Robert F. Petch

I buried a friend today.  Under penetrating blue skies, sunlight danced on stone as cotton clouds floated on gentle breezes.  A haunting bugle sent to the winds the mesmerizing notes of “Taps” that reached every corner of the little cemetery, as trees still in late summer green swayed in rhythm with the sound.  No “plein air” artist could have captured a more perfect scene.  No photographer could have captured a more perfect light.  There are places the brush and the lens simply cannot go.

“Day is done, gone the sun

From the lakes, from the hills, from the sky.

All is well, safely rest.

God is nigh.”

It was such a fitting finale to a long life, well lived.  My friend was 87.  He was of the “Greatest Generation.”  That generation. He joined the Army in his 18^th year, which by the hand of history and the joining of years, placed him in battle uniform in August of 1943…an 18 year old kid, freshly graduated from high school. 

“Go to sleep, peaceful sleep,

May the soldier or sailor,

God keep.

On the land or the deep,

Safe in sleep.”

Less than one year later, he found himself at the confluence of the greatest war in history, and the largest military invasion the world has ever produced.  His assignment:  Utah Beach, Normandy, France.  His unit’s orders:  to go ashore the night before the actual invasion.  The details of that mission he never shared with me.  But he did share other details, the nature of which would have provided me with a lifetime of nightmares. 

He often said the movie “The Longest Day” was the most accurate, overall rendition of what happened that day...to an 18 yr. old kid, freshly graduated from high school. 

Love, good night, must thou go,

When the day, and the night

Need thee so?

All is well.  Speedeth all

To their rest.”

But he was lucky.  He lived.  And like many of his comrades, he carried that burden with him all his years.  Why did he live, and others not?  It was always about the other guy being more worthy.  I think the opening scenes of “Saving Private Ryan,” where Pvt. Ryan visits Normandy as an older man, best describes what many veterans felt to their bones. 

And somewhere along the way, he kind of adopted me.  I was proud to know him, and honored to eulogize him…an 18 year old kid, freshly graduated from high school.

For this life thus spent, Bob Petch has earned our everlasting gratitude and admiration, for he was one of those incomparable men and women who literally helped save our world.

So, rest easy now soldier.  Your duty is well and faithfully done.  You are dismissed.  Enjoy your eternity.

“Thanks and praise, for our days,

‘Neath the sun,‘neath the stars,

‘Neath the sky,

As we go, this we know,

God is nigh.

William Ward Crossett

Doesn’t that name just grab you? Strong, powerful, rhythmic, it is a man’s name.  It is a name made for a movie marquee, or for the protagonist in a best selling novel.  I do love that name.

And alas, it sits on the other side of my family.  My grandfather, William Ward Jr. had two sons, first born William Ward III, and Donald, my father.  So close, oh so very close.

Now, all this means that the very first William Ward, the “Sr.” of the line, was my great grandfather.   Much of what I’ve learned about him can be reduced to the usual cold statistics that accompany one through life, the numbers that define and confine us.

Born - 1855 - moved to Syracuse in 1862 - married at 23 in 1879 - 6 children (2 sons-4 daughters).  Worked for a stationer before opening his own store in 1893.  This he operated for 15 years.  Was an Alderman for the city of Syracuse from 1899 to 1908, serving the 13^th Ward (Bellevue section of Syracuse).  Then went to work for the city as Supt. of construction in the Bureau of Water (as was his father, William L – see previous post).  Died - 1923, in the performance of his duties. 

Thankfully, I was able to learn more about this unique man I am proud to have as an ancestor. Obituaries are made mostly of the aforementioned statistics, but his life was lived so that others were inclined to write more about him.

James (brother) and William Ward (on right) c. 1880

From newspaper accounts at the time of his passing, was written:

 “Will Crossett’s sudden death is a real loss to the community.  Father and son, the Crossetts were the men who actually built the great system of waterworks which is the city’s pride, and their name – perpetuated now in the beautiful street that passes their early home on Reservoir Hill – is inseparably connected with it.  They both served Syracuse well.”

And this:

“Will Crossett was a gentle, kindly, likeable man, who made friends without trying.  Thousands will recall him as proprietor of a little stationer’s shop on West Washington Street, as alderman of the Thirteenth Ward and virile force in the Common Council, or as a capable, courteous official in the Bureau of Water.  He died, as he probably would have wished to do, in harness, stricken while working – without rest or sleep – on two breaks that threatened the conduit system he cared for so well.  The city will miss him, as public servant and citizen, as keenly as will the neighbors in the Bellevue section he worked so hard and successfully to build up.”

William Ward c. 1890

 And finally:

“Will Crossett enjoyed a large circle of friends and acquaintances in all sections of the city. At city hall, his reputation for quiet efficiency and loyalty to duty was exceeded by that of no person in the city’s employ in the last decade.  Always kindly and courteous, he was the type of executive that subordinates strive hardest to please, and as superintendent of construction, he handled an enormous amount of work without the least sign of friction or trouble of any kind.”

Kind words indeed, honorably earned, they brought my great grandfather to life for me, revealing as no statistic could, his character and personality.  Lord knows there’s no one living today that could do that.

There was a conversation “enhancer”  that used to be popular awhile ago that usually went something like this– if you had your choice of  having dinner with any 3 persons you could, living or dead, whom would you choose?  The popular answers, without fail, gravitated toward:  Jesus, Lincoln, Jefferson, Washington, JFK, Einstein, Grant, da Vinci, Edison, Clemens, Dickens….you get the idea. (aside-I wonder what choices  people would make today)

They all come to mind, of course, but for me, I would take dinner with my great grandfather, thank you.  Oh, if you wanted to, you could throw in Samuel Clemens for good measure, but that wouldn’t be necessary, and there’s no need for a third.  William Ward would do just fine. It would be my privilege. I would love to meet him. 

Mark Twain Quote:  “Honor knows no statute of limitations.”

Well, I'll be Damned!

I am working on a post about one of my ancestors, and in researching material, had a “eureka” moment that brought a smile to my otherwise furrowed face (you see, the research was getting a tad tedious, as a lot of research tends to be).

Refer back to my “Walk with Ghosts” post, and recall Henry “Doc” Denison, if you will. Doc joined one James Belden, you remember, in establishing a construction firm that built much of the canal systems in our area back in the mid 1800s. And it was clear from “Doc’s” protestations that some underhanded dealings accompanied those projects.  In the parlance of that day, there were definitely some “shenanigans” going on in Syracuse. 

I happened upon my great-great grandfather’s obituary during the course of my research.  To quote:  “In his early days he was a canal boat captain, running from Oswego to New York city.  Afterwards he entered the employ of Denison and Belden, contractors.  This position he held for 10 years.”  The firm…that scandal. He was there, and he must have known, or at least heard. Was he involved, I wondered?  Was my great-great granddad part of a sordid chapter in our city’s history?   I came to the conclusion that he was not.

William L. Crossett - my great-great grandfather

His obituary was that of a decent and honorable man, with praise for what he had done in life.  There was no reference to any of the troubles that haunted “Doc.”  Indeed, research shows that he worked for the original Water Company in Syracuse for 30 years, and was instrumental in the construction of the great waterworks system that brought pure Skaneateles Lake water to the citizens of Syracuse.  He also supervised construction of 3 reservoirs:  Crossett in 1864, Onondaga Hill in 1865, and Wilkinson in 1878. 

From my youth, most of which escapes me, I do remember hearing some  “urban legend” talk from my relatives that the present reservoir on Geddes St. was indeed the old Crossett reservoir, and that much of the land that is now Onondaga Park used to be the “Crossett farm.”  Hence, the naming of Crossett Street in our city came to pass, as supposedly, all Crossett land was donated to the city by my family.   Of course, in my family, if you listened to the grown ups spin yarns after 5 pm, you ran the risk of hearing history slightly skewed by the memory altering properties of adult beverages.  We ain’t Irish for nothin.'

But most poetic – my great-great grandfather is buried in Section 5 of Oakwood (I have the original burial plot deed of sale, dated 1864, thanks to my cousin).  “Doc” resides in Section 4.  They are among the oldest sections in the cemetery, hard by Rt. 81. “Doc” and my great-great grandfather are easily within sight of each other.  Neighbors then, now, and forever.  Oh, the tales my great-great grandfather could tell.

Mark Twain Quote:  “Nothing incites to money crimes like great poverty or great wealth.”

Favorite Movies - Part 2

OK, while I’m researching ‘”stuff” for a long blog (what a pain!), let’s take a quick trip to the movies again.  Our first visit was on February 22^nd,  so it’s beyond time.  With the general theme of this subject stated in my first movie post recalled, here are 5 more of my favorites:

1      Toy Story *

2     The Silence of the Lambs

3     Shakespeare in Love

4     Dr. Strangelove

5      It’s a Wonderful Life**

*If you have kids or grandkids, this movie (and its siblings) is mandatory.  And even if you don’t, you will love it, and them, if you just give them a try. I mean, when you’re crying at the end of Toy Story, you know the movie is just as much for you as it is for the kids.  Maybe even more.

**I have a "Classic" choice again...this may mean I will include one each time I do one of these, or not.  But I do hate to leave them out.

I’m beginning to notice that my choices, in general, do reflect movies made, shall we say, not within the more recent past.  Perhaps that’s because I haven’t seen the more modern ones enough times to deem them favorites, or that I’m falling out of the habit of going to movies the minute they are released….too damn easy to wait to see them,  in one fashion or another, on tv.  And that promotes laziness, and neglect. Or maybe most of them are simply not worthy...we'll see. 

This is probably a good time to share with you what my novelist friend mentioned to me about "comments."  Readership is improving (thank you so very much) and some people are indeed making comments – via email.  It’s ok to do that, and I read them all and appreciate them more than you know, but….it’s also ok to just make a comment within the blog.  Actually, that's how a blog is designed to function, for obvious reasons.  Just a thought.  All comments there are most welcome.

Mark Twain Quote:  “If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous, he will not bite you.  This is the principal difference between a dog and a man.”

Walk With Ghosts

Oakwood cemetery in Syracuse entered my life only recently, although it’s been part of my history almost since its founding in 1859. Actively engaging in some serious genealogical research revealed that I’ve always had a connection to this mysterious place.  Since then, I’ve “toured” Oakwood several times.  Each time there was informative - a memorable, and at times, an enchanting experience.

That aside, I took my first “official” tour of Oakwood cemetery on a perfect Friday evening in late June. The Onondaga Historical Association sponsors each year a “Ghost Walk” guided tour of this grand old resting place adjacent to Syracuse University.  

Many well known people have as their eternal home a spot in this unique expanse of hallowed ground.  There are many, many “stories” to be told at Oakwood. The OHA tries to do just that, thru its Ghost Walk program.  It works like this.  The “tour” actually runs for two consecutive weekends, on Friday and Saturday evenings.  Groups of about 20 people leave the starting point by the old chapel every 15 minutes.  Local theater personalities assume the persona of a famous (infamous?) resident of Oakwood.  Replete with period costumes and “props,” they sit at the site of their final home and await the arrival of a tour group, led by an OHA guide. 

As each group approaches, the ghost comes alive and proceeds to tell their story.    They brought meaning to their monuments as they breathed life to the inscription in the stone.  The presentations were expertly done, and they would repeat the telling about 6 times that Friday evening. Oakwood was a busy place that night, with groups wandering all over the place. 

On this tour, there were 5 ghosts to greet us as we wound our way through the historic paths and roads.  We met Henry “Doc” Denison, Mary Amelia Prang, Maj. General Edwin Sumner, Adelaide White, and Grace Crouse.

"Doc" pleads his case

 “Doc” took up residence here in 1882.  After a brief stint as a doctor (following in his father’s footsteps) turned construction magnate, he started a partnership with James Belden (think Belden Ave.), Mayor of Syracuse for a time and a Congressman after that.  Their firm had contracts to build much of the canal systems in the CNY area, as well as other public projects.  But as so often happens when contractors meet politicians, stories began to circulate.  It seems there was some impropriety with the record keeping. It seems there were accusations.  Doc steadfastly declared his innocence to us as he pointed the finger of suspicion -  elsewhere!   He definitely had a cloud over his final home.  I’m not so sure “Doc” is really at rest, even now.

Mary Amelia greets our group

Mary Amelia was an author, an artist, and an educator. She was the founder of the Social Arts Club in Syracuse. Her life was one of high accomplishment, but she did save some of the best of her life for its twilight.   She earned her Masters degree from Harvard University at the age of 85!  Also late in life, she married Louis Prang.  A printer, lithographer, and publisher, he was known as the “Father of the American Christmas card.”  He was involved in education and the arts as well, which made for a perfect match with Mary Amelia, both professionally and personally.  She had a rich and full life, doing things most women of the time only dreamed of.  She seemed quite content,  unlike her neighbor  “Doc.”

The General naps before our visit

General Edwin Sumner (think Sumner Ave.), a command General in the Army of the Potomac, was the oldest field commander of a Corps, on either side, during the Civil War.  He had many assignments over his long career, but his personal favorite occurred when he escorted President – elect Abraham Lincoln on his inaugural journey from Springfield to Washington.  His daughter Sarah Teall (think Teall Ave.) lived in Syracuse, and while visiting her in the winter of 1862-3 (to rest between commands) he caught a cold, which - in Syracuse – in winter - got worse, until it led to a fatal heart attack.  Welcome to Syracuse General!   Stay awhile?

Adeline quietly remembers her Hamilton

Adeline White was the wife of Hamilton S. White, and she moved here in 1945, at the nice old age of 89.  She is noted for being a successful singer and inventor, but the tour focused on her marriage into the locally famous (and rich) White family.  Her husband can best be remembered as the person who single handedly transformed the science of firefighting here in Syracuse, and indeed, everywhere else. His many ideas and innovations changed the way we fight fires – forever. To say Mr. White was a “fire fighting fan” would be a vast understatement. Too much to detail here, he is an interesting chap and I encourage you to read more on this unique gentleman.

Nancy Roberts is Grace Crouse

Grace Crouse.  Well, she was the “human interest” story of the tour. Multi talented personality Nancy Roberts played to perfection the role of Grace Crouse, the, shall we say, manipulating, conniving, devious, opportunistic, “secret” wife of Edgar Crouse, one of our cities very rich pillars. There was some issue over a child born to Grace that was claimed to be Edgar’s, right about inheritance time.  Grace was also friend (for sure) and wife (maybe) to various other mysterious gentlemen from around the globe. She was supposedly married to a rich Austrian.  Then she was reported to be a Countess. To even entertain the idea that Grace chose love over comfort would be a high tribute to her skills as an actress. Did I mention Grace was also an actress?   She was delightful.  She was charming. She was charismatic. She was busy!

The “tour” took over an hour, and an extra benefit of the time spent there was not only a good walk but a brief and impressive look at the older and more magnificent portions of this historic property. That evening, we peeked for only an instant into the lives of just 5 of Oakwood’s illustrious residents.  Presently in Oakwood, there are upwards of 20,000 (and counting) such stories.  I can’t wait to meet the next group of “ghosts.”

We will see Oakwood again!

Mark Twain Quote:  “I think we never become really and genuinely our entire and honest selves until we are dead – and not then until we have been dead years and years.  

Cemeteries

I love cemeteries.  I suppose I don’t want to know the psychological reason why I love them, but I don’t care - I just do.  Perhaps it is because I grew up across the street from one, and used to play there as a kid.  Sliding down the hills, soaring over low headstones, and steering between others on my Flexible Flyer was especially delicious, and daring - the highlight of my winter.  I can still taste the snow, and feel the cold dampness in my hands.  And then there was the big rock wall that begged to be climbed, and what an accomplishment it was to reach the top of that! It was one of the hallmarks of our youth, to say you were finally big enough to conquer the wall.  Heady stuff for a six year old.

It seemed so large then, a huge hill for sliding, a high rock wall for climbing.  Revisiting there a short while ago, I saw that the hill was just barely that, and the rock wall was only slightly taller than I am now. This can’t be the same place, I thought. How time and memory distort.

I think of cemeteries as parks, with lots of obstacles.  Some cemeteries are real small, some overly large, but most are just about right.  They are perfectly suited for a walk, or a run. Bikes are welcome. They are built for contemplation. They demand reflection.  Dogs love them. 

Every stone you pass heralds a life lived. I can’t help but look at a name that catches my attention and wonder – what was their story?  Who were they, really? You see, for every single tablet or edifice, there is a tale that in some fashion waits in vain to be told. Those who rest there pine eternally for someone to take their name, that one thing that binds them to history, and fill in the vast empty between “born” and “died.”  Everyone, at some level, wants to be known.

Looking at the stones, as numerous as stars, you become aware of one of life’s truths.  They are all there now, all together.  Cowards and heroes, lawyers and thieves (but I repeat myself), friends and lovers, infants and aged, rich and poor, poets and players, they’re all there now, and in most instances, you can’t tell one from another.  The boneyard makes an equal of us all.

And a cemetery at night is still one of the scariest places on earth - at any age. 

As you may have guessed, this is not the first time we’ll talk about cemeteries.  My next post will share with you my first “official” tour of Oakwood Cemetery.  And once read, you will properly guess that Oakwood will be visited yet again. 

  

Mark Twain Quote:   “Death is the starlit strip between the companionship of yesterday and the reunion of tomorrow.”

Larry the Lobster

As long as we’re in a Cape Cod state of mind, we must talk about one of the most important attractions the Cape has to offer - I speak now of lobster! 

Specifically, I’m referring to the lobster roll, but you can, depending on your preference, just as easily say:  lobster dinner, lobster breakfast, lobster anything.

Other than Maine itself, I suspect Cape Cod is the most popular place in the universe for eating lobster. I remember one year I vowed to eat lobster every day I was at the Cape, and easily was able to do that, at any meal I wished.  And no, I never tired of it.  Lobster omelets are especially good!

When kids were little and the Cape was their yearly treat, they used to make lobster  “things” out of the shells…like dolls I suppose. This was usually done at the Lobster Boat restaurant.   One such creation we christened: “Larry the Lobster.”  Larry looked like he could actually walk away. I don’t know how they did it.   Nothing like breaking the kids in right - they learned their priorities early.

It is hard for me to believe that lobsters were not always so popular, or even highly thought of as food.  It wasn’t until the mid 19^th century that New Yorkers and Bostonians (now there is an eclectic mix) developed a taste for them.

Prior to that, lobster was considered a mark of poverty or as food for indentured servants or lower members of society in Maine, Mass., and the Maritimes.  Servants specified in employment contracts they would not eat lobster more than twice a week (fools).  Lobster originally was deemed worthy only as fertilizer or fish bait.  Perhaps this because of their inherent nature as a bottom feeder, but geez, didn’t anyone just taste them - little butter and a glass of wine? OK, that option was not available then to every person, but it would have changed their minds!

But back to present day.  My theoretical favorite lobster roll consists of lumps and lumps of lobster meat in a large hot dog roll (toasted w/butter would be nice), with a side of mayo -  simple, elegant, delicious.  I’ve had them with the meat cold and warm…love them both.

My personal quest in life is to find the perfect lobster roll.  It is one of the few things one could never tire of doing. I’ve had them from Maine to Florida, and even on the Mass Pike (yup, at a rest stop, at a “chain” restaurant).   It remains a never to be fulfilled quest, for I am always thinking – there’s a better one out there, somewhere!

So far, the most unique, and for its own reasons, best lobster roll I have encountered can be found at Chapin’s restaurant on Cape Cod.  They have 2 locations:  85 Taunton Ave in Dennis (close to Mayflower Beach) and 228 Lower County Road in Dennis Port.  Casual, inexpensive, a bit noisy, with very good food, it is a perfect Cape stop. 

They have this lobster “roll” that is different than any I have seen.  Words fall short, but a picture, well a picture is what a picture does (sorry Forrest).   Luckily, I always have camera at the ready, and food is definitely on my list of must subjects, right up there with Mark Twain’s house, Mt. Rushmore, and the Grand Canyon. 

Larry the Lobster - in a roll

Now folks, there is a bun underneath all that lobster.  The chips and slaw are just dressing for the photo, and they only get eaten if there’s any room left. 

So, if you find yourself near the Cape this summer, make this one of your “must” stops, and you’d better order the lobster roll.  Or, if you’re really lazy, you can order just a bowl of hot, buttered lobster meat – heavenly!

Mark Twain Quote:  “Do not tell fish stories where the people know you; but particularly, don’t tell them where they know the fish.”