Robert Eugene Foster: Hero's Memory Lives On

This was the first article that I wrote as Deputy Historian. Written back in 2006, I recently discovered this article on a hard drive while I was looking for something else. This article originally appeared in the Union-Sun & Journal in late 2006.

In Biloxi, Mississippi, a Lockport man is remembered for his duty to his country during the Korean and Vietnam Wars.  “Foster Manor” barracks at Keesler Air Force Base was named as a lasting honor to Robert Eugene Foster.

William Warren: Wounded Warrior

Another in our Civil War series from the Union-Sun & Journal, this one details William Warren, a Lockport attorney. Originally appeared in the USJ in 2011.

Sunlight glinted off the cold steel of bayonets lining the edge of the woods.   Boys and men, dressed in blue wool, shifted nervously as they stared across the harvested wheat field toward rebel positions nestled in the forest covering the sides of Cedar Mountain.  The rush of cannonballs passing overhead, exploding all around added to the cacophony of the screams of wounded and dying men.  The plight of the Union Army under the continuous onslaught of Confederate artillery was so dire that a grave decision was made to help stave off rising casualties.

Book Review: The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August

This post originally appeared on East Niagara Post at:

http://www.eastniagarapost.com/2014/11/its-novel-idea-first-fifteen-lives-of.html

Imagine if when you died, you were immediately reborn to live that life all over again and you remembered everything from your previous life or lives.  What would you do differently? Would you be able to amass a fortune with all that you had learned before?  What if there were others like you in the world? Would they help you or hinder you? Those are some of the questions raised in the novel "The First Fifteen Lives of Henry August" by Claire North.

This novel is highly entertaining and very original. I was engaged from the first page, all the way to the last, and was kept guessing as to where the plot twists would take me. This was one of the books that I couldn’t put down as soon as I opened the cover.

Right from the first paragraph I was hooked. As old Henry August is dying in his bed, he is visited by a strange little girl who gives him a message to carry to his next life — the world is ending. Now it falls to Henry to try to stop this predicament in his next few lives.

What immediately comes to mind is the movie, “Groundhog Day,” starring Bill Murray. This novel could be considered in that vein except Henry August isn’t re-living a single day. He relives his entire life over and over. He is able to use his knowledge to steer humanity away from the precipice. Of course, he fails a couple times, gets bored, and gets shanghaied by another of his kind. In the end, his lives are defined by how he tackles the issue of how to curtail the end of the world.

One of the best parts of the novel isn't only the plot. The writing style of Claire North keeps the reader engaged, anxious to turn the pages to see if August is triumphant in his quest. North weaves several tales into one long epic. Each of August’s lives rings with its own emotion. Some lives read with desperation as our hero feels opportunity slipping away. Others read with pleasure as he once again meets up with the love of his life. The reader lives with August through his highs and lows.

Each of Henry August’s lives are different enough to keep the reader wondering what will happen next in each life, but similar enough that you know that it is the same person dealing with the same situations in different ways. Through flashbacks of different lives, the reader is able to assemble the various pieces of the puzzle and guess as to the solution to save the world. It is not without pitfalls, but it is ingeniously fun and engaging.

I should note that Claire North is a pseudonym. The mysteriousness of the author makes the story all that more intriguing. After reading this single work, I hope that the Claire North persona writes more novels as well done as this. Likewise, if he or she has written other novels under his or her own name, I hope that we can someday soon discover these other works. I highly recommend "The First Fifteen Lives of Henry August "if you are looking for some great leisure reading.

Two Presidents, Two Confederates, and a Union Surgeon

This article originally appeared in the Union-Sun & Journal as part of the 150th anniversary of the Civil War observation. I enjoyed writing these articles. Maybe I should write a series about the 100th anniversary of the US involvement in World War I?

Beneath a towering, nearly 200-year old oak tree among the rolling hills of Cold Springs Cemetery is the unmarked grave of Robert Crooke Wood.   The son-in-law of Zachary Taylor, brother-in-law of Jefferson Davis and father of two well-known Confederate officers, Wood has been left to lie in relative obscurity.

According to his enlistment papers, Robert Wood was born in 1799 in Newport, R.I., and educated at Columbia College for Medical Sciences.  While at Fort Crawford, Wisconsin, possibly studying under Dr. William Beaumont (recently transferred from Fort Niagara), Wood met Anne Mackall Taylor, daughter of Colonel Zachary Taylor, commander of the fort.  They married on September 20, 1829 at the fort, and Wood enlisted as a surgeon on July 4, 1836 with a commission in the Medical Staff Regiment Regular Army. 

While stationed at Fort Crawford, the family regularly moved around the territory as dictated by surgical needs.  During this time, a young soldier, Jefferson Davis, a soldier under Taylor’s command, married Taylor’s younger daughter, Sarah making Wood and Davis brothers-in-law.  Taylor opposed the match because of the harshness of outpost life.  Therefore, Davis resigned from the army to marry Sarah.  Unfortunately, three months after their marriage both newlyweds contracted malaria and Sarah died.

Robert Wood’s eldest son, John Taylor Wood, was born at Fort Snelling, Minnesota and is credited as the first white birth in Minnesota.  A second son, Robert Crooke, Jr., was born two years later at the same fort.  In 1837, both Taylor and Wood were ordered to Fort Brooke, Florida to take on the Seminoles in the Second Seminole War. 

Next in 1839, Wood is ordered to Buffalo where he became Post Surgeon at the Buffalo Barracks which were constructed that October to house troops due to “unease” with Canada after the Patriot’s War.  Wood remained at this posting until 1846, when he was called away to serve in the Mexican-American War.  Acting as the now General Taylor’s personal physician during the war and into his short Presidency, Wood obviously had a close relationship with him.

According to the Niagara County Deeds Index, Robert C. Wood purchased property in Lower Lockport in 1849.  Coincidentally, President Taylor was stricken ill while on a trip from Erie, Pennsylvania to Niagara Falls and was attended by Dr. Wood at either the Eagle House in Lockport or the Eagle Tavern in Niagara Falls.

With the outbreak of the Civil War, Robert Crooke Wood was promoted to a full Colonel on June 14, 1862, and was named Assistant Surgeon General.  He was in charge of Medical Affairs in the Armies of the West and Southwest headquartered in St. Louis and in Louisville.  Near the end of the war, Wood was brevetted Brigadier General for his “faithful and meritorious services during the war.”

While Robert Crooke Wood was serving in the Union Army, his sons joined the Southern forces and his brother-in-law, Jefferson Davis became President of the Confederacy.  Robert Crooke Jr., was appointed to Braxton Bragg’s staff and served as a Lieutenant Colonel in the Mississippi Cavalry while John Taylor became a lieutenant in the Confederate Navy.

John Taylor Wood had entered the Naval Academy in June 1847, graduating second in his class in 1853.  In 1855 he was promoted to lieutenant, but tendered his resignation April 21, 1861 due to reservations about the growing conflict between the northern and southern states.  The Navy, however, refused his resignation and instead dismissed him from the service effective from the 2^nd of April.  This “slap in the face” by the Navy swung him from his relative neutrality into enlisting in the Confederate Navy in Louisiana on October 4, 1861, where he had a distinguished career.

In January 1862, John was assigned as a lieutenant to the CSS Virginia, which was being reconstructed from the USS Merrimack at Norfolk, VA.  He commanded the ship’s aft gun during the famous battle with the USS Monitor off Hampton Roads and again two months later when the ships collided in the Battle of Drewry’s Bluff.  Later he was appointed by Davis as his aide-de-camp with the rank of colonel, giving John simultaneously similar rank in both the Army and the Navy.  He remained close with his uncle being present at Davis’ capture by Union troops in May 1865.

Robert Crooke Wood, well liked, respected and honored with rank, served his country with distinction.  His two sons were likewise dedicated to the Southern Cause.  Robert CrookeWood was stricken on Easter Sunday, 1869, in New York City and died.  His remains were returned to Lockport for burial at Cold Springs Cemetery.  Was a man from such a prominent family buried without a marker?   Was the gigantic oak tree in the family plot his only memorial, still living on a century and a half after his death?  

Go West, Young Man

This article originally appeared in the Buffalo News as part of a series of articles I wrote through the Niagara County Historians Office. Stay tuned, there will be new historical articles and photos coming out on East Niagara Post. 

The chugging of the train sounded like a heart beat; the cadence changing as the engine reduced speed.  Larimore, Dakota Territories, was not an official railroad stop so the train slowed to allow a group of men to jump off.  This new band of intrepid homesteaders was from Niagara County, NY, eager to try their luck on the western prairies.

Willard T. Ransom, George H. Webb, Hiram McNeil, E.H. Baker and Artemus Comstock had arrived in the area which became Grand Forks County, North Dakota, a community mostly settled by families from Niagara County.  On June 21, 1882, at the store of Ransom & Baker, it was voted to name the new settlement “Niagara.” 

Surprisingly, only 75 years earlier, Western New York had been the frontier.  British occupation of Fort Niagara until 1796 discouraged early settlement by Americans.  Niagara County, formed in 1808, also included modern Erie County.  Slowly, the area developed small, thriving communities, but growth was stunted by the ravages of the War of 1812.  At the time of its burning in December 1813, the village of Lewiston consisted of twelve houses, some warehouses and a Post Office.  Buffalo, the capital of Niagara County, boasted about 100 homes, stores, courthouse and a jail.

With the completion of the famed Erie Canal in 1825, settlers began to arrive in large numbers with cities like Lockport popping up overnight.  For some, feeling squeezed by this burgeoning population and bitten by the itch to discover what lay beyond the horizon, the lure proved to be too great and the westward trek continued.  In the late 1830s and early 1840s, many men and families pulled up stakes and headed west.  In 1838, Joel McCollum, a Lockport pioneer, bought huge tracts of land in Michigan and was instrumental in organizing the Village of Hillsdale.  Today, Hillsdale County boasts of the Townships of Cambria, Ransom, Somerset, and Wheatland – in honor of those New York communities left behind.

Still, for some enterprising souls, Michigan was barely far enough to satisfy them.  There was much more land farther west.  In 1880, a group of Niagara County men traveled to the Dakota Territories to homestead. 

In a series of letters, Artemus W. Comstock detailed the frontier life as he and his family moved into the Dakotas.  In February 1882, he and several others filed claims on 320 acres at Grand Forks for land nearby.  The weather there was harsh.  “When we first got to Grand Forks the railroad beyond was blocked with snow.  We stayed at hotel.  Early in morning, heard of train heading for Larimore, 30 miles west.”  When they arrived at Larimore, they still had 15 miles to trek through the snow and cold to their stakes.

Of the 320 acres they received, 160 acres had to be lived on and farmed.  The other 160 acres, by terms of the Homestead Act were to be forested.  Most of the time they planted wheat on their plots and they assisted other settlers when harvest time arrived.

While the winds whipped snow across the open plains dropping temperatures as much as 30 below zero, the settlers sought refuge in sod houses.  These structures were more prominent on the prairie than log cabins due to the lack of wood for building materials.  The thick roots of prairie grass were conducive to holding the sod together in the construction of a house.  Cut squares of sod were piled together to form walls with roofs of sod, straw, or in some cases timbers.  These homes were inexpensive and well insulated, but vulnerable to snow, rain and snakes.

According to Comstock’s letter, dated April 23, 1882: “Where our new house is located it is very dry and pleasant.  We can see many new houses in different directions, about a mile apart.  Our claim is quite level and I am pleased with most of it.  I don’t think there is more than a wagon-load of stone on it.  We can see prairie fires in most every direction.  At night they look beautiful.  Buffalo bones are scattered all over this country and well-beaten paths are in every direction, where they have traveled over, indicating it was a favorite resort.”

Some of the settlers, however, were disillusioned.  The Lockport Daily Journal reported on Comstock’s homesteading party merely a month after they left New York.  “Just four weeks ago a number of gentlemen of this city left for Dakota.  The visions of a mild sunny climate with milk and honey were prominent in their minds….A glance at the country and several weeks’ experience of a Dakota winter have tended to dispel the romantic picture and they determined to lose no time in returning to civilization.”

Artemus Comstock worked his claim diligently in Dakota Territory, but he died unexpectedly on April 27, 1882. Going out to plough his fields, he did not return at lunchtime as expected.  His daughter, Addie, went out to look for him and found him dead from a heart attack.  Artemus was a member of the clan who settled in Cambria at the corner of Comstock and Saunders Settlement Road in 1822 and was a man of some influence.  Before Westward fever hit, Comstock was a member of the New York State Assembly for Niagara County.  Upon his death, his body was returned to his native Cambria, NY for burial.

In 1898, the Niagara County Board of Supervisors, precursor to the current County Legislature, had a committee report on lands in Dakota owned by the county.  “Your committee on the Dakota lands owned by Niagara County report that upon investigation we find that the lands are mortgaged and are situated in one of the poorest sections of North Dakota and are unimproved and a source of no revenue to the county, and that taxes and interest are accumulating yearly.”

The government here in New York held a stake on 480 acres of land in Niagara, North Dakota after it was turned over by J.J. Arnold as “partial reimbursement for his peculations [embezzlement] from the county funds.” John Jacob Arnold, a manager of Merchants National Bank and Niagara County Treasurer, was convicted of embezzling funds from the bank where he worked and also from County funds while serving as Treasurer.  Arnold was sentenced to seven years and four months at Auburn State Prison, although it appears he served less than two years and moved to Ohio and Alaska after his release. 

From a population of nearly 400 in 1900, by 1910, the population dropped 60% to 157 people.  Although they showed a slight rebound in the 1920s and 1930s, the small North Dakota community has steadily shrunken.  The 2010 census shows only 53 people residing in Niagara. 

The names of Ransom and Baker, like the store where the settlement was named, live on today as streets.  Both Ransom Avenue and Baker Avenue serve as the major thoroughfares in and out of town. How many of those 53 people can trace their history back to a small county in Western New York, where the spirit of adventure propelled them West?  

Book Review: Hollow World

In my ongoing effort to get all my book reviews reposted, here is the latest throwback review. This article originally appeared on East Niagara Post at:

http://www.eastniagarapost.com/2014/11/its-novel-idea-hollow-world.html

It seems today that in Hollywood and on television that reboots or re-tellings are the newest fad. Occasionally, there's an interesting take on an old favorite, such as the "Tin Man" twist on "Wizard of Oz." More often than not, we get a hackneyed mess that detracts from the original vision, like the Star Trek reboot, or the abominable remake of “Can’t Buy Me Love.” Now it seems that the reboot and revisioning epidemics have spread to books.

H.G. Wells is one of the all-time greatest science fiction writers. Period. He was writing at a time when most of his ideas were only a part of the imagination, and is considered the father of the science fiction genre. His novel, The Time Machine, published first in 1895, is a timeless classic. Holding such a prominent place in the pantheon of SF writers, many newcomers attempt to emulate the master.

"Hollow World" by Michael J Sullivan is a perfect example of that emulation as well as, unfortunately, hackneyed revisionism. The preview on the jacket of the book showed a lot of promise, which is why it came home from the library with me. The beginning of the book even lived up to its publisher’s hype.

Sullivan’s work is a modern re-telling of The Time Machine, complete with it’s own version of Morlock and Eloi. It’s set in modern-day Detroit, where the protagonist, Ellis Rogers, is a middle-aged man in a loveless marriage. Somehow, in his spare time, he has built a time machine in his garage with milk crates and a lawn chair.

The initial character development of Rogers is fantastic. We learn all about his marriage, the loss of a son through suicide, and the unfaithfulness of his wife with his best friend. He hides his terminal diagnosis from his friends and his wife. He is a sad man, looking to escape from the doldrums of his life and start fresh somewhere else. Actually, somewhen else, where a cure for his cancer would likely be available. He sets his machine for 200 years. However, just like in the original, his plans go awry and he ends up much farther in the future.

When he awakes in future Detroit, nothing is recognizable. The city has returned to wilderness with only the iconic clock tower of the Henry Ford Museum remaining. It is here the story takes a turn and begins to suffer. There are still groups of people, exactly like the original story. In this version, the surface dwellers represent the Morlocks while the subterranean people represent the peaceful Elois. 

The first thing Rogers observes is a murder. Among the Hollow Worlders, murder is a complete unknown. All the people living below ground have evolved into sexless beings who are all connected digitally through neural implants. It’s like having Google in your head. With everyone able to know everything you do, crime is virtually non-existent. Rogers is eyed with suspicion as the timing of his arrival and the murder coincided.

It is among the surface-dwellers, people labeled “Darwins” by the Hollow Worlders, that Rogers finds his greatest surprise and challenge. He struggles with the information that is presented to him and must figure out how to balance what he’s learned in his old life with what he’s learned in this new future. The very future of the planet rides on his choices. Simultaneously, he attempts to deal with the fact that he will never see his wife again while processing the fact that he finds himself attracted to one of the Hollow Worlders, an advanced human who is neither male nor female.

As I stated before, the premise of the story was well thought out. The beginning of the story was very well done. The development of Ellis Rogers makes the reader empathize with him as he makes a decision to turn his life upside-down. Unfortunately, Rogers is the only character who gets developed. The Darwins and Hollow Worlders are faint caricatures of the Morlocks and Elois and never evolve.

The biggest positive for the plot is that it moves right along. There are not a lot of extra words to make the scene. The writer’s flow makes it an enjoyable read as far as actually just reading. The rest of the plot falls into predictability just after Rogers finds himself in the future. Sullivan has added enough modernity to Wells’ original to make it more relevant to today’s reader’s but the storyline itself is almost a perfect imitation. While I have no problems with imitation, there’s not enough of the new author in this tale to make it stand alone from Wells’ The Time Machine.

Reading this book, I can tell you that Michael J. Sullivan is a talented writer and I look forward to seeing what he can do with a storyline of his own. His other book reviews have all shown high praises for its fantasy content. I hope the next science fiction work he completes will be an engaging and fun novel. For The Hollow World, it just needed to be more Sullivan and less Wells.

Injured Deer Checks Into Strong ER

A deer that was hit by a car decided to check itself into the Emergency Room at Strong Memorial Hospital in Rochester. The severely injured animal perhaps was hoping that it in under the Affordable Care Act. Due to the extent of its injuries, Animal Control euthanized the animal.

This story has been making its rounds across the internet with many outlets reporting the odd news. Check out the original story from the Democrat & Chronicle:

http://www.democratandchronicle.com/story/news/2015/10/26/injured-deers-ends-up-strong-hospital/74657248/

Parents Do the Darndest Things

Sometimes, as a parent, we do things we wouldn't normally do. We have four daughters which equates to a lot of chaos in our household.  Why would anyone want to add additional chaos to the circus? Yet sometimes, we do just that. We in the Bacon household just added to the chaos. We just got a kitten.

Stella Blue

Stella Blue is a tiny, little, buff kitten gotten from one of Wendy's friend and coworker. There was some back and forth concerning what to name the little feline. We went back and forth with several names. IdaLena and Patience came up with Sugar, changed their minds and decided on Sandy. Wendy liked Felicity. Corliss liked the name, Princess, which we all hated. I jokingly said Pork Chop, as in "Cat -- the Other White Meat." It's only a joke, trust me.

Then I was listening to a Grateful Dead show and "Stella Blue" started playing. The light bulb lit and I made that suggestion. Three out of four girls liked it (Corliss being contrary did not), and Wendy liked it. It took some sweet talking with Corliss, but we eventually got her to come around to the name, Stella Blue.

She slept in the living room with a towel from her first home and a toy that Corliss bought for her from the store. This morning, the girls were saying that Stella was jumping in and out of the box. They were carrying her around the house before school. Before leaving for a massage, I placed the cat in the box and maybe let her sleep a little.

When I got home from the massage, I could hear the cat meowing and saw her running around the living room like she owned the place. Once I walked into the room, Stella decided that she needed to be near me or on me. Currently, as I write this, she is sleeping on my foot. I'm not a huge cat fan, but this little thing is pretty darn cute. And she seems enamored with me. Since I'm the only one home during the day, I guess she's looking for comfort from me.

So, a little added chaos to the house can be intimidating. That was probably my biggest reservation to the whole endeavor. However, we've been thinking of getting another pet after our rabbit, Midnight, died earlier this spring. Having a pet seems to bring out the best in the kids. We give them jobs to do each week, and when we had the rabbit, they were pretty good at his upkeep.

With getting a cat, we were hoping that a little extra responsibility may actually help with them how much they help around the house. It may seem counterproductive, but getting a cat may help with controlling the chaos a little better. The girls can't leave their stuff laying on the floor for Stella to ruin or eat.

Now, I have to make sure she's not underfoot when I'm walking around. She's so tiny, I'd hate to hurt her. She was a little spastic this morning, running in circles and attacking a couch pillow. In the meantime, I have a purring little fur ball sitting on my foot. And that's good.

Book Review: The Book of Joe

Jonathan Tropper has quickly become one of my favorite authors. All his books are very funny and rooted in character development, (which is my favorite part of reading).

This review originally appeared at East Niagara Post at:

http://www.eastniagarapost.com/2014/11/its-novel-idea-book-of-joe.html

Occasionally, I run across an author who I just can’t stop reading. After I am introduced to one of his or her works, I must find everything else he or she has written. They are just that outstanding. That is the case and point with Jonathan Tropper. This review is not of a new release, but I sincerely felt the need to review one of his books.

A couple months ago, I was forwarded an email listing the 14 books I “had” to read before they were made into movies. On that list was "Where I Leave You" by Jonathan Tropper. A movie starring Jason Bateman and Tina Fey, based on this book, came out in September. I read the book in a single day and made a special trip to the Lockport Library to see what else Mr. Tropper had written. I quickly found five other books by the same author, and his second book, "The Book of Joe," went home with me.

The Book of Joe is a fabulous read. This is the story of a man who lived in a small town in Connecticut, much like Lockport, and left it behind when he graduated from high school. Joe Goffman, once he leaves, decides to write the next, great American novel. Like most first novelists, Goffman used many, many aspects of his personal life to write his story. His included several aspects of the lives of his fellow townsfolk, not always in a flattering light. His novel was so successful that it was made into a movie.

Unfortunately, his former neighbors did not appreciate the way Goffman had portrayed them in the book.

Goffman had never returned to his former hometown after leaving. That is, until his father had a stroke and was not expected to live. Fifteen years after leaving Bush Falls in his taillights, Joe Goffman heads back to see his father one last time. Upon arrival, he is not met with a welcome mat, no hometown hero who made it big. Instead, he is greeted with sidelong glances and outright hostility. The first stop in town results with a milkshake poured over his head. Justifiably, most of his old neighbors view him as a pariah.

Aside from dealing with his father’s crisis, Goffman also has to deal with the fact that his father and brother were local basketball heroes in their youth. They were revered while he is reviled. He has to tiptoe through the mine field laid by his own work, now showcased for all time as a blockbuster film, and confront his own anger. Most of the time, this protagonist is also the antagonist – his own worst enemy.

Will he overcome the animosity, or will he scurry back to New York City, ignoring the problems he has created?

With this book, Jonathan Tropper has written a wonderful story that resonates with all people. His characters are rich and well thought out. They are very believable and are faced with decisions we all face every day. Tropper’s novels are not a Utopian story where it all works out in the end. The characters don’t always make the right choices, and sometimes they make just plain bad ones. It’s something we all do and it helps us grow as people. Tropper does this with his characters and it makes the story that much richer.

This novel is outrageously funny. There were times when I was laying bed reading when I chuckled out loud. To me that is the sign of a really well written story. What I really liked, though, was that the ending wasn’t a picture-perfect, fairytale ending. There was still enough doubt left to make it realistic. Though Goffman resolved some of the conflicts in his life, not all were immediately settled. That’s the way it is in real life.

I thoroughly enjoyed The Book of Joe by Jonathan Tropper. I have already been back to the library to collect the next work printed after this one. I hope that Everything Changes lives up to the same expectations. So far, all indications point to yes.

Book Review: I Am Abraham

This review originally appeared on East Niagara Post at:

http://www.eastniagarapost.com/2014/10/its-novel-idea-i-am-abraham.html

"I Am Abraham" by Jerome Charyn is another piece of historical fiction from the Lockport Public Library that I just read. It may be the historian in me, but I really like to read books from this genre, though they need to be well done. Fortunately, this one is.

This book is the life of Abraham Lincoln as told from his point of view. Honest Abe speaks to the reader in a midwestern, folksie style that likely was his actual way of speaking. With his innate compassion, dry wit, and playful anecdotes, Lincoln describes every aspect of his life. While a piece of fiction, Charyn was constricted by the fact that so many books have been written about the life of our 16th President.

Lincoln is presented with a self-deprecating humor and delivers to the reader a unique insight to his life. Was he truly self-conscious about his height, sunken pallor, and clumsiness? The President’s interactions with his various generals, particularly General McClellan, were awkward and often bordered on outright insubordination. While today, Lincoln is nearly universally revered as one of our most popular presidents, in his day, he was as equally vilified as he was revered. It is not much different today with current leaders.

Lincoln’s often strained relationship with his wife, Mary Todd, is explored and shows a man who was devoted to his wife despite all the manners in which she grated on him. While he was an easy going country boy, Mary was a high class woman of the city. Their views of the world were often at odds. However, they both were enamoured with their children. His children were the light of his life. When son Willie died while they were living at the White House, Lincoln’s normal melancholy deepened even further. Chayrn captures the spirit with aplomb. He allows the readers to feel as if he or she  actually knows the man despite 150 years separating them.

Probably the biggest negative, if not the only, is some of the word usage, particularly cuss words. At the beginning of the book, the “F-Word” is used twice. The word was certainly known during the time period of 1830-1840, however, it was very rarely used. It would have been extremely odd for Lincoln to utter such a word. Other words, such as “gol-darned” or “damned” were considered among the harshest words of the age. Likely, the author wanted to convey a sense of frustration that Lincoln was feeling while a Captain during the Black Hawk War. Most of today’s readers would not understand the impact of “gol-darned” as much as they would with the “F-Word.”

All in all, Jerome Charyn delivers a masterful novel that recreates historical moments as if he had actually observed it, while bringing a whole new perspective on one of the most written subjects in American history. I enjoyed the flow with which the narrative was written. It was written as if the reader were holding an actual conversation with Lincoln himself. That makes it all that much more fun to read.

The Guns of Lockport

This article originally appeared in the Buffalo News  2012/13 when I was writing a monthly historical column for the newspaper.

Standing guard over at least a generation of children’s games in the City of Lockport are two artillery pieces. A large, black sprawling gun sitting in Altro Park on Willow Street and a shorter, stubby gun in Ida Fritz Park on West Avenue, captured the imagination of many a youngster who dreamed of being the heroes of the movies.  To the children, the actual provenance of the guns never really mattered, but a certain mystique surrounded the history of these silent sentinels. Where did they come from?  How long have they been there?  Have they actually been fired in battle?

In 1920 Major General Williams, Chief of Ordinance offered the City of Lockport, the two Tonawandas, and the City of Buffalo a 7-inch Mortar, Model 1892 from the arsenal at Watervliet, NY;  a gun, weighing 1700 pounds and used as a coastal defense piece.  Operating through official channels, Williams contacted Congressman S. Wallace Dempsey.  Dempsey, a Hartland native, sent a letter in February of that year, to Lockport Mayor, Ernest Crosby regarding the placing of cannon from the Excess Ordinance Department of the US Army in one of the city parks. 

Gun at Ida Fritz Park

Williams stated that “this mortar was not considered safe for firing and is loaned with the understanding that, should future service demand, it is subject to return to the Government.”  The cannon arrived in Lockport in April of 1920 and was placed in the West Avenue Park (later Ida Fritz Park) near Transit.  Alderman Paul R. Schultz spearheaded a committee to dedicate the new memorial, on June 12, 1920.

Shortly after the acquisition of the land for Outwater Park, city aldermen decided that it would be fitting if the community’s newest park had an artillery piece as well.  The Parks Department had already planted 54 elm trees in the park in memory of the “Lockport boys who made the supreme sacrifice in the world war” [World War I].  In November of 1920, Congressman Dempsey again petitioned the Chief of Ordinance for an additional piece.

Major General C.C. Williams responded with an approval to send a Gatling Gun, Model 1900 to Lockport.  Unfortunately, the Common Council demurred on accepting this gun, feeling it was too small to fit in the broad expanse of Outwater Park.  Perhaps in jest, Williams offered a 49,000 pound, 15-inch Rodman Gun instead.  The Rodman Gun was one of the largest siege guns ever produced.  Responsible with paying freight from Watervliet on that gun, the Common Council politely accepted a smaller, yet still impressive 4.72 inch, 40 caliber gun and carriage from the Coast Defenses of Southern New York.

This piece, with gun and carriage together, weighed over 19,000 pounds.  The gun alone was 16 feet long and weighed 4,650 pounds.  Amid much fanfare, the artillery piece was placed in Outwater Park.

Although the Great War was termed as the “war to end all wars,” the United States and the world once again found itself in conflict with World War II.  As part of the effort on the home front, great scrap drives were organized to assist the government in building new ships, tanks and planes.   On September 3, 1942, the Superintendent of Parks was directed by the Common Council to “dispose of the two cannons in West Avenue and Outwater Parks” for the purpose of turning in all scrap metal for the war effort.  On October 8^th, City Clerk Joseph Hillis reported that he had received $113.94 from Wm. Kugler & Bro., “covering scrap from the two iron cannons.”

With the end of WWII and the declaration of peace, the country moved toward honoring another generation of soldiers, sailors and Marines.  This afforded an opportunity to again place excess ordinance in public spaces around the U.S.  Alderman Harold Altro introduced legislation to “obtain War Equipment for the Parks” in January 1946.  A month later, the Chief of Ordinance responded with the approval of one light tank, one 155mm Howitzer, and one 155mm gun.  The Council accepted all three pieces, first receiving a 25-ton Sherman M-4-A tank on June 7, 1946.  The City was responsible for the crating and shipping costs, which amounted to $141.

This tank was planned to be installed at Outwater Park near the World War I boulder.  When it arrived, its Curtiss-Wright airplane engine had been removed and it still bore the variegated striping of its original camouflage.   Under the supervision of the Parks Superintendent, all loose parts and openings were welded shut to keep the memorial safe from the curiosity of children.  Ultimately, however, the tank was never placed in the park.  In September of 1948, the City Clerk had received a check for $250 from Wm. Kugler & Bro. for scrapping the M-4 tank.

Shortly after the arrival of the tank, the city also received the 155mm howitzer, which was originally destined for placement in Willow Street Park.  However, upon receiving it, the Common Council decided that the larger 155mm long gun, originally slated for West Avenue Park, would better fit in the vast space at Willow Street, and the howitzer was settled in at West Avenue.

The 155mm howitzer is of French origin, model year 1917, produced in 1918, and sold to the United States.  Officially it is known as “Canon de 155 C modèle 1917 Schneider.”  The US purchased many of these guns, sending along the French artillery pieces with the first US regiments in France during World War I.  US armourers eventually produced their own version of the 155mm, although they were not introduced to the American troops until the war was over.  The American version of the French piece had a straight shield rather than the curved shield seen on the Lockport howitzer, and both versions of the weapon were used as the primary American howitzer until the advent of the M1 howitzer in 1942.  The wheels were removed and the base set into concrete at the park.  As with other memorials of this type, the gun was painted black and intended to be a memorial to those men lost during the war.

In Willow Street’s Altro Park stands the 155mm long gun.  Manufactured in 1940 at the Rock Island arsenal, this piece was a copy of the French 155mm, carrying the designation of M1918M1 and was manufactured in 1940. The United States-manufactured guns of this class were used for coastal defense and were typically were mounted on a central pillar with a rail for the trailing arms behind it, allowing the guns to swivel across an arc.  Most of these guns were phased out by 1942 when fixed batteries came into prominent use and were replaced by the 155mm “Long Tom.”  Again upon arrival in Lockport and placement in the park, the rubber wheels were removed. 

During the preparation of this article, another cannon was discovered in the front yard of the armory on Willow Street.  After visiting this piece and consulting with various artillery experts, it has been determined that the cannon is likely a display piece only.  The carriage and barrel are a mismatch and indications are that the barrel is not of military quality.  The absence of a touch-hole would indicate that the cannon was never meant to be fired.  Additionally, the carriage, while similar to one from the Napoleonic period, is made of cast iron rather than wood.  Very likely, the cannon was used as part of a display, possibly the Pan-American Exposition or a similar event.  We were able to discern that it came to Lockport from the Connecticut Street Armory in Buffalo after being displayed at the Niagara Falls Armory until its closure.

While these cannon and the ill-fated tank never saw combat action, they serve as silent reminders of those men and women who have laced up the boots, strapped on a weapon and served our country with distinction.  Our Guns of Lockport have stood as mysterious beacons from the past.  Perhaps knowing their history, we can once again honor them for what they are – memorials to the men and women of the Armed Forces of the United States.

Book Review: The Painted Girls

Here's another throwback to some of my early reviews at East Niagara Post. I assure you, Cathy Marie Buchanan will NOT be at the library at 6:30.

This post originally appeared at:

http://www.eastniagarapost.com/2014/10/its-novel-idea-painted-girls.html

At 6:30 p.m., Cathy Marie Buchanan will be speaking at the Lockport Public Library about her book, "The Painted Girls." My review this week will be this book as sort of a teaser for tonight’s presentation. I have to admit right off that this work was not the normal type of book I would read. However, as Ms. Buchanan is a local author, I always do my best to support. There is a lot of ballet in this book, and while all my daughters have been involved with ballet, I was not familiar with all moves and traditions involved.

"The Painted Girls" is a historical-fiction novel set in Paris 1878-1885. The novel centers around the van Goethem sisters and ballet at the Paris Opera House intertwined with the art of Edgar Degas as well as the criminal lives of Emile Abadie and Michel Knoblach.

The story begins in dark days for the van Goethem family. The patriarch has just passed away, and the mother is spiraling deep into an absinthe stupor while struggling as a laundress to keep her family clothed and housed. The three sisters, Antoinette, Marie and Charlotte are forced to mostly fend for themselves. Antoinette, the oldest, brings in a little more money as an extra at the opera house. Her younger sisters are accepted into the same prestigious school where the hopes are they will earn parts on stage to supplement the household income.

When Antoinette’s outspoken manner starts to alienate her from some of the very people who are able to help her, she falls under the spell of the mysterious Emile Abadie. Marie, initially reluctant to join the dance, finds herself becoming one of the better dancers at the school. She also comes under the eye of Edgar Degas who feels she is his muse for several of his works, including the sculpture, Little Dancer Aged 14. Meanwhile the youngest, Charlotte, disappears into the background of the story to make only sporadic appearances throughout the narrative.

Behind the glamour of the Paris Opera House and our romantic vision of Paris, is the dark reality of that city in the late 19th-century. While people were enamoured with the sparkle and glitter the ballet had to offer, behind the shine was the grime of everyday life. Families struggled to make a living. Some of their options were legitimate enterprises. Too often, the easier path was burglary and prostitution. This extended even to the ballet. For a girl to ascend to the pinnacle of the dance, it took more than sheer talent. Sometimes it took the abonnes, the wealthy male subscribers to the ballet, with their money and favors to push along their favorite girls.

Marie models for Degas to earn some extra money. At the same time, she finds an abonne of her own, in Monsieur Lefebvre. What costs come with this sponsorship and will she be able to fulfill those committments? At the same time, what will Antoinette do for what she thinks is love? Despite the fact that each of the sisters feels they can do it on their own, they slowly come to realize that they, in fact, do need each other.

As I stated at the beginning, this was a challenging book for me. While all four of my children have taken ballet, I did not know most of the ballet terms from the book and spent some time looking up their meanings. That aside, I thought this book was fantastically written. I liked Buchanan’s previous book (The Day the Falls Stood Still) and I liked this one just as much.

Buchanan not only sets the scene of late 19th-century Paris with great aplomb, she builds characters that are deep, believeable and evocative. She takes on the lives of real people and brings them back to life for her readers. Her rich prose gives the reader a 400-page glimpse into the lives of the van Goethem sisters and Edgar Degas to a lesser extent.

Sometimes with writing historical fiction, authors do a disservice to the real people they are reliving. Cathy Marie Buchanan takes the real lives of several people and builds a world around them steeped in history and just enough imagination to keep the reader involved. She makes you wonder what decision each of the girls is going to make and where each will wind up.

This book was well worth the time. I enjoyed the story that was told, and cannot wait to hear Ms. Buchanan speak about her work on Tuesday night. It is always interesting to hear the process an author goes through to bring their ideas to life. I know I will be at the Lockport Library at 6:30. I hope to see some of you there, too.

Book Review: The Wind Is Not a River

This review originally appeared on East Niagara Post at:
http://www.eastniagarapost.com/2014/10/its-novel-idea-wind-is-not-river.html

Here's a throwback to my first book review on Eastniagarapost.com. I can't believe I've been doing this for over a year. My first review was posted on ENP October 14, 2014. 

I would like to start off by saying that I like to read — a lot. I generally read two or three books a week, and it seems like all the librarians at the Lockport Public Library know me on sight. I always head directly to the “New Releases” by the circulation desk to catch the latest and greatest by authors both established and new. I hope to be able to bring a few reviews to you each month on some of these new releases.

I just finished "The Wind is Not a River" by Brian Payton. While this one came out back in January, it took quite awhile for it to become available at the library. Apparently, several other readers also felt it quite worthy to read. I can assure you that it was worth the wait.

This historical-fiction novel is set during World War II in Seattle and Attu Island in the Aleutian chain of Alaska. In a largely forgotten aspect of the war, the Japanese had invaded Attu, making it the only incursion of enemy forces on American soil. At the time, the US Government sheltered the news of this invasion from the general public, instead choosing to focus on the mounting victories in North Africa and Italy. With this obscurity, Payton was given the freedom to weave a tale that, while fiction, also captured the spirit of this turbulent time in our history.

The story centers around dual main characters. John and Helen are a husband and wife who are torn apart by the war waging so close to home. John, a journalist by trade, feels it is his duty to report on the war after his younger brother, Warren is killed in Europe. He volunteers to jump into the front lines of a Japanese invasion of Alaska, although US leaders have forbidden the media to enter or report from the Aleutians. Unfortunately, John’s plane is shot down and only he and one other man survive the crash, stuck behind enemy lines.

Meanwhile, back at home in Seattle, Helen realizes that she and John did not part on the greatest of terms. When she learns that her husband is missing, she leaves behind the comfort of home to join a USO tour, hoping to inch closer to John as well as maybe learn more information about the downed plane. Although she has had no training in song and dance, she finds herself assigned to a troupe heading to Juneau. She discovers very quickly that people are not as genuine as they appear. Her sheltered life has not prepared her for the rest of the world, especially the ways of soldiers away from home and loved ones for so very long.

The story is told through a series of snapshots, rather than a long narrative. Each chapter separates the narratives of John and Helen. As John’s time behind enemy lines hiding from the Japanese grows, his narratives become shorter and more hurried. His story becomes more frantic as the likelihood of discovery grows and the chance of rescue lessens. Meanwhile, Helen’s character grows with her story as she leaves behind all she has ever known and discovers more of the ways of the world.

"The Wind is Not a River" is a fantastic book, well worth the 300 pages. I read it in a single day, eager to find out whether John and Helen ever find each other again (I’m not telling. You’re going to have to read it yourself.) It combines history in a very realistic way with the fictional narrative of two people who represent the struggles felt by every couple in every war. Brian Payton engages the reader with sympathetic characters. These characters make you want to rush to the end to make sure everything turns out okay. Of course, like real life, there are many bumps along the way.

Here’s hoping you enjoy the next book you read!

Beware of Pizza Ovens Falling From the Sky

Is it a bird? Is it an airplane? Is it a UFO?

No. It's a pizza oven that apparently fell off the back of a truck and landed in the street. Amazingly, the authorities were puzzled as to what they were observing. If you look at the pictures, it's pretty easy to figure out what has landed in the streets of Kingston. Obviously, it is a Martian from H.G. Wells' War of the Worlds.

Now where is Tom Cruise when we need him to protect us from the hordes of intergalactic invaders?

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/london-pizza-oven-ufo_5627f905e4b0bce34703dd44?ncid=txtlnkusaolp00000592

Tinker Toys. Greatest Toy Ever?

I had a love affair with Tinker Toys when I was a kid. Well, I guess you could say I still do. I loved creating cityscapes with those toys. When I talk about Tinker Toys, I’m taking about the old wooden ones, not the supersized plastic pieces of crap being sold today.

Our Tinker Toys came from a garage sale. Back in my day, garage sales were the best places to get the best toys. It’s where we found a model train set, a suitcase organ, countless books, and Tinker Toys. These were the days when garage sales were still popular spots for getting great bargains, before eBay ruined it all. Today people think they’re going to make a mint on the junk in their attics or basements. I miss real garage sales.

But this isn’t about garage sales. At least for today it’s not about garage sales. Today is about those really cool, wooden toys. I can’t even start to calculate how many hours I spent building with them. I had skyscrapers, houses, cars, planes, and even people. I built rocket ships and used the upstairs as outer space. I can remember one time that I built a high-rise all the way to the ceiling in grandma’s house, which was one of those tall ceilings like you find in old houses. There’s a picture of it somewhere in the mess of pictures I have in my library.

The best part of Tinker Toys? You were only limited by your imagination. They were like Legos, but just a little bit better. The box we had was full of the wooden rods and spools. My sister and brother also played with them, but I was definitely the most adept and making huge creations.

Some time after we became adults, my grandmother gave the box of Tinker Toys away to a friend’s grandchildren. It was definitely an unpopular decision. We still loved them, and I wanted to show Wendy how awesome these toys were. Although those toys are long gone from our homes, I hope they are still being enjoyed after years of being infused with our memories.

Tinker Toys were invented by Charles H. Pajeau, Robert Pettit, and Gordon Tinker in 1913 or 1914 in Evanston, Illinois. For all you math-letes out there, the differing length sticks were meant to be based upon the Pythagorean progressive right triangle. Hopefully one of my math friends can explain that fully. In order of length, the sticks were orange (1.25 inches), yellow (2.15), blue(3.35), red(5.05) green(7.40), and purple(10.35).

According to their website, Each successively longer rod is (with allowances for the size of the spools) next smaller size times the square root of two; thus any two of the same size will combine with one of the next size up, and three spools, to form an isosceles right triangle (45°–45°–90°).

In 1992, they changed from wooden sticks to plastic ones and also increased the diameter of the sticks. I own some of the new style Tinker Toys, but still prefer the old wooden sets.  I have a couple of small sets in their cardboard containers that I found here and there. I’m always on the lookout for a set of the 1960s version. If you happen to see any around, let me know.

Mysterious Lights on Lake Ontario

When I was 12-15 years old, I used to stay with my grandmother regularly over the summers. She lived in Lyndonville, about five miles from Lake Ontario. Once in awhile, she’d get a call in the evening after dark from a friend who lived along the lake. The lights were on the lake. So, we’d get ready and head out to check out the spectacle.

At the end of Route 63 at Shadigee, there would be a dozen or more cars parked to check out these mysterious lights that appeared to be floating halfway across the water.  For some reason, the lights seemed to be most prevalent during the time period of 1986-1990. We went out several times to see them.

Mirage at Rochester 1871.
Courtesy Department of Rare Books & Special Collections,
University of Rochester Library

What were the lights on the lake? They didn’t look like they were far enough away to be Toronto, but they definitely resembled a cityscape, complete with moving vehicles. Maybe it was some sort of reflection of the city from the clouds? It was a mystery that drew many people to the shores of the great lake.

I used to dream that there was a lost city in the middle of the lake that sunk beneath the waves hundreds if not thousands of year before in an attempt to escape the perils of the world. Every once in awhile, the city would resurface to see how the future was faring in their absence.  After determining that the rest of us still needed more time to mature, they would sink beneath the water again.

So, what is the deal with the lights on the lake? A story from Rochester in 1871 may shed some light.  On a beautiful, sunny day in April, 1871, visitors to Mount Hope Cemetery caught sight of a very unusual phenomenon. When they looked off toward Lake Ontario, they were astounded when they realized they could see the northern shore of Lake Ontario in vivid detail. People could see forests, structures, and Canadian landmarks, easily identifiable despite the intervening distance of 50 miles.

A similar event took place in Buffalo August 18, 1894 when Toronto’s harbor appeared in startling detail. From Scientific American, dated August 25, 1894:

A MIRAGE SEEN AT BUFFALO, NY – The people of Buffalo NY were treated to a remarkable mirage, between ten and eleven o’clock, on the morning of August 16, 1894. It was the city of Toronto with its harbor and small island to the south of the city. Toronto is fifty-six miles from Buffalo, but the church spires could be counted with the greatest ease. The mirage took in the whole breadth of Lake Ontario, Charlotte, the suburbs of Rochester, being recognized as a projection east of Toronto. A side-wheel steamer could be seen traveling in a line from Charlotte to Toronto Bay. Two dark objects were at last found to be the steamers of the New York Central plying between Lewiston and Toronto. A sail-boat was also visible and disappeared suddenly. Slowly the mirage began to fade away, to the disappointment of thousands who crowded the roofs of houses and office buildings. A bank of clouds was the cause of the disappearance of the mirage. A close examination of the map showed the mirage did not cause the slightest distortion, the gradual rise of the city from the water being rendered perfectly. It is estimated that at least 20,000 spectators saw the novel spectacle. This mirage is what is known as that of the third order; that is, the object looms up far above the level and not inverted, as with mirages of the first and second orders, but appearing like a perfect landscape far away in the sky.

Apparently, the phenomenon is known as a Fata Morgana, an unusual form of mirage. It is named after Morgan le Fay, the enchantress from the Arthurian legend. Supposedly, le Fay used her witchcraft to lure sailors to their deaths with castles appearing in mid-air.

A Fata Morgana occurs when rays of light are bent as they “pass through air layers of different temperatures in a steep thermal inversion where an atmospheric duct has formed.” Basically, it’s an optical illusion where the light is bent in such a way that objects far beyond the horizon appear visible and magnified.

While this seems to take some of the mystery away from the lights I saw as a teen, there are still some questions as to the lights on the lake. I only saw this happen at night. Can a Fata Morgana happen at night? I would imagine so. There must have been a series of perfect atmospheric conditions prevalent 1986-1990 that gave us a grand view of Toronto appearing in the middle of the lake.

I still like the idea of an ancient secret civilization nestled snug at the bottom of the 800-ft deep lake. I’m guessing that someday that could be a story I could write. In the meantime, does anyone who lives along the lake still see the lights on the lake or Toronto in vivid detail?