."
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Old Courthouse Where The First Annual Erie County Fair </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">was Held in 1841 at Lafayette Square. Cleared Away 1876</span></td></tr>
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<b>Thus reassured,</b> the ladies tied on there bonnets, and sallied forth. They even attended the plowing matches, one of the main attractions of early fairs, and it was reported "more than 2,000 people gathered in carriages and on horseback. A great many ladies, lured by delicious weather and the interest of the occasion, graced the attendance, adding interest and brilliancy to the scene." Even in those days the ladies did not like to miss any of the fun.</div>
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<b>The Erie</b> County Agricultural Society had been formed in 1819, Dr. Cyranius Chapin, President. The first large gathering of livestock in the Village of Buffalo was at the first county fair, held in Buffalo in the autumn of<b> </b>1820 before Erie County was divided from Niagara County in 1821. The gathering may have been the occasion of some transactions in livestock. This was at Main St. at the Terrace. Dr. Cyrenius Chapin caused twenty head of cattle and sheep to be driven in from one of his five farms; and another farmer, "rather against his will," selected forty of his best sheep and sent them in to the fair, but it did not become an annual event till 1841. On Wednesday, October 6, 1841 a fair was held in Buffalo's old Courthouse. This was a white pillared building that stood on the present site of the Buffalo and Erie County Public Library. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Dr. Ebenezer Johnson's Estate on Delaware Ave. where </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Fair was Held in 1842</span></td></tr>
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<b> Exhibits of</b> needlework, fruit, flowers and vegetables were arranged on tables in the grand jury rooms, and behind the courthouse were the livestock and farm machinery. Among the premiums awarded were a first of $10 to Stephen Osborn of Clarence for the finest stallion; Lewis F. Allen of Black Rock received $6 for the best full-blooded bull.</div>
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<b>The following</b> year the fair was held on Tuesday October 11, on the grounds of the Dr. Ebenezer Johnson Estate on Delaware Ave. at Johnson Park. Premiums up to $400 were awarded and a few of them were; Best Stallion, Philip Enders, "Belport", Amherst $6; Best Durham Bull -- Cha's Sweetapple, Colden, $6; sheep--Best fine wooled buck--Levi Pratt, Aurora, $3; swine--Best boar royal-V.Gould, Hamburg, $5.</div>
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<b>That year,</b> premium crop Indian Corn yielded 57 bushels to the acre: oats, 67 bushels, and barley, 42 bushels. There was also a fine display of Honey, apples, squashes, fowls, flowers--and the cheeses entered by H. Arnold and Truman Austin of Hamburg "were truly magnificent." Fine Patchwork quilts, rag rugs and samplers were among the household articles exhibited. One enterprising husband and wife team exhibited silk of homemade manufacture. Matthew Conklin of Clarence won $3 for the best silk cocoons and $2 for the best 20 skeins of silk. His wife was awarded a diploma for "one pair of superior silk stockings." </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM2RVBzqkT7EYopEB_jMqhiF87QJ8HD_947Vb-qy7EDRbO1Xwb5NwUFkhughmeqIHATqq06P9FGA5siAVtg-uk5LKI4ORoGoKTIJUj_4YhPspDziXjoizdz7afwT7AmmB-B6ygMITzF8E/s1600/Plowing+with+Horse+and+Ox.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM2RVBzqkT7EYopEB_jMqhiF87QJ8HD_947Vb-qy7EDRbO1Xwb5NwUFkhughmeqIHATqq06P9FGA5siAVtg-uk5LKI4ORoGoKTIJUj_4YhPspDziXjoizdz7afwT7AmmB-B6ygMITzF8E/s400/Plowing+with+Horse+and+Ox.jpg" width="400" /></a> <b>Crowds at</b> the early fairs, really turned out to watch the plowing matches and marvel at the powerful horses pulling with all their might. First the ground was measured off and staked. Each contestant was allotted a quarter of an acre, and the time allowed was one hour and fifteen minutes. In 1842, a beautifully matched chestnut team, belonging to Peter Curtiss of Buffalo, worked the hardest, plowed the deepest and finished in 51 minutes, winning the first premium of $10. A team belonging to J. Frick finished second in 54 minutes, but did not plow so deep. There was only one ox team entered, a team of young red oxen belonging to Henry Johnson of Lancaster. There was no competition, but the oxen plowed the ground in 47 minutes, so were awarded second premium of $7. <br />
<b> In 1873 it was </b>announced in the paper,<b> </b>the annual Exhibition and Fair of the Erie County Agricultural Society will be held on the grounds of the Society at Hamburgh on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday Commencing September 30th. A liberal and comprehensive premium list is offered which cannot fail to draw out a good exhibition. The grounds of the Society which are among the most beautiful and picturesque in the State, have been put in capital order. The half mile track will be in first rate condition. In addition to the liberal Society premiums for speed, a special purse of $100 is offered by C.J. Hamlin, Esq., to be trotted for by horses six years old or under, raised in the county, and whose sires are kept in the county for stock purposes.<br />
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<b>A refreshment</b> saloon will be kept on the grounds during the fair by <i>Daniel Prindle. </i>The opening of the Buffalo & Jamestown Railroad has added greatly to the facilities for reaching the grounds. Special trains will be run during each day of the fair.<br />
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<b>By 1850 </b>however, it was<b> </b>thought wise to find a country location for the fair, so that year it was held in Aurora. In 1851, it was in Lancaster, in 1852 in East Hamburg, 1853 in Cold Spring, 1854 in Aurora again. In 1855 the first admission fee, 12 1/2 cents, was charged. Then for nine years the fair was held near the Indian Church in West Seneca, and an omnibus left Exchange street every half hour for the fair grounds. In 1866 and 1867 the location was changed to Springville. In 1868 the site was moved to Hamburg where it has been held ever since.<br />
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Jerry M Malloyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653949516092546466noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9035576220169986933.post-33470851311589306182012-02-12T11:30:00.000-05:002016-07-19T10:18:18.259-04:00Dennis Gallagher "Any Style, Any Place, Anybody"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Rassle Champ of 1888 Hasn't Yielded His Throne </span></span></span></b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"> It took 89 years</span></span></b></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"> to pin Dennis Gallagher. Dinny Gallagher, the First Ward Irishman, was a magic name in the 1880's and '90's throughout the world. He was famous in Paris. He was the toast of London. He was a 165 pound Buffalo Irishman who met every heavyweight wrestling challenger in the world. And won...</span></b></span></span></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"> January 15, 1936 & September 10, 1951</span></b></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Dennis Gallagher Demonstrating a Reversible <br />
Half-Nelson Hold</span></b></td></tr>
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<b>Dennis Gallagher</b> would like to defend the world's wrestling championship he won 48 years ago and never relinquished. The Gallagher spirit is willing but the Gallagher body is weak. For Dennis is 71 now and although he looks a score years younger and still carries himself with all the poise of a true athlete, the verve has left his muscles. In fact when you look back at the record of the Buffalo champion, you wonder that he is still included in our list of active citizens. </div>
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<b>Thirty three winters</b> and summers he spent in the wrestling game when there was little taint of suspicion associated with the grapplers, when it was at it's peak and tough. He gave away tremendous odds in weight for at his best Dennis Gallagher tipped the scales at not more than 175 pounds. He met all comers and took the short end of the decision very seldom.</div>
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<b>Grayed, with</b> bushy eyebrows, springy step, and enough physical power left to hold his own in some parts, Gallagher entertains few briefs for the present crop of rasslers. "The very best of today would not even be third raters back in the nineties," said Gallagher. "Frank Gotch who was of a later day than I, could lick three or four of the better men today in the same night. And there were some pretty fair wrestlers before Gotch's time. Today, they don't wrestle as we knew wrestling. They act. If I were 40 years, yes, even 30 years younger, I would like to climb under the ropes with some of our modern wrestlers. But.....well, just but. Why waste time in day dreaming."<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> <b>DENNIS GALLAGHER, BUFFALO'S FAMOUS WRESTLER.</b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> This splendidly developed young Buffalonian is now famed the country over. He was born </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> in this city in 1864. When a mere youngster he and his brother used to wrestle together. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> Dennis's first public wrestling was in 1881. During the last six years he has met the most </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> famous wrestlers—Duncan Ross, Mervine Thompson, Dufur, Flagg, Andre, Christol,</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> Martin and William Muldoon, the Jap, Sorakichi, Quigley and others. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> He has never lost a match, excels in mixed wrestling, and stands ready today to wrestle</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> a mixed match with any man in the world. He weighs 165 pounds, and with his compact, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> clean muscles without one ounce of superfluous weight, is a picture of health and physical</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> development. (1880s newspaper)</span></div>
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<b> Dennis, and if</b> you were Irish you'll pronounce it Dinnis, won the world's three style wrestling title from William Muldoon in Turn Verein Hall, Sacramento, in 1888. He added two styles in order to meet the challenges of foreign invaders, established himself as the king and never vacated his throne. The five methods were catch-as-catch-can, Graeco Roman, side hold and harness, collar and elbow and back hold. Dennis never lost his title because no man could ever beat him three out out of the five styles.<br />
<b> He opened a</b> concert hall where Kleinhan's Building now stands but sold out to Mike Eagan to tour Europe. Eagan later joined with Mike Shea. When the Academy of Music was in it's heyday in Buffalo He was invited to play the part of "Charles the Wrestler" in "As You Like It," a play starring Margeret Mather. It was the only "fixed" match he ever participated in, that with Orlando. <br />
<b> Dinny Gallagher</b>, the First Ward Irishman, was a magic name in the 1880's and '90's throughout the world. He was famous in Paris. He was the toast of London. He was a 165 pound Irishman who met every heavyweight wrestling challenger in the world. And won. That was in the days when they wrestled. Dennis won every wrestling title the world knows. He won the catch-as-catch-can crown, Graeco Roman, side holds or Yankee style, square holds and back holds titles. "Any style, any place, anybody," Dinny used to say. I wrestled 'em all, not this play acting stuff. "These actors today are Hippodromers, in my time I could have taken three or four of them the same night." Dinny wasn't boasting, 62 years ago he won two titles in two nights at Niagara Falls.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Dinny" Gallagher</span></b></td></tr>
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<b> Dennis weighed</b> 162 then. The first night he threw Georges LaGrange, the French champion, in 15 seconds. The following night he wrestled the 300 pound strongman, Sebastian Miller, a German champion, and won. This took Dinny 15 minutes. "He was pretty hard to reach around," he explained a bit apologetically. For all this he got $50. Today, men like Gorgeous George, the Great Togo and Lord Blears, average $50,000 to $70,000 a year. Dinny's fame was at it's peak when he wrestled for the Pelican Club, a noblemen's organization in London, and for the jockey Club of Paris, in the famous Folies Bergere. There he defeated Antoni Perri, the Terrible Greek, and got $1,000. That was his biggest purse.<br />
<b>At the sunset</b> of his career in 1898, he lost a non title match with Ismaiel Yousouf, the Terrible Turk. Yousouf packed 380 pounds on his six foot seven inch frame, and caught Gallagher at a time when he hadn't fully recovered from an attack of blood poisoning. Dinny operated a tavern at Main and Clinton Streets. People jammed it just to get a look at him. Mothers named there sons after him. Young men followed him, imitated his style of clothes.<br />
<b>It took 89 years</b> to pin Dennis Gallagher who passed away on September 7, 1951. "When I go," he used to say, "I want a quiet funeral, nothing elaborate." On September 11, he had a quiet funeral, nothing elaborate. Then they took Old Dinny to quiet, tree shrouded Holy Cross Cemetery, where he took his <i>first</i>...and final pin fall.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">THE NATIONAL POLICE GAZETTE: NY<br />OCTOBER 20 1883</span></b></td></tr>
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Jerry M Malloyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653949516092546466noreply@blogger.com0