Walk With Ghosts - 2013 (The First)

Pardon the timing of this post, but the law got in the way.  Now we must hurry back in time a bit, to a Friday evening in late June.  We have some catching up to do. Our destination is once again magnificent Oakwood Cemetery, resting gently aside Syracuse University, on Comstock Avenue.  Our purpose for visiting is the annual “Ghost Walk” sponsored by the OHA. For a quick catch-up, read “Walk With Ghosts,” published 7/12/2012 (or re-read – according to my limited stats for the blog, this post is the most widely read of all my offerings). Once freshed/refreshed, you may continue.

This year, threatening skies greeted the attendees as they wove their way through Oakwood’s many roads to the gathering site.  Usually, people meet up at the old Chapel, but this year the check in site was a tent about 100 yards from there.  Funny I thought; I wonder why?  I would find out soon enough, as one of Oakwood's endearing secrets would be revealed at tour's end.  

This year, there were again five Ghosts to greet us as we wound our way through the hills and valleys that give Oakwood its unique character.  We met Comfort Tyler, Claire Alcee, Milton Price, John Wilkinson, and Dr. George Greeley.

So, the skies are clearing, birds are once again singing, and groups of ghost seekers are moving out. Let's see what awaits us this year.  Cameras ready!

 

Comfort Tyler

Comfort Tyler was a name I’ve heard before, and I thought I had a vague idea of who he was. Not even close. He rests now near one of the most famous plots in Oakwood, the huge pyramid that is the monument for the Longstreet family.  Comfort scored this prime location when his daughter married into the Longstreet family.  Good move, albeit it a permanent one.

Comfort, born in 1764, led quite a varied and interesting life in his 63 years. Are you ready?  Here’s the bullet version:  at 14, enlisted in the Continental Army, stationed at West Point. Was a school teacher and a surveyor.  Married, had a daughter, became a young widower, then married again. Came to Onondaga County as one of its earliest settlers. First settler to fell a tree in the county.  Built first Turnpike in NY State.  One of first manufacturers of salt.  Operated a tavern.  Built bridges. Justice of the Peace.  Sheriff.  County Coroner. County Clerk. First Postmaster.  First Manlius Town Supervisor. State Assemblyman.  Survived bite of rabid dog.  Whew!  That enough for you?

Oh, and along the way, he met Aaron Burr, got involved in something or other that got him arrested for treason, but, with Comfort’s curriculum vitae, all ended well.  He died in 1827.  Rest in Peace Comfort, you sure as hell earned it!

 

Claire Alcee White - longing for her Andrew

 Claire Alcee came to this life in 1892.  She, Nellie Claire Alcee Howard, of the Washington Howards, don’t you know. She spoke French and was trained to be a lyric opera prima donna.  She performed at the Met, and indeed, all over the world. Hers was a life long career.

She married Andrew S. White in 1918.  He was a lawyer, of the Syracuse Whites, one of whom became Governor of New York.  He was a widower, previously wed to Anne Belden (yet another Belden!). His uncle was Andrew D. White, co-founder of Cornell University, and its first President. Andrew D. had this house near Fayetteville, as we shall see.  When Andrew D. moved to Ithaca and Cornell, the house came to Andrew S. Are you following this? I hope so. Oakwood’s history has many twists and turns, so many tangled vines amongst the residents. In some respects, parts of Oakwood are like the old neighborhoods of the living and rich that once was Syracuse.  They, upon death, simply picked up and moved to Oakwood and created another such neighborhood.  Think Belden.

But back to Claire.  Claire Alcee was her stage name.  She was a patron of the Met.  She sang for FDR and Eleanor in the East Room of the White House.  She performed on the radio, the entrtainment medium of the day.  She sang at the Paris Opera House, and in Berlin. During WWII, she entertained with the USO. Oh, how she loved clothes. And she played a mean round of golf!  In 1952, her beloved Andrew died.  They never had children.  She lived on till 1982, and when she died, it is said that that her estate sale was the largest ever in the history of central New York.  At Cornell, in White Hall, hang portraits of Claire and Andrew. 

Now, about that house Andrew S. inherited.  The Whites spent time between their apartment at the Plaza in New York, and their estate in Fayetteville, called Fairfield.  It still stands today.  I (and you, if you live in or near Syracuse) have driven right past this home thousands of times.  And more than once, I’ve wondered about its story.  It has always looked to me to be an mystical window to another era.  For awhile, it looked in some disrepair, but to see it now, you know it has been restored to its original grandeur. 

Close your eyes and imagine it, elegant early model horseless carriages pulling up to the front entrance, lights inside the manse illuminating the grounds, men and women dressed in their finest, as another evening of entertainment begins.  If you look closely, you may catch a glimpse of Theodore Roosevelt, who visited the Whites on more than one occasion.

It is still sitting right there, waiting for you to pay a visit.  Drive slowly, and not at rush hour…on Rt. 5 east, out of Dewitt, past Wegmans, past the light at Lyndon Corners, and on toward Fayetteville.  Just past Onondaga Country Club and Lyndon Golf Course, it is nestled midst a copse of trees on the south side of the road.  Looking every bit the mansion, it is as impressive now as it was then. 

Fairfield -  Decorated for Christmas

You must wait for the next post to meet the other three ghosts.  This complete post would not pass the "I must be able to read this while waiting in my Doctor's office" test promulgated by my reader/volunteer part-time editor.  She will have words with me if I run too long.  Rule #1 - do not upset  an editor. I only have two of them, and while not strictly editors, they do offer words every now and then and it really wouldn't pay to tick off 50% of them.  As Twain would say, I don't have a lot of freight to throw overboard.  Which reminds me, we'll see Mark Twain then as well.  He'll have words for sure!  

Lawyers? …. Pass the Beer Nuts…...

We had a little break there to celebrate the World Series Champs and my favorite team, the Boston Red Sox.  As only one of about two dozen Red Sox fans in CNY, I had to insert that little tribute to their bearded victory.  Here in Yankee country (I can not understand the devotion these over the hill, overpaid “stars” command….but I digress), we must take every chance we get to applaud the men from  Boston.  And BTW: Fenway – Yankee Stadium - visit both and tell me which is the real “baseball park.”  Yankee Stadium is really a shopping mall with some grass thrown in for effect.  You serious about baseball … you go to Boston.  Yes, I digress again.

Now back to our “legal” theme of late.  Part of the reason I wanted to see a real trial in action was to watch (and listen) to the interaction between the lawyers and the jury, the witnesses, and the judge.  People watching at its finest.  Sadly, I missed that, but it is still an item on my “Bucket List.”  In the meantime, I can get some feel for what could happen in a court of law by reading from a book called “Disorder in the Courts” by Charles Sevilla.  Between the covers of this book, the author provides us some clues as he reveals to us words that were actually spoken in court, words taken down by court stenographers….and in a sampling, shared here with you folks. 

Read, and laugh…..

Attorney:  All your response must be oral, OK?  What school did you go to?

Witness:   Oral….

Attorney:  Are you sexually active?

Witness:   No, I just lie there.

Attorney:  Do you recall the time that you examined the body?

Witness:   The autopsy started around 8:30PM

Attorney:  And Mr. Denton was dead at the time?

Witness:    If not, he was by the time I finished.

Attorney:  Now doctor, isn’t it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn’t know                    

                  about it until the next morning?

Witness:    Did you actually pass the bar exam?

Attorney:  How was your fist marriage terminated?

Witness:    By death

Attorney:   And by whose death was it terminated?

Witness:    Take a guess

Attorney:   Were you present when your picture was taken?

Wittness:    Are you shitting me?

Attorney:   So the date of conception (of the baby) was August 8^th?

Witness:    Yes

Attorney:   And what were you doing at that time?

Witness:    Getting laid

Attorney:   Can you describe the individual?

Witness:    He was about medium height and had a beard

Attorney:   Was this a male or a female?

Witness:    Unless the circus was in town I’m going with male

                  (side note: hey, coulda been a Red Sox player!)

And just one more:

Attorney:   She had three children, right?

Witness:    Yes

Attorney:   How many were boys?

Witness:    None

Attorney:   Were there any girls?

Witness:    Your Honor, I think I need a different attorney.  Can I get a new attorney? 

And that is why a visit to a trial must be near the top of my Bucket List! :)

Mark Twain Quote: “Lawyers are like other people – fools on the average; but it is easier for an ass to succeed in that trade than any other.”

O Happy Day

There is joy in Mudville this day!  For the 8th time, my beloved Boston Red Sox have won, nay, earned, the World Series Championship.

Accomplised first in 1903, and repeated 4 more times in the following 15 years, the Sox looked like a dynasty in the making.  Then, in one of the most brilliant baseball moves of all time, they sold one George Herman Ruth to the NY Yankees, at Christmas time, in 1919.  A better gift the Yankees never received.  The rest was history, and the begining of - the Curse of the Bambino. For 86 long years.

Not until 2004 could the beleagured team break through to put the curse in its proper place, the graveyard of baseball paranoia. Since then, they have won 3 Series titles in 10 years.  From last place in 2012 to the top of the world in 2013, the Sox appear to be hatching another run at lasting glory.  And they've done it by staying, for the most part, under the radar, quietly going about the business of winning baseball games.  For example, of the 12 World Series they've played in, they have won 8 of them.  Get them there, and they deliver.  Not too shabby.

So congrats gents, well played.  Well deserved.  Now, please, for the love of God - shave!  You look like what I can only describe by using an endearing quote from the movie "Serpico," and it can't be repeated in this forum.  Lather up boys!

Coach Mac Quote:  "When the leaves turn brown, the Red Sox WILL wear the crown."
                                Amen coach!

A Jury of His Peers (Pt. "The Last")

Time for waiting up, the judge swung into action.  To give the defendant every benefit of the doubt, 911 and police were called, hospitals were contacted, and attorneys were sent scurrying (especially the defense attorney). Perhaps a sudden illness, an accident? No matter.  Find the accused.  Now.

Then, time to reconvene again, yet still no defendant.  Security film clearly showed him exiting the courthouse.  There was no footage of his return.  All agencies reported no contact with the defendant. He had simply vanished. 

The judge, staying on point, called the jurors in, and after advising them that they should not assume anything positive or negative about the absence of the defendant, began to read the instructions.  He was addressing suspicious eyes.

In a monotone voice he methodically began a litany of the charges, repeating basically the same words for all 7 counts against the defendant.  Every word, no shortcuts. In dispassionate, clinical terms, he explained in vivid detail exactly what each charge meant.  I wondered how many times in the course of a year these words were uttered in this courtroom, or any other courtroom for that matter.  The raw nature of our society was on display.  I pondered how extensive this underbelly really was.  No child should have to suffer this affront to their person.  Proof once again, that life, no matter its gifts, can be most unfair.  And cruel.

That done, and a few other procedural matters dealt with, the jurors were sent away, to begin their deliberations.  I caught a glimpse of Jerry the Juror.  He did not look comfortable.  But he did look deadly serious. 

A bench warrant was issued.  The defendant would eventually be located.  The jury would find for or against. Justice would be served.  Another case would be filed away, and the next in a never ending chain would take its place.

Then it was over.  It felt like the air was siphoned out of the room. The judge left. The court staff performed some final obligatory rituals. Like the aftermath of some significant life event, there came an abrupt letdown and a draining of emotions.

For these court people, this was just another day in their world. Another 9 to 5.  For me it was pedagogic, revealing, and so disturbing, on many levels.  But it’s the best we’ve got.  It’s all we’ve got.  

A jury of our peers. 

Mark Twain Quote: “The rain…falls upon the just and the unjust alike; a thing which would not happen if I were superintending the rain’s affairs.  No, I would rain softly and sweetly on the just, but if I caught a sample of the unjust outdoors I would drown him.”

A Jury of His Peers (Pt. 5)

The Trial

All this took place on a Monday. Freedom was not ours till late afternoon.  Courtroom gossip and our speculation from group discussions led us to estimate the trial should last for two or three days.

All day Tuesday, I was on edge.  The trial.  I wondered. I pondered. I ran movies of it in my head, imagining all sorts of scenarios. Focusing on anything was not to be mine today.  By mid afternoon, I knew.  I had to go.  Simple as that. I was hopelessly drawn in, like moth to flame.

So, come Wednesday morning early, I was on my way.  Hurriedly I passed through the security area, and raced up the stairs to the courtroom. Elevators are notoriously slow, especially when you need them, and I just had to get to court (never thought I’d be saying that – ever).

Eagerly, I entered the courtroom, only to be greeted by - nothing!  The courtroom was empty, save for courtroom staff.  The trial was over!  Well, at least the actual “trial” part. In the back of the room, last row in the spectator section, I chatted up the court police officer.  The trial went rather quickly. The prosecution and defense presented their respective cases and summations were completed, all in one long day.

The court was in recess for now, while the judge made preparations to give the jury final instructions before deliberations began. The “charge” to the jury was all that was left. I was the only spectator present, and drew some quizzical glances until one of the judge’s assistants asked what I was doing there.  I knew that was coming, from the second I entered the room. It was written all over their faces. Once I explained, they returned to relaxation mode and talked freely.

From the courtroom banter I gathered that the trial had not gone well for the defendant. Oh, how I wished I had come to court Tuesday.  Now I really missed seeing how both sides presented their case.  Did they act like we see on television and the movies?  I would guess not, given their conduct throughout this entire matter. What did the witnesses say?  How did they act, and look?  What were the turning points?  Were there any dramatic moments?  I’ll never know.

Soon, it was time be reconvene.  The attorneys appeared, and occupied their fancy chairs.  The judge took his seat.  The jurors were still sequestered in their room.  Everyone just sat and mostly stared at each other, and a strange, nervous silence commenced. It was as if everyone was waiting for something to happen, yet no one made a move to do anything.  What’s holding things up, I wondered.  Then I saw the reason, directly in front of me, hiding in plain sight all this time. A solitary chair.  It did not swivel.  It was the defendant’s chair – and it was empty!

Mark Twain Quote: “The humorist who invented trial by jury played a colossal practical joke upon the world, but since we have the system we ought to try and respect it.”

Stay tuned...final chapter coming next....promise.