1 10 200 http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/57c9293ee816ff3f2ebae42d4fb748e4.JPG 32cbb5e2f6c31396fc39eace14847900 http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/6df213eb956387660866a46c8c28fa09.MP3 3be616d60fc98b896b9bfe574f288c13 http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/cb0c3e6019ab24978dc297e1765d4314.MP3 be356859f6ee5572d5fa6ef09cb13f1c http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/13c51d0d0e947ba0134caaadd7eb2633.mp3 715c099ece8eb98ae14bf285fcaae532 http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/6b8265d399ae21d577df6e88172d9f17.docx 685b727b057ece8cc88456395121cba4 Oral History A resource containing historical information obtained in interviews with persons having firsthand knowledge. Interviewer The person(s) performing the interview. Tashae Smith Interviewee The person(s) being interviewed. Robbie Dancy Location The location of the interview. Utica, New York Transcription Any written text transcribed from a sound. Cooperstown Graduate Program Oral History Project Fall 2018 RB = Robbie Dancy TS = Tashae Smith [START OF TRACK 1, 0:00] TS: Hello, this is Tashae Smith. Today is November 11, 2018 and I'm here with Miss Robbie Dancy at her home in Utica, New York. Before we get started, can you state your full name for me? RD: My name is Robbie Jane Hamlett Dancy. Hamlett was my maiden name. So that's it. TS: Thank you and also thank you for agreeing to do this interview with me. Very much appreciate it. My first question for you is, why did your family move from Albany to Utica in 1943? RD: From Albany? TS: From Alabama. RD: From Alabama to Utica. My grandmother had a friend that was here in Utica. It was during World War II, and they were saying that jobs were available at Rome Air Depot, that was in Rome, New York. So she came up here. You have to know somebody when you're coming from the South because we were coming from Alabama. My grandmother came up here and she got a job at Rome Air Depot in March of 1943, and in June of 1943 we came up here. It was my mother, myself, and my uncle. And my mother started working too. She started working at, I think it was one of the wartime places in Utica, and I can't think of the name of the place now. But, Mom got a job too working. My uncle, he was only ten years older than I was, so he was still in school too. I was going to be two years old in August. We came in June. I was going to be two in August. So my uncle was 12. TS: So you said your grandmother also came up, can you tell me more about your grandparents? RD: My grandfather was in Ohio, in Youngstown, Ohio. They [grandparents] had never been together. It was my mother's father. They had never lived together anything, but my grandmother was a hard worker down south in Alabama. She worked for a couple in Alabama. She did everything; she went from the cotton fields to the house person. [recording paused] [TRACK 1, 02:38] TS: Yes, let me hit record again. Yes. RD: So my grandma, she worked. She did work for them. They helped her in every way too. They were really good to her. As a matter of fact, I was named after one of the people who she worked with, named after their grandchild. [Laughs] It's funny. It was during the 1940s; it was still during that time when we were still working for the white people and couldn't get no place. You couldn't get any place; that's all there was to it. They wanted to better themselves. In order to better yourself, you had to migrate. We were part of that Great Migration, coming up here to Utica, and a lot of people came up here at that time because of the jobs during wartime, during World War II. There were a lot of jobs in this area because of Rome Air Depot. Trying to think of the place my mom used to work at and I can't. Should be in my brain somewhere but I can't think of it right now. She'd tell me. [laughs] My grandfather lived in Ohio and my grandmother was here from 1943 to 1946, and then she went to Ohio to be with my grandfather. They stayed there. She got married, and she was there until she passed away in the [19]80s, [19]82, I think it was. My grandfather passed away in [19]80. No, [19]89, my grandfather passed away. They lived long lives. My grandfather did. They lived long lives. My grandmother was 70-something when she passed and he was 90, 91 something like that. [19]89, he was 91. TS: Your grandfather, did he migrate to Ohio before your grandmother and what was his job? RB: He worked for the railroad. He worked for the Pennsylvania Railroad. Picking up luggage, just baggage. He and my grandmother did well together when they were in Ohio. They got together; he worked for the railroad. They saved money up. Bought a building, and developed it. They had a restaurant, a barbecue place, well-known barbecue place. Floyd's Barbecue, that was my grandfather's name, Floyd. They had three places in Youngstown. They did so well; they did really good there with their barbecue restaurants. So they did that until they retired. You know that was it. They were too old to do it and they sold it. TS: Were you able to ever visit the barbeque? RD: I used to go every summer, I'd be at my grandmother's house. I was with my grandmother. When she moved to Youngstown in [19]46, I moved with her because my mother and father. My mother got married to my father—he wasn't my biological father—in 1944, a year after we got here. She married her Sunday school superintendent. That was my father; he was just my father in every sense of the word. He adopted me with his name. What was I talking about? TS: [Pause] I was asking if you had visited. RD: My grandmother. TS: Yes. RD: So I went with my grandmother. I stayed with her because my mother and father were also opening a business. I stayed with my grandmother for two years. Then after that I'd go every summer, and during the summertime when they had their restaurant I worked there. I was a kid. I was like 10, 11 years old and helping them out in the restaurant. I was a little waitress. [laughs] TS: Can you tell me more about your parents? RD: My mother met my father when we moved here in 1943. The first thing they did was, they started looking for churches. They’re Baptists, so they found St. Paul Baptist Church. At that time, where the Utica Auditorium is now, that's where St. Paul Baptist Church was. It was a small church with a potbelly stove in it, and they all sat around that one room for the church. They went to that church and my father’s uncle was one of the ones who founded the church in 1925. My father was a superintendent there, and my momma laid eyes on him and she goes, “Mmm, he's a good looking man, you know mmhhmm.” [laugh] They met and they had something going, both of them were religious bound. They had good things going, and they got married the next year, 1944. In 1945, my father also worked during wartime; he did a lot of stuff. He worked at Savage Arms. Savage Arms is the place where they made guns and that's where my dad worked, at Savage Arms. My mother worked at Utica Radiator, that's where she worked. It just came to me just now. They were all situated close together. They saved their money up, bought the building, and had this place called Liberty Street Cafe. It was on Liberty Street and they had it for a year, the restaurant for a year. They decided to get a liquor license, and it became Club George in 1946; and it stayed Club George until 2006, so 61 years. I think it was 61 years, I'll say that. I thought it was 2007, but 61 years it was Club George. I think it was the oldest black-owned business in this area in central New York State when they had it. They were hard workers too. They never put the business over their religion, though. My father was a deacon in church. The business was their business, and that was it. They brought me up the same way. It was the business and that was it. I worked there. I knew the business. My father taught me how to write checks; he taught me how to do everything, which was a blessing because kids nowadays don't know how to do all that stuff. What else? [TRACK 1, 10:33] TS: Do you feel that your grandmother, mother, and uncle moving from the South to the North offered them more opportunities? RD: Oh my god yes, I know it did. My grandmother would never have been on her own making her own decisions and things if she hadn't come up here. My uncle, same way. He went into the military when he got out of school; he graduated and went. It was during the Korean War, he went into the military in the Korean War and then when he got out he got a job at Griffiss Air Force Base in Rome too. That's where he worked. But it was different. It was Griffiss Air Force Base then. It wasn't Rome Air Depot like it was at the time when my grandmother worked. My uncle worked there until he passed away. He passed away with pancreatic cancer at a young age. In his 40s, I thought it was a young age. He was there the entire time and he did well, he did well. They would never have been able to do any of the things that they did. My grandmother would not have had three restaurants in Ohio if she had stayed in Alabama. Believe me. Neither would my grandfather, though he left a long time ago, I think. But, she never would have done [that]. She had a third-grade education, but she was really smart, really smart. TS: What kind of constraints did your family feel while they were living in the South? RD: Well, see I'm not sure, when we first moved up here, you can only live in certain places, you can only sit in certain places. You know those are big things that the Jim Crow laws did, because they had the Jim Crow laws down there. That was it right there. Then when she came here, the first thing she did was look for an apartment. When she was looking for an apartment in Utica, she didn't know where to look but somebody [phone rings] [inaudible] [Pause] She was looking for an apartment, and I guess someone had told them most of the people in Utica lived in certain areas, certain sections. Well, she went a little bit out of the section. She didn't know that. She was on, I’ll say, the east side of Utica where most lived and she was looking for this apartment. She asked the woman for the apartment and the first thing she told them she says, well the guy says, “Well, I've never rented to colored people,” and my grandmother says, “Well, we'll be real good colored people.” [laughs] It's just typical of what she would say. We'll be real good colored people, you know, and that's how we stayed there. Not long but we stayed there. I was a little baby girl but I became friends with all the neighbors around there, all the old folks and stuff, I'd sit and talk to them. They'd be sitting outside and I'd go out and talk to them. It was wartime; it was during World War II, and we had blackouts and all that stuff. It was alright, it was alright. The only thing that was hard was in the wintertime. We weren't used to all that snow and I can remember my grandmother and I sliding and trying to get to the bus to go to church. It was awful. I still don't like winter. TS: Can you tell me more about your experience growing up in Utica and how that affected your life? RD: I loved growing up in Utica. When I see kids now, they don't play; they’re on their computers, those little pads all the time, but I really loved growing up in Utica. We were a close-knit group of people. And like I said, when we first moved here; my mother and father after they got married, they lived on a street called Spring Street in Utica. I can say the majority of those people on that street came from Alabama. You know on the other side of the street, they came from Alabama, and then they had just built projects in Utica and we used to go down to the parties in the projects and had a great time. We had a wonderful time. We had a man who, we had a drill team, and he was interested in the kids with our drill team and we were in parades. I mean they went to New York [City]. This was after I was out of the drill team. Most of us, the original people, were out of the drill team when they went to New York in the [19]60s. We were in the drill team in the [19]50s. In the [19]50s, this was the original one, and it kept us off the street, kept us out of trouble. I had no problems growing up in Utica. I had no problems at all. I still have really good friends. We meet at the senior place three days a week and we see each other. We just got back together. It's like getting back together. You know it's nice. TS: Did you experience any racism living in Utica? RD: The only time, I didn't realize it until I got out of high school. My advisor. I took college prep courses when I was in high school. My advisor never advised me to go to college. I'm taking college prep, I wasn't the dumbest student, but I think I was a C average maybe. And he never advised me. Who advised me was the minister's wife from an A.M.E Zion church. She was like our mentor, Mrs. Whitfield. She told me she says, “Robbie, you're going to college.” I said, “Oh okay.” I had relatives that lived in North Carolina and her daughter went to Bennett College, which is in Greensboro, North Carolina. And I had a cousin that was going down there. So one time when we went down there I took a tour of the college. I liked it; it was a historical black college. I never realized the racism until I went down there to college. This is when it opened my eyes that my advisor should have advised me to go to college or something somewhere. You know he didn't. [recording paused] TS: My adviser. RD: My adviser, he didn't. Mrs. Whitfield, I was blessed to have a mentor like Mrs. Whitfield. She did it [for] a whole bunch of girls; she was a mentor to us because we belonged to a youth group at her church. At that time we went to all the churches. It didn't matter if you were Baptist. I was Baptist, but I went to all the youth churches for various things. I belonged to a youth group at Hope Chapel, which is A.M.E Zion, and my church, the Baptist church. So that was how I got to Miss Whitfield. She advised me. She said look into it, so I looked into it and I liked it. It was an eye opener when I went down there because I went down there in 1959. And 1959 was the start of the sit-ins, [19]60. February [19]60. Those boys I knew them; those young men that were sitting down in there [at Woolworth’s lunch counter]. We knew them because a couple of them were freshmen, one was a sophomore. I think two sophomores and two freshmen. And so we knew them. [Recording paused] The young men that started that, it involved all of us. The sit-ins. It was the start of my activism when I went down there and I could see the segregation and the racism and everything. It was an eye-opener. It was an eye opener, believe me, when I went down there. My roommate was from New Jersey, she was from Princeton, New Jersey, and I'm from upstate New York and both of us got involved really a lot. And we're both just like that still. TS: How were you able to deal with the segregation and outright racism when going to Bennett college? [TRACK 1, 20:31] RD: When those young men started those sit-ins in February, that was our freshman year. Our president was very, very good. She told us, she says, you can participate but don't forget about your studies. Don't forget about your classes, your studies, and everything, but you can participate. Bennett women had to look nice all the time. We could never wear pants, never wear pants at all. We had to go looking decent when we did picket. We had to make posters and walk with those posters down there, and we did that. We had certain shifts that we'd have to do with our classes and stuff. That was the first year. That was the first year at the Woolworth’s. We couldn't sit down at the Woolworth’s [lunch counter] and then during that summer they opened it up when the students weren't there. So they said okay, we got you now. You know, so that was fine. Then after that, it was the voting. We started trying to get people to register, I think because North Carolina may have been one of the first states where they were able to vote without taking the test where they had to know the Constitution and all this stuff. You know it was ridiculous how we had to know the Constitution to take the test and everything in order to vote. They're still trying to make it hard on you. In certain places you got a P.O. Box, “Oh, I'm sorry you can't vote. You got to have an address.” They are still making it difficult for us [inaudible]. I think it was [the] next year that we tried to integrate the movies, because we all had to sit upstairs in the movies. My roommate and I, we both went to jail for that because we wanted a ticket to sit downstairs and they said you're not sitting downstairs, and I said, “We ain't moving.” There were so many of us we had to go to the armory because so many of us were arrested and we were there overnight. That was it, but we were fingerprinted, mugshots, everything. Greensboro has my fingerprints and my mugshot. When you see people going in the back door to order something and you can't go inside to sit down, that in itself that was the racism that I really saw and brought it out to me. Afterwards when certain things happened I could see it again in certain things in my life, certain periods of my life. I saw it again. That was when it started, my activism. I was glad it opened my eyes to things that are going on in the world. They want to bring it back. Some people want to bring it back. TS: Can you tell more about getting arrested at the movie theater? RD: Yeah. What we did was, we were in line and we kept going up there and just taking turns going up there. He got so sick and tired of us that's when he called the police on us because he got tired of us going up there wanting a seat to sit downstairs. We went to the armory and getting in line to get your fingerprints and other stuff, and I said, “Oh my god,” and the mug shot and all. It was devastating. [laughs] Some of the kids earlier when they had jail space they were in jail, but they didn't have any more jail space for us because they were all full. That's why they had to take us to the armory. They had this one guard who was taking care of about seven, eight people, he had to be a guard of. We tried to wear him out because every ten minutes somebody had to go to the bathroom. We tried to wear him out all night long. He was sick of us. He was probably glad that we went home the next day. That's the only thing I can remember is just the mug shots, the fingerprints, and sitting up there in the armory bugging that guard. That was it. We were quiet. We didn't we didn't do a lot of screaming and stuff like that in there, but we were quiet. We just bugged him. TS: What were some of the other activist activities that you did at Bennett College. RD: Besides the voting. I remember during the voting time babysitting for some young people so they can go and vote. Doing that. I remember helping elders to get them to take them to vote and helping them to vote. That's the only thing I can remember. It's been a long time, been a long time. That's the only thing I can remember unless I called my roommate up and say “Tish, can you remember anything else?” Because we did things together. That's the only thing I can remember mostly was the voting the movie theater and the picketing. We did picket the movies too. We did picket there too. We picketed at Woolworth’s, and we marched all the way from the campus downtown. Jesse Jackson was going to [North Carolina] A&T at that time. He was one of the stewards. I think he was a year ahead of me. He was one of the stewards to make sure that we were in line and were quiet when we marched from the campus to downtown and everything. Everybody was quiet. Anyway, it was a quiet march downtown. TS: I'll start with my next question. RD: I'm trying to think of the word. Sometimes I can't think of words I want to say. Dr. King was what? TS: Nonviolent. RD: That's it. Non-violent. That's what I'm saying. That’s actually what I was trying to think of, non-violence. That's the way it was when we were marching. It was all quiet and nonviolent. That was it. TS: How do you see Bennett College leading you into the civil rights movement? RD: It led me into the civil rights movement because if I had been here I wouldn’t have known anything. People don't realize how it was down there unless you're down there. They really, really don't, and when I tell them, they don't know unless they are from the South and lived down there and came here. But people who are from here, they have no idea what it was like. They don't. It opened my eyes when I went down there, because otherwise I wouldn't have known, I would've been just like them, saying “Oh really,” and that would have been it. You know, you don't know, you don't know. Unless you face it, you see those Jim Crow laws up in your face like that and that's just what they were. [TRACK 2, 00:00:00] RD: It was something, really was. It opened up my eyes to the civil rights movement all the way, Bennett did. I probably wouldn't have known if I hadn't gone down there. TS: What made you decide to become a medical technologist? RD: At first I wanted to be a doctor. Then I said, “Well…” after I got out of school, and then I said maybe research or something. I went to [Washington] D.C. after I got out of school. I had majored in biology. When I was in Greensboro, I had gone to the black hospital in Greensboro, and I saw the rotation of the lab and all that stuff. I wanted to be a doctor or research, and after I got out of school, I went to Washington and applied for a job at NIH [National Institutes of Health]. I had just gotten out of school. When I went there, they told me, you haven't done this before. I said, “Yeah, I just got out of school. That's why.” They said, “No, we can't use you.” If I had been someplace else, somewhere else, somebody else, they would have hired me directly out of school. So I said, okay. I left and there was another place I applied at in Washington, too, to do research. I was into researching I think, and I just put an application in. I came back to Utica and was still thinking about being a doctor, and I said, “No, I don't think I want to go to school for four more years, and then two more years.” I started thinking, and I said, I don't think so. I went and applied for a job at Faxton hospital in Utica as a med[ical] tech[nologist] and they hired me. And that was it. That was in November of 1963, and it was just when Kennedy had been assassinated when I got that job. It was November [19]63 I started working at Faxton. I don't even know if there's any other black med tech in this area still, and that’s been since [19]63. I don't know any. The only one I knew was the public health director who was here for a minute and she left and went to Georgia. She was a med tech. That's the only one I knew, but I don't know any other ones. I like it. I've been at it now for 55 years. I didn't want to be a nurse. It's still a way where you're helping somebody. I always call us doctors’ diagnosticians because they would not know what's wrong with the patient until we test their blood, their urine, and everything else that comes out of their body. That's what I call us. People don't know that. A lot of nurses don't know that. Believe it or not, but they don't. I asked one nurse one time what [we did]. She said, “Oh you do transcribing.” I said, “No, that's not it.” TS: How was your experience working as possibly the only black medical technologist at Faxton hospital? RD: Good, it was good. I had no problem at all, had no problem at all. It was very good. I worked there from 1963 until I got married in [19]66 and moved to Rome. I got a job in Rome Hospital as a med tech and was there for a year when my husband transferred and went to California and we moved to California in, I think I moved to California in [19]68. Started working for Kaiser Permanente Medical Center in [19]68 and stayed there for 21 years. Then moved to Chicago. Stayed there for ten years. My husband passed three years after we got to Chicago. Became a supervisor in their transfusion department and came back here because of my mother. She's 94. TS: Why do you believe that there are not many black medical technologists? RD: I don't think they know enough about it. I think you have to tell young folks about the field. Once in a while we'll have young people coming through the lab. When I was in Chicago and in California we had the schools that have to rotate there, they'd have to rotate in the laboratory for two months, three months, whatever, the semester. The different areas of the laboratory, they'd have to rotate. Since I've been here I have not seen a rotation at all. I asked them about it. Also, I think when if you have those job fairs and things like that that they don't have enough people to tell about it. I'm still working because they don't have enough and I'm old and I'm still working because they don't have enough med techs to cover things. I tell them you need to get somebody to go to go to Albany to talk for us. If the money is not enough, that will increase it, because we always had somebody in Sacramento in California. There was always somebody in Sacramento speaking up for med techs, always. They don’t have nobody. I tell them that, but it don't make no difference. TS: Do you see yourself being that person to speak up for med techs? RD: I'm too old now. I did go to Girls Inc. I went there one time and talked to these young ladies about this field. You know to go into the field or if you are interested in anything that had to do with the healthcare field and I talked to these young ladies about it. I just feel like that's the only way I feel like you can get it through is to talk to young people about it. I'm not going to Albany. I'll talk to young folks about it. I will do that. There's a part in there. Did you ask me about the Panthers, my time in California? It's coming? TS: Yeah, [laughs] it's coming. I do want to ask, though, more about your family. So how did you meet your husband? RD: Okay. Griffiss Air Force Base was right up there in Rome, which is 16 miles from Utica. I met him at my father's bar. He was a quiet guy, good looking, cute, to me he was. He didn't say too much. That's where I met him and he was quiet. He was from Chicago. We started going out and I'd invite him up to my mom's house for dinner and holidays and stuff, and he was very nice. Then after going out for a while we drove to Chicago and I met his family. They were really nice people. I was the only child; he was the oldest of seven. I loved it. My husband passed, but I have a lot [of family]. I have two sisters that are in Chicago that I have adopted. I have a young brother in California. They lived with us when we moved to California. Two of them came out there to stay with us until they got situated, so it's like an adoptive family for me. They were an adopted family for me. And a lot of nieces and nephews because when we lived in Chicago, we always had family outings at our house because we had the biggest house and so they'd all come in. We lived outside of Chicago, like 30 miles outside Chicago and they'd come. I asked my husband, I said, why do you live so far outside of Chicago? He said, because of my family, I don’t want them too close [laughs]. I said, thanks. I loved it, though; I just did. It was nice. We had family celebrations for Christmas and holidays and stuff they'd always be out there. It was very nice. I loved it. That's how I met him. He was in the Air Force. Met him at the bar. He was a jet mechanic in the Air Force. When he got out, we moved to California and then he started working for AT&T. He was an AT&T technician, and he worked with them from 1968 until he passed away in [19]92. TS: How was it raising your children in San Francisco and Chicago? [TRACK 2, 00:11:35] RD: In San Francisco we lived outside of Berkeley. It's beautiful, the Bay Area is beautiful. And my children were strictly California kids. Where we lived we never locked the door. You go out the door, you don't lock the door. So when they left, when my daughter went to college, I said, you’ve got to lock your door and close your stuff up because you're not used to that. I had to tell them that. There are a lot of things I don't want to say in here too. It was nice; it was it was okay. When we moved there we moved into a place outside San Francisco. We lived outside San Francisco and then we moved from there to outside of Oakland, outside of Berkeley, a place called Kensington. I liked Oakland because Oakland had a lot of ethnicity for us, whereas San Francisco was beautiful and that was it. That was it. It was beautiful. I was able to take my children to many things in Oakland that I couldn't take them to in San Francisco because nothing was available there. When I moved to Chicago, I said, “Oh my god,” I really like Chicago. People talk about Chicago. Every place has a horrible district to it, okay. People talk about it, but I really, really like Chicago. If I wanted to go to a play cheap and see a nice, cheap black play I could go and see it. It was good. You know that's what I like about it. I was able to see things relating to me in Chicago. My grandkids probably don't want us to live there now because they say you can stand on the street and somebody will see you and might shoot you thinking you’re somebody else. They don't want to live there anymore. They don't. I don't think so. I don't think my grandson does, and I don't think my granddaughter does either. Their friends are all there. They love it but I just feel like. I don't know. I've lived there, and I would live there. TS: While you were in California, you got involved with the Black Panthers. How did you get involved? RD: I’ve got to think about that, you know my husband more so than anything, I think that's why I got involved because he liked the Black Panthers. For one thing, the Black Panthers were not a nonviolent [group]. They were, what's the word I want to use for them. It's in my paper most likely. They saw things that weren’t right in the government and they said we're not going to take this. At the time, the police chief was a racist and they knew he was and they said we’re going to get you out of there and they got him out. They did get him out. They carried guns, they carried guns. [Recording paused] We lived in a neighborhood in California, in Kensington, where it was mostly all white. There was another black family up the street from us. My husband broke in these black boots like the Panthers wore, and he wore them all the time. [Laughs] He looked like he could have been a Black Panther, but he wasn't. But he felt that what they were doing was right. At that time I think I must have been working for Ron Dellums. He was running for Congress and I was working for his congressional [campaign] making phone calls or stuff like that. Ron was a pretty good person too. He also believed in the Black Panthers. He did. They did so many things for the neighborhood, for the people. People had a lot of things against them but they had a school. They opened up a school for the kids. They had a health clinic for the people. I used to do volunteer work down there at their health clinic. About once a week I’d get off my job and go down there and help them with their health clinic, and many of the doctors from San Francisco, the young black doctors, would come over and donate their time to them too. They gave out free groceries, they gave out free groceries to the people. They did a lot for the neighborhood, for the people, not the neighborhood, but the people in Oakland. I'm just thinking that a lot of people didn't know this. I don't know. I think a lot of people don’t know it. Angela Davis was real influential with them. The George Jackson free health clinic, that's where she got arrested. They said she was trying to break him out of jail and all this stuff, but they started that George Jackson free health clinic after his name. I just felt like what the Panthers were doing was the right thing. They were helping the community in all efforts with the children, families. Everything they did; medical, education, and food, whatever they could they helped. I think my husband was probably one of the first ones who probably got us involved with them. That's what I'm thinking. That's what I think. He looked like one, he did [laughs]. TS: What would you say to individuals who consider the Black Panthers to be too militant and angry? TS: I'd just tell them that they weren't too militant. Maybe you think so because they had the guns. That's why they thought they were too militant, but they didn't use those guns. They didn't use them at all, but they carried them. That's all they did was carry them. At that time it was going from nonviolence to militant. That's what it was, and it was just extreme opposites. I don't like guns, but at that time when I saw them and what was going on in Oakland, I said go ahead. But like I said, they didn’t shoot nobody; they didn't kill nobody. That was part of their get-up, the caps, the guns, and the broke ends. That was it. That was it. And they marched. They marched. You asked me about their militan[cy], did I answer the question? TS: Yes. RD: OK. TS: How did you start working at Bassett Hospital? [TRACK 2, 19:57] RD: Well, when I moved back here to Utica, I moved back to Utica in December of 1999. My mother was still here and Club George was still going, the business was still going. It was getting too hard for her, so I came back here to help her with that business. So I started applying for jobs in the area, in Utica, and I was being very, very specific of what I wanted. I wanted to work part-time and didn't want weekends. You can't work in any lab in a hospital and work part-time and not have weekends. And they told me that and I said I know it. So I kept looking. A friend of mine who works for I think it's Workforce, Work something in Utica. He told me they were looking for med techs at Bassett. I said, where is Bassett? He said, in Cooperstown. I had never been to Cooperstown. I went down there to Bassett and it was a beautiful drive down there. I said this is a beautiful drive. I must have brought my resume and stuff with me and they looked at it and they said it looks good. Since I had worked in blood banks for many years, they asked me if I wanted to work down there in Cooperstown. Part-time, too. I said, “No I don't think so.” I thought about that drive, it was a beautiful drive, but I thought about the winters and they said, we have some openings in Herkimer, so I said, “Oh, okay.” I think it was three days a week. I said, that sounds good, and weekends? They said, “No, you just have to be on call.” I said, “That's all right. I'll take that.” So I started working at Herkimer and this was 2000. September of 2000. I started working there three days a week and taking call every fourth weekend, something like that, which was okay with me. Then I retired three years after I started working there, and I have been a per diem person for 15 years. I work there two to three days sometimes four. My per diem days are two, but sometimes I work three. I've been there for 15 years per diem at Bassett. And it's been good, it's been good. TS: How has the Utica community changed since your childhood? RD: Well, for one thing where I played in Utica, the area I played in, everything they had, it's all been knocked down. Nothing. There's no African-American section of where we used to have our businesses. The projects and everything is all gone. They put the auditorium there and all the businesses were torn down leading up to the auditorium. Then down across from the auditorium was where the projects were. And those people had to move out of there and get relocated. Some got relocated and some had to find their own places and stuff. It’s changed tremendously because we don't have really a section where there's African-American businesses and nothing else here. I don't think so. I haven’t seen any. And that's mainly what I miss. We may have one restaurant now. Finally, maybe. TS: How did you get involved with the NAACP where you are now a silver lifetime member? RD: I started going to the NAACP meetings in Chicago. In Chicago, how did I start going? I can't even remember. I can't remember exactly how but I became a life member. I joined and said I'm going to become a silver lifetime member. Evidently, they must've been doing something at that time that I was interested in, but I can't remember what it was. [Recording paused] I can't remember how or why I joined the NAACP. Maybe that was because it was a black organization, I felt like I needed to join it. When I got out of school and came to Utica it was CORE [Congress of Racial Equality]. I belonged to CORE. CORE was real important to us when I was in school, so I continued on. After that fizzled out I just felt like it was an organization where it's better for us. I think that's why I did it. I can't remember now, but it must be it was something going on. I can't remember what it was. TS: How do you still keep up with the NAACP and events? RD: You know I'm not as active for the last two years. I have not been active. I used to be. Before that I was the health person, I was the health chair of the NAACP where I had health fairs here. Just about every year some place. But the last two years I have not been involved too much because I belong to the senior [TRACK 3, 00:00:00] RD: program we got. I’m on the board of the senior program so I'm putting all my energy in them. It's like a Black Community Center. It's the Mid-Utica Neighborhood Preservation Corporation, but it’s the Leisure Time Center. I've been involved with that for the last seven years, something like that, but all my energy has gone in that for the last two, three years. We were trying to get people motivated to come back. We're trying to get programs going. So that's one of the reasons why I’ve not been in the NAACP too much because of that. We’re trying to get programs going into our own community center. We have a nice senior program and this community center was the first adult case care center in Utica in 1979. Once it opened and did well the other ones opened and that took away the business again. Again. TS: What is your role in the senior program? RD Nothing. I'm just a member but I'm on the board of the mid-Utica. I am Secretary-Treasurer of the Utica M.U.N.P.C. But we're just a member of the senior program, just a member. They have their own officers and everything, but we do a lot. We have ZUMBA on Mondays. We have Bible study on Wednesday; we have arts and crafts on Fridays; play cards on Fridays and Mondays. We have a good time. It’s really nice. It is. TS: How do you see the senior program being important to the Utica community? RD: I feel like it's really important because like I tell you before, people that I grew up with years ago, we are just getting back together right now as seniors, and doing things together that we did 50 and 60 years ago. To me that is so important and we do a lot of things. I mean we go out to lunches. We really enjoy ourselves too. We do certain things. This past week we went to another, St. Margaret's house for lunch and a Bible study and they were really nice. It was very nice, very nice. You meet other people, you meet other people, which was real good too. I really like it. I like the closeness and the enjoyment of us going out together. It's good. We have a good time. TS: How do you see in today's society the correlation of racism to 1960s? Do you see any similarities? RD: Not overt. But if you're aware of it. You know what's there. I am aware of it. And I can see it when it is there. I can't, you know I can't tell you but, I can see it when it's there. That's all I can say. [TRACK 3, 10:10] TS: Do you see your personal experiences seeing racism firsthand as helping you to see them in different places today? RD: I do. If I hadn't seen it years ago in North Carolina, I would not be aware of it right now. It would not dawn on me at all right now if I hadn't seen it in North Carolina. But seeing people in North Carolina and see how they think it opened my eyes. And like I say I see it. But I don't say anything. I just keep going. I know what I’ve got to do. If it's there I try to do something about it. If I feel like it. TS: What are some ways you tried to do something about it when it comes to racism? RD: Well, different things. I write letters to different organizations. Maybe doing things for another community. Telling my feelings of how I feel about it. And trying to think of other ways, I don't picket anymore. People make picket signs and they don't do that anymore I'm too old for that. So most of the time. I'd probably usually write letters to organizations that I feel this has kind of left us out for certain things and I write a letter to them. For the African-American community. Why? That's the way I do it now. I don't picket. Like I said, I’m getting too old for that now. Somebody texted me last week and says we're going to be at this building. Please come down. I said, I don't think so. No, can't do that. TS: Why is it important to you to have young people vote? RD: Oh my God. That's such a question. I mean it's like people gave their lives for young folks, for young black folks to vote. I always tell them, I say, people gave their lives so you can go out there and vote. Don't complain if you don't vote, don't complain. If you pay any kind of taxes, you need to vote. This is your country; you were born here. You're just like any other citizen. You were born here and like I said too many people have risked their lives for you not to vote. So it was so important. That's one of the most important things, I think, in a person's life is to go out there and vote. I do. I do. It upsets me if I see people, young folks not voting. I call them. You vote? It's important. TS: How do you try to encourage young people to vote? RD: By asking them. And telling them. I ask another young person, did you tell your friends? Did you tell so-and-so about voting, and she said, yeah I did. I tell one person. Are they going? Yes, they're going. Okay. But that's the way I do it, I tell a young person who may be in their 20s, 30s or something like that. Then the teenager in Sunday school will see it in Sunday school and church every Sunday. Prior to preaching every Sunday at church when it's voting time to go out there. When it's registration, to register to vote. I tell them how long it takes, how long the registration is, when it's up and then I do it every Sunday. I did it every Sunday. Sunday school and church. 18 years old. Vote. That's it. TS: How do you see your work at Bennett College getting people to vote affecting your perception of voting today? RD: That's important because those people even my grandmother had never voted until she moved up here. And you know so it was the same way. They had never voted before and they were so thrilled to be able to have that right. And that's your God-given right to vote. It's very important in a person's life. I mean I don't care what my son is doing, he votes. It's so important, so important. TS: Well, this is my last question to you before we wrap this up. What is some advice you would like to give to young African Americans? RD: Well, there's a saying that Frederick Douglass said, “Education is your freedom.” Supposed to be your freedom. And I feel like education is so important for young folks. You have to have an education. Whatever the gift that God gave you, try to figure that out and use it to the best of your knowledge. That's the way I look at it, that's my thing. But I just feel like education is so so important to me, it is. It is. But you have to have education and common sense to. It's important. So it's education, commonsense. TS: Well, thank you very much for sitting down with me and doing this interview. I definitely appreciate it. [TRACK 3, 00:10:49] RD: You're welcome, Tashae. Duration Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.) 30:00 Track 1 30:00 Track 2 10:49 Track 3 Bit Rate/Frequency Rate at which bits are transferred (i.e. 96 kbit/s would be FM quality audio) 160 kbps Time Summary A summary of an interview given for different time stamps throughout the interview Track 1, 02:38 - Great Migration Track 1, 10:33 - Great Migration - More Opportunities in North Track 1, 20:31 - Civil Rights Track 2, 00:00 - Medical Technologist Track 2, 11:35 - Black Panther Party Track 2, 19:57 - Utica, New York Community Track 3, 00:00 - NAACP Track 3, 10:10 - Racism in Today's Society Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Robbie Dancy, November 11, 2018 Subject The topic of the resource Utica, New York Youngstown, Ohio Alabama World War II Great Migration African Americans Civil Rights Movement Voting Rights Bassett Hospital Race Lab Technician Black-owned business Black Panthers Description An account of the resource In 1943, at the age of two, Robbie Dancy moved from Alabama to Utica, New York with her grandmother, mother, and uncle. They were part of the mass movement of black individuals and families from the rural South to the urban North and West during the Great Migration, which began around 1916 and did not end until the 1970s. During that time, more than six million African Americans moved to northern and western cities such as New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, and Seattle. In these cities, demographics changed, black southern culture spread, and black-owned businesses opened. Dancy’s family was a part of this trend. In Youngstown, Ohio, her grandparents opened Floyd’s Barbeque, which brought southern homestyle cooking to the North. Dancy’s parents followed by opening Liberty Street Cafe in Utica, New York. The cafe would later become Club George. Operating from 1946 to 2006, it was one of the oldest black-owned businesses in Utica. During her college years, Dancy went to Bennett College in Greensboro, North Carolina. There she participated in the Civil Rights Movement, practicing non-violent resistance through picketing and helping to register black southerners to vote. She would go on to graduate from Bennett College with her B.S. degree in Biology, later becoming a medical technologist. Today, Dancy works per diem for the Bassett Healthcare Network in Herkimer, New York. She is also still active in the Utica community through her volunteer work. The heart of this interview is Dancy’s recollections of the differences between southern and northern life for African Americans during the Jim Crow era. As she says, she did not really understand racism until going to Greensboro, North Carolina from Utica, New York. Dancy brings us on a journey through her life of activism then and now. She also discusses her family and her hopes. At age 77, Dancy still has a fiery determinism and fighting spirit that show through in this interview. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Tashae Smith Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Cooperstown Graduate Program, State University of New York-College at Oneonta Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2018-11-11 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Cooperstown Graduate Association Cooperstown, NY Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource audio/mpeg 70.5mB image/gif 3264 x 2448 pixel image/jpeg 22 in Language A language of the resource en-US Type The nature or genre of the resource Sound Image Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Upstate New York Utica, New York http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/bdbdd2ada3378f21522c774b80a0c09b.jpg 09733d29e29b2c429b694621233035a7 http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/3016a8e09d958a6b7bdd0dfe180f4ef8.MP3 4341798d8ed438ca2d1cca2b741fda7e http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/4ee75dc5c8a6838dcd703d4f64270a84.MP3 2a2f9029f705d57c40f7c73a478abdd4 http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/8839dfbe48c8667bc138ae9ff703a0ed.MP3 8f8430fed52ddeffa3fe067509d42990 http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/33da98e2f7af6f0447bfd392d2d2470e.docx f2050db381e19ad744a4f4a63ca1c545 Oral History A resource containing historical information obtained in interviews with persons having firsthand knowledge. Interviewer The person(s) performing the interview. Emma Bresnan Interviewee The person(s) being interviewed. Kathryn Allen Location The location of the interview. Browdy Mountain Rd Cooperstown, New York Transcription Any written text transcribed from a sound. KA = Kathryn Allen EB = Emma Bresnan [START OF TRACK 1, 0:00] EB: This is the November 13th, 2018 interview of Kathryn Allen by Emma Bresnan for the Cooperstown Graduate Program's Research and Fieldwork course, recorded at her home in Cooperstown. So, could you tell me a little bit about where you grew up? KA: Where I grew up? I'm a Midwesterner, and if you're a Midwesterner you never lose it. I've spent probably 40, 60 years of my life in New York, but I'm still a Midwesterner. Maybe it's a frame of mind. It's an attitude of life. It's how you do things, but it never leaves you. I grew up in Illinois. The first part of my life was in northern Illinois in an area that would be considered now a suburb of Chicago, but it was nothing but a rural area at that particular time. Very small town, very huge school district, but still only, say, 200 people in the high school, because there weren't many people who lived there. It was a farming area. [TRACK 1, 1:14] EB: What was the name of the town? KA: Dundee, Illinois. It's in an area of rich farmland. However, due to the time at which I was born, I was born in 1929, and I have been told at times that I was the unwanted child, because just right after I was born the crash came and that led into the Depression. This affected our family and it affected everyone in the nation. It certainly affected our small community, and there are ways in which we coped with this. My father had always been in the field of agriculture. He grew up in farmland in Carthage, Illinois, which is near the Mississippi. And after, I'd say in 1916, he learned to fly an airplane on the Texas border, then proceeded to be a pilot in World War I, [then] returned to complete and get his master's degree in agriculture. And there were a series of problems, because the agricultural depression hit the farmer in 1921, and that was a depressed time for them. [TRACK 1, 2:33] Eventually, he became a high school teacher of agriculture in Dundee, Illinois. That's the important job in a school district, because it's a twelve-month job. You have ten months of teaching and then three months in which you supervise farm programs and so forth, other students and families that are in your community. Well, 1929, when the depression hit, it was disastrous for much of the nation. As a teacher, he took a seventy percent cut in pay, because the people had no money to pay taxes. And as we know, school districts are supported by local taxes. Even with that, he had a job, until he made the fatal mistake of looking once at the financial reports of the school district and noticed a slight discrepancy. The result of this was the superintendent of schools and the principal were brought up on charges for having absconded with money and lost it in the market. The result of this is my father was fired. [TRACK 1, 3:52] I talked to my brother about this. He was 12 when this happened. I was five or six. To me, these are my recollections of what happened. I think, for my mother, number one, they lost their house. They could not make the payments on the house. This must have been a terrible blow to my mother. We moved from there to the second floor of a house in town that had three rooms: a living room, a kitchen, and one bedroom. And with the three children: my brother, my sister, myself, we slept on an unheated glassed-in porch on the second floor. I thought it was wonderful, because I thought I was Robinson Crusoe living in the trees. I can't imagine what this meant to my parents. My brother was much more aware of the tremendous financial situation our family was in. And so, from that, my memories of the Depression are different than his. [TRACK 1, 5:01] I seem to remember that there was a great deal of pulling together of people in the community. I was the smallest person in the class. We had one class per grade level, even though we had a huge area that we drew for population of the school, and we had to line up by size. I was the smallest one in the class, always, and I had to stand next to a girl named Shirley Smith. I came home to my mother and I said, “I don't like to have to stand next to Shirley Smith. She smells.” Well, my mother went to work on that. The Smiths were living in an abandoned barn. They had no running water. The result of this is my mother went and pressured the school board so that every Saturday, the gymnasium and the locker rooms and the showers were open to people in the area who had no running water, so once a week they could at least get clean. I don't seem to remember much more than that. [TRACK 1, 6:10] There was another group of people. I don't know who owned the land, but we all had land down by the river. We had a small town that had hills on either side, with a river in the center, the Fox River. Not much of a river, because if you got your knees wet, that was about it. But at any rate, we would go down every night and hoe with our hoes and rakes and we all worked there, as kids. Afterwards, when we were finished with that, we'd go swimming. So for us, I don't remember thinking that that was work. But as I think about it later on, the produce that came from that, once again working with the school system, on Saturdays—we went up there as kids, we nibbed beans, we peeled something or other, whatever was needed—but there was communal canning done by the entire community, and the food was then divided up and sent home with different families, if they worked there. This is a way in which we were able to meet the needs of, say, Shirley Smith, living in a barn with no heat—and that's no fun in northern Illinois in the wintertime. [TRACK 1, 7:19] I remember that the churches also had a big role to play. Dundee was a tiny town, but they had one small industry and that was the Haeger Potteries. We had a lot of clay in the area. They basically were known as something that made not artistic pottery at that point, but the pots that you plant things in, so that actually was something that was functioning in the town. The Haegers were in our church. We had a weekly dinner at church. They provided the main part of the meal, and I can remember the big farm families coming in with five, six kids and bringing in four deviled eggs. They would either have turkey or you would have ham or some sort of beef, and I realize now that was their way of providing one solid good meal, with probably leftovers that were taken home. I didn't think much about it. We were just doing things. Didn't seem to bother us that no one appeared to have anything. [TRACK 1, 8:31] There was one other thing, and I'm thinking back. This community that I grew up in was very heavily German. German was spoken practically at [the] home of all my friends. [It] was not spoken on the street, because, in that era, you wanted to become an American, and so you spoke your broken English, maybe, on the street, but in walking to school and picking up friends, I heard nothing but German in the home. [TRACK 1, 9:02] And so, the WPA [Works Progress Administration] probably did a good thing. This would have been in the middle of the [19]30s, after [President Franklin Delano] Roosevelt had begun some of his programs to help in the Depression. A man named Mr. Graning—tall, patrician German man—was sent out to this little, wee community. What was his job? He was to give free violin lessons. Well, I don't know. By the time these programs came into existence, it had to be middle thirties. I don't know where my parents found it, but they found 13 dollars. That bought a cardboard case, a violin, and a bow, and he gave free violin lessons. We had our violin lessons in the basement of the school in the boiler room after school was over—because of course, by noon they were turning off the heat in the building, because no one had enough money to buy a lot of heat. So at least we were warm. I never told my parents what it was like to be with Mr. Graning. As an adult, I think back on him. He must have been [an] incredibly unhappy man, although I think the WPA probably thought they were doing a good thing by placing him in a community that was heavily German. So, he should have had some relationship with the people in the community. I only knew him as a person who gave me violin lessons. He hit me repeatedly, screamed at me, yelled at me because I was not holding the violin correctly. I was not getting the intonation absolutely correct. Because in the violin, the bottom two strings are wrapped in something, so even one little difference in the coil made a difference in what the sound was. I would sit there and quietly cry through every one of the lessons with tears streaming down my face. [I] never, ever told my parents. There's no way I could, because they had somehow or other made an enormous sacrifice to find thirteen dollars in that day and age. [TRACK 1, 11:29] I learned to play violin. One of the things I learned from him is something I've had the rest of my life. His comment was that people [who] played the piano were kind of ridiculous, because you just sat and you pushed down on keys and the note came out. As he told me over and over again, you have to create the note on the violin, and you have to know what it's going to sound like. So he made me know what a third sounded like, what an augmented fourth sounded like, what a fifth [sounded like]. [Sings a fifth] is a fifth to this day. You know what it's going to be like before you play it. Over the years, I have sung in whatever was needed in a choir. Church choirs, school choirs, whatever it was. Because I could read music, I started out as a fifth grader singing alto in the church choir. Then, I subsequently went to tenors when that was needed, et cetera et cetera. But everywhere I've been, they've always said, "Well let me sit by you because if we have an entrance, you seem to know what the right tone is." And I tell them, "Well it's a third," or, "It's a fourth." "Well I don't know what you're talking about." I learned that from Mr. Graning. I learned to play violin. I don't know what happened to him. I did continue with lessons later on, in the forties, when, of course, the WPA was not providing people at the time. But it was something that was done, because in a very small community school such as we had, we had no art. We didn't have anything, because you couldn't even pay regular teachers, so you certainly weren't having what they considered a frill. [TRACK 1, 13:19] When I think back, the other major thing that happened with me is my relationship with my father. My father, if you can imagine this, first tried to sell insurance door-to-door. It's so funny because, you know, how can you sell insurance to people that have no money and have no jobs? But he was thinking while he was doing that. What he was thinking about was what he had to offer the world, and that is knowledge of agriculture, a broad knowledge of agriculture, partly because of his inquisitive mind, his previous training, and his natural inclination. Most of the farms in northern Illinois went under financially, because the farmer could not make the payments on the land. There were still people who had money in the midst of the Depression. If I name some of these names, these are the people who bought up the farms around northern Illinois—and that would be Marshall Field of Marshall Field and Company and Field Enterprises. They produced the World Book Encyclopedia. They were the people who did that. A.B. Dick of mimeographing would be another one. Howell of Howell Metal Cabinets. Mr. McCready, I don't know what he did. Max McGraw, who was McGraw Electric—and anyone my age, if you had a toaster in your kitchen, it was a Toastmaster from McGraw electric. They are the people who acquired the land, but didn't know what to do with it. And this is spectacular land, the best land in the world when I think about. I mean, the topsoil is deep and rich. It's the center of Illinois, and it can feed the world if necessary. [TRACK 1, 15:20] So, my father took to the streets of Chicago and went to these people and said, "You have bought this land. I can help you do with it what you don't know." From that, he would map each one of the farms in detail, so that a person who had no knowledge of being able to read maps could see where the house was, where the barn was, where the trees were that were here, where there was a little stream here, and every draw—draw is a term used where there is a depression in the soil in the land—and the fences, and everything. From there he did the testing of the soil. He developed a lab that could handle as many as five hundred samples at a time. So we're not talking about some little rinky-dink thing where you go in with a little piece of dirt and they put a little litmus paper in a tube or something like that. It was done in batches of 10 samples apiece, controlled in the length of time that it was in. He designed all these things so that you could put a shaker—it was called a shaker—that you timed it and it would shake it for a certain number of minutes so that the soil became in contact with the liquids that you were using for the testing. And he tested for major things. Phosphorus, acidity, that sort of thing. He also was capable of changing and creating land if it was necessary, changing the drainage of a particular field so it would be more productive. My brother informs me that he knew enough about plants, because my brother spent time with him, that he could sit and look at a plant and tell you the conditions of the soil. He knew his grains, he knew his soybeans, he knew his wheat, he knew his corn well enough to know those things. [TRACK 1, 17:21] During this time, the remainder of the family, my sister and my brother particularly, described me as the difficult child. So I was sent off with my father, and we went off when he did the mapping of the farms. As you know, if you're doing surveying, somebody has to stand there and hold a pole that has black and white sections on it, so that he did his sightings against it. That's what I did. We spent many parts of the summer in fields together, often into the fall. I learned a lot of things from my father. One of them was that sometimes you have to obey what has been told you. I particularly remember one day when we were out doing things and he said, "Okay now, I've got to do some work now and you can, if you want to, put on your ice skates and go over and skate on the pond there. But don't go over that end, because it's shallow." Well the first thing I did, of course, was to skate right over there and stomp my foot down and go up to my knee in ice cold water. I couldn't do anything about that, because I had disobeyed. So, I lived the rest of that long day with a frozen foot and leg, and learned. I'm sure he saw my wet snow pants. And so, I learned that sometimes you have to do that. [TRACK 1, 18:46] My brother, in the beginning, since he was five years older than me—and he would've been starting when he was about twelve or thirteen—he was doing soil testing, which we set up in the basement of our house. 1941 comes. December, my brother was a freshman in college at the University of Illinois. I had lost my best friend. I was bereft, because I had been a partner in crime with my brother on many things, but he was gone. Before he left that winter, I remember my parents getting together and getting the gym in our elementary school, the same school that we went to, and having a party where all of the people who had graduated from high school in the year, if they were around still, [were] there to have a party. I was allowed to sit up in the balcony—there was no place to sit in the gym; you just had an upper area you could walk around on—because I was deemed too young for this. It was the last time that many of those boys saw each other, because they went off to war. Everybody went off to war. [TRACK 1, 20:18] Before I go into the forties, when my brother left, then, I became the person who did the soil testing. I was probably 13, because at 18 he would have gone. He would have been drafted and gone off. So, I was starting that at the same time. I learned another extremely valuable lesson from that too. I learned about the environment from my father, because he was the original environmentalist, telling you to look at the land, because it will always talk to you. It will tell you how it is, whether it's being abused, whether it's being taken care of, what it needs. [TRACK 1, 21:07] When it came to doing the soil testing, I learned another very valuable thing—and that was that if you do a laboratory exercise correctly, you have to rely upon what the results are. Okay, every two and a half acres of land, which was shown on the maps as a little square, my father took the soil sample. Okay, you're doing a field in there and you're doing the tests and you're doing the results and they seem to fall within a general area and you feel pretty good about that, and then all of a sudden there's one that's way off. Way off. And your first thought is, "I think I'll fudge a little bit. Maybe I'll make it a little closer to the others. No, I can't do that. Let's retest that whole area again.” So, you retest the whole area again, come up with the same results. What am I going to do with this? Well, I think I'd better put down what I see here. Then, of course, Father comes along and he's looking at the results. I said, "Father, you know there's something wrong over here. I don't know what the problem is, but this one is so off. I don't know what in the world—. What's wrong?" I think maybe he did this on purpose. He looked at me and smiled. He said, "Oh yeah, that's where the salt lick is and all the cows go over there to lick the salt. Of course, the soil around there is going to be completely different when you test it." I sometimes wonder if he did that on purpose so that you learn yourself if you have done something correctly. It is a scientific thing. You have got to trust the results. There must be a reason for it. I'm sort of glad that I never did fudge that, because you know, I would have felt bad when I found out the real reason, because it would have been completely different. [TRACK 1, 23:15] Like so many things, and I hope the kids do this today, you get to learn things by doing. When I think of some of the things we did in that lovely era of the Depression, and when we just wandered around the fields and things around town—that area of Illinois was at the end of where one of the ice ages had occurred, so there were pockets of gravel. There were gravel pits, because that would have been the end of the glacier that had an opening where the pebbles that had been ground down dropped through and formed sand pits. Well, we used to go and hurl ourselves off the sides of those sand pits and slide down the sand. Then we’d spend the next hour trying to get out. That was pretty stupid, because we could have been engulfed with sand when we flung ourselves over it. No one knew what we were doing. We just left, you know? And then after breakfast we went off and we roamed the hillsides and did things. I can remember my first love of going into abandoned buildings. It started at that time. I'm thinking of the times that we went into barns that were abandoned or houses that were abandoned and thinking, "Oh my Lord,” you know, “these stairs are not very good." Or dropping through a floor to the basement below! We did a lot of things that maybe weren't bright, but we learned to assess the situation and eventually began to not be quite so stupid. [TRACK 1, 24:58] When my brother went off to war, I remember specifically, because I remember listening to the fireside chats that Roosevelt gave, because we gathered around the radio. The radio was a big thing in those days, the 15-minute programs that were before we had supper. You've got The Shadow, Little Orphan Annie, all those programs that we lived for. I remember [Roosevelt speaking]. I was sitting around the radio, and then I went out to continue to play with my friends, and we thought about, "Well what's going to happen here?" What happened was that our community completely changed. There were no men. There were no men. That is all there is to it. And it was an area where we didn't have any industry, real industry in our community. Farming was what it was. So, what are we going to do to keep these farms going? [TRACK 1, 26:11] My father, with his well-established business by this time in the forties, had one last [client], and his name was Mr. Schnering. He owned the Curtis Candy Company, and he had bought an enormous amount of land. Actually, part of what he bought was the former Woolworth estate outside of Chicago. That actually had an indoor polo field and had barns that I thought were the most beautiful barns I've ever seen, because the stalls for the horses were made out of pure walnut. I was internally surprised by this place. He owned an enormous amount of land, and it's interesting where his primary money came from. In the twenties, back in the early twenties, he had developed candy bars, and one of his candy bars was called Baby Ruth. He rode in on the Babe Ruth of baseball, because they thought he had created that for him. He hadn't. He had one that was called Baby Ruth and his other major one was the Butterfinger. But he wanted to be known as a producer of food, because we needed food during the war. We were sending food to other places, and so my father then took a position. First of all, he mapped all of his lands, created whatever he wanted for him. If he wanted to have a fishing pool, he created a fishing pool for him by changing the general flow of water in the area. And so, we had many acres of land that were under his supervision. [TRACK 1, 27:57] Okay, where are you going to grow food in the middle of the war with no men? Where are you going to get your helpers? My father went to the federal government, and that's when we began. He used German prisoners of war to work in the fields. These German prisoners of war were housed somewhere between us and Chicago. My best friend was of German descent. Paul Rauschert was his name. His nickname was Bingo. Bingo and I would go in the morning in the summertime and sit on the curb in the center of town where we had one square block that was the park and watch the convoy trucks come out bringing the German prisoners of war to work on the farmlands. In New York State here, they did that in northern New York near Oswego with the Italian prisoners of war. The really weird thing is that my friend Bingo Rauschert had two uncles who were prisoners of war. We used to sit there on the side of the curb and watch them go by until we saw his two uncles. Well, we'd wave to them. Then we'd go off and play. At the end of the day, we did the same thing for them to return. [TRACK 1, 29:17] But you have to think about the kind of agriculture you have in Illinois. And that was corn et cetera et cetera, but we're going to grow food. And where was most of the food grown, the kind of food that you eat at your table? Not having, as wheat or corn to go to an animal, say to make a cow, a milk cow or a cow that you'd have just for beef. Well, one of the things that America did, which we certainly are not very proud of, and many people don't know of, is that the people who were most knowledgeable in producing the kind of food to eat were the Japanese [START OF TRACK 2, 0:00] Americans who had settled in the California areas. We took that land away from them and incarcerated those people in camps in Utah and in other areas, because they looked different. That was not lost upon me, because I know that I lived in a community that was heavily German. I was even aware that some people might have even been not totally unsympathetic to what Germany was doing. We didn't do anything with the Germans, but we did it with the Japanese Americans, because they looked different. That's a bad thing that's in our history. Well that's where my father, he contacted the federal government once again and brought in as the supervisors and the farm foremen the Japanese Americans from these camps. So as a kid going out to a farm picnic, it was kind of bizarre. Here we had the German prisoners of war, and we had these Japanese Americans, and then we had a few people that—I don't know—I guess you'd say we were sort of the norm in America. But that's what my father did during the war for the Curtis Candy Company. [TRACK 2, 1:26] When the war was over, there was a great flowering of education in this country, and it reached many areas, and one of the areas it reached was in what we would call the Cooperative Extension Program. So my father found that at that point, he had always had a job where he had income, but the income was not steady. It was whether he had this job, or that job, or that job. At that point my brother, who had dutifully entered the Air Force in 1941—and even then, you have to hand it to the Air Force. They were sophisticated enough in their original testing of the young men that they had. My brother was like me: very small, and they were targeting him for a tail gunner. They gave him a test and discovered that he had a deep innate fear of flying. [Laughter] Here he is, in the Air Force. But my father had been in the Air Force—flown an airplane not the Air Force, because that didn't exist in World War I. But they discovered that he had a brain, so much of his time in the service years was in an accelerated program preparing him for research in aeronautics. The Navy did the same thing. I presume the Marines did it to. I know about the Navy because they commandeered what they had for dormitories at the University of Illinois and they were still commandeering those when I went off to school. My brother was now returned into the Department of Veterans Education at the University of Illinois. My sister was there and I was there. Three of us all at once in 1946. [TRACK 2, 3:30] My father needed steady income. We sold our lab to the University of Illinois because they were now moving into a new phase of agriculture. Every small Cooperative Extension was now going into a different form of soil testing, and here was a lab, all ready for them. So, he sold that and joined the faculty of Southern Illinois University, which at that time was a normal school and was becoming a university. But this happened all over the country, that normal schools that normally trained teachers were broadening to be of a different area. [TRACK 2, 4:11] That started another phase of our life, and that's going to live in another part of the state of Illinois, which basically was completely different than central and northern Illinois. Southern Illinois is hilly and is in the foothills of the Ozarks. You could recognize that here in New York State, because we're the northern end of Appalachia, and basically, southern Illinois was a form of Appalachia. No question about it. We had a small farm, a hundred acres which my father used as a demonstration of how you can do agriculture. Therefore, we had all kinds of different projects. One year it was three thousand tomato plants. Well that was fine, until the northern Illinois farms came in, and then the market dropped. We were shipping them up to Chicago, of course. Another year it was strawberries. Another year it was chickens. Another year it was pigs, but always it was the sheep, because you can't do the same kind of farming in a hilly southern Illinois area that you do in the plains. The local farmers, people, would come in and sit on our fences along, "What are you doing now?" "Well I'm planting fields here." "Well, when are you going to harvest it?" "Well, I'm not going to. These are going to be fields that are going to be pastures for sheep. I'm not going to harvest this. I'm creating a pasture for sheep, for the food they need." Well, of course, it was beyond their comprehension. Do you want to hear about this? [TRACK 2, 6:13] EB: Yeah. KA: Well, they thought my father was crazy. You have to understand, this also ties in with what the war did to people. They thought he was crazy because we took our lambs and we put them on a truck and we sent them to St. Louis, where they went to the slaughterhouses, and we didn't get the money until they had been bid upon in St. Louis, and the money was returned to us. These people had no concept of what that was. They didn't have the concept of money. There's nothing wrong with these people; they just never had this experience. This is the kind of experience that came to all kinds of people throughout our country with World War II, where they might have spent their entire life in a 30-mile radius in the hills of southern Illinois. Because we lived about five mile or seven miles from the Mississippi, as a crow flies, and it was a land of natural caves, hills. We called it the Land of the Never Never. And it was completely different than central Illinois, flat, rich soil. These people had a chance to see what the world was like. They came back changed. [TRACK 2, 7:40] These are the people that my father taught from 1946 on. He said they were the greatest students you could ever have. You go to college now and what do we read about? Terrible things where they're hazing somebody in a fraternity. To go to the University of Illinois in 1945 or 6 or 7, you could go if you had a place to stay. So, there was every fraternity, every sorority, there was something called independent houses. Also, every house would maybe house 50 to 70 people. The dorms were still being used by the Navy V-12 programs. So that was how you got there. You went to school if you had a place to stay. Well, this is where a world opened up to people who would have never had it before. And that was through the G.I. Bill of Rights, and it changed our country. It changed how we do agriculture. [TRACK 2, 8:47] On our farm down there, we had a little building across the road about the size of a double car garage, and two students were allowed to live there. It had a spigot with running water and an outhouse, but we had an outhouse too. They could be there as long as they helped out with the farm. My father used those young men to go talk to a lot of the local people around here, because they realized that they had come from the same background. Of course they thought my father wasn't very bright, because these fellows knew everything. Well, they were his students. And I think back on that. I remember them coming and up one man saying, "You know, this is really nice to have running water and a bathroom in a house. I'm going to do this for my folks." That's where we were in 1945. [TRACK 2, 9:44] And when I think back, the tapping of the great pool of eagerness and intelligence was one of the really, really great outcomes that came from World War II. World War II was a horrible time for some people. We were aware of it, because there were no men in our town. The other major thing that we were aware of was riding our bicycle around town and seeing the little hangings that came in the windows that had stars on them, and that meant someone was killed. And we had one woman in town, Mrs. Hemb was her name—H-E-M-B—Mrs. Hemb. And Bingo and I used to go over regularly. Well, it was kind of ridiculous because we knew we were going to get fresh cookies and milk. But we would also sit on the porch and let her talk to us about her sons. She had three gold stars in the window, because unfortunately her three sons had gone into the Navy and had been on the same ship. [TRACK 2, 11:05] I clearly remember, from the standpoint of the war, the fact that we were losing, losing, losing, losing. It wasn't just Pearl Harbor. I think it was Wake, the Battle of Wake was the first time that we actually were able to make a dent into the Japanese forces, and that began, possibly, the turn of the war. But I do remember the period of tension when we were not winning anything. And what made us win? We turned, as a nation, the entire might of this country to what we are so well-known for, which is innovation, production, and the creation of things. You could not buy a car from 1941 to 1946. You could not buy a washing machine. Well, we didn't have washing machines, first of all. I mean, well, you had a hand one, but you didn't have an automatic washing machine. You couldn't buy an icebox or a refrigerator. That you couldn't do. Because the entire efforts of the nation were for not only America, but the Allies in Europe. We were the godsend. [TRACK 2, 12:37] My daughter has lived in England for the last 30 years. I've had the good feeling [fortune] to go over there many times. And because I sit there with white hair, I could be sitting in a pub, and another old grizzled man will look at me and speak to me and he says, “Oh you're an American!" I said, "Yes." And he said to me, "What did you do during the war?" And it's a bond that I have found with people in England, and of course most them, and I could go on with those stories of talking to an English person and their experience in the war, and how they felt about Americans, how they felt about the B-17 when the B-17 arrived. [TRACK 2, 13:30] Visiting one of the great houses in Norfolk—Norfolk is a flat land. That's where the airfields are. That's where my husband was. He was also there after the Korean War. He was assigned to England and he was in Milton Hall Air Force Base. That's where they thought the Germans were going to come into England. And this young man, when I was going through the house, visiting it—Blickling Hall—he was a docent. I was talking to him in the dining room and he said, "Well in forty-five minutes I'll be up in what I call the ancestor room." It's a big long hallway where they hang all the pictures of the ancestors. He said, "I want to continue my talk with you." I met him up there in that room. And he said to me, "This is the room where I came in as an 18 year old. I came in here and I slept under that picture." It was before they removed the pictures. But it was the beginning of the war. And he said, "And I was a pilot. This was an airfield." And he said, "We had terrible airplanes. They were just thrown together." I said, "The B-24?" He said yes, "The B-24 was just—" "The Liberator Bomber?" He said it was just barely hanging together. And he said, "Then the Americans came. And when the Americans came, and we had tanks, trucks, and the airplanes." He said, "The airplanes you had, the P-51, the P-38, the B-17." He said, "That airplane could come back on two engines." He said, "You don't know what it meant to us." [He said] that when America entered the war, [it] really gave us the hope that we would be able to win this. [TRACK 2, 15:30] I don't know if somebody realized that we as a nation put every effort that we had into supporting that war. And it ended up on two fronts. That means an awful lot to a certain number of people. And I see this now, in a recent election we had, where so many of the people have had military time in our nation now, and have a different attitude towards our nation. It's not a sappy patriotism, but a deep respect for what we have done as a nation. [TRACK 2, 16:16] EB: So during World War I, when all the men left town— KA: Two. World War II. EB: Excuse me, World War II. [Laughter] When you were doing the soil sample work, since you were taking over for your brother, was that something that was gendered? KA: What do you mean? EB: When you were doing the work that he did, was that men's work or did you not think of it that way? KA: Oh, no. That's the really good thing. Dundee was close enough that when we were in high school, we went and visited a plant. The plant made the DC-3. That was an airplane that had two engines reciprocating. It sat on its tail. The DC-3 was actually developed in the 1930s. It's an old warhorse. There are still DC-3s around, as an airframe. Everything else is changed. That was the Douglas Plant. We went because we were learning about what industry was like. Now, the women that I knew in town, the woman next door, oh I hero-worshipped her. She worked in this plant. These were the workers. You know of Rosie the Riveter. The jobs were taken over by women and that was the big change in life. Where in the Depression, my mother might have organized women to do something to help out on a local level, women actually went out into the workforce at that time. [TRACK 2, 17:53] In school, oh my gosh. Up until the war you could not have a teacher if she was married. If she was married, that was the end of her, because you were taking a job away from, quote, "a man." So that's completely different. You suddenly got the only man. Mr. Sutphen was his name—Vernon Sutphen. He was the principal of the school, and eventually he was drafted. I don't know who took over the running of the school, tell you the truth. I don't think it was a female, but by the same token, there were changes, and I was aware of these changes all over our environment, because of the absolute loss of men. [TRACK 2, 18:42] I had an interesting experience in our church. My father was instrumental in bringing the young man in as a minister. I was 10 when he came in and I was designated to be his babysitter, and I was his babysitter for the next 10 years, until he left and went to another church. One of the interesting things is that Wednesday nights was what he called his "real church." He met in the homes of people—and this was during the war—and he met primarily with the wives. And they questioned every single religious tenet that we would have, because of what this war was doing. And he used to come home on those nights. He said, "I am exhausted, because I am tested with every single person that's there, because they want to know, “Why?” How have we gotten into a situation [like this] and why do we treat people like this? Why does this happen? How can this fit into what we call a Christian nation? And those are still valid questions that go on at all points. [TRACK 2, 20:00] Basically, I think people just stepped to the plate. I've been in places in England where the entire—if over six million people went to war from England, everything was done by women. And they did the farm work. And we did the same thing. It was mainly women going to the factories, and we were close enough to Chicago. Of course interestingly enough, this factory, which was making the DC-3, is the basis of O'Hare Field right now, the massive field outside of Chicago that is O'Hare Airport. I'm sure that that little building that we went to, that first factory, I'm sure isn't even there anymore, but that became O'Hare, which is kind of interesting. [TRACK 2, 21:00] So you're talking about—I think you would have to say it's part of the development— because I'm still in the Midwest—[of what] is to me a great sense of independence. The woman next door, she did not see her husband for four years. And you never knew where he was. Somewhere. I mean, he started [and] went all through Africa, crossed over into Italy, and ended up in the end in Germany. So he was there through the entire European campaign. [TRACK 2, 21:30] And, I guess—I'm trying to think. I guess one of the really major things for me is when I went to college. I met a lot of different people, obviously. And in 1948—this sticks in my mind—I was not, I would say, very politically astute at that point. But we used to think we were so smart, this group of kids. There were 20 of us in our class in this house that I lived in. We stayed up one night every month all night long just discussing things. We thought we were so cool. I will never, ever forget the discussion we had on the night that Truman capitulated in 1948. And I say it's capitulation, because I didn't know about this until, actually within the last two years. The greatest single thing that we did for Europe after the war—for America it was creating the G.I. Bill of Rights—in Europe, it was the Marshall Plan. Rebuilding Europe with good livestock to restart their farming, help to develop their development of industry, et cetera, everything from the Marshall Plan. What I did not realize [is] that politically, Truman had to make a choice between a Marshall Plan and capitulating to the people who formed Israel. And he chose the Marshall Plan. To my memory it was a discussion that night. It was when Israel was formed. And we talked to each other and we said, "Well what about the people that are living there? What what's going to happen to the people that are living there?" And I was not politically sharp at that point. But as I sit back now and think of that, what, 70 years ago, oh, what have we paid for that? But we also probably saved a good deal of Europe by doing the Marshall Plan. But, and is true in many things, it's not black and white. There are tradeoffs. You have to compromise in some ways. [TRACK 2, 24:06] Maybe I'm digressing. Maybe you don't even want this. But you asked something about gender. This amuses me, because I wrote to my sister a letter today. I said you were coming to interview me today. And my mother was probably my age, living in a retirement facility in Illinois, when a young person came out to interview her, and her first question was this: "I feel sorry for you, Mrs. Clark, that you had to be a young woman in an era when you were not able to do anything." And my mother drew up and she said, "Young woman!" [Laughter] "I have never been held down by any man in my life for anything I wanted to do. I had a happy marriage. I had an education. I had a career. I raised children. And young woman, I don't know what you're talking about." [Laughter]. [TRACK 2, 25:09] When I think back, I just think it became a natural thing in the forties for people to step up and do what needed to be done. I don't think we were thinking gender. Of course I can't remember that you held a job for somebody. People didn't hold a job, because who knew who was coming home? Besides, the world had changed. What jobs were available were different. But that's an interesting—you asked me that question. I've never felt that I've been held back. I also had the same kind of a husband who recognized that I was an independent person, which is a good thing. [TRACK 2, 25:53] Because, let's face it, we started off with our married life by being together for six months and then he was gone for the next two and a half years. Then he came back and we made some decisions, and one of the decisions was that Korea was a police action. But you could still get killed in police actions. And Bill liked having more control over his individual destiny by being a pilot, so he stayed in the reserves. Therefore, he got to spend two years in Vietnam. What would I do if I were some lowly white person leaning on a husband to do everything. No. No. And even in the years in the reserves, he full well knew. "Kath, I'm sitting here in an Officer's lodge and lodges in Spain and you're home dealing with a handicapped kid and the other three kids. You're working harder than I am." It was the way we had a marriage, and I think my parents had the same one. My mother was fiercely independent, but also not to the point where you abdicate what is your basic responsibility, which is, you know, somebody has to cook the meals and that sort of thing. And you just do it. You don't say, "I'm being held down because of this." You go ahead and do other things. Any other questions you have? [TRACK 2, 27:27] EB: Yeah, we're running low on time, but I want to talk about your experience in Long Island, and can you just tell me how you ended up moving there? KA: Oh yeah. I'm sorry. We've gone too long. EB: That's okay. KA: We came to Long Island. Fate has a great thing in your life. I believe in fate. I really do. Bill had his years in the Air Force in Korea, and he came back. Korea was, as I said before, a police action. There were no benefits for people. Of the four men that started with him in basic training at Greenville, Mississippi, two of them were killed in Korea. So that was 50 percent of his closest friends gone. [TRACK 2, 28:19] So we went back. Bill wanted to be a teacher. He always did. We went back to get our master's degree at the University of Illinois. Cost us nothing. Cost us five dollars for a student activity fee. Why? Because he had a skill. The University of Illinois had something called the Institute of Aviation, where they not only taught how to fly airplanes, but they also did psychological work on instrumentation, where an instrument should be in the cockpit. And it should therefore be in every cockpit and every airplane in the same place. And Bill came in from the Air Force. He was an excellent teacher. As he said, "When you're teaching someone to fly," and this is true of all forms of education, "you have to let that student have the sense that he could do what he needs to do.” But an airplane, you can't let them kill you. So you may have to step in once and keep yourself from spinning into the ground. Coming from the Air Force, he was qualified to give flight instruction in single engine, multi-engine, reciprocating engine, multi-engine jet, instrument flying, night navigation, you name it. He was qualified to do anything. So we went there and he became a flight instructor, and therefore he was paid by the University. [START OF TRACK 3, 0:00] All we had to do was pay the student activity fee, which was five dollars a semester. [Laughter] He got his master's degree, and then we look for a job. Well, he's not twenty-one years old coming out of college, looking for a job. He now has had four years of service and another year of getting his master's degree, so we're a little older. [TRACK 3, 0:26] And this is in the fifties. We looked for the areas that had the school districts that are supported by people who were interested in education. That was primarily the suburban areas: Webster Groves out of St. Louis, any one of the places outside of Chicago, it would be Shaker Heights in Cleveland, and these are the places we sent our invitation. Great Neck in New York, that's the first thing that's after you leave New York City—Queens—you're over the line from Queens. So it's the first of the suburbs on Long Island, and Great Neck, therefore, has extremely good transportation into the city, because they have the most trains, and they're direct, and it's a short distance. [TRACK 3, 1:26] They had a very, very strong school district. It was very interesting. They came out and contacted Bill. And we met people, actually, two principals returning from the Elementary School Principals' Association in Denver. We met them in the Palmer House in Chicago. I was to come too. I was this big [mimes pregnant stomach] with child number two. And we had an interview. It was very interesting, because they were looking for a particular type of person. They were looking for Midwest men, because they said we come with a different attitude and that's why I say the Midwest has never left us. It's always with us. Well, they offered him the job. And they said, "We will give you fifty dollars for each year that you were in service in Korea." So people say, "How come you came to Long Island?" And I said, "Well we came here for money. Two hundred dollars." [Laughter] Well, that meant that he came here for three thousand dollars a year instead of twenty-eight hundred. I had been teaching for twenty-six hundred a year. And that's how we came here. [TRACK 3, 2:58] Wow, what an experience that was. Because we came here, and in Great Neck, there was one house in Levittown—no, it was Levitt house but it was in—it'll come to me. It was in the community there. It was a Levitt house and in an area that was all homeowners except this one house. It was owned by a colonel in the Air Force in Japan. Whoever was the new teacher in Great Neck rented that house until they bought a house, so we rented that house. Well, first of all, it was a wonderful house, that Levitt house, for seven thousand dollars. What a wonderful house. I said to Bill, "Where have you brought me?" Because this was a whole area of homeowners, and these were people who had come from the city. And their parents would come out every weekend, and the parents were the immigrants. So, Bill goes and he joins the reserves, which is out of Mitchell Air Force Base, which is now Roosevelt Field, a big shopping center. Okay, he's gone on weekends. I'm there. I say, Bill, "Where have you brought me?" I said, "There's nobody here that speaks English." The people next door to us, when the family came out on the weekends, they spoke Greek. The people on the other side spoke Italian. The people behind us spoke Yiddish. I said, "I don't think there's anybody here on the weekends that speaks English." But I would never have anything different than that. I had a background that was not insular, but coming to Long Island was the single best thing we ever did. [TRACK 3, 4:58] And then when we looked for a place to buy a home, we looked for an older community that had the same distribution. Actually, it had a better economic distribution, because everybody in Levittown basically was the same, middle class. We bought a house, an older home, in Glen Cove. I love Glen Cove. It goes from subsidized housing to J.P. Morgan's estate. And our kids grew up with a diversified community economically, ethnically, and it was it was a great community. [TRACK 3, 5:37] When I say fate brings you places—that infant that was born after Bill accepted the job and before we came in September was a handicapped child. He looked all right physically, but mentally handicapped. There was no better place to be in this country than outside of New York if you had a handicapped child, because much of what started in New York was light-years ahead of other states. Much of what started in the city—people moved out on Long Island—was the Mill Neck School for the Deaf, the Henry Viscardi School for people with severe physical disabilities, the first of the cerebral palsy schools. Then the school that we helped build, because we went and visited all these others and figured out how they wrote their bylaws and everything, how they got organized and things. There was no better place to be than in Long Island at that time. And that's another whole phase of our life, is what we have done with a handicapped child. But that's for another whole time. But that's how we came to Long Island. [TRACK 3, 7:05] And now I'm in Cooperstown. Why? Because I knew that someday I needed to come back to a rural area. I cannot tell you. I live here in a house. Unfortunately, 10 days after we closed on this property, my husband died suddenly, but by the same token, 20 years later when my kids said, "Oh go for it, Mom. You and Dad were going to do this." I sit here, and I look out on farmland. And I did not realize how much that means to me. This phase of my life, albeit without my husband, has been enormously rich. I have no regrets. So, I'm sorry if I've talked too much. [Track 3, 8:01] EB: Not at all. I think that's a perfect place to end. Thank you so much for your time. KA: Well, you know more than you want to know now. Duration Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.) 30:00-Track 1 30:00-Track 2 08:12-Track 3 Bit Rate/Frequency Rate at which bits are transferred (i.e. 96 kbit/s would be FM quality audio) 128 kbps Time Summary A summary of an interview given for different time stamps throughout the interview Track 1, 01:14-Great Depression Track 1, 09:02- Violin lessons Track 1, 18:46-World War II Track 3, 0:26- Long Island Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Kathryn Allen, November 13, 2018 Subject The topic of the resource Agriculture Great Depression Midwest Dundee, Illinois German-Americans Works Progress Administration Soil testing World War II German prisoners of War Japanese Internment Air Force G.I. Bill Cooperative Extension Program Gender Creation of Israel Korean War University of Illinois Long Island Special Education Description An account of the resource Kathryn, or Kathy, Allen (née Clark) was born in rural Illinois in 1929. As a child, she lived through the Great Depression and experienced the rural home front’s response to World War II. An agricultural specialist, her father worked as a soil tester in northern Illinois. Because of his work, she witnessed the transformation of Midwestern agriculture that occurred during and after the Depression. After World War II, when her father joined the faculty of Southern Illinois University, she and her family moved to the southern part of the state. After the Korean War, she and her husband Bill moved to the diverse community of Glen Cove, Long Island, where she worked as a school librarian for several decades. She moved to Cooperstown later in life. As a result of the Great Depression, the number of farms in the Midwest decreased and the sizes of those farms increased. Wealthy individuals bought up land that less affluent people had lost. This farm consolidation, which continued through the rest of the twentieth century, transformed the nature of agriculture. Kathy’s life changed as a child as her father’s occupation shifted in response to these trends and the increasing professionalization of agriculture. Kathy reflects on how both her life and the communities in which she lived changed in response to national events in the 1930s, 40s, and 50s, primarily. Her father is a particularly important figure in the interview, and she discusses how his work shaped her worldview. She remembers experiencing strict violin lessons provided by the Works Progress Administration, witnessing Nazi prisoners of war work in fields in her heavily German-American community, and discussing the formation of Israel in her college housing. She discusses her feelings on the ways children learn by doing, gender roles during World War II, America’s place on the world stage, and the nature of Midwestern character. The interview took place one week after the 2018 midterm elections, to which she briefly alludes. The transcript has been lightly edited for clarity and sentence structure. Long stretches of speech have been broken into paragraphs. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Emma Bresnan Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Cooperstown Graduate Program, State University of New York-College at Oneonta Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2018-11-13 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Cooperstown Graduate Program, Cooperstown, NY Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource audio/mpeg 28.8MB audio/mpeg 28.8 MB audio/mpeg 7.9 MB image/jpeg 3024 × 4032 pixels Language A language of the resource en-US Type The nature or genre of the resource Sound Image Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Illinois Long Island Cooperstown, NY 1929-2018 http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/e529298b2109a7c2855eddf29a56cea0.JPG 881ae4f84c15d7ead61a585b542c9cfd http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/29ab11863d512ecb1d0b76a3ec9dd1be.MP3 643a05731057cfcbda872522d6562f29 http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/ab7fb47c510a52ab2dd84e4e34dd7f16.MP3 6f3eeeff985608a9a7231e38dcef1fa6 http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/995e893636516f3f6c84434401b6cd94.docx 529ccaf631fbcd597a07b065a908cf09 Oral History A resource containing historical information obtained in interviews with persons having firsthand knowledge. Interviewer The person(s) performing the interview. Anastacia Maurer Interviewee The person(s) being interviewed. Margaret McGown Location The location of the interview. Highway 80<br /><br /> Cooperstown, NY Transcription Any written text transcribed from a sound. [START OF TRACK 1, 0:00] AM: My name is Anastacia Maurer and I'm a graduate student at the Cooperstown Graduate Program. And I'm here today on November 12, 2018 with Margaret McGown in her home in Cooperstown, New York, interviewing her for CCP Community Stories. Margaret, thank you for having me here today. MM: Well, I'm glad to have you here. AM: So to get us started with some introductory information tell me about your age and where you were born. MM: I was actually born in Binghamton, New York at Our Lady of Lourdes Hospital on April 29th of 1947. So I guess that makes me seventy-one. AM: Tell me a little bit about your family. MM: Well, my father's side of the family has been in Otsego County since before the Revolutionary War. We have a long family history. But my great-great-great grandfather Steven is buried in the Cherry Valley Cemetery and they migrated down the Middlefield Center Road, had a farm there. Then my great-great grandfather built the house at 4 Pine Boulevard in Cooperstown where my grandparents, great grandparents, [and] my father actually grew up in that house. And so that side of my family's been right here. My father was born in the Thanksgiving Hospital, which is now the Thanksgiving Home. My mother was born in Kingston, Pennsylvania which is outside of Wilkes-Barre. She married Dad and moved to Cooperstown at a fairly young age and lived here her entire life. Dad lived to be eighty-eight, Mom lived to be ninety-six. So they were here a long time. AM: What are some of your family traditions here in Cooperstown? MM: Thanksgiving is probably our biggest family tradition. That's our big holiday. But we are people who like the lake. We have a boat. I learned to water ski on the lake. I look at the lake every day. We have a boat on the lake now and getting everybody together to go out in the boat in the nice weather is fun and generally we meet up with our friends out there. My dearest friend is a year younger than I am but we've been friends since she was one and I was two. So we spend a lot of time together. Being with family and good friends is probably the most important thing in my life. AM: Tell me about your children. MM: Okay. My husband and I have four children. I had two children by my first marriage. My daughter Beth, who turned fifty in February. She was the one at the back door. My son David who is forty-seven. He lives in the house next door on this property. My husband has a daughter is thirty-nine, I believe. So she lives in Apex, North Carolina. And then Mark and I have a child, Stephen, who lives in Arlington, Massachusetts. All of these children each have two children, one boy and one girl, so we have eight grandchildren. AM: So, with some members of your family still here and some further away, has the dynamic of your family changed or stayed the same over the years? MM: Well, I grew up with my grandparents. I was twenty-four when my first grandparent died. But my McGown grandparents who lived here in Cooperstown, I grew up with always being around them. My mother's parents lived in Pennsylvania. We didn't see them as often, but Nan and Grandpa McGown were here. Part of the family for many, many years. They both lived to be in their nineties. Then of course my parents; my father owned the McGown Company which is the store on the corner of Main and Pioneer Street, which is now Mickey's Place, but that was the McGown Company Hardware, Plumbing, and Heating for all of my growing up until 1982. And my mother was a stay-at-home mom until my younger sister went to high school and then Mom was a substitute teacher. I was one of four children. An older sister whose name was Harriet but we always called her Cookie. And unfortunately she died at the age of twenty-eight in 1972. Then there was me, the rebellious middle child, and then I have a brother Fred who was born in 1950, and a sister who was born in 1955. My brother is an attorney in Albany. My sister is a CPA [Certified Public Accountant] and she lives on Mercer Island, Washington. AM: So, you said you grew up in Cooperstown. What was the town like when you were growing up here? [TRACK 1, 05:39] MM: Nirvana. It was wonderful. We ran the streets. We were never really very restricted. Our father insisted that we learned how to swim because we lived at 18 Main Street. The beginning of the Susquehanna River was less than a block away and the lake was about a block away. So when we were kids the Alfred Corning Clark Gymnasium was on the corner of Fair and Main which was practically a stone's throw from our front door. And we spent a lot of time in the gym and Dad had us there learning to swim. I swam the length of the gym pool when I was three. And I always remember that there was a big pulley system over the pool and the big black belt and they put the belt around us and then we would swim up and down the pool and they eventually would sort of take the pressure off the rope and we would just swim but we had to be encouraged to do that until we finally realized we could do it ourselves. I remember doing synchronized swimming in the pool at the gym. The Cooperstown dancing class, the Junior Ballroom Dancing Class, was started when I was in seventh grade and my mother and father and various other members of the community were the committee that started that. Now the women did all the work but the men's names were on it. And we had a cotillion at the Fenimore House in the early years. I believe it's now at the Otesaga, but in the very early years our cotillions were in the big room at the Fenimore House and we did that for three years in my day and age. We had Mount Otsego Ski Tow. So we all went skiing in the winter. The school bus would pick us up behind the old high school and take us up to Mount Otsego and Nick Sterling who was the principal and then superintendent of the school had the Sterling Ski School up there and we all learned to ski. It was wonderful. We had a lot of snow then, so I can remember skiing well into April. We all rode the school bus on Saturdays and I think we paid a dollar a day. And then on Sundays I think it cost us two dollars a day to ski. It was pretty nice; a lot of people came from Richfield. There was a small ski bowl up in Richfield but a lot of people preferred to come to Mount Otsego. Many of us who skied at Mount Otsego still miss it. We had rope tows. It was a big day when they put in the one T-bar that was there. But we all grew up on rope tows. I still have my tow gripper. I went to school in the old high school, in the basement next to the boiler room, because the school was being outgrown. I did kindergarten in the Methodist Church, which was next door to the old high school, first grade next to the boiler room at the old school, second grade in the Methodist Church again, and then third grade we went to the brand new elementary school. And we stayed in the elementary school through sixth grade. Then we went back to the old high school, as I said it's gone, but I was there seventh, eighth, and ninth grade. And then I went to the Northfield School for Girls for tenth, eleventh, and twelfth grade. AM: So that ski slope is no longer operational? MM: No, it's no longer operational. It was owned by Les Hansen. I think the insurance and everything just became too much. There was also a very small ski slope on West Ridge Road in Cooperstown. I don't remember it. My father talked about it, because the hotel, the Otesaga was the Knox School for Girls when my father was growing up. My father grew up on 4 Pine Boulevard, which is right in front of the hotel. And the Otesaga was the Knox School for Girls. Dad talked about a ski tow that was over there somewhere by West Ridge Road. I didn't see it, but I know it was there. I've heard other people mention it also. But our little ski tow was a lot of fun for a long time. AM: So, how has Cooperstown changed over the years? [Track 1, 10:35] MM: Well, more and more baseball. When I was a kid there was a Hall of Fame game played. It was one team from the National League and one team from the American League. And they would come and play a non, I don't know what to call it. A game that didn't count. It was an exhibition game. That's what it was. They would come and they would all change their clothes and the team would all go to the gym, which as I said was practically across the street from our house. And the players would walk up and down the street up to Doubleday Field and play. And when they were done playing they'd walk back and we kids all walked with them all the time and talked to them and got their autographs and it was a lot of fun. And we got to talk to the players. And now you pay fifty dollars to get an autograph and stand in line for I don't know how long because I don't do it. Baseball has become very commercialized. When I was a kid growing up, we bought our clothing in Cooperstown. There was a shop on Pioneer Street called the Patsy Inn Shop. And I remember going there and my mother bought us dresses. I remember my gray wool coat with the muff that went with it and a hat. Which was my Sunday wear, I mean my good wear—we didn't wear those to school. There were shoe stores on Main Street, there was Van’s Shoe Store and there was Derek's Shoe Store. And we could buy our shoes in town. We really didn't go places much to buy things. A big trip was to go to Bresee’s in Oneonta. And Bresee’s was a department store on Main Street in Oneonta. And that was a big trip, to go to Bresee’s and maybe buy some clothing. But my mother also made a lot of our dresses. She and my grandmother smocked our dresses. And they made a lot of clothes. And actually my mother made a lot of dresses for my daughter Beth when she was born. But it was very different. We weren't on the road all the time. There were four children and we ate three meals a day in the dining room. Sterling silver—it was just, that’s the way it was. And all of us—my mother and father and all four of us sat down for breakfast. Of course, mostly I remember my baby sister in the high chair because she was eight years younger than me, but we all sat at the table and ate meals. There was no fast food. On Thanksgiving we would go to the Cooper Inn on occasion, when my aunt and uncle were in town and they wanted us all to go to the Cooper Inn together. There was a dining room in the basement of the Cooper Inn. There were a few restaurants, but most of them were more like coffee shops. I don't remember eating out in Cooperstown. I know that Sherry's was there for many, many years. And once in a great while some of us would go to Sherry's, but it was pretty rare. I wouldn't say once a year. And we ate meals at home. We were pretty free in the summer and on weekends. The noon whistle blew at twelve o'clock and you were supposed to go home and check in. At 5:30 all the mothers knew all the kids were supposed to go home at 5:30. So if we were in somebody else's house they'd start shoving us out the door. We all had bicycles. I can remember my great aunt brought me a lovely bicycle when I was very young. I couldn't ride it for a while but I learned and I had my bicycle. And my friend that I spoke about who I've been friends with, she lived on the other side of town over by the elementary school and I lived on Main Street but I rode my bicycle back and forth and she rode her bicycle back and forth. It just was so different. We were so free. The day my sister was born I’d just turned eight. My grandparents came because my mother needed to go to the hospital and they were trying to figure out where I was. Well, I came home when the whistle blew. I've been down at the lake fishing. And I was eight. Nobody was worried about me. So it's very different than now when you watch your kid walk to the corner and then somebody else watches them walk to their house or whatever. I mean we just had none of that. We were very free. And it was really pretty cool. I played a lot of golf. I played a lot of tennis. We had a sailboat. At the Cooperstown Country Club we had a fleet of turnabouts which were basically wooden bathtubs and we sailed those and we raced them and we had a wonderful time with them. We took tennis lessons and Ed Kroll taught me to play golf. Ed was the golf pro in Cooperstown for many, many years. We had golf lessons and then we’d go out and play golf. I can remember square dancing on the tennis courts at the Club. We had a lot of fun. We were very, very fortunate kids. AM: So, in what ways do you think Cooperstown has stayed the same? [TRACK 1, 16:10] MM: I think there are still some very fortunate people here. I think there are a lot of kids who still do very well coming out of Cooperstown High School and I would say that about my generation, that there was a high level of [students] going to college and being well-educated and I think that has somewhat stayed the same. I think that has a certain amount to do with the people who live here. We have a lot of doctors, their kids all go to college and do well. I think educationally people still do well here. I think the hospital has obviously grown and there are many more jobs there. I started working at the hospital when I was sixteen. I was a nurse's aide and they had a wonderful program that taught us to be nurses’ aides. I forgot the question. AM: It was just, “How has Cooperstown stayed the same?” MM: I think there is very big emphasis still on the hospital and the medical care was good then and I think it's good now. We have a fairly low level of crime. I mean when I grew up the front door of the house on Main Street was never locked. Ever. We didn't always lock our cars. I think that we're probably a little more cautious now, but I could probably still park my car on Main Street and leave it there unlocked for a fairly long period of time and it would be just fine. So I think there is a low crime level and I think that that stayed pretty low. I mean there've been some awful things that have happened here. When I was probably in middle school two young men were murdered on Main Street between the two banks and there certainly have been things that happened but I would say all in all it's a pretty low level of crime still. I think Cooperstown is still a village in a county that has been fairly poor over the years. In Cooperstown generally people are not as poor. But I mean growing up certainly there were a lot of the kids who lived on the farms and kids who lived in other areas and I don't think they did have the same advantages that those of us who lived in Cooperstown had. And I think that's still the same. AM: So, what's your opinion on the changes or the lack of changes that you've seen in Cooperstown? How do you feel about them? [TRACK 1, 19:28] MM: Well, I would love to see us have a more diverse Main Street than we have. I think that one of the big changes that came starting in 1996, when the Cooperstown Dreams Park came. And there are a lot of people who feel that that was a bad thing. I think it was a bad thing and a good thing. I think that, economically, I'm not sure how our village would have survived at all without the Cooperstown Dreams Park. And I think it has brought millions of dollars into the village and without that we could have been another one of those small towns with empty storefronts most of the time. We have empty storefronts in the winter now because some of the baseball people don't keep stores open in the winter. But in the summer we certainly have a lot of people coming to town and a lot of money being spent in the town. And I think we have to be grateful to the Hall of Fame and to the Dreams Park for some of the economic success in Cooperstown. AM: Did you have a role in the beginnings of the Dreams Park? MM: I did. I worked for the Dreams Park. I was there when the first pitch was thrown in 1996. We were open for four weeks that summer and we had about twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five teams a week for four weeks. I was actually in charge of the infirmary. And I spent four weeks at the Dreams Park running the infirmary that year. I was an EMT at the time. They were required to have medical services there and I spent a lot of time there. As the park grew, of course, we hired people. We had a little more idea of what we were really doing. The first year we sort of made it up as we went along. But we hired people, we had more people working there. We've maintained the infirmary at the Dreams Park. I've been the Health Director and the person who owns the corporation that runs all of the medical services there straight through 2018. At this point we have about seven EMTs [Emergency Medical Technicians] and one nurse there all day every day. But the Dreams Park is now twenty-two baseball fields, twelve hundred kids a week, and about four hundred coaches, and two hundred umpires and it's a very large operation. I was a director there for fifteen years. I was in charge of the medical. I was in charge of what we called money services, which was the group of people who took care of all the money going through the concession stands and the soda machines and the clothing and souvenir shop and we took care of all of that. I was in charge of health and safety. In 1999 I was actually in charge of the Park. But unfortunately the owners had gotten into a bit of a legal wrangle and they were put into receivership in New Jersey and the receiver whose name was John Haran hired me to be his boots on the ground in Cooperstown that year. So it was a very exciting year for me. Not much sleep but we got it done. I think we were at eight weeks that summer. I don't think we'd expanded beyond our eight weeks. It was an interesting time. AM: What was the original impetus behind starting the Dreams Park? MM: Well it'd be a little hard for me to say. Louis Presutti, Senior, was a gentleman from Olean New York and he was a big baseball fan and he had traveled the country for quite a while with this idea that he had. And he decided that he wanted to do it. He and his family put this together and started it and I think that he was just a guy who loved baseball and wanted to see people play. He coached for many years and he wanted kids from all over the country to be able to come to Cooperstown to play baseball. AM: So, aside from the Dreams Park which you already mentioned what different roles have you had in the community? [TRACK 1, 24:18] MM: Oh dear. Well, I went to the Northfield School for Girls, and then I went to Elmira College and after I graduated from Elmira a couple years later I moved back home. I worked at Bassett. The first year I worked at Bassett, I worked in the business office. So I learned a bit about insurance and billing and all that and then I was hired to be Social Work Assistant. I worked under Sam Wilcox, who is a long-term Cooperstown resident, and I worked for Sam until I was hired by Bill Hermann, who was the Administrator of the hospital, and in 1985 Bill Herman took me out of the Social Work Department and put me in Administration to run a finance project. Bassett had gone from one computer system to another for all their billing and all the people who were working in the Billing Office were working on all the stuff on the new computer system but they had about four million dollars’ worth of unpaid bills that were just kind of languishing. So, Bill Hermann hired me and I hired a staff of 11 people. They put us in one of the houses on Fair Street that the hospital owned, and we started going through four million dollars’ worth of old bills and figuring out what needed to be done, whether an insurance needed to be billed, whether the patient needed to be billed, whether the insurance had ever been billed, or what insurance someone might have had that was not on record. And we worked our way through four million dollars’ worth of old accounts receivable. I couldn't tell you exactly what we collected but it was a pretty good amount. Then, in that September of 1986, I went to law school at Syracuse University College of Law. And was there for three years, came back home. I was actually a lawyer for the hospital for quite a while. I did all the psychiatric proceedings, psychiatric retention, involuntary medication, a lot of different kinds of law that needed to be done not only for Bassett but for Fox [Hospital in Oneonta]. And then I also did a lot of what's called Article 81 proceedings which are proceedings for appointment of guardians of people who become incapacitated and have not made any will or power of attorney or anything so that someone else could take care of things for them. So we had to go through a court proceeding to get someone appointed their guardian. So that was basically my law practice. Most of my law practice. In my early years I did some family court also, and I did a few divorces. But as any lawyer will tell you, you get out of that as fast as you can. My children—Beth went to school through ninth grade in Cooperstown and then she went to the Westminster School. David went through ninth grade in Cooperstown and he went to Williston. Emma, Mark's daughter, lived on Long Island so she did not go to school here. And Mark's and my son Steven graduated from Cooperstown. It was interesting, the night they had the alumni dinner they had my grandfather, who graduated from Cooperstown in 1904 I think. And he was quite surprised when he realized that his great grandfather had graduated from Cooperstown. He never really figured that out. Beth went on and went to Wheaton College. David went to Wheaton College. Stephen went to Hamilton College. So, that's sort of the family history here. And the other thing that my husband and I started was an ambulance business in 1980. We still own it. It's called Cooperstown Medical Transport. We started this little tiny ambulance business in 1980 which is now an ambulance business covering Otsego, Delaware, and Chenango Counties. We have over one hundred employees and it's a pretty big business these days. AM: So, what inspired you to go back to law school after having already graduated and then been working? MM: Well, I saw a lot of things and I heard about what happened with families when I was working in the hospital. My brother is a lawyer. I was always kind of interested in the law. And I just decided that's what I was going to do. I've never regretted it. I never worked for a fancy law firm, I wanted to come home. I love the way it taught me to think. And I think, no matter whoever I talk to [START OF TRACK 2, 0:00] who has graduated from law school, they understand what I'm saying because you get taught to think a way that maybe isn't quite as emotional as you might think if you hadn't spent a lot of time reading law, but I just like the way it taught me to think. It taught me how to organize my brain, how to organize my thoughts, and I really have always appreciated that from it. I didn't always love practicing law, but I do like the way it made me think. AM: So, with that in mind, you've mentioned a lot of your own college experiences and your family's college experiences. What kind of role do you see education playing in a person's life? [TRACK 2, 00:47] MM: Well, I think that there are many people for whom a college education is a wonderful thing. However, I don't think we should be pushing everyone to graduate from college. I think we need all the people. We need the welders, we need the car mechanics. We need a lot of people to do a lot of things in this life—electricians. I could go on forever. And do they need some sort of education? Yes. But I think we really need to look more at things like BOCES [Board of Cooperative Educational Services]. When I was growing up if you went to BOCES, which is the local sort of trade school in high school, if you went to BOCES you were not thought very highly of. It was not something that people aspired to, at least the people that I knew, most of us went to college. But I think we need a lot more trade education in the United States and I think pushing college for everyone is a mistake. I have some pretty strong thoughts about high school education. I did take all of my algebra, geometry, trigonometry. I never use trig, I don't think once after I got out of college or out of high school. I did use my algebra and probably the best use of my algebra was when my grandson was in seventh grade and he really was not doing well and he actually came to live with me for part of the year and we did algebra every night. And I relearned how to do all of that and when he passed seventh-grade math I thought I'd done a real job because I had remembered all that. I think we don't teach kids in high school, things about life. We don't teach them how to balance a checkbook. We don't even teach them how to sign their name. I had to teach my grandchildren how to do their signature when we wanted to open bank accounts. They don't learn cursive so they don't learn how to write their name. The bank will not accept their signature as a printed signature. So, we don't teach them how to balance a checkbook. We don't teach them to understand that if you get that credit card that you have to pay it back and how much it's going to cost you in interest. There's so much about life that we don't teach kids, just basic survival skills from my point of view. How to manage your money. What does it mean? What does compound interest mean? What is a mortgage and how do you get a mortgage and what does a mortgage really cost you? And all the things that we don't teach kids. I think we need to teach more of that in high school because not everybody goes to college. Not everybody takes an accounting course. I made my kids take accounting courses. But not many kids use trigonometry. There are probably a few. But I don't think we teach life skills in a way that we should. AM: So, has that changed from when you were going to school? MM: Sure. We had typing class, we had home economics. The boys had shop. I know they do computer class now but there were business classes in high school and I just don't see much of that now. I mean we're so tied up with Regents classes and so many maths and so much foreign language. I mean, I'm not sorry I took three years of Latin and seven years of French, I'm not sorry I did that but I'm not sure that's for everybody. And I think that some of the courses that we should be teaching are different. Not that I ever used that seven years of French, mind you, but I'm not sorry I did it. Also I was a paramedic at one point so I used a lot of those words that I got from Latin both in medicine and in law. But I'm pretty sure there are a lot of kids who didn't need that stuff and might have done better with more practical things in life. AM: So, how do you foresee Cooperstown changing in the next, say, twenty years? [TRACK 2, 05:54] MM: Well, the population of the village has been declining. I don't know for sure but I would bet that the population of the village is graying. When I was a kid, every family had three, four, or five or six kids. All of us. I mean I if I went through named all the families that I grew up around, everybody had three, four, or five, it wasn’t unusual to have six kids. Now the families have fewer kids. The school population is definitely decreasing. Population in the village limits is decreasing, although there is a lot of building around the lake and in places there certainly is a population that wasn't there when I was a kid. But I think the school is going to have to become very creative about programming because the population of children is not going to grow. I think another problem that we have is housing and that's a problem we have because the Dreams Park has brought all these families to Cooperstown in the summer and they want to rent a house or an apartment or whatever for a week. And the amount of money that people can make renting a house in the summer and now that the Dreams Park is thirteen weeks, so you get thirteen weeks of very high rentals, which is far more than you can make if you rent to most working people or students in Cooperstown who want to be there year round. The hospital has a hard time with housing. Not for the doctors, the doctors have places to stay, but for people who come in as nurses and techs and people who work all through the hospital. There's no real good housing in Cooperstown anymore. And I think Cooperstown is going to have to face something about some sort of affordable housing in order to keep the hospital staffed and all the other places that that are not huge salaries—clerks to work on Main Street. People who work in the village have to have affordable housing and there's not a lot of it. I'm pretty sure you could talk to a lot of the students about that and they found it difficult. Everybody wants them out so they can start renting to the Dreams Park in May and they want to rent to the Dreams Park through August or even through Labor Day. So I think housing is a big problem. Year-round housing is a big problem. I think that's something the village is going to have to look at more. They instituted the parking fees to park in Cooperstown. And that has really helped in terms of maintaining the streets, because frankly the streets were getting to be pretty awful and some of them still are, but they've done a lot of work on the infrastructure. And I think with the revenue from paid parking, that's a huge amount of money that I think can be put into our infrastructure in the village and that's a good thing. Most of the east side of the lake is owned by the Clark family. I don't see that going into development anytime soon. You never know what's going to happen with all that undeveloped property over there. I don't think that's going to happen in the next twenty years. I think that we're going to have to see some really innovative thinking about the school especially because the population is going down every year. AM: So in the time that we have left, tell me a little bit about why Cooperstown feels like it's home to you. You mentioned you wanted to come back home. You've mentioned that it's kind of a central place for your family. Why is that? [TRACK 2, 10:10] MM: Well, as I said, I grew up here with my grandparents and parents. My father had a business here. My mother was very much—Camp Minnetoska was the Girl Scout camp on the east side of the lake, my mother was on the board of Minnetoska. I went to Minnetoska for years. Growing up in Cooperstown, although we sometimes thought, “Oh, this is pretty sleepy; I want to get out of here because there's not much going on,” but really when you got right down to it, between the gym, the ski tow, we had a lot. I went to boarding school, which was in a town of 500 people, which was really in the middle of nowhere but we very rarely even went off campus. I actually went to Elmira thinking, “Oh, this will be interesting, I'll go to a city and see what living in a small city is like.” I didn't love it. I did four years of college there and I was a Sociology-Psychology major. And I did my internship in the Elmira City Police Department. And that was pretty eye-opening for a kid who’d really lived in a place where there wasn't much going on in terms of crime or police or anything. The police department was next door to my house so I sort of grew up with them around. But I did an internship with the Elmira City Police Department and that really opened my eyes to a lot of things, most of which I had no interest in continuing. I moved home. My sister died in September of ‘72. And my mom was really not doing well. She was pretty upset. And my younger sister was a senior in high school and she was getting a raw deal. My mother just was so depressed, it was really difficult and I moved home because I really felt I needed to be here. But it wasn't like it was awful. I mean it wasn't like I didn't want to be here, but it was probably the impetus to move me out of Elmira back home, the loss of my sister. And the other thing was that I lived in Elmira on June 23rd of 1972, when Hurricane Agnes came through. We had water up to the ceiling in our house, up to the first floor ceiling. Elmira at that point after the flood was just awful. I mean it was just not a nice place to be. The bank that I worked at was flooded and gone and it was just not a nice place to be. So I didn't really want to be there anymore. And I came home because I realized what a great place it was for a kid to grow up. You know my daughter, a little kid. She's out on a bicycle and in front of the library building saying, “Hi, my name's Beth. What's your name?” And you know it was just, it was home. And it's been home ever since—although I do escape to Vero Beach, Florida in the winter sometimes. AM: In the time that we have left, do you want to talk a little bit about your sister? You mentioned your older sister who passed away. MM: My older sister, she went to Cooperstown High School, she went to the Northfield School for Girls. And then she went to Connecticut College. She was diagnosed with cancer in October of 1971. And she lived until September of 1972. It was, it was a tough time. AM: What have your other siblings done? Do they still live in the area? MM: No. My brother went to Albany Law School. He had a long career at the Attorney General's Office in Albany. He's now retired. His wife still works at the Attorney General's Office in Albany. My younger sister worked and she went to Yale and then she went to NYU [New York University] and got her MBA [Master’s of Business Administration] and she was a certified CPA. She and her husband lived in Scarsdale and when her oldest child was born she retired and she's never worked at a paying job. She's done a lot of volunteer work over her years. They left Scarsdale and moved to Dallas when they had small children. And then they moved to Seattle and she’s done a lot of volunteer work in Seattle. She did a lot with the Mercer Island High School Band and various activities that her children were involved in and still lives in Mercer Island. She and I were just in Austin, Texas a couple of weeks ago going to the Formula One U.S. Grand Prix in auto racing. We went to Montreal in May last year. So we try to plan the two of us try to plan our trips together so we can do stuff together. It's a lot of fun. AM: How do your siblings feel about Cooperstown? Do they often come back to visit? MM: Well, my sister made a very large effort to come back two or three times a year when my parents were alive. Her husband's family has a beautiful place up on Lake George and so they come back to the village of Bolton Landing on Lake George every summer. We often go up there. Sometimes they come down here, they'll come down and go to the opera. One of my sister’s closest friends was Ellen Tillapaugh, who's now the mayor of Cooperstown. Noie likes to come back and see Ellen and a few other people. My brother lives in Albany, as I said he's retired from the AG’s office, and he comes back. He still has friends who live here it's not far from Albany so he comes over. Everybody came more when my parents were alive. We always had these huge holidays at my parents’ house when my parents were alive. But that has changed. AM: Anything else you feel you want people to know about Cooperstown that you would like to share? MM: As I said, I think was a pretty idyllic place to grow up. All my friends who still live here, we all consider ourselves very, very fortunate to have grown up here and to have been, as I say, involved in so many things. I mean the gym was there, and now of course there's the brand new sports center which is pretty fabulous, but even as the old gym when we were kids it was still fun. And the gym was there, we had the ski tow, we had all sorts of activities. Dancing class—not that some of the people loved dancing class, but we all went because we were expected to. And we just had a really nice childhood and I don't think I realized that until I was much older—how much different my childhood was. I still went to work when I was 16. I worked in my father's store when I was 14. You know it wasn't that we didn't work and we didn't have responsibility, but we also just plain had a lot of opportunities and a lot of different opportunities to do different things. And I think that was really important. AM: Well, thank you so much for your time today. I really enjoyed getting to interview you. MM: It was kind of fun. AM: Thank you! Duration Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.) 29:59 - Track 1 18:58 - Track 2 Bit Rate/Frequency Rate at which bits are transferred (i.e. 96 kbit/s would be FM quality audio) 128 kbps Time Summary A summary of an interview given for different time stamps throughout the interview Track 1, 00:40 - Family Track 1, 05:39 - Cooperstown Track 1, 20:48 - The Cooperstown Dreams Park Track 1, 24:18 - Basset Health Care Network Track 1, 29:23 - Law Track 2, 00:47 - Education Track 2, 05:54 - Future of Cooperstown Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Margaret McGown, November 12, 2018 Subject The topic of the resource Cooperstown, New York Elmira, New York Education Family Baseball The Cooperstown Dreams Park Otsego Lake Skiing Swimming Sailing Junior Ballroom Dancing Class Law Bassett Healthcare Network Cooperstown Country Club Alfred Corning Clark Gymnasium Description An account of the resource Margaret McGown is a member of one of the oldest families in Cooperstown and remains very involved in the community. She was born in Binghamton, New York, on April 29, 1947 but spent her childhood in Cooperstown, where her father’s family lived. After graduating from high school, she attended Elmira College and worked there for several years before returning to Cooperstown. She has remained in Cooperstown and raised all of her children in her hometown. During McGown’s lifetime, Cooperstown has undergone a number of changes. Like many rural regions in America, the growth of large-scale farming has pushed many small farmers out of business, hurting the local economy as a whole. In Cooperstown, the population dropped from 2,727 in 1950 to 1,769 in 2017. To combat the economic fallout of this decline, Cooperstown has reinvented itself as the baseball capital of America, a transformation that McGown was involved with in 1996 when the Dreams Park was founded, and one that she continues to be involved with today. McGown has mixed feelings about the changes that Cooperstown has experienced, and her unique perspective as both a long-time resident and someone involved in the village’s transformation provides an important window into Cooperstown’s history. McGown’s comments range from descriptions of growing up in a small town in the 1950s to her work in Cooperstown’s two most profitable businesses: healthcare and baseball. In addition to remembering the past, McGown also hypothesizes about the future of her village and the challenges it will face in the next two decades. Her interview also touches on the importance of family and the meaning of “home.” For clarity’s sake I have omitted most unfinished sentences from this transcript and provided filler words where necessary. Filler words are notated with brackets. None of these edits change the meaning of the text. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Anastacia Maurer Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Cooperstown Graduate Program, State University of New York - College at Oneonta Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2018-11-12 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Cooperstown Graduate Association, Cooperstown, NY Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource audio/mpeg 24.7 MB audio/mpeg 17.3 MB image/jpeg 1.15 MB Language A language of the resource en-US Type The nature or genre of the resource Sound Image Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Upstate New York Cooperstown, NY 1947-2018 http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/0708cff61c9a8ff3f3acc4ae673024cd.jpg 83ddfc8605b8f40b39bc9f879f74295d http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/3e2b099d128644819ebd13777abb58f0.MP3 9e0be7f3ee9739e8c46c97c309dabb12 http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/5b2a033cc53b2879b173515cec48f622.MP3 a9e4aea95b3ed31baa364afc06ad6c2a http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/2ddf4f5c00fe08ef40379d08244ca62c.docx f305f5ea9ccb00e31a4802050997d177 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Land, Water, and Environment Description An account of the resource This collection contains oral history interviews and excerpts that address topics related to land use, water, environmental activism, and natural resources in Central New York State. New items are added on an ongoing basis. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Cooperstown Graduate Program Subject The topic of the resource environmental history Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Cooperstown Graduate Program Oral History A resource containing historical information obtained in interviews with persons having firsthand knowledge. Interviewer The person(s) performing the interview. Sarah Taubner Interviewee The person(s) being interviewed. Jay Harrison Location The location of the interview. 291 Eddie Martin Rd. Milford, NY 13807 Transcription Any written text transcribed from a sound. JH = Jay Harrison <br />ST = Sarah Taubner <br /><br />[START OF TRACK 1, 0:00] <br /><br />ST: This is a November 12th, 2018, interview of Jay Harrison by Sarah Taubner for the Cooperstown Graduate Program Community Stories recorded at Jay Harrison's home in Milford, New York. Okay. Tell me about the neighborhood you lived in when you were growing up. <br /><br />JH: I grew up in Mount Vision, New York. It was a farm family community. I went to school first and second grade in Mt. Vision. It was a two-room schoolhouse, and it was part of the Laurens Central School District. Most of the kids in the area went to Mt. Vision school until the third grade. They would go to kindergarten in Laurens but then they were back in Mt. Vision for the first and second grade and then they would go from third until graduating in Laurens. I graduated with a class of 32 in 1976 where, probably half of those students were from farm families. But back to Mt. Vision, as a kid growing up, the town of Mt. Vision was 310. You knew everybody on both sides of the street. You had two or three gas stations, if I remember right. You had a fire house. You had a mill, which was run by a wooden waterwheel because the Otego Creek runs right through Mt. Vision. There also was a funeral parlor; there was a butcher shop and there were two barbers. One barber that my parents always sent us to, we were always scared to go there because we'd come back and we didn't have any hair left on our head. But that's the way they wanted us to get our haircuts. I can remember sitting in the barber chair and looking at all these fancy bottles on the counter. There were all different colors, but once you were done with your haircut he'd slather your head with all this stuff and you could smell that all the way home because we lived about probably close to two miles out of town. We felt safe. Everybody felt safe to ride their bicycles over these country roads and go into town. We'd also meet all the kids that were in Mt. Vision that basically we went to school with. Even younger or older [kids], we would all hang out together and play baseball behind the little schoolhouse on weekends. We would hide our bats and balls and gloves under the stairs of the back of the school. We'd keep them there, but the teachers would never know that they were there. But that's where we would hide them, so we [didn&rsquo;t have] to keep bringing them back. Mt. Vision also had three churches in town. There was a Methodist, a Baptist, and a Bible Baptist Church. Today there is only one church that is still going. It's the Methodist church and that's basically where my whole family was brought up into that church. <br /><br />ST: Were you guys very involved in the church? <br /><br />[TRACK 1, 03:09] <br /><br />JH: Yes, our whole family was, and the hill that we lived on was called Harrison Hill. My dad had two other brothers, and everybody had a family farm up the hill. It was only, you were talking maybe three or four miles this hill was and there were four farms on that road. Small family farms. Everybody was involved in the church in Mt. Vision, and the Grange, which was basically a farming organization. It was run by the farmers. There were 17 Harrison kids and I was the youngest out of 17 out of all the families. Basically, what made up Mt. Vision church was the Harrisons, the Marlettes, and the Hooses and they were the three families. The Harrisons came in 1796 and I think at that time, from what my dad said and what I've read Mt. Vision had many names prior to Mt. Vision. The one that he remembered and always [taught] was Jacksonville, it was named Jacksonville prior to Mt. Vision. So that's where I leave that part, I guess. Jacksonville was Mt. Vision, prior to. <br /><br />ST: Were there other families that went to the other churches? <br /><br />JH: Oh yes. Yes. And you knew all of them. They were all different religions, but it was a close- knit community. Everybody would do things together, but on Sunday everybody would go off to their churches. Our family would always do the Methodist Church as I was growing up, and every Sunday my grandmother would have dinner after church. Every Sunday. We'd meet at her house and there would be, I think, probably seven or eight of us at her house every Sunday for dinner. <br /><br />ST: Can you tell me more about your dad and your experience with him? <br /><br />JH: Sure. My dad, he had a farm with his brother for many years prior to my brother and I starting our farm in 1972. Then he moved over with us but up until that point, he grew up and farmed with his brother. He had a thousand chickens that he would raise to a certain poundage and then he would have a truck from New York City come up. They would crate them and take them down to the city and sell them. His dad had sheep and he and his brother had I think it was 80 head of Guernsey cattle for milk production. Then my dad moved over on our farm, my brothers&rsquo; and my farm. Then while he was there he took a job with the Mt. Vision Post Office as a rural carrier. He would drive around and deliver everybody's mail. I think he did that for 15 years. So, that was basically to give him a retirement away from the farm because he lived to be 92. He worked, he drove until he was 90. He lived home alone until he was 90. But all the Harrisons were basically, I mean they raised their own food, they survived the winters, all the women would can, they would can everything. We did maple syrup, enough just for the families. They would can every vegetable you could think of. They had cultivated raspberries, blackberries, they had plum trees; they had apple trees, pear trees, and they lived off the land. <br /><br />ST: So how did you make your own farm with your brother? <br /><br />JH: My brother is six years older than me. He graduated from Cobleskill, or SUNY Cobleskill in 1972 and he moved on to my mother's father's farm which was two miles from where my dad grew up and we started building and enlarging the farm. At the end we were milking 100 Holstein cows, raising all our calves, and then it just got to the point where the price of milk got so bad that my dad back in the late [19]50s, early [19]60s was getting paid more for milk than we were in the [19]90s. So, we finally gave up and went other ways. My brother went into the healthcare business and I went for one year working in Richfield Springs as a mechanic at a tractor dealership and then I got the job with the college [SUNY Oneonta]. So, I was on campus for 11 years and I've been in Cooperstown for eight. <br /><br />ST: So what were your other earlier jobs? You worked on the farm... <br /><br />JH: I've had three jobs my whole lifetime. Now, everybody said that, "that's odd," because a lot of people get a lot of jobs through their life. But I've had three jobs: I've been on the farm, I was a mechanic, and I've been maintenance with the college over my working career. We were on the farm for twenty-five years, my brother and I. It was hard work. Weather coming, we'd be around-the-clock working. I would get up at 3:15 every morning for 25 years and go to bed at eleven o'clock at night and then start again at 3:15. It was a hard job. Great place to raise kids. My children all started very young. They had their great-grandmother there living right on the farm. They had my brother and myself living right there, basically. I lived here, but we were over there all the time. It was a great place to raise kids. It was a great place to start kids and they had the freedom, you know? And that was the thing with the farm. You had the freedom to be your own boss, but it was hard work. And what comes out at the other end as far as money, the bills, the bills were a lot higher, the overhead was a lot higher than what you were getting back. So that's kind of how we ended that. <br /><br />ST: How do you think your kids' childhood was different from yours? <br /><br />JH: I tried to keep it the same from what I remembered. Only they didn't have the freedom of [biking to town] I lived a little closer to Mt. Vision, so I had the freedom to bike over there. Their great grandmother lived on the farm, we lived on the farm at the time, and my brother was always there. Somebody was always there. They had the freedom just to roam. And they learned the concept of farming very early. My youngest who is 27 this January, he used to ride around. I had the tractor with a cab on it, air conditioning and I was in it most of the time. He would nap behind the seat as a little guy. He was four years old, five years old and that's where he hung out in his childhood. So, you know they had the freedom. <br /><br />[TRACK 1, 10:37] <br /><br />ST: Can you tell me more about how you noticed the land changing? <br /><br />JH: Sure. You watched all these farms disappear and you start seeing houses being built. The farming land, which used to grow crops and the farms, you see the barns all falling down now. The land that everybody worked, I can see it between here and the farm. There's houses everywhere. I mean it's gone to residential. You don't see farming around anymore. Like I was saying, there's two large farms left in the town of Milford and they're right together on Route 28. They have to travel quite a ways just to get land because the land is being taken up by residents. So, you know they're out and about. The land has changed from agriculture to residential, basically. <br /><br />ST: What are your feelings about that? <br /><br />JH: Well I think, you know, people like to eat and the farming community is disappearing and you hear people argue the point about why is food so high in price? Why is milk so high in price? But milk really isn't that high if they think about it, because the milk you buy at the store for what the farmer is getting it paid for, the middle man is making out really well. I feel bad for the farmers. I lived it, so I know. <br /><br />ST: Can you tell me about your other siblings? <br /><br />JH: Sure. My brother, he's retired now. He ran some division in Binghamton General for, I think it was like, probably close to ten years. And then my sister, she worked for the county, Otsego County, in Cooperstown for 37 years, and they keep calling her back even after she retired because they can't find the help that she knew how to do. She basically did placement for nursing homes through the county and she was quite good at it so they keep calling her back because they can't find anybody to do the job. But she's three years older than me. My brother is six years older than me and basically, my brother is retired and my sister works part-time. <br /><br />ST: You had three jobs, how did you transfer your skills between jobs? <br /><br />JH: Well, growing up on the farm, you learned everything. Between mechanics, and field work, you had to be self-sufficient on the farm and you could take that from one job to the other. I left the farm and I went to a mechanic's job. So, I've basically self-trained. And then when I came to the college, I worked for grounds and I did a lot of the trucking on and off campus. Basically, what I learned on the farm I took with me. I understood carpentry, electricity, plumbing. We had to do it all ourselves, so it was self-taught on the farm. <br /><br />ST: Did you find most of your co-workers had the same experience? <br /><br />JH: Not really, because they were trained either in a college setting for these jobs. Yes, there were a few that came off farm families also that [weaned] their way into the job knowing the job, sort of. But most of them were educated for what they do, maintenance department. <br /><br />ST: What do you think about working for the college? <br /><br />JH: I love it. You know, I get paid. I don't have to get up at 3:15 anymore, but I do get up at 4:30 every morning. I put in a good day's work still. I've always believed hard work pays off and that's what I've always told my kids and they've all got good jobs. If you work hard you'll benefit from it, and I've always told them that. So, I don't mind working. I like working but my time is near also. [laughs] <br /><br />ST: How close are you to being done? <br /><br />JH: I'm getting&rsquo; near. That's all. Everybody says, &ldquo;When are you leaving?&rdquo; and I always say, &ldquo;Soon.&rdquo; <br /><br />ST: Has working with the bio field station, has it changed any of your opinions about the land or the environment in the area? <br /><br />JH: Working closely with the lake management department, I didn't really realize what there is involved with the Susquehanna [River], with all the lakes, ponds, around here and just being near it I've learned a lot, because I never really gave it any thought. But yes, we're talking wetlands, we're talking lake management, and everything that I've heard as far as like the Chesapeake Bay area and what I learned just by listening up there. I have nothing to do with it, but it interests me. It's changing the land as far as erosion, pollution. So, you know, everything that I've heard is interesting. <br /><br />ST: Would you ever look into it on your own? <br /><br />JH: No, it's nothing that interests me that much. <br /><br />[TRACK 1, 16:33] <br /><br />ST: What other organizations are or were you part of in the area? <br /><br />JH: As a kid I was in Cub Scouts, Boy Scouts. Then as an adult I was a scout leader and, up until this last year, I would study all the Eagle Scout projects and I would pass them, yes or no. I was with Scouts for 22 years as an adult and my youngest son, he became an Eagle Scout. I followed him through, but then I stayed on because nobody else would do the job. This last year I finally gave it up. It was time for new blood. I was involved in Scouts as a kid and that was in Mt. Vision. There was a group of us, a group of 12, and that was in that small town. It was something to do. I mean back then you didn't have all these other activities as far as kids sitting in the house playing video games. Back then you did a lot of camping with friends, you did a lot of camping with Scouts, you were always out on bicycles with your friends. So things have changed like that. I mean today there's just too much, too many activities for kids, and not all the greatest either. They don't get outside like they used to. <br /><br />ST: Can you tell me more about your Scout experience both as a boy scout and your kid&rsquo;s experience? <br /><br />JH: Sure. We used to camp. Straight over here on the mountain there's Henderson Scout Camp and every summer we would go over there and camp and thinking back there were probably 30 troops from all over New York State as far as Long Island and a few from out of state. I think there was some from Ohio. We'd all gather there and it would be six weeks. Each week would have different troops and we'd always go for a week. I loved it over there. You earned badges. You learned a lot even as a kid as far as woodworking, marksmanship, archery. I mean just things that back then you basically were using not video games. <br /><br />ST: Do you have a badge that particularly stands out to you? <br /><br />JH: Believe it or not back then I'd have to say the woodworking. I've built three houses on my own and a lot of it came, starting from scouting. You kind of get an idea. My dad, he built seven houses and so I worked with him. Everything I was learning from beginning to you know. Then I built three. I still own two; this one and I rent one. I think scouting puts you in the right dimension as far as learning things, putting your mind on things the right way. Plus, family, you learn from your peers, your dads. And he knew a lot, and we all picked it up from him. My brother did and I did. Back then you did things yourself. <br /><br />ST: Do you feel your kids picked that up too? <br /><br />JH: Oh yeah. Yes. I think my older son is a good carpenter. My younger son, he's a heck of a worker. My daughter, she lives in Houston. She's a hard worker. She's a manager of an all-day spa down there. She puts in 80 hours a week so she's a hard worker. She's got two children. Two of my grandchildren live down there. My older son has a child. He lives over in Garrattsville, which isn't far from Mt. Vision. He's got one. Then our youngest one, he's going to get married next September. So, they're all getting up there in age. <br /><br />ST: Are there any other organizations that you were part of? <br /><br />JH: Back in school I was with the FFA which was the Future Farmers [of America] and that was based out of the vocational school over in Milford. That was another thing, it wasn't like college, but it was hands on. I think that's the most important way to learn, hands on. We did a lot with tractors and mechanics over there, planting, soil testing, so you learned a lot from that too. I think that was the only two, plus I switched from the Methodist Church to the Catholic Church and we are involved in the Catholic Church in Oneonta. But that's all the things I was involved with through my life. <br /><br />ST: How did you meet your wife? <br /><br />JH: Oh, that's a long story. [laughs] Well, she moved up here from Queens and she was good friends with my sister. They worked together in Cooperstown. And we buddied around once in a while, here and there. But she was going to be my sister's maid of honor and I was in the wedding and I told my sister, &ldquo;I'm not going up the aisle with anybody but Jeannie.&rdquo; And so we did that, and the rest is history basically. She moved up here from Queens; she's been here around 38 years, and I've been here all my life. I never moved out. I'd been living in Mt. Vision, then I moved to Milford; that's as far as I moved. But it's just a friend through my sister, and we've been married 27 years. <br /><br />ST: Was she from a farming family too? <br /><br />JH: No, her dad and family were union electricians in Manhattan. So, it was like you went from one side of the track to the other and so far it's worked. She was up here long enough to know prior to us getting married how the whole thing worked and she's happy that our kids started little on the farm. It was a great experience, so she saw that. She saw all the hard work and she can't believe how people can make it that way. That was the biggest thing she saw the difference in because she always thought upstate was up to Bear Mountain. From there on there was nothing, so. But now she's been living in the area for 38 years so, she knows. She saw how hard I worked. That's about it for that. <br /><br />ST: You say about kids playing inside a lot. Did your kids play inside a lot? <br /><br />JH: No, we tried to kick them out as much as possible. My daughter's 41 and my other, my second son is 37. So they didn't have the video games like our last one had, but we never really pushed that on them. They didn't have much television. I wanted them outside because I was outside, I love being outside. And our youngest son, like I said, he was with Scouts so he was outside a lot. He's an outdoors person. He works for the railroad in Pennsylvania, so he's out and about all the time. We never pushed them to be inside. Outside's where kids ought to be. <br /><br />ST: Do you have any opinion on any environmental debates that have been up here in the past couple years? <br /><br />JH: As far as? I don't think I've really been involved with any of that. No. The only one I ever hear about, and this is at work, is the zebra mussel problem in the lakes. Besides that, no. I don't get involved with any of it. I'm not a political kind of guy. I let it go. [laughs] No, as far as environment, I mean, I'm all for clean environment, but I don't follow whatever is coming through. No, I can't think of anything as far as that. <br /><br />[TRACK 1, 25:23] <br /><br />ST: Do you remember hearing about any local controversies either growing up or more recently? <br /><br />JH: Hmm, controversies. Give me an example. <br /><br />ST: Changes to the school budgets, schools closing. <br /><br />JH: Okay, the changes I see or what we've heard, a lot of it's got to do with housing in Milford and this area because of the [Cooperstown] Dreams Park, because the Dreams Park is seasonal, so all these people rent their homes and it drops the population in these schools because there's no long-term housing. You take a school like Milford or Laurens back when my kids started or even myself when I went to school we had like 650 kids from K to 12. Now you're lucky if there's 400. Now, Milford has 380 or 360. Laurens is three hundred and some. But the population in schools has dropped and their budgets keep going up. You figure, why should a school budget be so high when the population is dropping? But you're talking in these towns a lot of seasonal homes because people are moving out, there's no long-term housing for families to be going to school. There's no industry basically in these little towns. They're traveling to Albany, Binghamton. Oneonta has a few, but nothing major. If it wasn't for the colleges and hospitals in the area, there probably wouldn't be anything in this area. They'd be traveling as far as Utica, Albany, and Binghamton. That's the biggest thing I think is the school population is dropping because there's no long-term housing rentals. It's all short-term now, a lot of it. <br /><br />ST: And that hasn't changed with the growth of housing in the area? <br /><br />JH: No. You see in the wintertime a lot of houses sit empty. If they want to rent a house, they can rent it from October to May and then they have to be out because these people are going to be doing well renting to the Dreams Park people. <br /><br />ST: Does that baseball culture that's been here now, how has that influenced your time here? Besides the Dreams Park. <br /><br />JH: Well, I mean the good part about it is, it's helping the county economy. It's bringing in a lot of people through the summertime. But like I said, during the winter, everybody closes down basically; there isn't a lot of things going on. So, they're losing out on that part of the year. They're living on 13 weeks out of the year, basically, and as far as housing even the hotels I think would be hurting. They're sitting basically empty. The wintertime is slow around here. The day after the Dreams Park closes, all your restaurants down through [Route] 28, they're boarding up their windows already. They don't stay open for the locals. I understand that because the locals, there aren't many of us left. <br /><br />ST: Where did your high school graduating class, your classmates, go after high school? <br /><br />JH: Well, there are six of us that still live in the area that we meet once a year and camp. All six of us went from kindergarten and graduated together. A few of them I know are in Minnesota. A few of them are not right in this area, but they're still local. I would say probably 70 % of the class went to college and came out and [got], married, have local jobs. <br /><br />[START OF TRACK 2, 0:00] <br /><br />JH: The six people I'm talking about came out, we were all still on the farm. They were all farming guys. In between that time and now, none of them are farmers anymore. They're all doing other jobs but they're still in the area. We get together quite often. A lot of the students didn't travel far. Few of them are deceased, believe it or not. They worked at the college; they worked at the hospitals, if they stayed in the area, not too many. I know there's a couple in Florida, couple in Minnesota. If you think, 32 and there's six of us still in the area that still get together. I mean, you don't see that in too many schools. A lot of the schools are a lot bigger than Laurens, or all these schools around here. It's nice to have your friends still around. We're all getting older. Every year we go camping and we meet and we always say, "Well, let's hope we're all here next year." [laughs] <br /><br />ST: When you say college what kind of colleges was it? <br /><br />JH: Most of them were agriculture colleges. I know they went to Cobleskill; they went to Morrisville. One friend, he was a music teacher, and he was a music teacher in Laurens for 27 years. He went to Texas University and Ithaca College. Ithaca College first, then he got his master's out of Texas University. Then he came back, and he taught in Laurens for 27 years. He retired two years ago. And the rest of them? Basically, the community colleges and state universities, they went to. <br /><br />ST: What do your get-togethers look like, besides camping? <br /><br />JH: We usually meet for dinners all the wives and husbands meet, a lot of laughs. We talk about the old times and it goes back to when we first started school together. That doesn't change. We do get together at everybody's houses once in a while. Most of the time we just meet for dinner and the discussions are school, sports, when we were in sports, and what we did, crazy stuff we did, but that came too. [laughs] <br /><br />ST: Like what? <br /><br />JH: You know we were always out. Everybody had cars and we'd go out and have parties and we would drive to football games, and baseball games, whoever wasn't playing a sport. We'd all get in the car and go to the games and raise heck at the games and usually get kicked out of them, you know? [Laughs] Because, hey, we were youngsters. It was clean fun back then, we had a good time. <br /><br />ST: Where were the parties? <br /><br />JH: Oh, the state land was big. We always met there. We had a buddy who had a cabin on his land. And that was a big place to meet about every Friday and Saturday night. They were, they were long parties. But yeah, we had a good time. Like I said, it was all clean fun. You know, nobody wanted to get in trouble. We stayed put and all these farmers would get together but we'd get up in the morning and have to go back to work. I remember in school, we'd go out and I'd come home late. I didn't feel like getting up for school and he [Jay Harrison&rsquo;s father] would say, "Oh you're sick today." I&rsquo;d say, "Yeah, I don't feel well enough to go to school." And he'd come in and he'd say, "Can you walk?" I said, "Yeah I can walk." He said, "Then you can work." I said, "No you know, I'm starting to feel a little better now. I think I'll go to school." That was the way we were brought up; he wanted us to work. You weren&rsquo;t going to be home from school, unless you were in rough shape. We had a good work ethic growing up. We were pushed a little bit but it paid off in the end. <br /><br />ST: How did you handle any similar experiences with your kids? <br /><br />JH: Same thing. The cycle does the thing. Yeah, I always tell them what my dad used to say to me. And they're all good workers. They have a great work ethic, so, no problems there. <br /><br />ST: So you mentioned switching to the Catholic Church. Was there a particular reason for that? <br /><br />JH: The reason was basically because my wife was Catholic. When we had our child I wanted to raise him Catholic. So, for us to raise him Catholic I had to marry into the Church, which I did. I went through the whole thing. I did everything they asked me. I had to take a thousand question test. I went to Albany, sat in front of the nuns. I did the whole thing, made it right, and it paid off. He went to Catholic school in Oneonta. We did a lot with the church. But I'm glad I did that. I had a great foundation. My parents, we were raised Methodist, but they always said, "We're laying the foundation. You can do what you want later on in life.&rdquo; So, when I was ready to tell them that I was converting, I was a little nervous about that. But, they understood because they said, "Well, we told you we set the foundation. You can do what you want." It worked out well. So, we we're all practicing Catholics. And he was raised Catholic. Worked out well. <br /><br />ST: How is the community in that church? <br /><br />JH: It's gone up and it's gone down. And yesterday the church was full which we were happy about. The community is a little different because it's in Oneonta. But a lot of the parishioners come from outside, to Oneonta. Basically, it's got a great community. They do a lot down there. They don't have a school anymore in Oneonta, no Catholic school. And so, we took our son out of the Catholic school and moved him to Milford in middle school. Because this is where he wouldn't have to catch up. He had friends in Milford, he played sports and Little League and all that in Milford. This way he was in line with them and that's when we moved him because middle school, we didn't want to move him after that because we could see the signs of the school closing and this way he was in line with all his friends. But that was a big change too, going from Catholic school to the public school because he was always in uniforms. When he moved from that he thought that was great, could wear whatever you want. But no, it was a great upbringing for him. <br /><br />ST: Were there any challenges with that move? <br /><br />JH: No, not at all because like I said, he knew a lot of the people in town. Probably the only thing would be just how the school worked. It was more, what's the word I want down here? Scheduled I want to say. But up here, you were going to be moving around a lot more. Down there you weren't moving around, in Oneonta. You were basically one-on-one with the teacher. I mean the class was one teacher, one class. Up here, the bell rang, you moved. That was different for him. <br /><br />ST: How do you feel about rural versus urban? Would you consider kids that lived in Oneonta or Mt. Vision when you were growing up, did you still consider them rural kids? Either growing up, was there a difference between townies and [rural kids]? <br /><br />JH: Yeah, you felt the difference. Like growing up, you knew the kids. All these districts would run into each other. So, you knew some kids from Oneonta, and you knew the group from Laurens or whatever, and you felt like these were city kids even though Oneonta wasn't that big but you felt the difference because, like I said, rural kids, most of them were farming kids. Oneonta, they were kids from doctors, professors, you know, and the school district was a lot larger. But yeah you saw a difference. You felt a little different as far as if you went down there you felt like maybe you didn't belong. But I think a lot of it is because you were just so used to having a small nucleus of friends. And then if you hit Oneonta, it was a whole different thing because you weren't known. Laurens, you knew everybody. Mt. Vision you knew everybody, and you grew up with them. Basically, you were with them more than you were with your family. You think about it. <br /><br />ST: Was there any crossover of city kids coming up to do farm kid work? <br /><br />JH: No, all our farm help came from the rural community because they knew how to do it. They wanted extra money for the summer or summer job and they knew how it all worked. I don't think you could get anybody from the likes of Oneonta to really come out to the rural farms and work. I can't see that happening. But, all our workers came, on our farm, the kids were right from town. <br /><br />ST: What actually does building maintenance entail? <br /><br />JH: Well, basically it's keeping the building clean. All the mechanics that you probably don't see, upstairs in the mechanical room is all monitored all the time. Cooling and heating. I take care of the grounds, plowing, and mowing, and the gardening part. I take care of the Thayer property which is eight miles up the lake. The college has 2600 acres in Cooperstown that they own. So, I take care and mow at Thayer property. There's another place at Moe Pond which is, you can't see it's out the middle of nowhere but it's a beautiful building that we take care of. And then there's the main building which is where the CGP is and where the biology department is. So basically just keeping the building cleaned, keeping the snow plowed and keeping the grass mowed, it&rsquo;s a full-time job. Helping with the boats. I have another guy that helps me. He's a general mechanic there but he's basically based up at the Thayer property but he's around. But that's basically what I do. I just keep the building running. I'm on call most of the time because I'm the only one there, basically. I'm not like a group down on campus. They'll have the maintenance department, they'll have electrical shop, plumbing shop. I'm the shops up here and basically, I'm just the trouble shooter and if there's a major problem, I call campus. So, that's what it entails up there. <br /><br />ST: What do they use the other properties for? <br /><br />JH: The other properties are all for the Biology department. They do camp outs in the summer. The Thayer property is used mostly in the summer. They do camp outs up there, the biology department does. There's a lot of classrooms in every building up there, they do a lot of lab work up there. And the Moe Pond is the one that you can't see, it's a beautiful building. That's supposed to be for a bird professor. He's supposed to be taking care of that. It's all about birds and it's all run by solar. No, it's not solar. It's run by a generator and no electricity. It's all run by battery. It&rsquo;s off the grid. <br /><br />ST: What's your opinion of the CGP students? <br /><br />JH: Truthfully? [laughs] I have a great time. I don't mingle with them that much and I'm basically there for if they need something done. But they've always been, I've been there eight years. It's always been a great group. I tell the faculty up there that I love it there. It's just a small group of people. And I'm always there to help. And once in a while, I get visitors down there needing something and then you know, I'm there. I enjoy it. In that building just basically is 50 students, and myself, and faculty, so it's perfect. I love it there. Everybody is wondering when I'm going to retire. Not going to tell them. <br /><br />ST: Have you seen the students change over time, while working for the college at all? <br /><br />JH: It's hard to say, they're basically all the same. They're there for one reason. You know, the museum studies, basically. You'll see some groups that are more-they can take on things themselves. Like I'm saying like, painting the gallery wall and whatever. Some groups come and get me and say, "Can you get the wall painted?" And then there'll be a year or two where they take care of everything themselves. That's basically the only thing. But they're all there for the same reason. You know, they're basically the same. <br /><br />ST: I'd like to hear more. I've heard a lot about your childhood. I've heard a lot about your life after having kids. I'd love to hear more about your time with just you and your wife or early adulthood. Do you have any stories that stick out to you? <br /><br />JH: Well, my wife and I do a lot of traveling. We do a lot of cruises. We cruise every year. We just got back from Ireland. My wife has family over there. So we've been over there twice. I love it over in Ireland. I told her I'd love to be over there for a longer period of time. So when I retire I think that's what the plan will be. It's slow paced over there. Kind of reminds you of here. My wife and I we're a great team. We were, hang in there together. She'd been retired eight years now. So, she's basically waiting for me. But she gets nervous thinking what I'm going to do, because I've got to keep busy. And she's worried about having me home here because I'm going to drive her crazy. No, we have a great relationship. Like I said we have one son. The other two children are from a previous marriage. So, we have one son and he's the one who's getting married this coming September. But yeah, we love being home but we love to travel. And we'll probably be doing more travel and after I retire. But, besides that, we're outside a lot, and we do the gardening around here and you know, a great team. We do alright together. <br /><br />ST: What did she used to do? <br /><br />JH: She worked for the court system for New York State for 30 years. She worked out of Cooperstown. She was an assistant with one of the judges. So, she was 30 years with the court system in New York State. <br /><br />ST: Are there any fun dates you remember when you guys were just dating? <br /><br />JH: Let's see. There was. We went to a Billy Joel concert up in Syracuse and we were dating. And we got up there. We had the concert, came out, and it was starting to ice over. And we had to drive from there back to Milford. She had her car and she didn't want me to drive her car, she was going to do the driving. We worked our way back, we almost got here. We got, four o'clock in the morning. It took us almost four hours to get home because the roads were like mirror all the way. We got to Cooperstown behind a salt truck which basically got us up the hill to [Route] 28. We came down, and we got right down here just before it crested the hill and we went in the ditch. And we walked home. So, we got home, instead of me going back home I said, "Well I'm here. Let's have breakfast." [Laughs] So we cooked up breakfast. That was a fun ride home. It was a long ride home from Syracuse. We loved doing concerts. This year we went to Cleveland to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony. Met the president of Rock and Roll Hall of Fame who was an alumnus of CGP. Greg Harris, I met with him and visited with him. And no, we love being out and about. <br /><br />ST: So. Was it this hill? <br /><br />JH: Yeah, just below the crest. <br /><br />ST: So when did you build this house-ish? <br /><br />JH: She was having it built in '89. And I was building a house in '89 that I was going to move in to. She came over to see my house, and it was almost done. And she said, "You've got to come over and see my house." Well I came over, it was the same color, the same siding, the same layout. Since my sister got married, to the time we got married, there was like an eleven year period. We never saw each other. So, in that period of time we were doing our own things and then we looked at each other's houses and they were basically the same. So that was kind of strange. But then when I moved, we got married, I moved over here, and I rent my house. I changed this house completely on the outside. You wouldn't know what it looks like today what it looked like back then. Besides that, you know. That's about it with, you know, our relationship. It's great. You know, traveling. So, that's our thing. <br /><br />ST: Do you guys travel with any other friends? <br /><br />JH: We did to Ireland this time. It's always fun to travel with friends. But at the same- we got there and we rented two cars which is nice. Everybody could do their own thing. But I said, "You know what? From now on, I'm going alone and whoever wants to come visit us come and visit us.&rdquo; [chuckles] It's just that you know there's tension there because you want to do your own thing, but you feel obligated and no more. I've learned. <br /><br />ST: Did you guys ever do family vacations with your kids? <br /><br />JH: Yes. We used to go to Disneyland. Or Disney World, whatever it is in Florida. Her parents had a place down there, so we would stay. It was right on the outskirts of Disney. So, it was nice. Yeah. We'd go down, we went down three or four times to Disney. And that's with all the kids we've been. So, it was fun. And basically, that's the family trips we had. We never went out. We've done picnics here and there but as far as trips we go to Florida, because we had a place to stay as a base, which was easy. <br /><br />ST: What about when you were growing up, family vacations? <br /><br />JH: Oh yes. Yeah everybody in the station wagon. And we would head for Vermont. My dad and they wouldn't ever reserve a place. We'd just be on the road and we'd go, and they used to have these little cabins along the road and he'd stop, see if there is any vacancy, but a lot of times we just keep driving &lsquo;til there was vacancy. You know you were taking a chance, but he'd find a place. And there was five of us in the family. In the back of the station wagon you got to picture that. Nobody had to wear seatbelts back then, so everybody's flying all over the car. We did that. We did the World's Fair in New York, in the [19]60s. We would do a lot of day trips with him. He would take us to picnic areas around the area. We had Sunday afternoon picnics in the summer. Besides that, back then it was like was always getting in the car and say, "You want to go for a ride?" So Sunday nights we'd go for a ride and probably head for an ice cream store or something and come home. Starting the week off. It was the station wagon trips that I remember. But we&rsquo;d do Vermont, all over New York. We'd go different places. <br /><br />ST: Can you tell more about the New York World's Fair, from what you remember? <br /><br />JH: It was 1965, I think. My uncle had a place in Long Island and we went down there and stayed in his little cabin behind his in-laws' house and then we drove in to New York. And it was in Flushing and I remember the globe and it's still there and that's where we first saw "It's a Small World" like they have at Disney World. It was in a car company's building if I remember right. But that's the first place we saw, "It's a Small World." You got in your little boat and you went through like they do down in Disney World. Same thing. They moved it basically, down there. But I remember that mostly. There are a couple towers that are still in Flushing that I remember besides that I think I was, let's see, [19]65, I was seven. I remember going down the [New York State] Thruway. I remember, just before getting to Jersey the crosswalk that crosses over the Thruway. I remember doing that to get to the rest area. We walked across the Thruway. And we've been back, we go down to Citi Field once in a while because my wife's a Mets fan, so you can see all the World's Fair, what's left of it there. You know, Flushing and in the area of the U.S. Open tennis area. Yeah. That's basically what I remember. I remember the Small World, that stuck in my mind. [laughs] <br /><br />ST: We're actually almost out of time. So, I have one quick, last question for you. Have you noticed how these communities that you've lived in, that you've experienced, their social attitudes have changed at all? It's a pretty broad question. <br /><br />JH: Social attitude. I would have to say yes because of how the whole terrain has changed as far as going back to the farms are not, like they were back then. The family units aren't like they used to be. The family units when you graduated from school, they used to be, coming out of school, they would stay together. You had grandparents, parents, and then kids. Now they disperse. There's nothing here for them. So I see that change. And kids today, they're either graduating school and like I said, they leave. So your family unit isn't there, I don't think. The socialization there is gone. Growing up, I know you always had somebody home, and now everybody's out of the house working. So the kids, in my mind, there's a different attitude of kids. They're not being raised anymore. They're being almost kicked out the door when they're done. You know when it's done with school or they come home to an empty house. You always had somebody home. The mother basically never worked back then. My mother, she worked, but she was always home for us you know. So I think that's the biggest thing. The family unit's changed, as a whole. <br /><br />ST: Is there anything else you'd like to say or add? <br /><br />JH: It's just, like I said growing up in Mt. Vision as a kid. My family starting' here in 1796. I was a fourth-generation farmer and took it until 1998. You know, you miss the whole thing about small town but at the same time, I'm lucky for what I've got now. So, I'm happy with what I got. Let's put it that way. But the work ethic was drilled into me and it'll never leave. And that's what I've done with my kids. Duration Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.) 29:59-Track 1 26:50-Track 2 Bit Rate/Frequency Rate at which bits are transferred (i.e. 96 kbit/s would be FM quality audio) 128kbps Time Summary A summary of an interview given for different time stamps throughout the interview Track 1, 03:09-Family Track 1, 10:37-Farming TRACK 1, 16:33-Boy Scouts TRACK 1, 25:23-Dreams Park Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Jay Harrison, November 12, 2018 Subject The topic of the resource Boy Scouts Dairy Farming Dreams Park Family Family Vacations Laurens, NY Milford, NY Mt. Vision, NY SUNY Oneonta Description An account of the resource Jay Harrison is a lifelong resident of Otsego County. He grew up in Mt. Vision, a hamlet in Laurens, NY, and moved to Milford, NY as an adult. The Harrisons have been a prominent family in the region of New York since the 1700s. In fact, the hill the family lived on, is still referred to as Harrison Hill. Jay Harrison&rsquo;s legacy lives on through his children and grandchildren, now off Harrison Hill and across the nation. Currently, he works as a building superintendent for SUNY Oneonta, stationed at the Biological Field Station and the Cooperstown Graduate Program in Cooperstown, NY. Harrison has also worked as a mechanic and farmer. In addition, Harrison was active in the Boy Scouts as a child, as well as with his own children, and as a Scout leader. Harrison is proud of his children and grandchildren as well as his family&rsquo;s legacy in the area. <br /><br /><em>CGP Community Stories</em> previously conducted an interview with Glen Harrison, Jay Harrison&rsquo;s father. Jay Harrison&rsquo;s interview exposes the next generation&rsquo;s experience growing up in rural Otsego County. He explores the perceived differences between his and his children&rsquo;s lives on a dairy farm and how this background has influenced the course of his life. Harrison also discusses the change in the landscapes and industries in Otsego County. <br /><br />Residents of this region in New York State sometimes use specific pronunciations of certain phrases. Harrison also had personal inflections and changes in tone that are currently only represented through the audio recordings. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Sarah Taubner Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Cooperstown Graduate Program, State University of New York-College at Oneonta Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2018-11-12 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Cooperstown Graduate Association, Cooperstown, NY Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource audio/mpeg 27.4 MB audio/mpeg 24.5 MB image/jpeg 4.19 MB Language A language of the resource en-US Type The nature or genre of the resource Sound Image Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant 291 Eddie Martin Rd. Milford, NY 13807 1958-2018 http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/7be1e09bdadf357da796079aede456e2.JPG feb555eac31c62a1da872049c84fe2b5 http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/2c6d0ea80a1e16d1ee99688e97cffd78.MP3 718f06cd9d9fe2c564ca83ddd2977a92 http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/99627ce5c529a52730105c3cdc60b8f8.MP3 75c3dba38759f6c3f0e620a6e1e9b43a http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/253d9bdd0ff68c4dc02458c686a1f10a.docx f98b53810f3e66fa659f678fa42d7c43 Oral History A resource containing historical information obtained in interviews with persons having firsthand knowledge. Interviewer The person(s) performing the interview. Shivkumar Desai Interviewee The person(s) being interviewed. Keith Willcox Location The location of the interview. 108 NY 165 Roseboom, NY Transcription Any written text transcribed from a sound. SD = Shiv Desai KW = Keith Willcox [START TRACK 1, 00:00] SD: This is Shiv Desai. Today is November 7, 2018. I'm with the CGP Community Stories and I'm at Mr. Keith Willcox's home in Roseboom, New York. Thank you for joining me. KW: Most welcome. SD: How are you doing? KW: Fine, thank you. How are you? SD: I'm good. Okay, let's get started. So tell me about where you're from and how you grew up. KW: I grew up on a farm outside Groton, New York, which is not far from Ithaca and Cortland. Moved off the farm when I was about 15 into the village where the school was located and after completing high school, I went to college in Binghamton, met Nadene, got married. SD: Who else was in your family growing up? KW: Mother, father, two older brothers. Everybody's deceased. SD: Did you have a close relationship with your brothers? KW: Given that the age difference was so great, one was 13 years older, one was 10 years older so that put a limit on things, because by the time I was old enough to know what was going on they were mostly out of the house. The older one went in the Air Force after some college and the younger one went away to college and so on. But we got along alright. SD: So what were some important issues in your community growing up? [TRACK 1, 01:50] KW: The community was kind of a microcosm of the Rust Belt, I guess. There was a typewriter factory in the center of town that made Smith Corona typewriters and sometimes you could smell it. What they put into the local stream was not good, but somehow we took pride in the fact that we had a factory, whereas all the other little towns were just farming communities. Issues, not so much. The election of John Fitzgerald Kennedy was a big deal because he was the first Catholic president and people were actually worried that he would be taking orders from the Pope, which of course didn't happen. There was concern about that. Yeah, my father sold the farm because he realized that none of us, none of the three boys, wanted it. Farming is hard on you as you get older. SD: So you knew by a certain age that you did not want to go into farming? KW: Correct. It was dairy farming. Cows have to be milked twice a day. If you milk them really well in the morning, it doesn't mean you don't have to milk them in the evening, you still do, 365 days a year. We didn't go on too many vacations, the longest one was when I was five. My parents and I went to California by car to visit my mother's sister and her family and my brothers and my father's father stayed home to care of the farm. But mostly we didn't get away much. Christmas, Thanksgiving, you still have to do chores. SD: Besides the election of JFK, were there any other national events that stood out to you as you came of age or were growing up? KW: Oh, not really. The town was overwhelmingly white. A black family would come and go once in a while. I do remember Selma and Martin Luther King, but that was mostly when I was in college. I remember when Martin Luther King was assassinated. I was in a Milton class in college, and the professor said, "Well, they finally got him," and it just kind of, that was it. We didn't talk about Milton that day. I was in high school when JFK was assassinated. SD: You say Milton, that was your-- KW: John Milton. Yes. Paradise Lost. That's what the course was about but the professor didn't really feel like lecturing and we didn't really feel like listening. It was quite a shock. SD: So, how did your family and community receive most their news or learn about--. [TRACK 1, 05:28] KW: Television. There were only three networks, unlike today. So we pretty much agreed on what the news was, what the truth was. The concept of fake news didn't exist. SD: Did a lot of people in your area have a television to be able to talk about those things? KW: Yes. The first one we had was black and white and eventually we got a color television. I remember there was a bar in Groton. So obviously I was in high school or I wouldn't have gone there, but they had a 24-inch color television but the colors were not quite accurate. People might be orange and skies might be greenish, stuff like that. SD: You said you met your wife while you were in college at Binghamton? KW: Yes. We both sang. She was actually interested in a friend of mine but she settled for me for which I'm profoundly grateful. SD: And when did you both marry? KW: Got married in September of 1970. She was still, well she had been majoring in biology, I got her to switch to English, but she wound up going to nursing school. She was still in school and we got married, I had graduated. SD: And you were, what was your major? KW: English. SD: English. But you were a respiratory therapist. KW: Yes, I was. SD: And how did you—how did that happen? [TRACK 1, 07:27] KW: [smiling] How did that happen? OK. The Vietnam War was on and I didn't really want to get involved with that so I became a conscientious objector, which meant that I had to do community service. They said that I could be an orderly at Wilson Hospital, which is one of the bigger hospitals in the Tri-City area, Binghamton, Johnson City, Endicott. So, that's what I was doing when we got married and I think I had to do that for two years but it wasn't much longer. Anyway, I went back to the placement office at Binghamton University and they said, “Well, you're an English major, why don't you think about library science?” I think they told a lot of people that and it wasn't great advice because there were a lot of liberal arts majors who wound up trying to be librarians, and there is an old saying: “Librarians never marry and seldom die.” So there isn't a lot of turnover. I did go to library school in Albany, got an M.L.S., Master’s in Library Science. My only library job was in a medium security prison downstate, and that was also when Nadene was pregnant with her first child. Anyway I quit that, came back up here, and got involved with health care. Respiratory therapy appealed to me because it only took another calendar year of schooling and then I could get a job. So there I was. SD: And this was after you had moved? KW: Yes, we moved from the Binghamton area to Cooperstown in June of [19]75 because Nadene got a job at Bassett hospital and I had been accepted at the library school at Albany and we couldn't afford Cooperstown and Roseboom is kind of in the right direction to commute to Albany, so that's how we wound up here in fall of [19]75. [TRACK 1, 09:53] SD: So how did your life change when you moved from Groton to, or from the Binghamton area, to Roseboom? KW: Well, we kind of did it in stages. Our first apartment was in Binghamton. Fifty-five dollars a month including utilities. And then we moved to a small town outside Binghamton called Chenango Forks and then to Cooperstown. This is more like where we both grew up, she grew up on a farm in the Catskills and so the house is similar and so on, so it wasn't a big transition. SD: You describe yourself as a newcomer to this area given that a lot of people have been here for a long time. KW: Exactly. SD: How do you think that's changed your perception of this place as well as how you fit into the place? [TRACK 1, 10:54] KW: Roseboom, as a political entity, is only a township. There are, depending on how you count, three hamlets, possibly four, so one of them is Roseboom. It's quite different from Pleasant Brook or South Valley and there isn't that much interaction. So, what was your question? SD: How, I guess, being a newcomer-- KW: Oh, being a newcomer. I guess there are more newcomers here than there would be in South Valley, so it wasn't that big an issue. You learn to explain to the old timers that you live in Tug Brody's house. His name was actually Herbert, they called him Tug. Anyway, we bought the house from him and even though we have lived here longer than he did, certain people can identify the house if I tell them “Well, Tug Brody used to live there.” “Oh yes, I remember that.” But there's been more turnover since we've lived here. We've been here quite a while. The house next door has changed hands a couple of times and some of the others. SD: Is there a reason why more people come to this area over time? KW: I think the draw is Cooperstown. To some extent the opera, the Hall of Fame, the hospital's the biggest employer perhaps in the county, maybe the colleges are greater. People will live in a place like this and commute wherever. I commuted to Clinton, which is near Utica. Other people might drive to Albany. There aren't many jobs right around here. I think John Webb was instrumental in getting the whole interview process started. He's a great resource because he grew up here. And then he lived elsewhere for many years but he can tell stories about, for example, when the road out here was a dirt road. Things that were before my arrival. [TRACK 1, 13:42] SD: So what was your experience like commuting from here to Clinton for work every day? KW: It wasn't just “go to Clinton,” it was “go to the office and then find out where else I was going” because it was respiratory therapy in a home care center so you typically visit people in their homes. Some of them lived not far from the Canadian border so that kind of a day would start, leave here maybe 6:30-7:00 am, get home 12 hours later and cover about 400 miles, which was unusual. I would put between 40 to 50 thousand miles a year on the car, which luckily I enjoyed. Commuting from here to Utica is not what most people would consider commuting. The scenery is pretty, the traffic is light, main thing is the weather. I got stuck twice. Not bad. I did get stuck once in a patient's driveway. I resented the fact that he didn't help shovel me out. I mean, the fact that he had one arm and two bad lungs I don't think was an excuse. He should have been out there. SD: Why did you keep that job with that clinic when Bassett is closer? KW: I did some training at Bassett but they never had an opening that appealed to me. I would have had to start working the night shift which I don't care for. In a teaching hospital, especially, it's hierarchical. You have residents who are trying to learn, which is good but they will give orders which may not make sense. Whereas, in home care you're more by yourself, which has its appeal and you get to see people in their homes, like you're doing right now. Much different from just seeing them in a hospital bed. SD: What were the interactions between patients, without giving identifying details about them, but going to those areas and meeting people in their homes? KW: Christmas was good because people would bake things. There was a good deal. There was a lady up toward Chittenango made really good apple pie. You might go to a house and not see the dog and you think the worst and indeed the dog had passed on since the last time you were there. Things like that. You see people deteriorate, which is hard, but you're impressed by their courage, in the face of what is usually a terminal illness, their spirit. [TRACK 1, 17:22] SD: You arrived here in 1975 and you mentioned that a lot of changes have happened with the land and agriculture. KW: The farms tend to go out of business. As you drive around you'll see barns falling down. Since we have come here a lot more barns have fallen down, the lumber has just been hauled away. There aren't as many dairy farms and the ones that are here are larger. Did you come over Murphy Hill to get here? SD: I'm not sure. KW: Came down a steep hill to a T-intersection and then turned left? SD: Yes. KW: Then on your way up, you passed corn fields, which I think have mostly been harvested. That used to be a farm. Now they still grow corn obviously, but I heard that the corn is transported all the way to I think it's Cooperstown-Holstein Corporation, which is-- have you ever been to Brewery Ommegang? SD: Yes. KW: OK, then you went close to that farm. So, the farm is so big, and I guess successful, that they can purchase corn way over here and haul it by truck over there to feed the cows. So there's still a lot of mostly corn being grown but it tends to go to cows, perhaps many miles away because the farm, the original farm, has gone out of business. SD: What reasons do you think caused the decrease in farms? [TRACK 1, 19:14] KW: Whoever interviews Jack and Norman VanBuren will get a much better account. Dairy farming is goofy. The milk is priced by the hundredweight rather than by the gallon. And the price is set in Washington. So, if the price exceeds the cost of production, you do well. If it's below, you're losing money all the time. And I don't know why but for many farmers the answer to that is buy more cows, make more milk. But you're losing money. I don't know. I don't know how it works. And it's fluid, milk, unlike grain. You can store grain in a huge silo until the price increases. You can't store milk; it has to be kept cold. You can make cheese, you can make butter. Fluid milk is tough, tough business. As I said, cows have to be milked twice a day whereas if you're raising beef cattle you don't have to have nearly as much involvement. SD: Have you seen that change in interactions with the people here even though you firsthand were not involved in this? KW: You hear it talked about. There's a farmers organization that is now talking about suicide among farmers. I haven't heard that right around here but in Schoharie County, for example, which is not that far away. It's a way of life. It isn't like some other pursuits where you say, “Well, this isn't working out economically. I'll go do something else.” It's hard to make that transition. Even when a farm was operating chances are that a farmer or his wife, or both, would have to have jobs off the farm in order to keep the farm operating. [TRACK 1, 21:35] SD: You asked me to remind you about garbage burning. KW: Garbage burning, yes! About 20 years ago, well, many people would get rid of garbage by putting it in a metal 55-gallon drum and setting fire to it. There was a man in Milford, I can't think of his name, he was on the county legislature. We were talking to him about burning garbage and he said, “Once a week I put all my papers in the drum, pour in a pint of gasoline and throw in a match,” which must've been exciting to say the least. That would have burned the papers rather quickly. It was just papers. It wasn't a good idea, but what was happening around here, people would put food scraps, plastic, any sort of waste, set fire to it, and it wouldn't burn up, it would just smolder for hours. So, in the summertime you're sleeping with the windows open, you might wake up in the middle of the night with stench coming in, slam the windows. The worst offender lived in one of the more dreadful houses going south on [Route] 166, the doctor's house, which I showed you before. The people who lived there were remodeling the house so they set up a trailer temporarily. Anyway this foul air was coming in their four-year old son's bedroom window. Scott went over and actually stomped on the barrel to put it out. Eventually there was a trial. Setting it up was difficult because no one wanted to preside over it, because the local town justice also set fire to his garbage. Anyway, a jury of the garbage burner's peers found him not guilty. The prosecutor was from Albany; he couldn't believe it. The problem was eventually solved when the Department of Environmental Conservation in Albany just banned it. Before that it was nasty. The town supervisor at the time burned garbage. When we appealed to State Senator [James] Seward he said, well, this should be handled at the local level. And the town government said this should be handled at the state level. Nobody mentioned the county, I'm not sure why. I think the two of them knew the positions of each other. They sort of cancelled each other out, never got solved. But that is all behind us because now we have recourse if someone were to burn garbage you could call the sheriff. But very few people do it anymore. So that's good. SD: I'm not too familiar with garbage burning so I looked it up to see what the laws were and now that they exist, there's a pretty hefty fine with it starting at like a minimum of three hundred seventy five dollars. I think there are some exceptions, I think, if you're in agriculture. KW: True. You can burn brush, but I don't think you can burn garbage anymore. It's kind of sad really, the deputy sheriff came once and looked in the offending barrel and said, “Yup, you're burning garbage." Nothing happened. SD: When was this? KW: Before the trial. It wouldn't have been that hard to collect evidence. You bring a sturdy metal container with a tight-fitting lid, scoop out the material, put it in [vocal popping sound], take it to somebody who knows what he's looking at, “Yep that's garbage alright.” But things are so much better now. The corner store is kind of the center of the community, and I hope they remain in business, they've changed hands but it seems to be going well. SD: Did they burn garbage? KW: No no no, they never did. Not everybody did. SD: You said “we” appealed or “we” tried to take action about it, when you say “we” did you mean the Democratic Council? KW: Not so much one party, I think, again, it may have been the deputy sheriff came around taking statements from people and we were both at work or otherwise our names would have been on whatever it was. It was hard, you don't like to go against your neighbors, but when things are bad enough you sort of have to. SD: Were there many controversies or antagonisms like that, besides garbage burning? KW: No, I can't think of anything else like it. [TRACK 1, 26:46] SD: You said the corner store was like the hub of Roseboom. KW: Yes. SD: Can you expound upon that? KW: When we moved, Bob and Delores[Dolores?] Weeks were running it, so it is still Bob's Country Store. They were helped by their son Tom. He eventually took it over and he sold it a few months ago now. He still lives in town and, oddly enough, now he's gone to work at Price Chopper in Cooperstown. SD: His name is Tom Weeks? I haven't met him yet. KW: He hasn't been working there that long. He's a good guy. SD: There's a post office in there, right? KW: There is. It isn't officially a post office. It is a facility of, I guess, the U.S. Postal Service. It's in one corner of the store so you can rent a post office box there, which obviates having to have a mailbox and making sure it's the right height and shoveling it out. If your mailing address is Roseboom, it means you have a post office box. If you have a mailbox, then your mailing address is something like Rd 3 Cherry Valley, which leads to some confusion. Good steaks at the store, good subs. SD: I went there after we talked, and talked to some of the people, and it seemed like a convenient place to meet people and just get anything you need. KW: And if you hadn’t been able to find me, you would have gone there. As I said, they have the postal facility. My brother Phil used to send me birthday cards. They would be addressed “Keith 1-3-4-5-0.” SD: That's all it said? KW: That's all it said. SD: That's pretty simple. KW: Pretty simple. Our son was sending us wine from California, which has to be signed for, so the UPS man can't just leave it. You have to know when he's coming and we were going back and forth, “When is he coming.” I explained the situation to John, who was working at the store then, and he said, “Oh yeah so-and-so” [imitates phone with hand] “You got wine for the Willcox's? When are you going to be there?” Cool? SD: Yeah, that's pretty cool. Very personal touch. KW: Yes. Bobby is daughter of—Roberta, Bobby— [END OF TRACK 1, 29:59] [START OF TRACK 2, 00:00] —Tom, and she was working at the store a few years ago when she was interviewed, it may be a TV station, I'm not positive. But anyway, she said, “Yes, we know a lot about a lot of people, which is both good and bad.” How are we doing for time? [TRACK 2, 00:37] SD: About halfway, 30 minutes. Just to switch it up a little bit, you mentioned that you're a part of the Unitarian Universalist Society of Oneonta. So how has your affiliation with that church and religion influenced your way of life? KW: I kind of had the way of life before I had the religion, so it hasn't been that big a switch. I get involved with things I would not have otherwise, like they've had vigils for Standing Rock, which you may be familiar with, and rallies, whatever, for LGBTQ issues. Church is really big on that. I'm 28 miles from the church, whereas a lot of the people are professors or former professors of the two colleges so they're more centered in Oneonta. But a lot of nice people. Nadene is still with a church we were in more than 20 years in Cooperstown, that's Christ Church Episcopal, kind of up the street from the hospital. They're quite different. SD: What was the reason for the switch over? KW: Oh, lack of faith. The Episcopal Church is a creedal church, you stand, recite, “We believe da-da-da-da” and I thought to myself, “Do I really believe that?” And I said, “Nah not really.” I did kind of an exit interview with the rector at the time, I felt I owed him that. Some people just drift away and you don't know why. Let him know where I was at and headed south. SD: So was the creedal faith of the Christ Church something that you grew up with? KW: Actually, funny you should ask that, I grew up in the Congregational Church, which, when I was a youngster, became the United Church of Christ. They are in between Unitarian Universalist and certainly the Episcopal Church, leaning more toward the former, I would say. Sometimes Unitarian Universalists describe themselves as “Congregational Lite.” Nadene and I started attending the Christ Church Episcopal in Cooperstown when the brother of one of her co-workers died fairly young. He was a biker. For the funeral, they had his Harley polished fairly well, an American flag on the seat, and his ashes. Father Doug Smith was the rector at Christ Church at the time, and he made that into something meaningful and Nadene said, “Wow, this guy's good.” And our children were at a certain age. I think many parents if they hadn't been to a church when their kids get to a certain age, you think, “You know, we should at least expose them to this.” So we started going there. SD: How old were your children at that time? KW: It was more than 20 years ago because Nathan is thirty-nine. It was more like 30 years ago, because Nathan was probably nine. They would've been six or something like that, maybe a little older. [TRACK 2, 04:40] SD: You're involved as the board liaison for the endowment committee at the [Unitarian Universalist] Society. What kind of responsibilities does that entail? KW: There is an endowment and the committee is allowed to spend the earnings from the endowment. I think that's the way most endowments work. You don't dip into the principal, you can spend the earnings. People apply for various projects in the community and usually within a radius of Oneonta. That's pretty much it. It's fiduciary. SD: How do you decide which organizations or initiatives to help out? KW: This year we had enough money so I don't think we had to turn anyone away. It isn't a lot of money but it helps. SD: You're reached out to by these various organizations? KW: No, we put out a notice saying applications are due by “da-da-da.” In other words the endowment committee has been in business long enough so various nonprofit organizations know about it. I'm also the liaison for the safety committee which is potentially meaningful. That's not a strong enough word. We're talking about fire drills or what happens if somebody has chest pain, but obviously after Squirrel Hill, Pittsburgh a lot worse things go on than fires and [whispers] chest pain. SD: So how do you deal with those things that shouldn't be a part of reality but that deal with security? KW: We're still formulating policies. I sing in the choir. So you are facing out toward the congregation and the main door to the church, and I just kept my eye on it. I don't know what I would have done. It makes you think about things. I don't foresee an armed guard or locking the doors or anything like that. There'll be serious conversations because that church is the most likely one to get hit in Oneonta. Upon the steeple we have a Black Lives Matter banner and we're out there supporting marginalized groups. I think the chances are low of our ever being attacked, but you never know. [TRACK 2, 07:56] SD: You're also on the [Roseboom] planning board. KW: That is true, that is true. That has a history also. I was on the planning board, but a different version of it many years ago. It was initiated because the town board, which is the elected body, was afraid that developers would come from the city, capital 'T' capital 'C', put in housing developments and demand sidewalks, streetlights, sewerage, whatever, which the town couldn't afford. They said well, we've got to have a planning board so we have some regulations. They didn't realize that any plans would apply to everybody not just the newcomers. We decided on a minimum lot size and one lady said, “Wait a minute, I want to be able to divide my land up among my three sons.” You don't have enough land. We decided that the planning board didn't have the backing of the town board so it just kind of dissolved. Now it's been set up again, moving slowly. We have been lucky in that we haven't had pressure from outside that would entail a lot of planning. For example, you're familiar with [the Cooperstown] Dreams Park? SD: Yes. KW: That was a huge change for that township. Larry Lamb was on the planning board down there and now he's the head of the planning board up here and he talks about his experiences. They were just this poor little town trying to deal with a huge development. Talked about gentlemen coming in in very nice three-piece suits, very nice attache cases, and getting paid a great deal per hour. What's the town supposed to do about that? Again, that hasn't happened here yet. SD: One of my housemates is interviewing somebody that said “Baseball has been a source of problem for the town but also saved the town.” Would you agree with that statement? KW: [noise] It certainly brings in the tourists, which is good. Again, the hospital is the biggest employer. That'll be an interesting interview depending on whom it's with. But the streets are very crowded in the summer. They've had to institute paid parking and you see the shuttle buses. All in all, it's good because if you want to see a community that relies on agriculture, Richfield Springs. Have you been? SD: No, not yet. KW: It's quite different from Cooperstown. They had a tourist trade in the 19th century because people would come up because they thought the sulfur springs were healthful. But now there are a lot of empty storefronts, again the farms are failing, and they don't look like Cooperstown. That'll be an interesting interview. SD: Is the planning board related in some way to the [Roseboom] Historical Association? KW: Not really. [TRACK 2, 11:48] SD: So how did you get involved with the Historical Association? KW: The building is the large white one which I think you can see, with the metal roof. It was in danger of falling down, the building itself. Before it was owned by the Historical Association it had been a Baptist church. Two of my neighbors were instrumental, actually, crawling around in the crawl space and just shoring the thing up. Vivian Langdon was the impetus behind it. She's since deceased, wonderful person. She kind of, I guess, established the Historical Association and I think I got involved because somebody moved away and asked me if I wanted to join so I did. SD: I know you guys recently had “Roseboom's Past,” it was a talk or a panel. KW: Yes, a panel of old timers. SD: There's that and there's the annual breakfast. I was just looking through the Facebook page to find various events that are going on. KW: Yes. Some of them don't actually go on but that's alright. Somewhere you look and it says every month we have the Vivian Langdon lecture, we don't. We try to get lectures. We've had John Davis who wrote a history of Bassett hospital. We've had Al Bullard talk about hops. He knows everything about hops, which is ironic because he doesn't drink. SD: So how do you work to keep up events and engage the Roseboom community? KW: We try. I don't know, we wish we had more members. The core group is only about half a dozen people. People are busy. The opera rehearsals, they're a little bit in the summer. The young artists, they love it there [looking at the Roseboom Historical Association building], I don't know why. It's like singing in your shower because it's all wood. With the voices they have, they like it. You can sit on the patio and it sounds great. SD: You can hear them from here? KW: Oh yes, especially in warm weather with the windows open. Those kids have got some pipes, I mean they can fill up the opera house and over there [explosion noise]. Unfortunately, you almost never hear an aria. They're practicing certain sections; I'm trying to think of an analogy. Football players have a kind of a sled thing that they ram into. Watching them do that isn't that exciting, it's not like watching a football game. Listening to the kids just rehearse very difficult passages is not as much fun as actually going to hear the finished product. But they have done some recitals here, been a lot of fun. [TRACK 2, 15:23] SD: You said you were a singer and did that start when you were in high school or when you were in college? KW: Yes, in high school. We had a community choir that did virtually all of Messiah and sang in college. That's where I met Nadene. SD: What was the college? KW: It's now Binghamton University, the undergraduate liberal arts part was called Harpur College, H-A-R-P-U-R. That's where we met. Sang a few times with Catskill Choral Society, mostly Voices of Cooperstown. We're doing Messiah in December, so you should definitely come. Nadene will be taking tickets, I'll be up on the risers. SD: That's on December 15th right? KW: Good. You're halfway there. SD: You still stay involved with the Christ Church in terms of Voices of Cooperstown? KW: Voices of Cooperstown was begun primarily by the late Bruce Harris who went there, and so we have always rehearsed at Christ Church and we've always given the performance there. We're kind of under their umbrella. It used to be that the church choir would rehearse at 7pm on Wednesdays followed by the Voices of Cooperstown at 8pm. It was kind of a long day because most of the people in the church choir were also in the Voices of Cooperstown. That's not quite true anymore, but that was the connection I still get along with everybody. [TRACK 2, 17:26] SD: You mentioned that you were poll watching yesterday. KW: I was. SD: And that's because you're involved with the Democratic Council? KW: Otsego County Democratic Committee. Good old OCDC, which sounds like a diagnosis of some sort. I was there from about twenty after 6am until twenty of 6pm, all day. And the ladies, bless their hearts, I was just a poll watcher there. What are they called, voting inspectors? Anyway, they go through training and the polls opened at 6am, they were there before 5am to get everything ready and they weren't going to be through till probably 10pm because the deputy sheriff has to come and actually collect the paper ballots. It's a long day. SD: So what are some responsibilities or key issues you work with with the OCDC? KW: Mostly just trying to get Democrats elected. Campaign signs. I picked up the ones that I put out. I have to call into somebody in Otsego County to see whether the signs are recyclable, that would be a wonderful thing. Put out signs, attend rallies, “da-da-da-da.” SD: So now that the campaign, or the election, is over-- KW: Now that the election is over? I don't know. I've only been on it when we were moving toward an election so I don't know what we'll do now. Argue amongst ourselves. Luckily, [Congressman-elect Antonio] Delgado won because if he hadn't won [mimics people bickering] “Well, we should have nominated someone that did that, did that, would have won.” He did, so it's okay. He didn't win in this county but he won overall. Actually, I don't think any of our local people won. But the registration is quite a bit more Republican than Democrats. It's okay. So did your ballot go through? Do you know? SD: I can call tomorrow or the day after and find out, but I don't know if it'll make a difference. The Alabama elections were sad to watch, to say the least. KW: Oh no, but still. SD: Well, we've about 10 minutes left. KW: What do you want to talk about? SD: I was going to ask if there was anything that you would like to share, something I had left out, you think. KW: We can still talk about snow tires but you don't have to record. No, I can't think of anything. I'm really glad that John went and contacted Mr. Walker, I think this is a good thing to be doing. I was invited to do it many years ago. I felt I would be imposing or something, asking people questions. I could have interviewed Betty and Ken Bolan, who live across from the store. They went back a lot further than I did. SD: So you wanted to conduct an interview? KW: I can't think of his name. If I said it and you repeated it over there [CGP] they would say, “Oh yes.” Anyway, he wanted me to do it but it didn't sound like fun. I should have. I wasn't in the Program, I think I was in library school, that's it. And they have a book restoration program over there but he said, “Why don't you do oral history.” I can picture his face I can think of his name. SD: Was this a faculty member? KW: Yes. SD: Was it Bruce Buckley? KW: Thank you! SD: Yes, he's a very well-known name in Cooperstown. So being in library school opened you up to that sort of history? KW: My favorite course was history of books and printing. The instructor was excellent. He talked not just about books but about church history and so on and so forth, which made no sense at all because that's when computers were beginning to be used in libraries. Of course, I avoided that course. If I'd been smarter, I would have taken that but I didn't, so here we are. SD: Let me see if there's anything else written down. You mentioned that when people in the three-piece suits came to Cooperstown and that almost seemed kind of shady with what they were I guess their intentions were-- KW: They were working on behalf of the developers. The town didn't have the legal firepower to match that. It wasn't shady, it was perfectly legal. Intimidating. SD: How do you think this sort of intimidation or the difference between the local and people from outside affects the ongoing of a small place like Roseboom? KW: There could be friction between the city people and the local people, but sometimes- I mean, the really bad garbage burner was from Dutchess County, the person I was referring to before, so it depends on how they fit in. How much time we got? SD: We're at 54 minutes. [TRACK 2, 24:31] KW: I have to tell you about Henry. Henry was a Chesapeake Bay Retriever. He's about 110 pounds, no fat. People can tell you Henry's stories, like he was good-natured but he was protective. Like one night, I was walking him through the cemetery and there were two boys probably 13, 14 and they had a radio control car and they were operating it under the streetlight. We were in shadow and Henry just said “Woof.'” They knew who, but they didn't know where. They disappeared immediately. Because they knew Henry and he wouldn't have hurt them but they were just worried. I wasn't here for this but the people across the street were, but one of the boys who was running the radio controlled car, he wound up in the middle of the road being sexually assaulted by Henry. Dogs are like that. I guess there was a car stopped in either direction so that was the entertainment for a while. Henry was a piece of work. SD: This was just a local-- KW: He was our dog. Oh yes. SD: How long did you have him? KW: Until he died of cancer at age 8. He got in a fight with a beaver once. Beavers slap their tails. I always thought they did that to warn other beavers, where this beaver was more like “Come on, this is my pond let's see what you got.” Chesapeake Bay Retrievers love to swim so Henry thought it was his pond, so he went out, it lasted just like a few seconds and then they went in opposite directions and Henry had a cut lip, stuff like that. But we got an Airedale after that, he died of cancer at age 8 and that's heartbreaking. So we haven't had a dog since. I have a cat, I've had luck with cats. SD: Have you always have a pet at some point? KW: [nods in approval] SD: Well is there anything else you want to say? KW: I think we've done it. The hour just flew by. SD: I think we've done it. OK. Well, thank you, I really did enjoy this, thank you for the time. Appreciate it. KW: Anytime. [END OF TRACK 2, 27:33] Original Format If the image is of an object, state the type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data 29:59 - Track 1 27:35 - Track 2 Bit Rate/Frequency Rate at which bits are transferred (i.e. 96 kbit/s would be FM quality audio) 128 kbps Time Summary A summary of an interview given for different time stamps throughout the interview Track 1, 01:50 - Growing up in Groton, NY Track 1, 05:28 - Television, Color and B&W Track 1, 07:27 - Conscientious Objector to the Vietnam War Track 1, 09:53 - Moving to Roseboom, NY Track 1, 13:42 - Commuting to Clinton as a Respiratory Therapist Track 1, 21:35 - Garbage burning in Roseboom, NY Track 1, 26:46 - Bob's Country Store Track 2, 00:37 - Unitarian Universalist Society of Oneonta Track 2, 07:56 - Roseboom Planning Board Track 2, 11:48 - Roseboom Historical Association Track 2, 15:23 - Singing, and the Voices of Cooperstown Track 2, 17:26- Otsego County Democratic Council Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Keith Willcox, December 16, 2018 Subject The topic of the resource Groton, NY Clinton, NY Binghamton, NY Roseboom, NY Cooperstown, NY Dairy Farming Television, Color and B&W Harpur College, Binghamton University Conscientious Objector, Vietnam War Library Sciences Respiratory Therapist Bassett Medical Center Garbage burning Bob's Country Store The Weeks Family Unitarian Universalist Society of Oneonta Voices of Cooperstown Christ Church Episcopal Otsego County Democratic Council Roseboom Planning Board Roseboom Historical Association Description An account of the resource Mr. Keith Willcox, born in Groton, NY in 1947, was raised on his family’s dairy farm. After attending Harpur College, at Binghamton University, he married his wife, Nadene, and began a new chapter in his life. A conscientious objector to the Vietnam War, Mr. Willcox adhered to mandated community service as an orderly at Wilson Hospital in the Binghamton Tri-City area. After receiving his Master’s in Library Sciences, he transitioned into respiratory therapy as an in-home caregiver. His commute often entailed hundreds of miles a day, sometimes going as far as the edge of the Canadian-American border. Although a relative newcomer to Roseboom, Mr. Willcox has lived in the township for 43 years and continues to participate actively in his local community. He explains transformations in the rural landscape of agriculture, discusses local politics, recalls community activities, and explores how full-time and part-time residents of the town have interacted. His personal stories illustrate a portrait of a man taking each day step-by-step. I conducted this interview at Mr. Willcox’s home in Roseboom, NY. His recollections of the past shed light on a rural lifestyle with which many people are not accustomed. I have attempted to capture Mr. Willcox’s style, mild manner, and good nature in the transcript as best as I could, and I have removed false starts and sentence fragments to capture the main idea as best as possible. However, I encourage researchers to consult the audio recordings, as it is impossible to reproduce the exact tone and particularities of an individual’s voice. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Shivkumar Desai Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Cooperstown Graduate Program, State University of New York- College at Oneonta Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2018-11-07 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Cooperstown Graduate Association, Cooperstown, NY Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource audio/mpeg 28.8 mB audio/mpeg 26.5 mB image/jpg 4032 x 3024 pixel Word document/docx 59.3 kB Language A language of the resource en-US Type The nature or genre of the resource Sound Image Document Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Upstate New York Roseboom, NY 1947-2018 http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/6e2df3a0bfe7d1e27c9a04a6133538bb.JPG bcb8c69bfd94d2721f2b192a65e3f54e http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/2aa9104e45f341565319ba918d2ddf00.MP3 8b784cc00b41b1d63e9a001862032348 http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/b066fd9f5d111e188071beaa419e6801.MP3 57a010ebfa67e5d72789b2d3f7666345 http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/03343cd52fabf853bb2d1d77e8395b74.MP3 a83e69441e2e59c28bf98cd93be725dd http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/1affa182a6949e5b92b4011a76aeb7b9.docx 2c5f0029ce1870d40613bda3ee19c9dc Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Land, Water, and Environment Description An account of the resource This collection contains oral history interviews and excerpts that address topics related to land use, water, environmental activism, and natural resources in Central New York State. New items are added on an ongoing basis. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Cooperstown Graduate Program Subject The topic of the resource environmental history Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Cooperstown Graduate Program Oral History A resource containing historical information obtained in interviews with persons having firsthand knowledge. Interviewer The person(s) performing the interview. Barbara Pratt Interviewee The person(s) being interviewed. Juanita Bass Location The location of the interview. 1942 Higby Rd. Frankfort, NY Transcription Any written text transcribed from a sound. JB: Juanita Bass BP: Barbara Pratt [START OF TRACK 1, 00:00] BP: This is the November 12, 2018, interview of Juanita Bass by Barbara Pratt for the Cooperstown Graduate Program's Research and Fieldwork course, recorded at Juanita's home in Frankfort, New York. So, Juanita, where did you grow up and what was it like? JB: Well, I was born and raised in Bridgewater, New York. May 19, 1935. A long time ago. My father's name was Everett Holmes, and my mother's name was Esther. Grew up there and probably four years into my life, my mother decided that she had to leave. And she did, in the middle of the night, in the wintertime, barefooted. And left us with my dad. There were seven of us. My youngest sister was a baby in the crib. I can remember that more, of course, more than anything. Devastating. But we realized, after she was gone for awhile, the house was really quiet—no fighting, no screaming, none of that stuff. And so that was a good thing, that part, but we missed her terribly, and really didn't see her again until probably three years later, on Christmas Eve. She came to the house bearing gifts and was not allowed to come into the house and had to leave them on the porch. And she left, and we never saw her again for quite a while. [TRACK 1, 02:03] But my dad kind of took over. He lived on a farm, like a sharecropper. He didn't own the farm, but he lived and worked the farm for Mr. Pierce. He was able to take care of the seven of us by himself, through all the illnesses, and the measles, and the chicken pox. I don't know how he did it. He was amazing. He always made a game out of a sickness. We all got chicken pox, all seven of us together. It was like every other day, somebody would come down with it. So he kind of made a game out of everything with us throughout our life because I guess I don't know if he felt guilty or he felt that there was a lot missing in our life and he had to make up for all that. For instance, when we all got sick, he would bring our beds out of the bedrooms and put them all in the big front room in front of the old wood-burning stove. He had us all there so he could take care of us all together. And every day he'd look at you and see if you were feeling better and if you were feeling better, you could sit up on the edge of the bed. Then the next day you could get out of bed and sit in the chair by the stove. The day after that you could go to the doorway, look into the kitchen, but not go into the kitchen. So, every day, he wanted us to feel better. At the end of the measle bout that we had, we could finally go out into the dining room, into the kitchen, and you knew you were all better. And then you'd wake up the next morning, because you had to go back to school, for those that were going to school, and on the wall hanging—he'd pound some nails in the wall—and on the wall would be hanging a new dress or a new pair of pants or a new shirt that he had gone out and bought for us to wear to school when we felt better. He made a game like that of everything. Everything that he did was to encourage us to feel better. With seven kids by yourself all sick, you've got to figure out how to get these kids, even if they're not feeling better, they're going to tell me they're feeling better whether they are or not. I remember that about him--those sorts of things that he did. Then, going off to school not having a whole lot. He did all the shopping. He would shop, and he knew exactly what [to get]. We didn't go with him, but he'd bring back a dress or a pair of shoes, and they'd fit exactly. He knew exactly what size we wore and what kind of dress he thought we would like, and ribbons for our hair, and stuff like that. He did all that stuff. I remember, especially during the commencement exercises at the end of the year, we didn't have much during the year; we were very poor. We didn't have much during the year, but he made sure that we had white dresses, white shoes, and white socks, and white ribbons in our hair. And our cousins would come and fix our hair all up. Yeah, he was pretty proud of us. He went to that extreme to fill in the void, things that my mother would have done. But we had a lot of fun. I mean it was sad, but we got used to the fact that she wasn't there, and there were so many things going on with him in our lives, like being on a farm. [TRACK 1, 00:05:42] We loved music. He loved music. He played the banjo and my aunt played piano and my uncle played the piano. On Saturday night, he would have a hoedown at our house. He'd roll up the old carpet in the front room and move all the chairs out onto the porch—the old beat-up couches. And people would come from all over the neighborhood. Some with tractors, some with a horse and buggy, back in the day. He'd go shopping that morning, and he'd bring back oysters and hamburgers and onions, and he'd make oyster stew and homemade ice cream, and he would have all this wonderful food ready for the people that would come then. All the white folks, all the neighborhood white folks, would come, and they would square dance and sing. My father was a wonderful square dance caller. He would call and it would go on all night long. Us kids, we were a part of it. He'd let us hang out. But eventually somebody would carry us off to bed, and we'd fall asleep sitting in the corner watching these people act the fool, with the beer and the hamburgers and [laughing] all that. And we stayed too, so we could eat some of that good food. But he did that all the time. He did that, like, once a month he'd have hoedown. [TRACK 1, 07:17] BP: How big was Bridgewater at that time? JB: Bridgewater wasn't that big. I don't know how many people. I really never knew how many people were there. You know, what the population was, but it wasn't that big of a town. But it was a small, quaint little town. It had a big hotel there. There was a big hotel there. The train station there is still there. Because my father would put the milk on the wagon in the wintertime and, with the horses and the sleigh, and take the milk to the milk station down in Bridgewater. So, it was exciting and fun because there was always something going on. [TRACK 1, 07:57] Also, now they're outlawed, but also my father loved to organize the minstrel shows. I hated it. I hated it—because I didn't like being black. It wasn't easy, it wasn't fun, because I always felt like I was less than everybody else. Especially when you left Bridgewater, they'd look at you like you were, you know, you were not...and that was hard. You know, that was hard. But my father would, he'd do these minstrels, and he'd organize them and all the cousins, there were tons of his cousins. My father's sisters all had children, and everybody was talented. Beautiful voices, and he'd organize. He'd do these skits and we'd have to black our faces. The red lips and the white around, and the little pickaninny braids. Yeah, I thought that was extreme, but he did it and they loved it. Of course, we'd travel from school to school; I'd call it dinner theater, but we'd be on the stage acting crazy, and then white folks would be down in the auditorium, tables all set up, maybe eating a chicken-and-biscuit dinner, and raising money for something. But we were the main attraction because of that. [TRACK 1, 09:10] BP: So, it was really for a white audience? JB: Yeah. Oh yeah, absolutely. Yeah. And they loved it. The white people. And my father loved it. What I liked about it was the rehearsals in our house. All the cousins would come, and they would dance. They would square dance, and my father would yell out instructions. And little skits for my brothers, little funny skits for them that he would put on. There were four younger [children], and I was one of the middle children, so we didn't get to do the dancing, the square dancing and all the dance routines and stuff. My sister did, because she was older, and my brothers, but we didn't get to do that. At the end of the show, my father would put us in a wagon and drag us across the stage. He'd want us to wave to the audience. That was the end. They'd have a big sign that said "The End," and he'd drag us. And everybody had to look toward the audience. Well, I didn't. I'd refuse to look; I'd turn my head. I looked at the curtain. I wouldn't look at the audience. I thought, “I don't want...I don't like this.” [TRACK 1, 10:19] BP: So, what didn't you like about it? What like... JB: Because I thought it was degrading because I thought they were making fun, and I didn't like being black. It wasn't easy. My father was a little more comfortable in his skin than I was, you know. Took me a long time. Because I had so many bad experiences, as I told you, when we went on the Senior Trip. And, new kids would come to school and they'd call me "nigger." I remember one little girl. A new girl got on the bus one day and there were no seats left, and the bus driver told her to sit next to me. "My mother told me not to sit next to no niggers." He grabbed her and he sat her down, "That's Juanita, and you sit next to her and you're gonna like it." And he made her sit next to me, and she didn't like it for a long, long time, but, you know, she became one of my best friends. She really did. But that sort of stuff went on a lot. When the new kid came to town, they would always call. I remember one time one of my classmates, somebody called me a nigger, "She's not a nigger. That's Juanita." So, they defended us. You know, the kids in the schools. They knew us, defended us a lot. So, we had to go through that kind of thing and stupid remarks. "Coon." They called us "coon," and just all kinds of names. That's why I say I love my name, so that's why I can tell you that everybody calls me, I'm not Mrs. Bass. My name is Juanita, and even my kids I want to call me Juanita because I've been called so many things other than Juanita. That's my name and I love it. [TRACK 1, 00:11:55] Growing up in Bridgewater, growing up on the farm, we had gardens. My father would plant fabulous gardens and we had gardens, we had fruit trees, we canned. My older cousins sometimes would come and live with us and they would help us can the meat. We canned beef because we had cows and pigs and I hated that. I hated butchering time because I'm an animal lover and I knew Dad was going to butcher the pigs, and I'd run in the closet and hide and cry. Because I could hear them squealing--it was terrible. Cutting the heads off chickens. I hate all that stuff. I was a sad little girl, I guess. A lot of things I liked about [growing up], because we were very, very close. [TRACK 1, 12:43] And we did a lot of fun things with my dad. He'd always take us on a Sunday morning, "Okay kids, us kids are going to do this. Us kids are going to do this." He'd get us all dressed up, and we'd go to Norwich to Aunt Stella's house. It was his aunt. Aunt Stella had a great house. There were not that many black people in Norwich, but they were one of the families. She was a day worker. She'd go around to different houses and clean their houses and stuff like that. Because of that, people would give her stuff. She had beautiful things. She had a beautiful dining room table and oriental rugs. She would cook and [groan of delight], "I want to be just like her when I grow up," because I loved her aprons that she had. She had beautiful gardens with the wicker furniture, the patio furniture, and the flowers. I just loved her—she was so elegant, so classy, and I wanted to be like that when I grew up because I didn't have a mother to take any of that stuff from, to get any of that great stuff from her. But I got it from her. I got it from Aunt Stella. I always said, "When I grow up, I'm going to be just like her." So that's why I love stuff. I like giving parties, I like doing all this stuff. My father would take us, and she would make dinner for us. He would get us all dressed up, seven of us. And this long, long dining room table—looked like it was three miles long—mahogany with beautiful china and candelabras and stuff. She would make the best food, and everything would be served on platters and beautiful stemware. [TRACK 1, 14:21] When we'd go home, we would drink out of a peanut butter jar or jelly jar or something. And napkins—we didn't have napkins. We didn't even have toilet paper. We had an outdoor toilet, the outhouse, and you go to the bathroom there. That's when we could tell when it was spring, summer, or fall. Because in the spring, you'd use the winter catalog to tear the pages out and use it to wipe. And in the summer, you would [laughing]. We knew it must be summer because we got the winter catalog here, and we're tearing out pages and using it for toilet paper. [more laughing] And that's what we had. When we went to Aunt Stella's, it was just the opposite. She had everything. She had fine soap, she had running water, she had indoor plumbing and stuff. And so I thought, “Okay, that's how she lives. I'm gonna live like that someday.” [TRACK 1, 00:15:13] BP: How did you get to Aunt Stella's? JB: Well, my father had a car. He had a little Model T Ford with a rumble seat. He'd put the boys in the back. He put us girls in the back behind him, and the three boys would ride in the rumble seat. He'd squish us all in there and away we'd go. And Aunt Stella would always be happy because we'd behave. We didn't mess around with my dad. All he had to do is look at us. He never had to beat us, spank us, just look at us. And that was all he had to do. We knew—straighten up, or else. But we were good kids. We were good and that's why he could take us by himself. He could take us places. And people loved to see us coming because they knew that we were going to behave. But those meals that she put on, I tell you, they were fabulous. So, I learned a lot from her, and I wanted to be like her. [TRACK 1, 16:08] All during school, I joined all the groups: 4-H and Girl Scouts. I did all the things that all the other kids would do. And I played basketball, I played volleyball, I played soccer. And I was in the band. I played saxophone in a dance band, I played clarinet in a marching band, and I sang in the chorus. So, I was very involved in everything that was going on. And I was queen of the Senior Ball. And you know that was surprising. I was the only black girl in the class. I got voted in as queen of the Senior Ball. And you know how I got voted in? Back then the school went from kindergarten to high school, so everybody was mixed together. I knew the first graders by their first name. We just loved each other. We took care of the little guys. They loved us. They would vote. They had these jars. You could vote for who you wanted to be queen of the Senior Ball. And all the kids were able to vote. Even the first graders. Not just the Seniors. So, come time to count the pennies, I had all the pennies, boy. So that's how I got to be voted in to be the queen of the Senior Ball. BP: And what did being the queen mean? What did you do? JB: So, I had a king, who was voted king. George Ferrucci. I loved George. George like me too. I mean as a friend. He was the one that would fight if somebody called me a nigger. Boy, he was right there, pounding the crap out of them. He'd defend me all the time. But he was great. He was in my class. So, he was king and I was queen. And he came to pick me up. I had my gown. He came to the house with a corsage. That was really special. And I felt special. Even though I felt beneath the rest of them, you know what I'm saying? I still felt, “Why me? How did I get this? How was I able to get this?” BP: Because how many were there in your class? JB: There was only eight of us. And then to get picked out of.... And the principal's daughter was in my class. Janice. Janice Johnson. She was my best friend. Her and I were like this. [holds fingers together] Still are. We talk all the time. She lives up in Syracuse. George was a sweetheart. He was such a sweetheart. He got killed. He got killed probably 1950, [19]55. Maybe two or three years after we graduated. He was working at the gravel pit, and it caved in on him and it killed him. I was working at the time at GE. I had gotten a job at GE, and I was working at the time. They called his mother, who worked there at the plant, and she came to me, because they called her, and she had to leave. So, she came down to the line where I was working. She said, "I think your king has gone." She said, "I'm not sure." She said, "I think he's gone. They said he had a terrible accident." But they hadn't found out that he was gone. But she said, "I think something terrible happened to your king." And then, sure enough, he passed away. He had died. But that was a big disappointment. Not a disappointment; he was my heart. Even though I was dating my future husband at the time-- because I dated him all through high school, my husband, my late husband, all through high school--but George was still part of my life. He was such a great, great friend. Always stuck up for me. When I was around him, I always felt safe. Because when we went on our Senior Trip.... I told you high school was...grade school was fine, and I was a good student. You know, I was a good student. I got good marks. I really did. [TRACK 1, 20:11] Then when it came time to go on our Senior Trip, four years we raised money to pay for the trip. Then I found out that all this prejudice was going on in other parts of the country. It wasn't so bad in Bridgewater, but it was bad enough. So, I found out that there were places that I couldn't go with the kids, I couldn't stay with the kids, I couldn't eat with the kids. I found that out the night before we were supposed to leave, and I told the kids, the other seven students, "I am not going. I'm not going--I'm not going to go down there." And they said, "Well, if you don't go, we're not going." And they spent all that time, four years, raising money to go. So against my will, I went. Just for the kids. And it was not fun. It was not easy. It was not fun. It was a horrible place. A horrible trip. And it should have been fun. But the kids had fun. But I kind of would smile and laugh and kind of be together with them when I could. But when I didn't feel comfortable, then I would stay in the hotel. Then one of them would stay with me, which was not fair. But I had one of the girls who didn't want to go anyway. She didn't want to go out. She was kind of a little country gal, and she'd rather stay with me than to go out. BP: So where did you end up going? JB: We went to New York. We went to Washington, DC first. In the hotel, the Willard Hotel, we finally got a room there. I didn't realize, but the kids--I mean, months before we left--they did all the research. My classmates. What restaurants to go to, which hotels to try to get into, where not to go with me. They did all that. To make sure that I was going to be comfortable. They were protecting me. She said, "Oh, you have no idea what we went through." They just told me that, like, two years ago. I had no idea. "What we went through to make it easier for you because we wanted you to go." And the Willard Hotel--they finally let me, said we could stay at the Willard Hotel, but I had to go in the back door. I couldn't go in the front door with the students. They all went in the back door. "No, we're not going in that damn front door." So, they all went in the back door with me. I was angry all the while I was in Washington. And angrier still when I got to New York City because I was standing in line waiting at the lunch counter, the cafe. Standing in line and somebody came up to me, "You need to get behind--the end of the line." And so the other kids said, "Okay." "Not you guys. You guys don't have to go." "Oh, yes we do. We're with her." So, they all turned around, and we all went to the back of the line. So that kind of stuff. We had to deal with that kind of stuff. So, the Senior Trip was not very fun. For me. [TRACK 1, 23:18] When I got home I was going to go to work. My father wanted me to go on to college and become a home economics teacher. I was madly in love with Clarence Bass, and I just had to get married, wanted to get married. I thought, “Let me get a job and work until we decide to get married.” So my father says, "Okay, I'll take you down." They were hiring in General Electric on French Road and paying big bucks; it was nice money. For an 18-year-old it was like, holy cat. BP: What was big bucks? JB: You know, you're making like probably five, six dollars an hour. Bringing home maybe two hundred fifty dollars a week. Back in the [19]50s that's a lot of money. So, anyway, my father said, "Well, you know, Charlotte..." Charlotte, one of our neighbors, she was probably 10-15 years older than I am. She got a job there and he said, "She's there, so why don't you go down, and we'll try." We drove down, and I went into the office and this lady tells me that they're not hiring. They're all done hiring; they don't need anymore. Of course, we knew better because Charlotte had told us that she had just gotten hired. So, I said, “Well, you know what? Don't give up.” I told my father, "Take me down to the employment office down in Utica,” and we went down there. And I went in and I said, "I'm looking for a job." I told him I just graduated and all this kind of stuff. And he said, "Have you gone to French Road? GE?" I said, "I just left there, and they said they're not hiring." He said, "Oh, yes, they are." He said, "You wait here." I was sitting in front of him. He grabbed the phone. He picked up the phone, and he says, "Freida Bernie, this is so-and-so down at the employment office." He said, "I have this beautiful girl here. She said her name is Juanita Holmes. She says that she just graduated. She's smart, graduated with honors. She's black. She's a black girl," he said, "but you need to hire her. I'm sending her right back." And so we got in the car, and my father said, "What happened?" I said, "Yes." I said, "We're going back to GE." He said, "Really?" I said, "Yes, they told her that they had to hire me." So, I went back, and she was red as a tomato, her face, when she saw me walk in there. She hired me, and that was it. You know, that was it. I was in. [TRACK 1, 25:46] But I was the only black female there in that plant at that time. They had maybe four or five black engineers, young black men from Ohio and Pennsylvania and all over the country that they had brought in because they had to have some blacks. There's always a token. You know, we're called token blacks. They’ve got to hire a few because the state said, the government says, you have to. I always say, "Don't hire me because of the color of my skin, hire me because you think I can do the job." That's what I wanted. Well, I got the job, and I did just fine. Every time a promotion came up, or a better job, I would take it. So, when I left there, I was an inspector for the Navy. When everything came off the line, I inspected it. When I said it was okay, then it went on to the Navy. I thought, “Ah, I've made it. Because of me, now that one thing that I checked now it can go off to the Navy. It's okay to go.” So, I feel like I had accomplished something while I was there. And I was a good employee. I worked there for 10 years. [TRACK 1, 26:49] Until I had my last baby. I had five kids working there. Then I had my last baby, Carla. And when I had her, I decided I'm not going to go back anymore. I'm going to stay home. Bought this little house right here in Frankfort. Bought the house in Frankfurt. 1963. And I quit and I left the job and I came here. At that time my husband had purchased an adult care home. We had a partner. And they purchased an adult care home in Utica called the Golden Age Home, and they ran that for years. And so we were able to buy this house. I was able to stay home and stay with my kids and just be a good mommy like I wanted to because, like I say, I was raised without a mother. I always wanted six kids. I always wanted seven kids. That's what my mother had. I always wanted seven. Well, I had two at once. The first ones were twins. I said, "Well, it's not going to take me long to get to [seven] if I keep having them two at a time. Not going to take me long to get seven." But then I had the last one, Carla. I go, "She's seven all rolled into one.” That's it. No more. I'm not going to go for seven. She's plenty. [laughing]. BP: [laughing] She was a challenging one! JB: Ooh, boy! But I tell her to this day I want to be just like her when I grow up. She's fabulous. She just does everything. Anyway, so I stayed home at the house here. I had a big garden. Every year I'd plant. I got orchards. I got apples and pears. I did have a peach tree but that one died. But apples and pears and grapes and a huge garden. All this stuff I planted myself. I would can. We have 40 acres, so we had tons of blackberries, and we made jam. I just enjoyed it. I loved it out here. Because I'm a seamstress, I made all their clothes, I made my clothes. I just did all the things that I thought mothers should do. You know? That I wanted to do. I loved being a mother. Some of the parents couldn't wait for school to start back in the fall. I couldn't wait for school to get out in the summer because I knew I had somebody to play with. Because my kids, we just had such a great time doing all sorts of things. We just had fun. We just had a ball. And then we finally got some horses. We ended up with 14 riding horses as we built the stable out there. We had horses, and we just did all the fun stuff. We had company every weekend. People would come out and ride horses, and I would feed them. Oh, my God, I'd cook, and I'd feed the people. It was like a resort here. And then I decided, "Gee, I'm a pretty darn good cook. I should start charging these people for eating all my food that I cooked.” So, then I decided. Like when we'd go to visit my father in Bridgewater, there was this house, a beautiful Victorian house, and every time I'd drive by it as we were going by to visit him, it would, like, drag me in. I'd look at that house and I thought, “Oh, my God, I’ve [START 0F TRACK 2, 00:00] got to have that. So, I finally bought it. I bought the house. I went to the bank to get the loan for the house, and they said to me, "We'll give you the money, but you have to bring your husband in." So, I thought, "Uh, my husband doesn't...he has a business. He doesn't want a restaurant. I want the restaurant." So anyway, my oldest daughter, Crystal, was working in Albany—had a really good job—and she said, "Mom, I'll put my name on with yours, if you want, really want it." And so I said, "I'm not sure if I need it." I said, "How can I buy it without my husband's signature?" The house was only like forty-nine thousand dollars at that time. It was really inexpensive. I said, "How could I buy that house without my husband having to cosign or whatever?" They said to me, "Well, you'd have to have twenty thousand dollars down. Well, where am I getting twenty thousand dollars down? I'm not going to ask him for it. I'm not going to borrow it. And I'd been in the antique business. It was another thing I started when I stopped working. Started getting into selling antiques. Lots of stuff I would save, the better stuff I'd keep. I had stuff under the bed, I had stuff in closets. And I thought to myself, “Why don't I sell some of my stuff? I got all this stuff.” The kids said, "Oh, Ma, don't sell that, don't sell that, don't sell that." You know, all those different things. I called dealer friends of mine that I knew were interested in some of the things that I had. Within three days, I had raised twenty thousand dollars out of stuff that was under the bed, in the closets, all over the place. So, I had enough, and I still had a house full of stuff. And the kids didn't even notice that the stuff was gone. They didn't want me to sell. So, I raised it. I said to my daughter, "Crystal," I said, "We can take your name [off]." "Naw, just leave your name on." So, I left it on. But I didn't need her signature at all. So, I got my house. And that's how I did it. Selling all this great stuff that I had come up with. Then I thought, “Now I got to figure out...we've got to fix this house up.” So, I got a small business loan. They gave me a small one, and then we gutted it. We did all the interior. We gutted it. We took down all the lathe and plaster and put up plasterboard. I did have to hire out for a little bit, but my family did all the work. My kids, my cousins, my friends. They'd come in on weekends, and they'd tear down ceilings and put in new floors. It was amazing. Then, to buy the equipment, I had to have equipment. Restaurant equipment is really expensive. So, somebody called me and said, "Juanita, that little restaurant down by the arterial is going out of business.” They had a little diner. So, I went down and I walked in, and here's this little tiny diner. It was a mess. Everything had like this much grease all over it. I said, "No wonder they're out of business." But, anyway, I said to the guy, "How much do you want for everything here?" He says, "Five thousand dollars." I go, "What?" He says, "Yeah." The stoves, their freezer, the refrigerator, their counters, their dishes, their china, I mean the whole thing. So, I bought it. We went down. Two days. I took my crew down that was working on the house. We all went down, and we gutted it. We took out their freezer, the air conditioner, their telephones. We took all of it, everything we could. The dishwasher, everything that was in there, we took out. Took it down, put it in the backyard of the restaurant. Then we started scrubbing and cleaning it up. Degreaser. We cleaned everything up till it was like brand new. Then we moved it into the restaurant. So that's how we got all that wonderful equipment. For nothing. Because a stove alone, a stove like the one we had, was, like, seven thousand dollars. Everything just kind of fell into place. You know, everything fell into place. Then we said, "Well, it's time." That was in [19]89. So, we started. We were going to open in [19]89; we weren't quite ready. But this guy that owned a restaurant over in Sherburne said to me—he was a friend of mine, used to buy antiques so that's how I got to know him, but he also owned a restaurant. He says, "What are you doing? Why don't you host a party for all my friends and my guests at your restaurant for Christmas?" I said, "I'm not even ready to open." I said, "I'm not ready." He said, "But you're ready. You could have a party." I said, "Yeah, I could...." But I didn't have my license and all this stuff. I said, "I could host." And it was beautiful in there. When we got in, it was just gorgeous. So anyway, I said, "What do you want me to serve?" [TRACK 2, 05:32] He said, "What are you going to serve at the restaurant?" I said, "All soul food." He said, "That's what we want." So, he came with all these people. It was the editor of the Syracuse Herald. It was the president of Syracuse University. All these people came to my restaurant for this party that had gone to his restaurant. Well, they loved it. It was a huge, huge hit. And so when we finally opened, this restaurant critic, Yolanda Wright—she wrote for the Syracuse Herald—came to the restaurant right after the party, or after we officially opened in 1990. It was 1989, 1990 we finally opened and were ready for business. And she came. I didn't know who she was. But one of the waiters came up, one of my waiters, Erin, she comes up, "Juanita, there's a lady in there, and she keeps eating and she keeps writing, and she's eating and writing." I said, "Really?" She was getting worried. We're young, you know, we're brand new. We never had a restaurant before. We didn't know what we were doing, we didn't think. Well, anyway, I went into the dining room. She beckoned me with her finger, and she said to me, "Are you the owner?" I said, "Yes, I am." I'm all proud of myself, but scared. She said, "I just have to tell you who I am. I don't usually tell people who I am. I come in, I eat, I write. I can either make you or break you." That's what she said. She said, "I have to tell you, this is one of the finest restaurants," she said, "that I have been to in a long, long time." She said, "When I get through with you, you're going to want to kill me. First of all, you're not going to be able to keep up with the requests of the diners." And she said, "And, I want to make sure you always have the banana cream pie, because the pie is worth the trip." That was my own recipe. My banana cream pie was fabulous. [TRACK 2, 07:41] She said, "And make sure you have enough banana cream pie for everybody." So she did. She went home, and she wrote this big article on the front page of the Syracuse Herald. And it says, "White House Berries Inn Ripe for Big Success." And she was right. The people started calling and coming. They would make reservations and reserve two pieces or four pieces of banana cream pie. We always had to have banana cream pie. [TRACK 2, 08:11] People came from all over. I had famous people there. I had Dr. Betty Shabazz. I had Werner Klemperer. I had Jerry Freeman, who was a big photographer out of New York. I had the editor of New Yorker magazine, the director of Lincoln Center. All these people, you know, they would come. They would come from New York. They'd call from New York City. They said, "Juanita, we need a ‘Juanita fix.’ We're driving up on Friday. Can you reserve two pork chops for us and then a room?" Because they'd stay overnight. So that's how it went, and it was like that all the time. It was just fabulous. All the famous people and the articles and the magazines and the books. I've been written up in Country Living. I've been written up in Country Victorian, in the book called America's Painted Ladies. It's a book you can still get at the library. It's about 45 houses, Victorian houses, from Maine to California. I was one of the houses that was in that book. I'm in that book, because the colors were absolutely beautiful. The process of getting it all together. I would shop—for a year, it took me a year to get it ready to open. I would shop, and I would think, “Okay, this is going to go there, and this is going to go there.” So, when I got it all together, my daughter would say, "How did you know that that was gonna work in that room, with those colors?" And I said, "I knew because I knew what I wanted it to look like." Putting it all together, with the help of my family, my family was absolutely fabulous. Very supportive. My husband at the time was still my husband. We divorced probably three years after I opened up the restaurant, but that's another story. But it was all good, and we remained buddies. Because he was my best buddy. He was a supporter of mine. He really was. And the kids, all my friends, all my family, everybody was just super. I hired local kids to work. To work there at the restaurant. They were great because on their day off, they wouldn't stay home. They came to work on their day off because they loved being at the restaurant because we had so much. I said, "It's your day off." "I don't know, but it's so boring. I got nothing to do." They'd come out and they'd hang out and help the dishwasher wash dishes. They weren't getting paid. They were just helping, you know, putting food on the plate. It was amazing. They absolutely loved [it] and I talked to all the people that had worked for me. One of them nominated me for Boss of the Year one time. I got nominated and had the big ceremony up in Utica. It was great because I wasn't, you know, salespeople would come in and say, "Where's your boss?" "We don't have one, but there—she owns it." They'd point to me. He said, "Oh." I said, "No, we don't have a boss here. We don't tell people what to do. We ask them to do things." And they did say, "I'll do that for you." It was great, it was just great. The kids absolutely loved it. We had the best time. We had it for 13 years. We'd get people from all over the country there. We had people that would go to the Horned Dorset; they had been doing the Horned Dorset forever. Then they would find me, and they'd stop going to the Horned Dorset. They said, "We used to go to the Horned Dorset." I'd say, "You don't go there anymore?" "No, we like it here." BP: So, were you there every day? JB: Every day. BP: Were you in the kitchen? JB: Well, you know what? When I first started, I hired my husband's nephew. He was considered a good cook. He had cooked in different places. He started, but then he left. But they were all my recipes. Everything was my recipes. But then he left. Then I was going to hire my sister who already had a job. She worked over in Oriskany Falls at a hospital supply place over there. I don't know what they called it in Oriskany Falls, but she worked there. And I thought, “Well, you know what? Let me hire her.” Because she was a good cook. I said, "You want to come to work for me?" She goes, "Yeah, that would be great." So, she came. And my other sister, Doddy, came. So, I had two sisters in the kitchen, and they started cooking. I would make all the desserts anyway. I still made all the desserts myself, but they would do the cooking at night. Do it and get stuff ready. They were really good. When my sister would get sick, or didn't feel good, then somebody had to go in the kitchen. It was me. That was the best thing that ever happened to me because I always said I wanted to own a restaurant, not work in one. Well, honey, you own a restaurant, you work in one, let me tell you. Phew! I started cooking in that kitchen where there were all my recipes, and I started cooking. It was the best. When she couldn't show up, I could go in that kitchen and take over like nobody's business and feed 70, 80, 90 people a night. I knew exactly what to do and how to do it. They loved it when they saw me come out with my white coat. I'd go out with my hat on. But they always saw me dressed up—the hostess. And they see me come out with my cooking: "We thought you were in there cooking. [laughing] We thought you were in there cooking.” Every now and then. But my sister—she was great. She cooked. My sister Doddy. Then we had a gal, Anna Mae Massey. She worked there. We had a nice crew, and it was great. I think we had, like, ten entrees. We had stuffed pork chops, cornbread dressing. We had steak. We had fried chicken. We had shrimp gumbo. We had catfish. What else did we have? We had a rosemary chicken. So, we had chicken and steak and pork. Then the side dishes were black-eyed peas, hush puppies, collard greens, macaroni and cheese, you know. And then we'd have a cucumber salad. We didn't have tossed salad. It was so funny because when they first started coming to the restaurant, the Italian people [said], "Hey! Where's the salad?" I said, "No salad here, baby." I said, "The only salad we got is potato salad." "But no. No salad? And no bread?" And all this. I said, "Look, you're at my restaurant. This is a soul food restaurant. You're going to eat what I have. Okay, baby doll?" "Well, macaroni and cheese. No sauce?" "Macaroni and cheese. No marinara sauce on that, honey. There's cheese sauce." And I took the bowl out and here he is eating out of the bowl. "Ah, so good." Then he wants to know if he could have more, right? I said, "So you like it, huh?" So every time he'd come we'd laugh about the salad, but there was no salad. But when they first got there, there'd be two hush puppies in a bowl, with hot syrup. And then a glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade. That's how you started your meal. You didn't have the salad. The only salad we had was a potato salad. We didn't have none of the greens and stuff. But they got used to not having their tomato salad and the pasta was the macaroni and cheese. [laughing] BP: So, you introduced them to your culture? JB: Exactly. I said, "This is my kind of...it's a soul food." I said, "Nothing else, honey." And they absolutely loved it. They just went nuts. One guy ordered one of the fried chicken. I said, "You're going to love my fried chicken." So, he ordered it, and he said, "All right." So, he ate it. And when I went to the table, I said, "How was your fried chicken?" He said, "I guess I've never really had fried chicken before. Until now." [laughing] That's all. The food was great. The people were great. They always got greeted with a hug and a kiss before they left. I know one family used to come from way up north, Lake Placid. They'd come all the time for dinner. That's a long ride. They would come early, and they would leave early, because we opened at 5:00. One day I was in the kitchen cooking, and they left and I didn't know they had left. I gave them just enough time to get home. And I called them on the phone, and I said, "The next time you come, don't you ever leave the restaurant without saying goodbye.” They said, "Oh, you were so busy, we didn't want to bother you." I said, "No, I need to say goodbye to you when you leave here." So that's the way it was. It was always the hugs and the kisses. Then, it was so funny because even the employees, they wouldn't leave unless they gave me a hug and a kiss at night. But we hired this young kid—very shy. He was really shy. The dishwasher, Ed, was fresh, anyway. Ed said, "You know, you gotta hug her. You know, every night, before you leave." He says, "I do?" He says, "Yes, that's what we do. That's what we do. And we like doing it, right?" And then one night I had to give him a ride home. He never did. He was very shy. It was raining one night. It was really raining hard. And he only lived, you know, like, probably a half a mile from the restaurant. He could've walked. When I dropped him off and he got ready to leave, he reached over to me and gave me a big hug. I said, "Thank you!" He said, "Yeah, thank you." From then on, it was every night when he left. It was always, "I love you." “I love you” when they left. You know, "I love you," " Love you too," is all you heard. All you heard in that restaurant was, "I'm sorry. Excuse me. I'm sorry." My kitchen was so tiny. They were always bumping into each other. It's all you heard. "Oh, I'm sorry." [laughing] "Oh, I'm sorry." They were so polite to one another. It was all I could hear. Somebody must have bumped into somebody out there. But it was a great atmosphere to work in. It was really fun. We loved going to work there, and people loved coming there. That was a great time in my life. [TRACK 2, 18:54] We used to get a lot of guests from the Cooperstown area, from the hospital. The doctors all came; Dr. Gold, and all those people. Dr. Gold came one night. He says, "You know how famous you are?" I said, "I don't even want to know." He said, "You don't?" He said, "Well, you're very famous, you know." I said, "No." I said, "It's not important." I said, "I just want you to come and have a great time. Have great food, great conversation. Feel comfortable that you're here." He said, "Well, that's it. That's why you're so famous." I said, "Well, I don't need to know that. That's not why I do this. To be famous. I do it because of you, you know. People like you." So that was really funny. Actually, it was a great experience. When I decided [to close the restaurant], what happened was, my sister passed away. She was my cook. She passed away. Then I was going to close the restaurant, because another couple were going to come in and buy the restaurant. Well, they came in and they goofed everything up. I was still there. I hadn't sold it to them yet. They were kind of on a trial basis. I said, "This couple's not going to work." And, so, I closed it. It was a big headline in Syracuse: "White House Berries Inn..." Oh my God, everybody was devastated. So then Michael [Latreille] came along. Michael that runs, now owns Michael's. All that stuff there. He came. [TRACK 2, 20:23] BP: Michael's in Waterville, right? JB: Yeah. He came. He was twenty-five years old. He called me up. He said, "You know, I think we should open the restaurant again." I said, "You think so?" He said, "Yeah, I'd like to try it with you." The headlines read: "New Ownership, New Light at the White House Berries Inn" with a big article about Michael and a great big picture of Michael and I in the paper. People were so excited that we had reopened. Like I said, he was twenty-five years old. Didn't know nothing about soul food. But, boy, he learned. He was...he's still fabulous. So, he worked there, and he ran that kitchen. He was fabulous. The stuff that he did. You know, he took my recipes, and he ran with them. I used to take him out to the dining room, and I'd introduce him. They'd look at him, "That white boy can't cook like that." And I said, "Oh, yes, he can. He just made them pork chops for you. He fried that chicken." They were surprised that Michael was back there cooking all their food. Then I wanted to sell it to him. I was ready to not do it anymore, and I wanted to sell it to him. He was going to buy it. And then we would tell people that Michael was going to buy the restaurant [phone call interrupts]. But, anyway, Michael was going to buy the restaurant. People found out that I wasn't going to be there, and they said, "Well, if she's not going to be there, we're not coming anymore." So, he wasn't going to take a chance of buying that restaurant. My customers are not going to show up because I'm not going to be there. So that's why he moved on and then that's why I closed it. I didn't want to run it anymore. I'll do anything until I don't want to do it anymore. That's the kind of person I am, you know. And I loved doing it. While I was doing it, it was great. But then, after a while, you know, I could see when Michael was going to leave I might have to go back into the kitchen and I didn't want to do that. So, we just closed. [TRACK 2, 22:49] People were sad; people were crying and all this stuff. I said, "Well, you know what?" Then I decided to put my product on the market after a fashion, probably three years later. Because they kept saying, "Oh, we'll never have your ribs. We can't have this, we can't have that." I said, "You know what? Let me just put a few of my products on the market and then you can try to cook like I did. So that's why I got the products in the market. Price Chopper sells them and Peter's Cornucopia. They're all over the place. And then my sweet potato pies go to the military. So, I'm feeding the soldiers. [TRACK 2, 23:22] BP: So tell me about that. How many? What's...? JB: You know what? It was so funny because I did a couple of shows. I went to a few army bases. You know, they had food shows, and they said I could come and bring my stuff. I took samples of the pies and all my products. Everywhere I went, they just loved my stuff. You know, they loved my stuff. [TRACK 2, 23:44] I went to Fort Drum. That's the first one I did. I made home fries for a sample, but this group of people come in. They're called the menu committee. They're all officers. They come in, and you have to feed them. They eat your food, you know. So, anyway, they're all sitting there, and I did home fries with the all-spice seasoning on. Then we did catfish fingers with the fish coating and we did ribs with the barbecue sauce. Then we did the sweet potato pie. We had all this stuff. So, they sat there, and then they ate all my stuff, and I told them about my product. They're all in their uniforms, you know, and just sitting there. And then they ask you to leave, because they discuss your food. So, I left, and when I came back in and the guy said to me—the one that had invited me, Tom—he goes, "Well, you hit a home run." He said, "They love everything you make." The committee. From then on, they started ordering the pies. Then they wanted to do the barbecue sauce, but they had to put it in 10-gallon jugs, or something like that, and we didn't have a facility to do that. So, maybe eventually we'll get it there, where they can buy the barbecue sauce. But now they take the sweet potato pies and the sweet potato pies go to Dubai. And from Dubai they go to Afghanistan and around. But, now, we found we're doing them, and a friend of mine was in Virginia Beach on Labor Day. Virginia Beach and he e-mails me. “I just had your sweet potato pie." And I thought, “How did you get my sweet potato pie in Virginia Beach?” Well, there's an army base there. The families in the area can go to the army base to the store and buy, and that's where they bought my sweet potato pie. BP: Well, Juanita, we are almost out of time. But, is there anything else you want to bring up? Or, if you could sum up your... [TRACK 2, 26:01] JB: My life. I have a great life. I have six children. I created a lot of things, but my best creations are my six kids: my twin girls, Janice and Joyce, my son Kim, my daughter Crystal, my son Kyle, and then my daughter Carla. I mean they're fabulous kids. You know, being married to Clarence Bass for forty-seven years and living out here afforded me to be able to be a good mother but also afforded them to go on to college, every single one of them, and get a good education. Because of that, they're all doing fantastic. The twins are social workers—one suffers from MS [multiple sclerosis]—but social workers. Crystal is a psychotherapist. She works in the school system. She's also a basketball coach. Kim is a writer/producer/director in Hollywood. He created Sister, Sister, the TV show, and then Kenan & Kel, he used to write for In Living Color. He has movies coming out. He's got a premiere coming out November 11 in California, a movie that is called Head Shop. And he's having a screening there. So, that movie, and then he's working on three others. And then my son Kyle just had his first play that he's written. That was part of the season at Syracuse Stage. It broke all records. A full house every night for three weeks. Unbelievable. They got about seven theaters around the country now that are asking for that play. He teaches at Syracuse University. I mean they're fabulous kids. And then Carla, my baby, she was accepted at Cornell University for the vet program. She's brilliant. But she decided to study oceanography, and she went to Southampton College. And then she went to California and graduated from San Francisco State with a degree in science and biology. Worked for a while and decided she didn't want to do that. She wanted to be outside—she's a big tomboy—outside and make a lot of money. I said, “It sounds to me like you should go into construction.” I was just kidding. Well, we spent all this money on her degree in science. And she did. She quit her job. She called me and said, "I got a new job." I say, "What are you doing?" And she says, "I got my license. I'm a crane operator." She built hospitals and airports and stuff like that. And then she travels all over the world. She scuba dives, she skydives. My one son, Kim, he's had his own planes, a couple of planes, but he can fly jets. They're amazing. He speaks seven different languages. These kids are amazing. I could tell you about these kids all day long. Fabulous. Kyle is a classical pianist. He plays. I mean they're amazing. Amazing kids. But, so, Carla, she flies, but she got hurt, so now she's on total disability. She got hurt on the job, so she can't work anymore. But now, her thing now is rescuing cats. So that's what she does. She wants to open up a sanctuary, eventually, for animals that nobody else wants, you know, they want to put down. She'll take them in. She wants to do a Spring Farms out there in California. But, they're fabulous kids. I have one grand-baby. He's 14 years old--that's my son Kim's son. He's 14. He's fabulous. So, kids are great. You know, they're just great. They're fun. Life is good. Life is really good. I have my antique shop and I reopened my antique shop. I do estate sales. I do appraisals. You know, I just keep busy. Keep busy. And trying to figure out what other markets now to get my product into, I want to go into. I've talked to a Wal-Mart and I've talked with the Hannaford. So, we're waiting for that. [TRACK 2, 29:52] BP: So, let me ask you a hard question. Do you have kind of a guiding life philosophy? Because you've done so much. JB: So much. You know what? [START 0F TRACK 3, 00:00] I told you at the beginning, I didn't like myself. I didn’t like being black. I didn't like the color of my skin. I didn't like my hair. Well, honey, I wouldn't change me for nothing. I love who I am. I probably like me better than anybody else on Earth likes me. I like who I am. I like the fact that I’ve got the courage to…I’m kind of like a pioneer. I would do things that no other woman would try to do probably—none of my family members would do. I like getting up in the morning because my head is full of ideas, you know. It's crazy. I can't wait to get out of bed. I'm 83. I'll be 84 in May. And I got the greatest compliment. I was out with my daughter the other day, on Saturday, to an open house, and somebody said, “Oh, is this your sister?” And I laughed. My daughter looked at me and looked at the lady, “She'd better be my older sister if she is.” [laughing] I always get called their sister. But, you know, I just love life. I love people. I love people. I love helping people. I love the sun. I love the blue sky. I love fresh air. You know, I just love gardening. Every tree you see on my property, I planted probably 50—we've been here 55 years—probably the second spring we were here, I started putting in apple trees and pear trees. I figured someday we’re going to have enough to eat. You know, they're going to grow up and be big and strong. So, all the stuff you see growing here, I planted myself. I like doing things for the earth. I love the earth, and planting and growing. I love my kids. I love people. I love my neighbors. It’s all good. BP: Great. Well, thank you so much, Juanita. It's been great to hear your life story. JB: Thank you. It’s quite a story. BP: It is. Thank you so much. JB: Thank you. Duration Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.) 29:59 - Track 1 30:00 - Track 2 01:49 - Track 3 Bit Rate/Frequency Rate at which bits are transferred (i.e. 96 kbit/s would be FM quality audio) 128 kbps Time Summary A summary of an interview given for different time stamps throughout the interview Track 1, 07:57 - Minstrel shows Track 1, 20:11 - Prejudice Track 1, 23:18 - Adult life Track 2, 00:00 - White House Berries Inn Track 2, 26:01 - Children Track 2, 29:52 - Wisdom Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Juanita Bass, December 16, 2018 Subject The topic of the resource Bridgewater, NY Everett Holmes Esther Holmes Sharecropper Hoedown Music White folks Minstrel shows Racism Farm life Model T Ford School Prejudice Jim Crow General Electric Token blacks Soul food Syracuse Herald White House Berries Inn Famous guests Cooperstown Michael Latreille Juanita’s Soul Classics Military Fort Drum Children Wisdom Description An account of the resource Juanita Bass, née Holmes, was born in Bridgewater, New York, on May 19, 1935. She is the daughter of Everett Holmes, who was the first African American to be elected to the position of mayor in New York State. Juanita grew up on a farm; her father was a sharecropper, and she describes her family as being poor. However, she talks at length about how attentive her father was to all the children’s needs. Bridgewater is a very small, rural town in Central New York. There would not have been many African Americans living there during Juanita’s childhood. She did have some cousins that lived close by. Juanita attended the local public school with white children from the community. Her father and his siblings were musical and put on hoedowns for the white people in the community. He would cook, play the banjo, and call the square dances. He also traveled around with his children and put on minstrel shows. Juanita did not like wearing the exaggerated make-up and pickaninny braids She excelled at school, participated in many activities, and was elected Queen of the Senior Ball. She frequently faced racism as a child, especially when she went out of the community or someone new came in. She had white friends who defended her, and they planned their Senior Trip so that she could participate. To her dismay, Washington DC and New York City revealed the prejudice that was rampant in the 1950s, and she suffered the sting of the Jim Crow era even as her classmates stood by her. Juanita got her first job at General Electric in Utica, got married, and had six children. After several promotions, she finally left GE after the birth of her fifth child. She devoted herself to being a mother—gardening, sewing, cooking, and having fun with her children—in their home in Frankfort, NY. She also began her entrepreneurial career. She got into collecting and selling antiques, and then purchased a Victorian home in Bridgewater in 1988. She gutted and restored the home and opened the White House Berries Inn, a restaurant and bed-and-breakfast. She became famous for her soul food—especially her banana cream pie. People would come from all over to get their “Juanita fix,” and she was written up in several newspapers, magazines, and even a book. She received many famous guests along with loyal regulars. After 13 years, she closed the business, but she has continued to be an entrepreneur. She holds estate sales and supplies the military with sweet potato pie. Products from Juanita’s Soul Classics, like seasonings and fish coating, can be found in local Price Choppers and specialty stores. Juanita has earned many awards for her leadership in the community and for her entrepreneurial spirit, but she is probably most proud of her children. She loves life, and at 83, she is still working on her next great idea. Juanita speaks with a lot of energy and knows how to tell a tale. My interview with Juanita (she does not like to be called Mrs. Bass) barely scratched the surface. She spoke candidly about her experiences with racism. There were several stories that did not make it into our interview, like the yearly “Colored Picnic” at Sylvan Beach and racial profiling by a police officer when she went to meet with someone about antiques. These topics would be good subjects for future interviews and additional research. We spent a lot of time focusing on her businesses, but she would willingly discuss her views on politics and the current state of race relations in our country. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Barbara Pratt Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Cooperstown Graduate Program, State University of New York-College at Oneonta Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2018-11-12 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Cooperstown Graduate Association, Cooperstown, NY Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource audio/mpeg 27.4MB audio/mpeg 27.4MB audio/mpeg 1.66MB image/jpeg 480 x 640 pixels Language A language of the resource en-US Type The nature or genre of the resource Sound Image Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Upstate New York Frankfort, NY 1935-2018 http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/7999eeaff3083b1c29f2be9136784de3.JPG c6f499da7d27ff7678330c5007d645bf http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/027ee850e67a063fd454735ff74e2a6f.MP3 4cea52e1bc79cb0ef713344827a1e73b http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/2e6c148e242469e4f1774bdc6b194f23.MP3 5178ea047f206b3722ede751f4df1cac http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/58f4d6c5f4df5c3fb8f3e98368bcdeba.MP3 b65b6e1259bf2ae86b25602a81bcf76e http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/17097c23de0d6b9fb8f6454b27da78a5.docx d1a4b8278054ab7509605c85abaeac12 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Land, Water, and Environment Description An account of the resource This collection contains oral history interviews and excerpts that address topics related to land use, water, environmental activism, and natural resources in Central New York State. New items are added on an ongoing basis. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Cooperstown Graduate Program Subject The topic of the resource environmental history Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Cooperstown Graduate Program Oral History A resource containing historical information obtained in interviews with persons having firsthand knowledge. Interviewer The person(s) performing the interview. Christopher Carey Interviewee The person(s) being interviewed. Elliot F. Brodie Location The location of the interview. 2959 CNTY HWY 34 Westford, New York Bit Rate/Frequency Rate at which bits are transferred (i.e. 96 kbit/s would be FM quality audio) 128 kbps Transcription Any written text transcribed from a sound. Christopher Carey = CC Elliot Brodie = EB [Start of Track 1, 0:00] CC: The following interview is being conducted with Elliot F. Brody for CGP Community Stories is taking place on November 15th, 2018 at Elliot Brodie's residence at 2 9 5 9 County Highway 34 Westford, New York. The Interviewer is Christopher Carey. How are you doing today Mr. Brodie? EB: Good. CC: So tell me a little bit about yourself. EB: Well, I was brought up in [19]24. That was before the depression. We lived on a farm. There wasn't much going on there. Everything was kinda bad. Yes. We got along. People didn't have the money. They didn't get much coming in. So we lived with my grandfather, who was a cripple, [and] my dad did the farming. He would do all the work. Not the money part. In [19]24 when I was born, course they came here in 1920. Mom always went back to Massachusetts where she was born, for us children to be born. I don't know why. She’d go up there and stay with her mother, then she'd come back home. Back then they didn't do what they do today. We had a lot of fun without destruction. To go out and play in the wintertime, skiing and riding downhill. I had three brothers and three sisters, so we had quite a crew. [chuckles] Well we used to fight some, but, that's normal I guess between family and kids. [Track 1, 02:03] Then we walked to school. We had a little schoolhouse that was about two miles away. The only way we could go to school was walk. [My] two older brothers, they were in school. I would follow them to Wilder school and then the teacher would send me home, send a fellow home to take me home. When I was five years old I started going to that school in the first grade. It's a little one room schoolhouse. We had probably 10 to 15 kids in it for eight grades. And as a matter of fact the school is still there; it's just moved a little bit further away from the road. The fellow who bought it, he lives in it. That was quite an event to walk to school. I can remember when we were, I think I was in the second grade, dad rented a farm down in Westville, New York and moved down there. We had a bus to take us to school, we thought that was quite a novelty [chuckles]. We weren't used to that. Of course, he only had it for a year, then the fellow sold the farm and we went back again to my grandfather's, and then dad bought a farm down in South Valley. We moved down there again. We got bused to school, which was something, and this wasn't really a bus, it was usually a car. Only, probably, four or five went in it. [Track 1, 03:46] That was the two room schoolhouse. It was kinda nice. Quite a lot different than the one room, we had quite a few more kids. It was two rooms, one for up through the fourth grade, and fifth through the eighth. I went through school there, finished school there in the seventh grade. When I went in the eighth grade, somehow the district got together and they quit eighth grade. They sent them to Cherry Valley Central School, which was quite a lot different. I was bashful at that time and I didn’t get along good because of it. I would get mixed up because at Cherry Valley, where we went to central school, we didn't stay in one room. We went from one room to another for each class. Of course, I didn't do as good when I was new. Before the two room school house I used to get good marks, when I got up there they dropped. In fact, first year up there, my eighth grade [year,] I flunked English Regents at the end of the year. It didn't make any difference. I'd never ask questions, so I didn't know as much as I should have. Then as time went on, the next year, went back and took my Regents and got along better, I guess, and I took my Regents in January and I got an 86 in them, which was quite a lot different. She used me as an example after that, said “You could do anything if you want to.” Most of the subjects were pretty simple. Math. I enjoyed math and spelling. There was another farm boy and he got 100 in his math Regents at the end of the year, and I got 98. All the village kids, I don't know what they got, but they didn't get anywhere near us. [Track 1, 05:58] It was interesting, though, to do something like that. Then, of course, I went through school up there. In 1942, graduated and got out. I don't know why but I had a girlfriend. I was already engaged before I got out of school. I often wished I went in the service, but I didn't. We got together [and] we got married instead. I was 18 and we lived right around the area all of our life. We are still here. I'm actually within a mile away from where I was brought up where I'm living now and from where her parent’s farm was. There was a time when I didn't stay here because there was nothing here. When we got married, I had a farm house I was supposed to take in the run of shares. When we came back from our honeymoon, the fellow had sold it. So we were lost but I ran my dad's farm for a year. Then I had done the other odd jobs. After that, worked the creamery for a while, but that I couldn't take it because of arthritis; the steam caused it to get worse. I quit that, worked for a farmer up here through the summer. [Track 1, 07:45] Then of course when fall would come, he didn't need me because fall work finished up. All they had do is milk. But he was good, he went to Cherry Valley on the farm up there that peddled milk and got me a job up there. So I started work after the first of December. [At that time we had a one month old son.] [Track 1, 08:06] My oldest son was born in the first of November and I started up there the first of December. We rented up there a house that used to be a restaurant. Well of course there were no rooms in it, just an upstairs room, bedroom, where we slept. Downstairs it was just a kitchen and one big front room. Of course up there we didn't have much heat. We had to furnish our own heat. We burnt coal; we couldn't keep fire going all the while because we didn't have the money yet. The bedroom upstairs, it didn't get any heat anyway. We'd get up in the morning and it would be freezing in there, in the bedroom. I'd go down and stoke the fire up get warm downstairs and then we would be all right. I used to walk back and forth from the farm every morning, do the milking, and then I'd walk home and eat breakfast and I'd go back for the day. Then when noon came, we always went home for lunch at noon. At night we'd milk, then we were done. That's the way it went all winter. Then when spring came, course then came crop time, we worked and got the crops in and got the hay in when the hay time came. We got everything done up in the fall or early spring and summer. We never had a vacation. Every day, even Sunday, we had to work Sundays even, but Sundays all we did was milk. Then we were done. We had three strings of cattle. I milked one half a string, I milked, and then I milked another string up further. Made an "L" shape through the barn. The other fellow, he milked the other side, then he milked the other half where I was. We never carried milk. We had, I don't know what they were, they were probably six or eight gallon pails. Nine or even ten, I don't know, but they were big pails and we just milked and dumped it in the pails. We had another fellow that came with the yolk on his shoulders, he carried it out, ran it through what they called an aerator to cool it. Then they went to the tank, pumped it through the aerator, and pumped it right through into a tank. Then the next day is when they'd pasteurize it, make chocolate milk. They sold chocolate milk, whole milk. It was really quite a job. [Track 1, 11:40] I worked there two years. Then my dad wanted to get off the farm so I came back and took over the farm. We ran the farm two years, and then my wife's mother developed cancer. So she wanted to go take care of her, so, told dad we were going to leave. So we went down so she could take care of her mother until died. She didn't live long after we got there, probably three months. It was time spent together, the last time. That's important anyway, to spend time with family. After that, I didn't take over the farm yet, but I lived on the farm. We lived there with her dad for a while, then he went lived with his son. So we lived on the farm. We didn't have much farm because he had problems in later years. Somebody kept shooting his animals. He never knew where or why. When we took over the farm we had one cow. [Track 1, 13:07] I started driving truck when I was young, hauling milk to the creamery with canned milk. When that happened, I went back to driving truck again. I went down and what they call East Sidney Dam. I hauled aggregates from Wells Bridge up to East Sidney Dam for a year until they got the dam built. I came back on the farm and I put more cows on and we farmed it. It was quite a problem back then. My wife, she didn't have a license at first, but I told her she might better get it because if I go somewhere and have a problem with a truck, and I'd have her go with me to drive the car home, and she'd do that without a license. So I told her after a while she'd better get her license. So with that she got her license. [Brief interruption] [Track 1, 14:16] Then as time went on, boys got big enough, I let them take over the farm and I went over the road as tractor trailer, hauling. Done that until I retired in 1975, which wasn't really my decision. I had to. In 1975, in May I was going down to Connecticut and a fellow came across the center line with a load of swinging beef. I don't know why, whether he lost control or what. He striped the whole left side of my rig right from the front bumper back through. I got out. I wasn't hurt a bit. Nothing! So I got out the other door come round. He was pretty bad shape. They made us both go to the hospital to get checked, of course he was there for longer. Checked me over and I was all right, I could go back. I had a job to get back, I had to call company, sent a man down to pick me up. We got back to the accident scene. So the safety supervisor was there of course. He says to me “You know you've got three days off now until we get done investigating.” The fellow that picked me up looked at him, he says “You look down there at the curb and,” he says “you can see where he jumped the curb before he even got hit.” So I wasn't even in the highway. So he says “Alright we'll go down,” we went down, he took pictures, he says “Alright, you can work tomorrow.” So that went fine. I worked and June 19th I was going back into Connecticut. I got down the other side of the Hudson where they got a "Y" coming from the other way. I was on the main highway, the fellow came up the other side of the "Y,” he never slowed up. He came right through and hit me head on. Laid me up so I couldn't work. [I went to the hospital in Hudson and the doctor gave me 67 sutures on my face and my right knee was gashed from one side to the other side.] I was on crutches for probably a year before I could get walking, my back was so bad. But, as time went on, I went back. I told them, “I don't think I can work, I can't stand it to sit in the seat when the truck is that long and all day driving.” The safety supervisor, he kept after me to come back. I got a letter from him that says you were one of our best drivers, he says, we want you back. We got a place for you any time you come back. I never felt capable of going back, so I never went back until too late. It was a few years after that they sold the outfit out. Quality carried it. So I didn't have a place anyway. [Track 1, 17:38] I just farmed it. Of course I didn't do much farming, really, I couldn't do an awful lot. I helped the boys a little. I'd ride the tractor and do things like that. The oldest boy, he went in the service. When he got out he wasn't with the farm. He went to work at GE [General Electric]. He didn't work there very long and he quit, got married and they went to Florida. He wound up down there a plumber. The oldest boys stayed on the farm. Finally, one day, he was picking something up and he evidently done it wrong and picked it up with his back instead of his legs and hurt his back, so, he couldn't do much for quite a while. It kinda tied us up. Time went on [and] he got back so he could do the milking, do things again. But he says he didn't feel good about doing it so we sold the farm and reserved a piece of land and built a house on it. [Track 1, 19:07] Built the house in '88 and in '99 I had them spray foam insulation on a metal quonset building. I had an outdoor furnace in it and the pipe went right up through the roof, I put it right up through the roof. They sprayed it against the pipe. The first night when they got done, the house burnt; the insulation caught on fire. I didn't realize it was flammable. He told me if it caught on fire, get right out because it's deadly poison. It's flammable, it lit, came right into the house took the house, everything. We got out with just what we had on. Of course we had good neighbors. A fellow had a trailer up here and he said "You can live in my trailer." So we went up and moved in the trailer, there was room for all three of us... four of us, actually, my wife was still living. So we went up in the trailer and had two bedrooms so the oldest boy wouldn't board with somebody else. Then we got another neighbor, who actually is from the city, he had two houses up here in these, no, three houses he had! So he said, “You wanna live in my house, you can live there as long as you want.” He said “All you got to do is pay the light bill.” So we went up there, lived until spring. All winter I was drawing blueprints of a house that I wanted. When spring came I had all decided what I wanted. Had a fellow who was going to come and build it. He kept putting it off, putting it off and I'd get after him. Finally he quit the business. Then when he quit, then I started and then we built it ourselves. My nephew, he was a carpenter, he came down and he owed my son money for sugaring supplies, so he came down and helped with the work. He engineered it and done it, which was a lot cheaper, but still it was expensive. The other fellows he gave me a good price. I don't know. He just was interested I guess. Well, actually, he was from out below Syracuse, so maybe that was the reason. He didn't want to move so far from home? We got the house built, we moved in the summer of 2001. It wasn't far too long before, while we were out there, we came back in. Been here ever since. [Track 1, 22:28] Six years ago, 2012, my wife got cancer... we lost her. The three of us, son, daughter and I stayed right here and lived here. My son, he's in the sugar business, he was doing that all the while. Back then he was tapping around eighteen to twenty thousand taps. The sap, I'd go up and I'd boil it for him. He'd do all the work and I just sat there and watched the evaporator and made sure everything worked alright. A little over a year ago, he got cancer and went in for treatment. Doctor done a good job, he was in remission. Went pretty good and went right back to work while he was taking his chemo treatments each week. Take his treatment, he'd come home, lay around that day and the next day he'd be right out in the woods, so it never bothered him. This past summer here, it came back, so he had to start over again. He went out, got his treatments; I'd take him over, sat there and he’d take his treatment. When he got done with the treatments he'd come home. Usually it was about four to five hours. Just before his last treatment, he was in the woods, he drove back down, told my daughter “I got pains in my chest. I'm having a heart attack.” So she come right in and got me and I rushed him right over to the hospital. I got him over there and that's what it was, it was a heart attack, he had a massive heart attack. He laid there in emergency room. He died on them three times there and they brought him back. After a while, I guess the last time he died, they got it that long enough to sign some papers for an operation. So they rushed him right down to surgery. Went through that good. He's already got something like three or four days, after words he come home. He said “Doing pretty good now. We just got to take it easy.” I don't know what else... [Track 1, 25:16] Back in those days we had the depression at twenty nine [1929]. I can well remember that, I was five years old. I remember dad was working the farm, of course, Grandpa didn't give him any money for it, he just worked it for him. So he had to get a job to live. He worked for WPA, and he'd work there then do the work on the farm too. Finally, the Depression hit. We headed for Massachusetts, where every year they would go to Massachusetts anyway to visit. So, we went up there. I stayed up there with my uncle one summer, when I was probably 5 or 6 years old. I guess I remember him, yeah, he lived in Gardner, Massachusetts. He got up every day looking for work, and then he came home at night. Never found work. [Track 1, 26:21] After the Depression was over, things started coming back again. That had to be hard. Back then, again, I didn't realize it. In later years, I look back and I think, 'how did they manage it?' No money. I don't know whether they got help from the city, help the state or what, but somehow they lived. They had a big house there; It was three floors. My uncle's father and mother lived on the bottom floor. They had a sister and her brother [who] lived with them. My aunt lived on the second floor. And the third floor is where we slept. It must have been a big house. There were four of them down on the bottom floor. I think they had all their bedrooms right down there. I'm not sure. My Uncle, I don't know where they slept, I don't remember them sleeping anywhere. They must've had a bedroom somewhere besides upstairs. Of course when you're kids you don't think of things, you just take things for granted as they come. When the Depression ended, he bought another place, my Uncle, got a job as a steamfitter. He got a job as a steamfitter making pretty good money and he bought a house. Lived there for quite a while, quite a few years they lived there. His son, he had a son my age, he took him in, taught him the business and they worked together as steamfitters. Things kind of played out in Massachusetts, they didn't have no work. So they went south and worked down there in schools and places like that as steamfitters. Eventually, I don't know when, my cousin, my age, he started working for DuPont. I guess something in where he worked caused problems. When he quit, he had to quit, and I think he was on getting money from them to live on because he couldn't work. But he died young, Herb. They lived in Virginia. Then his uncle, he never did come back. His wife came back to Massachusetts after he died. [Track 1, 29:35] We don't understand. Of course people today, kids today don't think. They go out and get in trouble. That's their fun. We didn't, even in school. If we got spanked in school, we got it too. Then we'd get home, of course, [Start of Track 2, 0:00] the teacher would let them know, and you would get it again when you got home. Parents didn't stick up for the kids. They knew the teachers were right. I think they still are the kids think they're not, and the parents, they got to convince them that they're not. They're picking on them. It's quite a different world than it was back in the 20s and 30s. I remember back, [19]37 it was, dad, on the farm, they didn't get nothing for milk. I can still remember he had one cow he wanted to sell for beef to a follow; it was a cattle dealer. He offered thirty six dollars for the cow. It was a big cow, probably dressed out six hundred [pounds]. Beef today you pay more than that for a roast almost. But that's what the dealer told him that's all they were worth. He started having a problem with the milk and didn't get any money for it, so they banded together, a bunch of them, formed a union. That union, it put a lot of pull out. They started building a creamery. As a matter of fact, they built a creamery over in Worcester and started shipping milk there. I don't know if they made more money or not. They must have because they built the creamery and farmers were running it. It went along quite a few years and finally a fellow down in the city bought the creamery and ran it on his own. He was a pretty decent fellow. He wasn't out to get rich, he was helping out. As time went on, he sold the creamery to someone else. Finally, I forgot what year was now, but years later they quit using the creameries. Most of the creameries closed up. And they'd haul and pick up milk, bulk milk then, and they'd go right to the city [where] they would go through a creamery. Before that, it was all canned milk back in the early days. Take it over, they would dump the milk from the cans and they went through a washer. Sterilizer. They'd come back out, they would put them back on the truck and take them back to the farmers. [Track 2, 03:22] The farmers, they all got along together pretty good then. We didn't have problems with one trying to outdo the other one. As a matter of fact, a bunch of us got together and bought some equipment for harvesting and it belonged to the whole group. There were four or five of them in the group. We'd work together and to do the work for each farm. Now every farmer is on his own, he's got his own equipment or else he hires somebody to do it. Back then they didn't hire, they just did it on their own. We got a lot of problems. Break something, of course you had to fix it. Didn't one man paid for it, it came out of the group. It was really cheap for each one. [Track 2, 04:31] I don't remember what happened with the equipment, but I can remember when we were young we always cut corn by hand. We had what we called a corn knife. We put our arm around a bundle of corn and then we pulled the knife through and cut it all and we lay it down. When you're ready to put it the silo, they'd come down, they'd just picked it up, put it on the wagon and take it up, [and] went through a chopper and a blower to chop it up and blow it up in the silo. The time went on and they started getting these choppers that they chopped it right in the field. We never got that when we were kids on the farm. They came after Dad got off the farm. Dad chopped it, blew it in the wagon. To unloaded it the wagons had a box on it with an auger on the front where it took it into the blower, and they had a chain belt in the bottom of it that kept bringing it forward to the end where it dropped in the auger, and all you needed was just a blower to blow it up in the silo. You didn't need a chopper, that was all done. Then we got the thresher and it was the same. We used to cut and thresh the oats, barley and stuff with what they called a "Drop Reaper." It had knives on the front of it and a table behind the knives, and it had paddles that came down and pushed the hay, corn, oats or whatever it was over onto the platform behind the knives. Every once and a while an arm would come around and take it off so it was all cut. It wasn't bundled, but it was in a pile. A lot of farmers then used to go out and they take them and do what they call shock them up, they'd take them and put a bunch together and tie them together so they were tied in one piece. Then they eventually they came up with a reaper and binder where they'd go and the reaper would cut it, would bind it up, tie it up itself and lay it down. Then they'd go out after that was done, they'd go out and take a bunch of them together and they put them together, put another one on top, what they called "Shed the Water," so the water wouldn't go through them all. It was the same with the corn. As I said, we used to cut the corn with a corn knife, then they got what they called a "corn harvester," which would cut the corn and tie it up in bundles, kick it off in bundles. They never cut the string when they put it through the blower, they always put string and all through. I don't know why, I guess it probably chopped it up so much didn't make any difference. [Track 2, 08:07] Of course we as kids, we used to have to get up in the silo and tread it down as it came in. I've heard of different ones where they had done that and they buried the kids back years ago. Killed them. We knew enough to keep on top. Of course, maybe they were just lazy? Maybe they don't do nothing? But we used to run around the silo all the while, stomp it down. When we got done and they got the load up there, we just rested until the next one came. [Track 2, 08:47] It actually was quite a lot of fun, at least I thought so. The thresher was different. We had the old threshing machine. We had a fellow who used to come around with a threshing machine, thrash oats for the farmers. He'd set it up, feed the threshing machine oats. You had to be careful not to overload it so he could see what he was doing. Every once in a while the fellow pitching it off to him would give him more than he could handle and he'd get after them. “Not so fast!” You get more done going slow and doing it right, which is always right. Of course us kids, two older brothers and I, at home we used to have to work in the straw mow as it came out of the Threshing machine. The straw would come out the back. On the side they had a spout where the grain would come out, somebody was there catching a grain in a bushel basket and bag it up. And the straw came out the back, and we had to work back there. One would take it from the thresh machine throw it back to the next one, keep throwing it back until we got back to the back end of the straw mow. That was a dirty job. We came out of there looking like colored people. It was not fun. You'd breathe that in, then you're hacking that up for probably three or four hours afterwards before you'd get rid of it all. But that was our job. Then, eventually some of the people, some of the farmers got together and they had a fellow that came up with a blower on the threshing machine, which was a lot nicer. They'd back that in and blow it wherever they wanted to put it. You didn't have to work it. Time went on, things changed, now today you go out, you see these farmers with these corn harvesters, some of them five or six rows at a time. We used to take one row at a time back then. We would have sets and take even numbers six or eight, maybe some of them even ten to twelve. We cut it and run it through the chopper, blow it right into the silo. Get a load. Today they don't use wagons that much, today a lot of the farmers use trucks, which is a lot faster. Smaller farms, they still use wagons, but the big farms don't. They take the trucks up, dump trucks, and just dump it, slow and easy into the conveyor to go into the blower. And a lot of them, even they don't do that. They have these bags, they're long. They got a thing in front that blows the stuff into the bag. They keep blowing it in, as it blows it in it blows that bag out; I don't understand how it does it yet. They blow that bag out and it will go for probably a hundred feet, maybe two hundred feet and be full of silage. We used to do that with pitchforks. Dad would cut the hay, then he'd put the [unintelligible] in the dump rake. Rake it up into rows, and we used to have to go up and do what we used to call "cock it up" and take our pitchforks and put it, in other words, in a little haystack. Then when we got done, Dad got ready, we'd take the horses, the wagon, go out, and he'd throw the hay on the wagon. You go right between the mows for the hay-cocks. He throw it on, and we'd load it. Stomp it down. Then we'd get to the barn. A lot of the barns had no way of getting it off, you had to pitch it off, pitch it up into a barn door or over the rest of the barn, over the cow stable. We had to be up there, pull it back the full length of the barn and mow away. Farms would get what they call hay knives. I guess, more or less like a harpoon, maybe? They'd push it right down into the load of hay as far as you could push it. Then you had two levers, one on each side, you'd pull those levers up, when you pull them up it brought teeth out on the bottom that would hold the hay in it. Then we used a team or tractor, we used to use an old car, to hook onto it and you pull it up, right straight up. When it hit the track up above, had a catch there, it hit that catch, released the catch, and we pulled back on the track the full length of the barn, or wherever you wanted to stop it. [Track 2, 15:04] That was a lot handier, but still we had work to do when they dumped that in the haymow. That was us kids' job, to mow the hay away. That was hard after it was dumped like that because it packed together. Usually it would take about six fork-fulls to have it emptied. Then they'd go back and get another load. Quite often a couple of us would stay there and mow it away while the others went back for the next load. In the wintertime we just push it down the shoots to the cows down below and then we'd feed them from that. [Track 2, 15:53] Years ago everything was done with horses. We didn't know what a tractor was. The first tractor I can remember it was an old 10-20 tractor on steel [wheels]. Had lugs on it. It was rough riding, of course, it was better than walking, where doing the work with a team was faster. There was a nice tractor, plowing especially. Of course it's all steel, you didn't even have to steer them, you get him into a furrow going down through, and you could sit right there and let it go right down to the other end. For some reason it followed that right along. I never understood why, but it did. I used to do it quite a lot and, I'll never forget, I'd get going down through, and that noise, and sitting there doing nothing, I'd fall asleep. I usually woke up before I was up to the other end, so I got out of it. And eventually they came out with a rubber tire for tractors; they were a lot better, easier to ride. You could do probably do just about as much with the old steel lugs. They wouldn’t spin as much as a rubber does. The rubber would spin out on a slippery going, where steel would dig in and keep going. [Track 2, 17:36] Back then we had quite a bunch of us on the farm anyway. As I've said, I had said three brothers and three sisters. My two older brothers, we got to work for the longest time. My sister, just younger than me by a year and a half, she didn’t like housework, so she worked the barn. She did outside work. My younger brother, he never did do too much. He wasn't much of a worker [chuckles]. At school, I don't remember whether he made it through the sixth grade or not, but I know he quit when he was in the low grades and, you know, he went in the service and he did better than most people do. He was smart, he just didn't want to put his mind to it. I guess we got a lot of them today. My sister died. [Track 2, 18:40] We used to have to work, go to the barn every night and every morning. Nights we'd milk, probably five o'clock we'd start milking. My dad, my two older brothers, my sister, and I, we all had our cows we milked. We milked by hand. Then we got done, we'd go up, eat supper, we might sit around and listen to the radio a little while, then go to bed. In the morning we'd get up at 4:30, and back to the barn again. We had to get done before school started, of course. The bus would come usually around 8 o'clock, so we had to be all done, have breakfast and be ready to go. So 4 o'clock dad used to call us and we go to the barn and do the milking. The milk house was probably a hundred feet from the barn, so we had to carry the milk to the milk house, run to through what they called a "strainer," to strain it into the milk cans. That first one, they had just a vat with water in it and had an icehouse. Filled the icehouse in the winter with ice. Then they put the milk in the vat put the ice in to cool it. Then they came out with these electric coolers. They put the milk in the electric coolers to cool it overnight, and of course in the morning you didn't have to cool it, just the night milk so it was cool in the morning. If it was a certain temperature when it got to the creamery, the creamery would send it back and wouldn't take it. So you always had to be careful. As time went on they came out with a bulk tank. I remember I was still farming, I was still milking then at the time the milk tank came out. I put one in. I think I was the first one around here that did it. That was nice. First along, we carried it out straight into the milk tank. Then I got to the point where I said 'Well, I'll put in a pipeline milker.' So I put in a pipeline milker and it took it right out and put it in the tank every night and morning. And every other day the milk man would come, back up to the milk house and hook his hose on and pump it into his truck. It was really a lot simpler. CC: So do you feel that your childhood was very common among children in the area here? EB: I think so, yes. CC: How so? Were most of the people around here farmers? EB: Yeah. Everybody was farming. CC: Can you explain a little bit more about your education in the schoolhouse? EB: The little schoolhouse or the big one? CC: I guess the little schoolhouse. EB: [Track 2, 22:17] The little schoolhouse is nice. We sat there, teacher had her desk at the front of the room. She had all eight grades in the one room schoolhouse we were in. She'd teach a grade at a time. They had what they called a "recitation page" up in the front of the room right in front of the teacher's desk. A class would go up, first grade, minor seconds, so forth and so forth, individually. Each class would go individually to that recitation bench. She taught them there. She'd teach them, tell them things, and shrow them things. We had blackboards on the wall which she used to demonstrate, to check, and show us. Kids back then, they got a long good. We used to have a lot of fun. One thing I liked about that, it didn't matter what grade you were in, you were in every grade when she was teaching because you were right there, close. You could hear, you could listen, you could watch. So I think that's why kids did a lot better back then. Today everyone's on their own. There classes are separate. Back then, English or Math, or anything like that, Teacher would show the upper class it, and the lower class could pick it up to. So when they get up there, they were well versed on it, which made a big difference. That's probably why I got good marks in the little schoolhouses. In the two room schoolhouse, that's right down here in the village in South Valley, we didn't have any septic systems or anything. We had what they called an outhouse. The boys' house would be in one place and the girls' would be on the opposite side. We were separated there. In the one room schoolhouse, the schoolhouse sat in one place, you come out the door of the school and right straight ahead to the girls'. The boys' was out back of the schoolhouse on the other end. Then in the two room schoolhouse down there, I don't know what they've done, but they put in something, it wasn't septic because they never had water. Water came from the water pump down here. You had to pump the water and bring it in the pail for drinking purposes. They built some kind of a system, cesspool or something. I remember these big pipes that were probably a foot across inside which took all the waste out into the septic tank. I don't know whether they had to rinse that down every day or not, they probably did. The one room schoolhouse was different. We didn't have water there. We had to go to a neighbor's house with a pail and carry water back to schoolhouse. We always fought to do that because we wanted to get out of school. That was something different. [Track 2, 26:13] The teacher in the one room schoolhouse had quite a job with all the classes. He had to be versed on everything, not just one subject like they do today. Teacher didn't have her own place to stay in the one room schoolhouse. She stayed with the parents. She'd stay with one parent for a while then she'd go stay with the next one, so she stayed with every parent at different times which made it cheap to hire her because she didn't have to pay nothing out. She got a room and board. I can't imagine what they'd get, probably wasn't much of anything. [Track 2, 27:01] Now in the two room schoolhouse it was a little different. There we still had the recitation benches and went up. It was altogether different because we only had four classes. We had time and of course we had a library down here that we went to to work in. Then they had what they called the "belfry," the bell room, where they rang the bell. [It] was in kind of a hallway. They closed it up and put this septic system in. Girls would be on one side, the boys on the other side. [Track 2, 27:53] Now, kids don't know what tough times are today. We went through school. I didn't care for school in the latter years because I wanted to get out, but a lot of kids didn't, they liked to go to school, they wanted to go on. A lot of them went on to college. I didn't know what that was. When I got out, I often wished I went in the service. When I got out was during the Second World War in [19]42. I had a buddy that we were real close, when we got out of school he went right into the Air Corps and went through the war. I think he made a career of it. Then when they got out of the Air Corps, when they got his discharge after his years were up. He still went to the base and worked on the base. That was out west. He lived out west, he was out in Alamogordo, New Mexico. He worked at the base until he died. [Track 2, 29:19] School today, kids don't know what school is really. They don't do what they used to. Of course we used to have sports in the central school, Cherry Valley, when we went up there. I'll never forget because I was the eighth grade, and very seldom today you can get on a team in that lower grade, you got to be up sophomore or junior or something at least. Well I went and I went out for baseball the first year. I was right on the team the first year. [Start of Track 3, 0:00] My two older brothers I used to play ball a lot together. I was pretty good at hitting, I was the poor fielder, but I was good at hitting. I think that's the only reason I stayed on. Very seldom struck out; I'd hit the ball, not always get a hit, but I'd hit the ball and that made a big score for coach. EB: When I was in sophomore year they got football back again. They had football in earlier years, before I can remember. A kid broke his neck, killed him, so they cut it right out. Coach got it back in when I was in the sophomore year, and a bunch of us went out. Actually, that was my favorite sport. I enjoyed that because I was always rough. We played, we didn't do a lot of winning. It wasn't twelve man football, it was six man football which is a lot faster game. You make 15 yards for first down and you had to handle the ball twice in the backfield in order to run it, otherwise you have to throw it. Today it's a lot simpler, the twelve man; you can take it, you can run it, you can throw it, do what you want with it! I often wished that they'd had twelve man back then. I would have enjoyed it. We had a big fella, he was probably weighed 215 [lbs], 220 [lbs], and he was built big. Coach put him right in the center and put me in center on the second team. He'd hike that ball back, of course we practiced a lot, he'd hike that ball back but by the time he let go of the ball, I was behind him! It didn't last long before he went on the second team and I on the first team. As I've said, I was always rough anyway, I never got hurt too much. I could take a lot of beating so it didn't bother me. We didn't win many games because it was our first year. We played, it was just fun to do it. [Track 3, 02:39] I remember in baseball [chuckles] one game we had. Cooperstown, of course Cooperstown has always had a good team. Cooperstown came to Cherry Valley to play and we beat them one to nothing! And I made the only run! I got a hit and evidently the ones behind me knocked me around the bases and somebody got hitting enough so I could make it in. They never made a run. I'll never forget that. We had a good pitcher. The pitcher got kicked out of school and the next year [chuckles] we played Cooperstown over there and they robbed us! We didn't have a pitcher that could pitch. That's the main thing in baseball, the pitcher. They hit the pitcher all over. I think they beat us 15-2. Funny that I can remember some things like that, where a lot of things I can't remember. Things I've been involved in I can remember a lot. Of course the school, the one room and two room schoolhouse are different anyway. Kids are all together all the while. You get to Central School, you get your groups together, maybe three or four here three or four there, and they don't mix. It's not good. In later years they have to mix with others. They got to learn when their young. CC: Well with that I think we're just about out of time. EB: Oh we are? CC: I think so. So, I'd like to thank you for talking with me today and thank you for sharing your story. Duration Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.) 30:00 - Track 1 30:00 - Track 2 4:51 - Track Time Summary A summary of an interview given for different time stamps throughout the interview Track 1, 02:03 - School, One Room and Two Room Schoolhouse Track 1, 05:58 - Family, Farm Work Track 1, 13:07 - Trucking Track 1, 19:07 - Family, Community Track 1, 25:16 - Great Depression, Family Track 2, 00:32 - Great Depression, Dairy Farming, Farmer's Union Track 2, 04:31 - Farming Techniques, Community Track 2, 15:53 - Tractors Track 2, 17:36 - Children, Farm Work, Milk Track 2, 22:17 - School Track 2, 29:19 - School Athletics Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Elliot F. Brodie, November 15 2018 Subject The topic of the resource Baseball Cherry Valley Cooperation Creamery Family Farming Football Great Depression Harvesting Milk One Room Schoolhouse South Valley Tractors Description An account of the resource Elliot Brodie has lived the majority of his life in the area of Roseboom, NY. Born in the mid-nineteen-twenties, Elliot grew up on a farm and went to school for the duration of the Great Depression. In his adult life he would work as both a trucker and farmer. Elliot has passed down the tradition of farming and maple sugaring to his children. At the age of 94 in 2018, Elliot is full of memories. Elliot recounts growing up during the Great Depression as a child of a rural family and how this affected his family growing up. As Elliot grew up, he would attend school in first a one room, then a two room schoolhouse. He explains the transition from one school to the other along with other accounts of school life, including playing football and baseball. Elliot was also kind enough to share what it was like to grow up on a farm and to witness new innovations in farming technology, such as the tractor. While growing up on the farm was difficult, there were always neighbors around to help each other out. In the story of his life, Elliot puts extra emphasis on his life as a child on the farm both at home working and going to school. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Christopher Carey Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Cooperstown Graduate Program, State University of New York-College at Oneonta Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2018-11-15 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Cooperstown Graduate Association, Cooperstown, NY Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource Audio/mpeg 27.5mB Audio/mpeg 27.5mB Audio/mpeg 4.5mB Image/jpeg 3864 x 5152 Language A language of the resource en-US Type The nature or genre of the resource Sound Image Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Upstate, NY Westford, NY 1924-2018 http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/8008b6c1c9583cf1ffe8b9a91c195472.jpg 9703a6bd088ff18fccba6bc5c953c737 http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/498560b7b82c76782b744c0028118c46.mp3 491df2c1f4f552453f4e9cee1dc2967f http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/28a1289c9a00c069938b478405fc61d1.mp3 4b4291a31f7e195c83a1d57412641445 http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/2e7482023671661dee5e66b76e0af75b.docx 2d66b15d47424940989b4e0c8698173c Oral History A resource containing historical information obtained in interviews with persons having firsthand knowledge. Interviewer The person(s) performing the interview. Carlie Doggette Interviewee The person(s) being interviewed. Hanka Grabovica Location The location of the interview. 1511 Roberta Ln. Utica, NY Transcription Any written text transcribed from a sound. CD = Carlie Doggette HG = Hanka Grabovica [START OF TRACK 1, 0:00] CD: This is the December 2nd, 2018 interview of Hanka Grabovica by Carlie Doggette for the Cooperstown Graduate Program Community Stories recorded at Hanka Grabovica's house in Utica, New York. Thank you for being here. So first can you tell me about when you first arrived in New York? HG: I came December 13, 2001. I came with my parents and my brother. I was sixteen years old. It was winter; it was a very interesting place. I did not expect to come to Utica. I was more expecting coming to New York City, to be honest. So I was super excited to go to America and New York State to see New York City. But I was a little bit disappointed, and to be honest not just me but all my family we had a culture shock coming here. We used to live in Bosnia in the city. We had pretty much everything. We didn't have to adjust much except the language here. But it was a culture shock for us. We're fine now. You learn, yeah, you learn. So when we came here, we really didn't even have anybody. We just came with suitcases and around 200 dollars, to be honest. We reported to the refugee center. They helped us and supported us a lot, to be honest. They were the ones that found an apartment for us. And then once you got an apartment then we had the Bosnian community kind of helping us with the refugee center to buy furniture and doing the paperwork and things like that. After that, it was much better. We had to go to school. And for six months my parents didn't work. I went to school. They went to school to learn the language and once they started working that was it. For six months we received support. After they started working that was that. Everything stopped from food stamp support [to] any social service support, anything because my parents were working. CD: Can you tell me more about your high school experience when you first arrived? HG: Wow. High school. I sometimes don't want to go back and talk about my high school experience because for me it was, as I said, culture shock. I didn't speak English at all. I studied French in Bosnia. I had to start from zero. Pretty much they just threw me out there in a huge school, around two thousand students. I'll tell you one example of how much I knew; I was in one class and I'm like "Oh this is English class." You read some book and I didn't understand. And then at the end of the class some Bosnian stood up [and said] "Oh, this was a social studies class," and I'm like "Okay..." Now I can laugh but at the same time it was so sad. But you know what, one other thing is that I used to be a student who likes attention, I mean I still like attention. When I was in Bosnia, everybody knew me, like a popular student. And coming here, putting you somewhere where you can't even talk, you don't know anybody, it was such a struggle for me. But then I never gave up, I kept going and pushing and doing it. My first friend was from Poland, a Polish girl, believe it or not, even though we had Bosnians in school. I did associate with them too. She didn't even speak English well. We had to figure out somehow [how] to get together and hang out together and, it was ok. I struggled a lot [with] writing and reading and everything across the board I struggled. But again one thing that I learned about American education is you don't even have to be that smart as long as you never give up. You keep doing it. You keep pushing. My thing was okay tomorrow is a new day. I remember even in college and high school I didn't have support at home when it comes to academics. Nobody could help me. But I had a support at home where my parents believed in and valued education and that was it. You know, "You have to go Hanka, this is just a one day, tomorrow is a new day. Keep pushing." So I had that, I don't even know how it is, it's like a family thing, "you'll do it, you can do it, just keep pushing and keep doing it." And that's what I did. I never gave up. I never gave up and then I graduated from Proctor High School in 2004 and I went to college. CD: Can you tell me about college then and how that was different? HG: Yes, college was another struggle. It was again a struggle and it's not because I didn't want to go because I was interested in everything. But the language barrier. You know I spent three years in high school where I didn't get a lot of support from teachers which means I didn't learn much. And then you go off to college and then here's a new role. Everything is different, you are on your own. So I struggled. But let's say the tests. I would sit in a lecture for two hours and I'm a person who was nodding but had no clue what that professor was talking about, to be honest. Like, "Yeah, here's me focusing a hundred percent on you, listening to you." But I didn't know, I couldn't understand much. Well, here and there. But then what I did is every time I had a lecture, if I didn't understand the lecture, what the professor was talking about, I would go into [their] office and on- on-one I would sit with the professor and just go "Ok, what is this?" It was kind of to explain to me the basic language, that pretty much covers it, so I could figure it out. I used to study a lot but then I would take a test and because one question with one word that I would not understand I would not be able to answer that question. So that was happening still at college until maybe the end of my second year beginning of the third year of college then I was like, finally I understand, finally I'm comfortable, you know, listening, answering the questions and having that engagement in the classroom with the professor and students. But until then it was just like sitting and listening and you go home and use a dictionary find out ways of how to do homework, how to understand what they were talking about. And to be honest the biggest [help], and I even give students advice today, go to your professors, knock on their office door and say, "Listen, can I come and see you whenever you're available?" So just to go. And professors saw something in me. They saw that I wanted to be successful, I wanted to finish college. So I remember my professors were just like sometimes I used to fail three major tests and one pass and they're like "you know, Hanka you did so much throughout the whole year but the tests were not really good. We'll still figure it out." And they tutored me and they gave me some extra things to do just to make sure that I [could] pass and go on. I still have a really good connection with all the professors. Just an example, a couple of weeks ago I was going to support my professor who had an induction to the hall of fame for MVCC [Mohawk Valley Community College]. It was nice to see. I'm like, "Oh my God, look at me. I'm here now supporting you, and you remember me," and the things like that. It was a really nice and amazing time. I went to college two years at MVCC. From MVCC I went to Utica College for two more years. For my first year, I wanted to be a gym teacher. I was so into sports so that was my thing. I'm a black belt in karate, so I wanted it to be a gym teacher and I was all into sports but I changed my mind. My first semester or second semester I said "I would really like to be a regular teacher to teach first through sixth grade." So I just transferred to be a one through six teacher and they accepted all my credits. I received my bachelor's degree in liberal arts and science [and a] minor in childhood education one through six. Then in the meantime, when I was doing my master's degree, I also received the certification for English as a second language to teach students. My master's degree is in education administration. So that's pretty much it. When I came from Bosnia I said "If I, in ten years, finish college that would be a big success." But I actually finished everything pretty much on time, maybe one semester extra. Pretty good. And now I work at a school as an administrator, student affairs officer. I used to be an ESL teacher before that. I used to be dean of students. I mean, I did a lot of things. I can say I'm successful. I succeed. I had days, to be honest, I remember sitting in a college library and crying and thinking "I will never finish. I'm done. I'm quitting. I can't do this anymore." There was so much on me, but my parents were the biggest supporters. They were like, "OK, Hanka, you can do it. It's hard today but tomorrow's a new day. Keep going, keep going." And that's what I did. I kept going and I did it. CD: Can you tell me about the first teaching job you had out of college? HG: I used to be a substitute teacher at the Utica School District. My first experience as a teacher was the kindergarten kids. You know what, everybody thinks they are little kids, it's easy. That's the toughest job, I'll tell you. Teaching little kids, you have to do everything for them. But I loved it. I love kids. They're my passion to be honest, still today. I had a hard time. But I had a good mentor where they supported me. They taught me what to do and I had fun. And then I kept doing subbing while being in school still. So still working and going to school. Then I was hired at Donovan Middle School as an ESL teacher and I was teaching sixth grade. And I did a phenomenal job, I did. I really enjoyed those kids. I'd give everything for them pretty much. I was the first one at work at 6:45. You can see me there leaving the last one at 5:00. Even teaching them karate after school. It was just a really nice experience for me to work for a public school. Then I moved for a little bit, I taught adults too who were coming from other countries. I taught them English, just the basic skills at the refugee center [Mohawk Valley Resource Center for Refugees]. That was a really great experience too. At the beginning, I was like "I don't want to do this." But then it turned out [to be a] really great experience. Then after that, I was hired at the Utica Academy of Science and I am still there. This is my sixth year. I was hired as Dean of Students also supporting teachers in the ESL department since I have a professional certification in it and now I'm in a little bit higher position, student affairs. I enjoy kids. That's what I like. That’s how much I care about kids to the point that this year I ran for Utica School Board be on a board to be a voice for kids. For all the kids, but most of those kids that [have a background like me]. They came from other countries. They don't speak English. They don't know. So I said you know what I can be the one to represent them and be their voice. I ran a pretty good campaign but it didn't happen, I didn't win. But I was grateful that I did it and I learned a lot. And you know, I am still young, I think I can still do it if I want. That was my main focus; I said, "I can do this." CD: So can you describe your job now, like maybe an average day? HG: My job is more flexible than ever before. It's flexible and it's interacting with students, teachers, community, pretty much everyone. I oversee elementary, middle school, and high school. I have to make sure that everything runs smooth and nobody's complaining and nobody has any problems. I report to the superintendent. So before anything gets to the superintendent I have to figure out how to handle it. Also interacting with the students and teachers and other staff in the school. I also work in the community and I try to bring the community to school. One example is every month I bring a community member or community leader to our school and they give us a speech. They talk to our students. They talk to our students, for example, [about] how important the community is for them. Just so our students can learn from those leaders in the community. Also, I go to different events. I'm a face of the school. Wherever I go it's like "Oh, that's the charter girl." You know, I'm a face. I represent the school and I oversee all three schools there. It's very flexible and I enjoy it. I love it. I love doing it. It's people. I'm a people person so it works perfect for me. [TRACK 1, 16:48] CD: How do you think education has changed since you were in school to now you working in a school? HG: I'll tell you it's changed a lot when I look at the support for students who are coming from other countries. Big, big changes. When I came here they didn't have anything. They just took me to the library and they were teaching me A B C D. There was just nothing, no plans, no curriculum, nothing. Now we have everything for it. We do so much and we have so many plans and then there's a curriculum out there. There is everything for English as a Second Language students. That's what I can tell you. There's all these laws, regulations, and rules. When I came there was nothing. They were just [teaching] whatever they knew. Now, it's amazing; it's really good. Same thing with, let's say, all the regular students. There's all sorts of different improvements, also for special education students. I'll tell you this, it's amazing. For me [it is] definitely a change. And specifically the part [that] affected me a lot when I came. I was like "So how are you going to teach me language or how am I supposed to succeed when I'm with 20, 30 kids in the classroom and I just listen and nobody is there to tell me anything?" Now, actually, you have teachers that they go in with those kids in the classroom. You have a regular teacher that teaches and you have an English as a Second Language teacher. They push in and they take those kids out and they do one-on-one things. So it's amazing. It's really big changes. That part of the education in that department. But I can see also other departments. I'm not saying it's perfect and I think we have to work so much more. But I think if we continue working step-by-step we can definitely have one of the [top educations systems] in the world again. [TRACK 1, 19:08] CD: Can you tell me about the Bosnian community in Utica? HG: There are around six thousand people here. It's like a little Bosnia, I have to say. There's a lot of us. We have pretty much everything here. We have a Bosnian community. We are workaholics. We like to work. We like to invest. We like to have nice houses. We like to work hard; we like to spend money and things like that. But also we have everything that we pretty much need. We have our stores, we have our clubs. We have our centers; we have religious places. Anything that you can think of, it’s here. It’s like a little Bosnia. When people come from Bosnia here to visit it’s like "Wow, you guys have this too?" It's really, really good. It's nice to see that we try to keep our culture and tradition and things. I believe it's so important for everybody and for my own kids to know that my parents came from Bosnia, and we have so much more. But the one thing that I am a little bit disappointed in Bosnians is we are not connected as much as we are supposed to be. When I say supportive of each other, that's one lacking part that we have in this community. We have to work on it. I'm not saying it's really awful. It's just I think we need to work more together and support each other. I'll tell you one example. If we are more connected and more supportive of each other, we can even have a [Bosnian] mayor. That's how many people are here. We can have anything we want here because once you are together and support each other, that's what you need. But that's one lacking part that I have to say. But it feels nice that you have pretty much everything. Especially for my parents. Maybe not younger generations, we are more Americanized now. But my parents, they don't even have to speak English. I don't even know if it's a bad or a good thing. You know what I mean? They don't even have to speak English but they can go to the store. They work mostly with Bosnians. It's good and bad because they work and they speak Bosnian, but then the language here is English, how are you going to learn? And that's why my parents still struggle speaking the language because of constantly being with Bosnians. There are a lot of people with a lot of success also. We have doctors, lawyers, teachers. We have businessmen. It's nice to see this. I'm proud of it, I have to say. I'm proud of it. I'm proud of the Bosnian Community. But at the same time, we have to work more to be supportive of each other. CD: Tell me about how you specifically are teaching your children Bosnian culture? HG: So pretty much in our house. One example is the language. But I'll tell you this, my husband and I, we came really young. We learned language early, and now when we speak in the house as much as we want to speak Bosnian, for us it's much easier to speak English. So we are half and half there. The way my kids are learning about Bosnia is with my parents. We go every day there. We eat there. Anytime I have something outside they stay with them. So my parents fully speak Bosnian at home. Even the TV, they have Bosnian TV right now. Everything is Bosnian. They cook Bosnian. My mom makes Bosnian food still to this day, almost 20 years. She still makes Bosnian food. Also, we have other family. My in-laws are here. They came to visit and they are the ones that one hundred percent speak all Bosnian. Hardcore Bosnians and my mother, my brother, brothers-in-law and sisters they all also speak Bosnian. So when we go to their house we speak Bosnian. When they come to our house we speak Bosnian. Then another very important thing, my husband and I were discussing this morning too, my daughter's been going to religious class at the mosque on Court Street. This is her fourth year, I believe. She was four years old when she started, very young. And that's where all Bosnian kids are. That's where the Bosnian language is. Also, you can learn other manners and other things of the Bosnian culture. A lot of problems that are happening now [are because] kids’ parents are not taking kids to the religious classes. I believe if you have a religion, it doesn't matter if you're Christian or Muslim. I think if a person has a little bit of religion inside you would not do such a thing outside. Something was really happening outside [our house] and I'm like, "Are you seriously doing this?" And I'm like you know what? If he had any sense and a little bit of religion in his head he would not do such a thing. All these problems nowadays with the young kids doing alcohol and drugs and those things, I believe if they had any religion in them they would not do things they are doing. Those are the things that we try to keep up with the language and tradition and culture. But also the biggest thing is we go to Bosnia every second year. So when you go to Bosnia everything is in Bosnian. For as short as like three or four weeks, my kids start speaking Bosnian there. You would not believe it. I was surprised when I saw my [daughter] she was five when she went there. First, she was really young, a baby. But the first time we went when she was speaking English we came back from Bosnia and she starts speaking Bosnian. And I'm like, "Wow, this is amazing." So that's another thing. We're going this July to Bosnia. That's going to be a good thing. Also, my future plans are for her to actually be an exchange student. I have family that are teachers in Bosnia so I would put her with my uncle that works at the school and maybe bring another child here from Bosnia. Just for the language and culture. There's so much to do and I know we try everything, but it's not going to be really successful one hundred percent. Another other thing is, we just got her this iPod and she's texting with my mom and my dad but in Bosnian! And then I explained to her, in Bosnian, however you say it, you write it. In English it's different, you say it one way but you write it a different way. She picked up really quick. Now she's texting with my mom and dad in Bosnian, so that's good. CD: Can you talk about your in-law’s decision to move back to Bosnia? HG: Yes, my in-laws moved almost 10 years ago. That was so interesting. I hear stories, when they came here it was like, "Oh we'll be just here five years and then we're going back." But then your lifestyle's here. My father-in-law moved back a long time ago because he just couldn’t adjust here I guess. It was just hard for him. It was always "Bosnia, Bosnia, Bosnia." He invested some money there. He bought some stuff that he needed to and one day he just packed his stuff and he left. He left all of his kids here. He has three sons. Same thing with my mother-in-law. And now they're there. They lived for 10 years here. They moved there. They come often to visit us and we go there. But their heart and their happiness is there. But then I'm like, "Ok, how about us?" I don't know, he just couldn't [adjust]. I don't know exactly the personal reasons but he could not stay here. His kids are fine here. But them, they moved, they're happy there. They have their house and they have their land. They enjoy their life. They're retired, they don't have to work. When they want to see us they come and we go there. That's pretty much what it is. Where, for example, my parents, my mom would never, she's stuck here. It depends on people to be honest, it depends on the person. But now their [START OF TRACK 2, 0:00] HG: kids love it. It's just one thing that kind of bothers me. I am a person who likes to balance everything and respect everyone, and they do too, but when it comes to Christmas now and all these holidays my in-laws are more like "OK, that's not ours. We're not doing that." And I respect that, you know it’s fine. But at the same time, my kids are growing here. My kids see other kids doing things. For me, I don't celebrate Christmas because I'm not Christian, but at the same time, this tree will not do any harm to me if I put it up and make my kids happy. So that's one thing with my in-laws they like, "No, no, no don't put up a tree. No, no, no, don't do this." But it's fine. They're here and they're probably going back [to Bosnia] in March and then we'll go back [to visit] in July. But again it comes to that tradition and culture. We are here and they are there and they see different and we see different. CD: Can you tell me about how the mosque here was helpful to you when you first came if it was? HG: No it wasn't. It wasn't here. The mosque was established in 2006, 2007. When it comes to religion for Bosnians, it's pretty much your choice. There is nobody that can tell you have to do such a thing or you have to do this or you have to do that. It's your choice. So if you want to be part of the mosque and you go to the mosque, it’s your choice. If you don't want to, you don’t have to. It's your choice and that's it. At the beginning, when we were young, we did support it. The good thing about mosque is, yes, it’s a religious place and it’s a mosque, but another thing is it’s where all Bosnians get together and that's a good thing that you want. You want to see Bosnians being together and do things together? You're going to go there. Yes, it's a religious place but it doesn't mean that we're [always] praying. It's like a community center there too. It's nice to see each other and speak Bosnian and eat Bosnian food and Bosnian events are happening there. My husband and I we were very young when we got married. We were not really part of it. I was 20, he was 22. So young, we were still in college, it was not something that we did. We went to mosque when we were kids and that's about it. But then, once we had kids, the value of family and what comes with it, [it became], “Oh. our kids need to go because we did the same when we were kids," and we believe that helped us a lot to be successful. A lot of things you can't do because God will see you or something like that [laughter]. And then we just said, "OK now it’s time our kids go to it,” and so that's what we did. We started when Amila was four years. I don't go often, to be honest. Amila, my daughter, goes every Saturday. I go when there's events, especially during holidays like we have Eid and Ramadan. You can always go there and there's always people and food. So that's the busiest time and that's when you can see me there. It's sad to say that I don't go often. But my kids go every week. Actually, you know what, I go every week too because I have to pick her up. It's really nice. The mosque can't help us because we have to help the mosque to be honest because it's not like a church. Churches help us a lot. I have to say the church helped us when we came here. You could go to church, I remember and get turkeys one year when we came here our first year or second year. "Oh, there is turkeys and Thanksgiving." So we went there. I remember that. But not mosque, no. CD: Can you tell me about how you met your husband? HG: I was working at the Hannaford store as a cashier and he came one day with his friend and we met there. That was it, "Hi, how are you and my name is..." I didn't see him for a few months. I did karate and the USA national team asked me to join them to go to Japan in 2004. I said yes, so I had a going away party. All of a sudden this guy showed up at my party that he was not even invited to. It’s like, "Who are you?" I had the party at the karate club and that's where we exchanged conversation. Then I went to Japan and came back and one day I saw him in the park. And then that's how everything started. I remember one good thing that I said to him when he asked me out. I said, "If you can keep up with my karate, my job, my school, and my work, we can date. But just to let you know my priorities are karate, job, school, and everything else. But if you can do it, we can be boyfriend and girlfriend." So it happened. We were totally different personalities. You have this one nice family girl; that was me. I like family, karate, and my job. I wasn't really going out. And here's this guy that extremely wants to go out and have fun and enjoys extreme stuff. I was like, "Oh my goodness." So I guess opposites work really well and I am really happy that I accomplished most of my goals. I had all these, "My goal is this and my goal is that." The one goal that wasn't accomplished was I wanted to get married when I was 30. I got married ten years earlier. But I don't regret it because it worked really well. By 23 I ended up buying a house. I ended up having everything one family needs. By 25 I had my first child. By 30 I was this successful educator [laughter]. When I got married it was like I'll have a kid by 25 maybe, not earlier. But the marriage part was ten years earlier. But again, it goes back to tradition and culture when it comes to marriage. For me, being 19 years old living with my parents, you still have to follow the rules. Come home at 10:00, 11:00. You can't travel. You can't go to sleep at a friend's house or a boyfriend's house. There's no way in the world you could even ask that. Or travel with your boyfriend or friends. You couldn't do anything. That's it. That's the tradition and culture that we have. So I couldn't do much and then when I was deciding should I get married or not my parents were against it 100%. But then my dad said, "You know, if we don't do it now and we say no to you, you'll do it anyways. So why not do it the way it's supposed to happen?" The only thing that they were scared of was that I wasn't going to finish school. That's the only thing that they were worried about. I told them, "The only thing that I will maybe come to you and ask you for is money to buy books because I may not have it but everything else is on me and trust me, I will finish school," and that was it. I really, truly have a beautiful family. You know I usually don't say this out loud because I'm scared that something could happen but I'm extremely happy. My husband is very supportive. Maybe little things in the house he [could] do more [laughter]. But he is a really good person, a husband, a father, that I don't think I would be able to find now. I'm 33 now so I would still be looking. I'm glad I did it and now it's good. CD: Can you tell me about going to Japan for karate? HG: Yes, I used to be a child that was dreaming and even now I often dream about things. I'm always like, "Oh maybe one day I'll do this. Maybe I can do this." Even now I'm reading this book about Michelle Obama and she has a lot of good advice. I'm like, "Oh maybe one day this can happen to me." When I was in Bosnia I did karate. I was a blue belt in Bosnia. That really helped us to come to America because if you want to come to America it’s not like, "Oh let me buy tickets and I'm going to America." It's a process. It takes a year to go to another country, do the paperwork, do the interviews and things like that. We had the last interview, it's like passing or failing to come to America. They interview me. And then they ask, "OK, so what do you do, why do you want to go?" So one thing I said was "I'm doing karate and I want to be successful in karate." That was for them like a "ding, ding, ding, ding you're going. Even though if your parents fail you can go." It's like you could see it in their faces. Those people thought, "That’s what we need. We need those kind of people in America. We need to know who's going to be looking forward to being successful there not just come and we need to support you." And then I came [to America] really excited. In the first two weeks, I found a karate club here really close to my house. A Bosnian karate club. I started going. I signed up. I didn't even have a car and I didn't have anybody to take me. I used to walk but then I found this family that would give me a ride a few times [a week]. My parents were like, "Just stop doing it." I never gave up, I kept going even walking in the rain and the snow, getting rides from other friends. I really showed my talent. I have to say I was pretty good. I went all over America in such a short time. I went to North Carolina, Florida, California. I believe there are people here that have never visited different states that I, one person who came from Bosnia, [have]. I traveled a lot with karate. I was always bringing back trophies and medals back to Utica. The last tournament that I was in was in Florida in 2003. I took third place in the Junior Olympic Games and that's where they asked me to go with them. Here is me, I came 2001, and 2004 this is happening in Japan. I got here in 2001 in December so let's forget about that year. So I'm talking about 2002, not even three years. I'm going to Japan with a national team and I don't know anybody. I met those people at the airport. I spoke about three years of English. I was still in high school going to Japan with these people. This was unbelievable. I was always dreaming about that. Karate in Japan. I wanted to go. My parents didn't have money. They couldn't afford it. But then my dad asked at his work to support the nation and me. Then [I got] some other things from the community. Three thousand dollars, we figured it out somehow. My dad took out of the savings that he was saving to buy his car and gave it to me. He sent me and I went to Japan for 10 days. It was only a two-day competition and on the rest of days was pretty much a vacation. We were going from five or six different top-notch hotels and beautiful sightseeing. Tokyo was like, wow, you can't even really know. It was just amazing, for me it was life-changing. I learned so much from the Japanese tradition. We had to wear kimonos and eat on the floor. It was just amazing. I have pictures somewhere. I was there for 10 days with different people from different states like Chicago, Florida, all over the place. I was sleeping with three or four girls in one room. It was just amazing, even though I struggled with the language sometimes. I remember that was my first time outside of the United States to actually stand up in front of flag [during the] national anthem. I was getting goosebumps. Like wow, seriously, this child from Bosnia is here standing in front of everybody representing the USA was just unbelievable. But it happened. I was very proud of myself. I took sixth place. The Japanese girls [are very good at] karate. My first fight I got hit in my nose six times. I couldn't move my whole jaw for 3 or 4 days. I couldn't really talk much. But it was worth it, it was really worth everything. It was really great. I'm glad that I did that. I learned a lot. Traveling is a really good thing to learn. [You] see other people and see other cultures. That's what I've been doing. We've been traveling. My husband and I've been traveling constantly. Even my kids now, we always travel and go different places, different countries. It's really amazing. [TRACK 2, 16:57] CD: So I think we have time for about one more question. Can you tell me about more into that interview process that you had to do to come over to America? HG: Yes, that was really tough. It starts with bringing the simple papers to another country. You had to go to Croatia and do the paperwork then come back home. You would constantly go back and forth, back and forth, because in Bosnia you couldn’t [do] that part. But the way we came up with the idea to come here was my dad had problems with his job in Bosnia. Then after that, they went to vacation in Croatia. They were passing by the American embassy and the Australian embassy. They were joking around, "Let's see what's happening. Let's go. We can go there too." To be able to go there you have to have a lot of reasons like you have to have been tortured because we were in the war. We survived the war. Australia's embassy was closed and the American was open and my dad came and he said, "What would I need to be able to go?" and she [the lady at the embassy] said, "you need this, this, and this." He didn't have a lot of things that she mentioned and then he's like "I probably don't even have a chance to go." My dad was in the war and he was wounded. On his arm you really can see it and his stomach also. The grenade went through his arm or stomach. She saw that and he explained it to her and she said, "That’s the reason that you can go." We had all of the paperwork and we had to do the medicals. So that interview was a nightmare. I was so sweaty. I remember a lot of sweating. You have people waiting. My mom goes into one room. My dad goes in another room. They had to make sure to say the same things that they ask you. If one says something different, it's possible that you're going to be [not able to go]. Then you have us, my brother and me. Actually, we were together first; we went in together. I remember talking about karate for a while and then I kind of saw as soon as I said that they're going to let us go. Then they separated us. I really don't remember exactly the questions they were asking but they wanted you to be honest with them [so they know] you are really struggling. Are you really in need to go to another country or is it just something that you want? To be honest, we struggled but there were probably other people [who struggled more.] One luck part of it, I think it was me. They wanted people that are going to go to America and not just looking for America to support them but also to be an asset to America and doing positive things and improving it. My parents were pretty much honest and at the end of it they said, "You know what? You guys, good luck, you get to go." Then once they said good luck, we were excited. We went back home, we're waiting for the tickets and they have to contact you. September 11th happened. It's September, on TV America is going down, everything is war. So we lost our hope because everything stopped. Nobody could come in America. Everything was canceled. So we were like OK that's it. We're not going. And then they opened it and they said, "This is the last group of people that will go." That's exactly what we were; the last group of people that came here. Maybe a few more families and that's about it. And they let us go. So, it's September 11th, December 13 we came here. That was very interesting. It was pure luck with us. A lot of people say it's so easy to come to America. It's not easy. It's a huge process. It takes a year, maybe even a couple years, it depends on your case. It takes years to get those papers. A lot of investigation, a lot of checking background and things like that. At least from Bosnia, I don't know about the other countries. But it was really a lot of time. It's not easy. Once you decide to go you have to have money at the end of the day because you have to go back and forth and do things. It's a big process. But I still deep down believe we were lucky. We were just a lucky family. And we came, I'm here, pretty good now. When we came, we only used the support for six months. That's all. While they were getting support they were going to school to learn English. Once my dad started working, we had to pay the tickets that paid for us to come here. We had to pay them back as soon as my parents started working. We had a monthly fee they had to pay back. So we paid off that. It's not like you come here and you have everything. They've been working since that day they never stop working. I've been going to school. I was going to school. I work now. My brother has been working. It's pretty good. My dad has a house. I have a house. So everything is pretty good now. CD: Do you have anything else you would like to add that we didn't get to touch on? HG: Once in a while we talk about how thankful and lucky we are. Bosnia is a beautiful country too. But there's a lot of struggle still there, we have to still improve things. And we are so lucky that we are here. Sometimes I think about, "What would it be like if I stayed there? What would I be doing now over there?" But look at me now. I am so proud of my beautiful family. I can say I am successful in my job, my career. My husband is the same way, my kids are pretty good. I'm so thankful. Without this community here I probably would not be doing what I'm doing right now. And that's why I always say I want to give back to the community and one way that I was trying to give back to the community is through running for school board, representing and being a voice for the kids. I said this is one way to give back to the community. And definitely in the future, I am 33 years old, I am still young. I can see myself definitely giving back because I believe that people helped me here so now it's time for me to help other people. CD: Thank you so much for your time and your information. HG: Thank you very much for coming. Duration Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.) 29:59 - Track 1 25:26 - Track 2 Bit Rate/Frequency Rate at which bits are transferred (i.e. 96 kbit/s would be FM quality audio) 172 kbps Time Summary A summary of an interview given for different time stamps throughout the interview Track 1, 16:48 - Changes in Education Track 1, 19:08 - Bosnian Community in Utica Track 2, 16:57 - Immigrating to America Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Hanka Grabovica, December 2, 2018 Subject The topic of the resource Bosnia Utica, New York Karate Immigration Bosnian War English as a Second Language (ESL) MVCC (Mohawk Valley Community College) Utica College Utica School Board Mosque Mohawk Valley Resource Center for Refugees Bosnian Community in Utica Description An account of the resource Hanka Grabovica is a resident of Utica, New York. She was born in Bosnia in 1985. After the Bosnian War ended, she came to America with her parents and her brother in 2001. Grabovica is a black belt in karate and traveled to Japan in 2004 with the USA national team to compete, which she describes in the interview. Grabovica also details her time at Proctor High School, Mohawk Valley Community College (MVCC), and Utica College. After graduating college, Hanka Grabovica worked as an English as a second language (ESL) teacher to both elementary students and adults at the Mohawk Valley Resource Center for Refugees. She eventually became a Dean of Students and is now a Student Affairs Officer at the Utica Academy of Science. She recently ran for a position on the Utica School Board. Grabovica married her husband when she was 20 years old. They have two children together. I interviewed Mrs. Grabovica at her home in Utica, New York. She lives there with her husband and her two children. Due to her experience growing up in Bosnia and moving to the Mohawk Valley, she provides a unique perspective of someone who was new to the community, but now has been a resident for 17 years. Grabovica speaks about her own education and the education of children in American schools today. She also provides insight into the processes of immigrating to America as well as the challenges of adjusting to a new country and culture while never forgetting her own background. Mrs. Grabovica speaks with a distinct Bosnian accent and speech pattern that is not evident in the transcript. As it is impossible to accurately reproduce all of the details of Grabovica’s dialect, researchers are encouraged to listen to the audio recordings of the interview.   Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Carlie Doggette Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Cooperstown Graduate Program, State University of New York-College at Oneonta Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2018-12-02 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Cooperstown Graduate Association, Cooperstown, NY Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource audio/mpeg 36.9 mB audio/mpeg 31.5mB image/jpeg 551 kB Language A language of the resource en-US Type The nature or genre of the resource Sound Image Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Upstate New York Utica, New York 1985-2018 http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/9b4db5ccba636ef46e6ee491dc28fcd7.JPG 1c422df11178e1d5e7cdaa554a196334 http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/5a86f58df8ad40b6b30ea8c1d0ebdae7.MP3 cd59f67b216d520084930511fa56706f http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/25a352fde589d4e17fa88dda29c69e1c.wav 366fe654ea002c813cde59da59eb451b http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/8a99eb350dedcb13e7befb0a5169d337.docx 47dc355b8d120fff1397868650bb3bad Oral History A resource containing historical information obtained in interviews with persons having firsthand knowledge. Interviewer The person(s) performing the interview. Mallory Hanson Interviewee The person(s) being interviewed. Norma VanBuren Location The location of the interview. 131 John Deere Road Cherry Valley, NY Transcription Any written text transcribed from a sound. NVB = Norma VanBuren MH = Mallory Hanson [START OF TRACK 1, 0:00] MH: This is the November 14, 2018 interview of Norma VanBuren by Mallory Hanson for the Cooperstown Graduate Program's Research and Fieldwork course recorded at Norma's house in Cherry Valley. Could you tell me a little bit about where and when you were born? NVB: I was born in Cobleskill on May 28, 1947. MH: When did you move to Roseboom? NVB: We moved here in 1966. MH: What were your first impressions of the community after you moved? NVB: I felt a little bit nervous about it, because it was more of a retirement community. There weren't many children in the area, so we were a little nervous about that. But everything worked out fine. Not that we had children at that time, but planning ahead, we were a little nervous. MH: Did those impressions change over time of the community? NVB: Yes, the impression was much better, because as we did start to have children, it was a very neighborly area. Each time I had a child, someone would send things like cookies or something like that. As the children got older, people loved to have them around. They loved to have them stop in and talk. Even as toddlers, they loved it if I took a walk. They wanted me to stop, so they can meet other children. One neighbor up the road always gave them a dime or something when they got off the bus and they walked up from the corner. He did not always give to both of them or all of them, which made some problems. For the most part, everybody seemed to adapt to us, and we adapted to them. MH: Did you notice any big differences from the community where you moved from to here? NVB: Where I was, the town was more active. When we first got married, we lived in Richmondville for a few months. Then we moved to East Worcester, that's where my husband grew up. There were more things going on in the town. They had little stores. Being on a main highway, there was more traffic. Other than that, they're somewhat similar. MH: When did you start farming in Roseboom? NVB: 1966. MH: So right away? NVB: Yes, we were farming over in East Worcester, and we heard about this farm being for sale. My husband came over, checked it out, and liked it. Then he brought me over to check out the house, and then we moved here in August of 1966. MH: Could you describe the type of work you do on the farm? NVB: I helped in all the areas. I helped with chores. I helped feed the cows. I helped with the milking. Mainly with me, I carried the milk, because my husband's fussy about how the cows are milked. I carried the milk. I washed up all the milkers and any utensils we had out there after each milking. I also worked out in the hay fields. I helped bale hay and helped unload hay. I did pretty much whatever he needed. MH: Has work on the farm changed over time? NVB: It has changed, because we sold our dairy herd. I don't remember the exact date when we sold the dairy cows. Now what we do is just have our crops, mainly hay. We raise a few beefers. Our sons help us with the haying, because we're both getting older and can't do it alone. That's about the only real changes I think. MH: Why did you decide to sell the dairy herd? NVB: There wasn't any money in farming. It was very hard to stay ahead and keep the bills paid. You'd go to the repair shops to get parts or something and come out and have a little sandwich sized bag, and it would be over $100. The price of milk wasn't good. My husband just decided we couldn't keep going, so we sold the cows and he applied for a job in Sharon Springs. He was hired, and he worked there for 17 years until retiring from there. MH: So balancing that along with continuing farming work? NVB: Yes. MH: Can you describe some of the challenges that you faced through farming in this area? NVB: We had some problems here on the farm. First, we had water problems. When we moved here, our water came up black. It was sulfur, and it had to be treated with a special alum and stuff. My husband went to the hardware store in Cherry Valley, where the other owner had always bought the alum, and he gave my husband the wrong stuff. That made our cows sick. It caused me to have an early delivery of our second son, and my son ended up with stomach problems. That was a very hard year for us, because we didn't think we were going to make it. There wasn't enough money to go around, and our feed bill got out of sight. It took us a long time to get the cows back to where they should be because of the veterinary bills. For a long time, we were drawing water for all our needs, for the household needs, for the cows, and so forth. We could let them out to drink in the creek, but we didn't use any of the water that was coming from our well. That was very hard. Other than that, just contending with the weather. Worrying whether you were going to have good weather, so you could get the haying done. But mainly that's been it. We've been fairly fortunate. MH: How long did it take for the well situation to be resolved? NVB: I really don't know. My husband could probably tell you better. [TRACK 1, 8:21] [Interviewer stopped recording, because Norma’s son entered the house to drop off an item for Norma’s husband.] MH: For the well situation, how did you handle that process of getting it fixed? NVB: We just had to take time and let the bad alum get out of there. I believe that was when we drilled a new well. My husband's more familiar with that than I am, but it was a hardship for us. MH: In terms of weather, did you ever have any problems with flooding? NVB: Not back when we first came here. In recent years, we have. About five years ago now, we had a bad, heavy rain. It was so bad that, where the creek runs down across the road from us, it took the bridge below our barn out, so we had a one-way street. Thank goodness we weren't milking at that time. If we had been, it would have been hard to get our milk out. With it being so wet, it was hard to get crops in. We used to raise corn, but as we kind of backed off farming, we went just with hay. MH: What type of crops did you grow? Hay, corn, any others? NVB: No, that was pretty much it. We just had the two crops. MH: As far as the community in Roseboom, how are you involved in that community? NVB: There's not a lot here to be involved in. We attended church here in Roseboom. For a while, we attended church in South Valley, but now we're back at Roseboom just because it's closer. There really isn't much of anything here to be involved in. The Grange was here when we first moved, but their membership was fading due to people passing away. So that dissolved. That's when we bought the Grange, because our land borders it. [TRACK 1, 11:05] MH: Can you tell me more about what the Grange is? NVB: The Grange is just mainly your farm families. I don't know the exact details of it because I never was in it, but they used to have a very active Grange here. They used to hold dances upstairs in the Grange Hall. They put on covered dish suppers. They had a group for the younger children. I don't know anything about that because our children weren't old enough to be involved. It was a very active group from what I've heard. MH: When you bought the land, how did the neighbors react? NVB: Most of the neighbors were very nice about it. There was one lady that was upset because she said it was a historical building. I don't know if it was the town or what, but they wanted to buy it as a historical building. But the Grange people, who we had all known for years and were friends with, discussed it. They said they thought it was only fair for us to have it since our land did border it. We also told them we didn't plan to do anything to change it really. We're not going to make an apartment house out of it or a business. What we have done with it is mostly storage. Once a year, we do a tractor show there which is kind of nice because it goes back with the Grange Hall being farm related. A lot of the people were very pleased when we started doing that. [TRACK 1, 13:12] MH: Can you tell me more about the tractor show? NVB: This year I believe is going to be our 18th year of doing it. We've only missed one year and that was because my husband's health was bad. Each year it has grown a little bit. We started out with maybe 60 tractors or so and now we get close to 200. One year we had over that because we had an actual international group that came. That was a very big year. It's a free time. I mean we don't charge to bring the tractors. We don't charge for people to come in on the grounds. We have some vendors that do come in and that's also grown. The first one we did didn't have many vendors. Now we have vendors. We have people that come with a trailer that do food. We hold a Chinese auction on Sunday. We also have a tractor parade around the block on Sunday. It's something that everybody really looks forward to. We have people that are in Florida that come up here for the summer. They're calling us long before so that they can get a place up at Belvedere Lake or someplace, so they can have a place to stay that weekend. It's something that's very popular here in the area. MH: How do you prepare for that? NVB: It's my husband, myself, and our four sons. My husband and the oldest son, Brian, do all the tractor work. They repair two-cylinder John Deere’s. It's not just a John Deere show, which some people think. It's open to any tractor. We also actually have a group from East Worcester that comes over with the doodlebugs. They're popular also. We have to do flyers. We go around and post in different places, different businesses, and stuff. We have some people that give us a donation to help with the expenses, because it is quite an expensive thing to put it on. We advertise in the PennySaver. For the Chinese auction, I watch for sales after holidays and I buy the items. I don't go around to collect like most people do for their Chinese auctions. On Friday, it begins with setting up some then. Saturday morning, then everybody really starts moving. Saturday evening, we hold what we call a fellowship dinner. It's a bring a dish to pass if you can. I always go overboard cooking food for it. It's a good time and that's also grown. This year we had around 90 people. This is for the people that are involved with the show, so that's also very popular. MH: People that are attending the show, are they local or are they coming from further distance? NVB: People come from all over. Of course, all your local townspeople, Cherry Valley, Middlefield, Cooperstown attend. We've had people from Michigan, people from Ohio, and Florida. It's grown. It's on Facebook so that people do know about it. It's definitely grown over the years. Sometimes it's word of mouth also. MH: When you're putting up the flyers, do you go around to several different communities or keep it more local? NVB: Absolutely. We go to all different townships: Cobleskill, Richmondville, East Worcester, Worcester, Fonda, Canajoharie, Richfield, Sharon Springs, Johnstown, several places. We hit all kinds of businesses, not just the farming businesses. We also go to a local, little cafe in Cherry Valley. We post it up there. Just any place they'll let us put up a flyer we do. MH: People that are attending the event, is there a certain age range that it tends to appeal to more, families? NVB: I would say it's all ages. Younger kids like to come because my one brother-in-law has a collection of pedal tractors. Usually he puts them all into two hay wagons. That's how many he has. The last couple of years he's left two or three off. He lets kids ride them around in a small area there and that appeals to them. They enjoy being able to have something to do too. We used to have pedal tractor pulls, but we don't have enough people to help with that anymore. We haven't done that in the recent years. That was just a little contest between the kids, and everybody was a winner. At the end, we'd give out free ice pops and little ribbons that said, "I'm a winner." Everybody seems to enjoy it, especially your old timers. Because they're looking back at the old tractors, the two cylinders, not your new super-duper ones that they have nowadays. But we do have some that are newer like that that come, so it's not all antiques. Our saying is "Roseboom, where the future meets the past." MH: As the event has grown, has it changed quite a bit? NVB: I wouldn't say it has changed. I mean the word grown kind of covers it. We've gotten larger and there are more people involved. When we first started out, we didn't have many vendors. Now we have several, and we have expanded too. We have a gentleman that comes in on Sunday for the chicken barbecue. I forgot to say that we do have an outdoor church service on Sunday, and that has really grown. Believe it or not, we had one gentleman that used to be a sheriff in Schoharie call my brother-in-law and he said, "Are they going to have the outdoor church service?" My brother-in-law said, “Absolutely,” and he says, "I'll be there." People love to come for that too just because it's something different. MH: For the outdoor church service, is that someone you partner with in the community that you bring in to speak? NVB: It's from the community. The gentleman, Ron Fralick, who is the minister here at the Methodist Church in Roseboom, comes down and does the service. Barb Lucas is the organist at the church. She has a small portable organ that they bring down. She plays an organ. Everybody sings hymns until Mr. Fralick can get here, because he preaches at another church before he comes here. It's an all-around good time. People go away happy and talking about how great it is to be out the fresh air and hear the birds sing. MH: Going back to the Chinese auction, what type of items do you look for? NVB: We try to do a variety. We try to do toys for the children, something for men, and for women. It could be cosmetics. It could be clothing, knickknacks. Tools for the men, so we have a nice variety. This last year, I got carried away shopping, so I had more stuff than I could really even put out. Also, this year we changed it, and held it inside of the Grange Hall. We set up in there and then the people could come buy their tickets, go in, and put them in the cans that we have by each item. Before, we had held it outside under tents that were open. A couple of years we had rain and one year we had wind, so we decided to do that this year. We held it inside. We had a very good response to that. People liked it better. When it was time to draw, people brought chairs and sat around outside front. I sat out front with a microphone. Family members would bring the item and the can out. I'd call a number and it went over really well. MH: What type of vendors do you have at the event? NVB: This year, we had a lady who makes jewelry. We had another lady who does some type of candles, and she also makes the burlap wreaths. We've had a small lawn sale. The Dairy Princess was there with her court. They served free ice cream to everybody. There is an older gentleman that comes, and he has tons of new tools. That's always a favorite with the farmers. We have another lady that brings different farm related items like milk bottles, the creamers, things like that. It's a variety. I never know for sure what I'm going to have. There was a lady with maple syrup. I forgot to mention that we do have a pancake breakfast out behind the Grange on Saturday and Sunday. That's a somewhat local group that does it. That's always well attended. MH: Can you tell me more about the pancake breakfast? NVB: It's the Otsego County Maple Producers that do it. They serve pancakes, sausage, applesauce, coffee, or tea. It goes from 7:00 to 11:00. They have picnic tables all back where everybody can sit. They do quite well. They get a nice crowd. People look forward to something like that. MH: Is that something they've been doing for several years now? NVB: Ever since we started. When we first started, we were involved with another gentleman and his family. Some problems arose, so we said we'd do it on our own. MH: How did you find vendors to come to the event? NVB: Just kind of put the word out amongst people. People that we knew would contact and ask them if they'd be interested in setting up. There again word of mouth. This year, the lady with the jewelry, the maple syrup girl, and the candle girl were all new people. They had read about it either in the PennySaver or somebody they knew said, “Gee, you know, you ought to go to the Roseboom show.” So they called, and that's how they got here. MH: Are quite a few of the vendors repeats? NVB: For the three that I just mentioned, those were all new this year. The tool man comes every year. Each year we have the dairy princess of course. Anybody else that has been here are repeats. The Girl Scouts used to come, but their organization kind of faded out, because they didn't have enough members. They used to come and do snow cones and things like that. Last year, we had a 4-H group. They did cotton candy, snow cones, and popcorn which was popular, something new. I also have a lady that lives up toward Cherry Valley. She comes and does a bake sale every year which is always popular. When we first started out, my one daughter-in-law did it, but then it got to be too much for her as her children got a little older. MH: As a whole within the Roseboom community, are there any traditions that are celebrated? NVB: Not that I'm aware of. The one old church, on NY-165, they have turned that into a historical society. They hold a pancake breakfast. I believe they have an art show. One year during the Roseboom Days, they had an ice cream social. They had a little contest there too for pies, and I think they had one for canned pickles. That was something nice that helped draw people into the community too. MH: How long has the historical society been a part of Roseboom? NVB: It's hard to say because a lot of the members are not older people from Roseboom originally. But they are trying. I don't know how many members they have. I haven't gotten involved in it because of that fact. I don't know how much knowledge they do have of Roseboom and several are older people. The son of the people that used to own this place donated some things that his mother and father had, because they'd always lived here. Other than that, I don't know a lot about the historical society. MH: Over your time in Roseboom, have you seen the community change? NVB: I don't think so. Other than there are several new people, because this is kind of like a retirement community. When we first moved here, a lot of the older people had passed on, so we have young people [START OF TRACK 2, 0:00] NVB: a little bit more in the surrounding areas which are considered Roseboom. A lot of the places have been left and run down, so it's not as nice as it was when we first moved here. There was a little business up in Pleasant Brook, the next little town up. That was a family run business. He had a garage on one side of the road, and then they had a little grocery store on the other side. They lived in the other half of the house. They were wonderful people, and they've passed away. Of course, that's gone. A lot of the older people that were here that we remember are the ones that used to own the store on the corner, ones who lived across the way that did have the post office, they passed away. So now the post office moved across the street to the other store. Those are the things that have changed mainly. MH: How have the businesses shrinking changed where you shop? NVB: When we first moved here, there was a big hotel over on the corner NY-166 and NY-165. That burned down several years ago. There was a little store across the street from that, and that's changed hands several times. It was a family business. The father passed away, and then, while the son had been working with the father and the mother, the son took it over. [TRACK 2, 2:13] [Interviewer stopped recording, because Norma’s husband entered the house to pick up item.] MH: We were just talking about the businesses changing in town. The hotel burned down and then there was another business you mentioned too. NVB: Where the hotel was eventually a building was put up, and a gentleman ran a small garage there. He went out of business. People that lived up the hill just a ways from it bought it, and they made it into a restaurant and deli. Then they went out of business. Another lady bought it, and she had a bar and restaurant in there. Then another couple bought it. My one daughter-in-law's parents bought it and, as a family, they ran it for several years. Then for quite a while it sat empty. It's just recently opened up again under new ownership. [Chuck Wanamaker, co-owner of Belvedere Lake,] owns the business. They rent it from him. They're having a hard time getting going, but I hope for the best for them. It's called Roseboom Pizzeria, but they do serve burgers. MH: How did the hotel burn down? NVB: I really can't say. I don't know. I just know that one night all of a sudden, we heard all the sirens and saw the flashing lights. We went over. There was nothing they could do to save it. It was a total loss. MH: Did they ever talk about rebuilding it? NVB: Not to my knowledge. I didn't really know that much about it other than that it was a hotel. It wasn't my thing. When we first moved here, I was kind of a homebody. I had my children. I was raising them, and for a long time, I didn't drive. Once I got my license, I could get around a little more. When we first moved here, I didn't really know a lot of the people until later years. [TRACK 2, 4:51] MH: Can you tell me what it was like raising kids in Roseboom? NVB: It was different because there weren't a lot of other children around. We did have a family, two places down the road from us now, but they did live on the first place on the corner. They happened to have three boys. A couple of them were the same age as two of our boys. They went back and forth and played. Mr. Drake was the father. He was principal at the school, and then he became the superintendent. It didn't make a difference that they were involved in things like that. They were members of the Grange and they still are. The boys would come up, and Mrs. Drake would come with them, and they'd go up on our hills and ride downhill. The one year, my kids dared her to ride downhill in an old bathtub. Bless her heart, she did. This is up on a steep hill up here. She climbed on an old metal bathtub and rode downhill. They've had some wild experiences around here like riding downhill on car hoods. She's just very young at heart. MH: Can you tell me more about Mrs. Drake? NVB: She's very active in the community. We couldn't ask for better neighbors. They were absolutely wonderful and they still are. Mr. Drake, unfortunately, is over at Focus [Cooperstown Center for Rehabilitation and Nursing], not doing too well. But Mrs. Drake is still very active. She left today as a matter of fact for Vermont with another lady. It has to do with the Grange. They're going out there to some big convention. They were going to drive from here to Albany today, and then her one son was taking them on to wherever the event is. She's very active in the church. Whenever they do suppers and things like that, she was always there working with anything that went on. She helped a couple of times with the tractor show doing different things. She’s just an all-around busy person. MH: What kind of games did the boys like to play when they were younger? NVB: They played daredevil. They would come down the hill on their bicycles and jump off a ramp. They did fishing out in our pond. They did swimming up in the neighbor's pond. Whatever they could think to get into, they did. One year in the winter when it was cold, Mrs. Drake had come up because the boys were out playing together. All of a sudden, two of the boys, one of hers and one of mine, came running in screaming. They said, “Come quick! Tom's got his tongue stuck to the pipe on the bridge.” He didn't realize that the wet tongue would stick to the cold metal on the bridge. We quick drew some warm water and went down and poured it on. He was fine. It was a little sore, but that was one thing that happened. I'm kind of jumping backwards here, but one time our cows did get out. They went down behind their house, it's where they were pastured at that time, and they got on her lawn. Bless her heart, she was out there trying to help us round them up and getting back to work. She wasn't afraid of them or anything. There have been little instances like that where certain neighbors would have been really upset. But she said, “No, that's fine. The lawn will be fine. They didn't hit the garden.” That's what's made it very nice living here. That people get along so well. [TRACK 2, 9:44] MH: How often do the cows get out? NVB: Not a lot. One time, just after I'd had our second son, I kept hearing this commotion in the middle of the night. It was about the time that I had to get up to feed him. I happened to look out the upstairs window and there were the cows all over the lawn. They went over and they got in the neighbor's corn. We called over and we said, “Can you help us? Our cows are in your corn.” They did. They got up. They came. They helped get the cows back over this way, and we put them inside for the rest of the night. They were very nice about it. They didn't really do any damage. It was just the idea of waking them up in the middle of night to get our cows out of their corn. MH: How do you get the cows to come back over? NVB: You try to drive them and just get around them. You tell them, “Get out of here.” Once in a while, we've had to use a grain bucket and shake it or pound on the side. That'll kind of call them. You never know where they're going to go when this happens. We have one neighbor up here that stops them and one down there. You just spread everybody out and hope you can keep them in a certain area. MH: Do you have a specific breed of cow? NVB: We mainly have Holsteins. We did have some that were registered. We used to test milk. A neighbor up the hill, Mr. [Warren] Stannard, was a milk tester. He would come once a month. We would milk a cow. You'd weigh her milk. He would take a sample to find out what the butter fat content was. Now we just have the beef cows: Angus and Piedmontese. MH: After you weigh it, what's the next step for testing milk? Let me rephrase that. When someone's coming in to test the milk, what's the purpose of doing that? NVB: The benefit of doing it is you can check and make sure that the creameries are not cheating you when they test it for butter fat. If you were to sell your herd, it gives a record of how much each cow is producing and what the butter fat is. Those all mean a lot when you sell your cows because it helps improve the price. [TRACK 2, 13:01] MH: Onto a different type of question. What kind of work have you done in Roseboom? NVB: Outside of working here on the farm, I worked at the restaurant when my daughter-in-law's parents were there. I worked a few hours at night helping to serve or wash dishes. I did whatever they needed. I also worked at the corner store which used to be called Bob's Corner Store. That was when the parents were running it. This isn't really Roseboom, but I've also worked for Cherry Valley-Springfield [Central Community] School [District]. I did a little of everything up there. I worked in the cafeteria. I was a full-time evening cleaner. When I first started out, I was a monitor on a bus where they had some problems with children with behaviors. Then I went on to a special needs bus with handicapped children. Some were in wheelchairs, some weren't. I became a full-time bus monitor. Then I retired from the cleaning position just because it was a rough time like this time of the year. I didn't get out until 11:00 and then to drive home and not know what the weather was going to be like. Now, I work a morning run and afternoon. Two runs actually. MH: Well, we are wrapping up towards the end of our time. Is there anything you'd like to talk about that I haven't brought up or mentioned? NVB: Not that I can think of. I think we've covered most everything. Roseboom is a small area. I've thought of a couple things that we were talking about that I forgot at the time. We used to have a planning board here in the town to decide for zoning and things like that. I served on that. I am now on the election board for when we have the elections. I'm an election inspector. I've been doing that for close to 20 years. I served on the ambulance squad in Cherry Valley for three years. I wanted to do it more, but at that time, working at the school, I couldn't do that and do my refresher courses. Now I am close to a 20-year member on the Ladies Auxiliary for the fire department. Those are all things that I forgot before when we were talking. I am involved in some things, but actually in Roseboom, there's not too much going on. MH: Can you describe some of your work with the [Election Board] and Ladies Auxiliary board? NVB: I enjoy doing the election, because I get to meet people that are new to the area that otherwise I wouldn't know who they were. We have a good time. There's four ladies a set. Unfortunately, two of the ladies have passed away, so we have a couple of new ladies. We always have a good time. It's a long day when it's a primary election because it's from 5:00 in the morning until 9:30 or 10:00. The auxiliary is just outstanding. We're there for the firemen when there is a fire or an accident with refreshments and drinks. We hold events to help raise money for them. We have pancake breakfasts. This last weekend, we just had the farm toy show which the firemen held. In conjunction, we did the Chinese auction which I believe was very successful. There was a large crowd of people. We also do just different dinners, like a spaghetti dinner or a chicken barbecue. When they do the kite festival in Cherry Valley, we always have a breakfast for them. There's one always on Memorial Day. We're an active group. We try to get out there and be involved. The Chamber of Commerce had a big event going on this year. They asked if they could use the firehouse and if we would help them, because they weren't sure what to do. We helped them out and that was very successful. For the most part, those are all the things I'm involved in and what we do. MH: What did the Chamber of Commerce do for their event? NVB: I don't remember exactly what it was. It was to raise money for something. It was Woodmen's Day I believe they called it. It's a big event. This is the second year I believe they've had it. They have a professional team that comes in. They have contests like who can chop through the log the fastest or different sawing through the wood. They had a small Chinese auction. They had some vendors. They had the contest going on all weekend. The Chamber put on a breakfast so that people would have something to eat. It was nice working with them because they turned around and helped us with one of our breakfast. We did not ask them to, but they came and helped us get everything set up. It was a very nice weekend. MH: About how many people are on the auxiliary board? NVB: On the auxiliary itself, right now, we have about 20 members. We have one lady who has been a member for 50 years, and we have another lady that's coming up close to that. Years ago, they had a few more members than that, but you've got to consider old times and new. Everybody's got kids in school, lots of events going on, so they don't have time. The group we have is doing really well. We all work together well. MH: It sounds like there's a lot of activities and things to keep busy. NVB: Out of 20 members for the auxiliary, we had 16 members that worked at this event last Saturday. For setting up the night before, we had 10. For the day itself, we sell food, and we sell the tickets for the raffles. We had 16 out of 20. That's really amazing to have that good involvement. MH: Thank you so much for sharing all your stories with me. [End of Track 2, 21:43] Duration Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.) 29:59 - Track 1 21:43 - Track 2 Bit Rate/Frequency Rate at which bits are transferred (i.e. 96 kbit/s would be FM quality audio) 128 kbps 1,411 kbps Time Summary A summary of an interview given for different time stamps throughout the interview Track 1, 11:05 - The Grange Track 1, 13:12 - Roseboom Antique Power Days Track 2, 04:51 - Family Track 2, 09:44 - Farming, neighbors Track 2, 13:01 - Career, school Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Norma VanBuren, November 14, 2018 Subject The topic of the resource Roseboom Dairy farming Beef farming The Grange Roseboom Antique Power Days Drake family Rural community Family Bob's Corner Store Cherry Valley-Springfield Central School District Bus monitor Planning Board Election Board Cherry Valley Fire Department and Auxiliary Description An account of the resource Norma VanBuren was born Norma Johns in Cobleskill, New York on May 28, 1947. She married her husband, Jack VanBuren, in 1965. The couple lived in Richmondville for a few months and later moved to Mr. VanBuren’s hometown in East Worcester. They farmed in East Worcester but moved after they bought a farm in Roseboom in 1966. Norma recalls helping take care of cows and working in the fields, and she discusses the challenges of farming in upstate New York. In addition to remembering her life on the farm, Norma talks about the community’s reaction to her family purchasing the Grange in Roseboom. The Grange, officially known as the National Grange of the Order of Patrons of Husbandry, is a fraternal organization that encourages families to promote community and agriculture. This organization used to be very active in Roseboom and hosted dances and suppers. After the VanBuren’s bought the Grange, they used the land to host the Roseboom Antique Power Days. This event, now in its 18th year, plays a key role in the history of Roseboom. The tractor show brings in visitors from all around the country and celebrates Roseboom’s agricultural history. While Norma feels proud of her role in the creation of the Roseboom Antique Power Days, she is most proud of being a mother to her four boys. Norma recalls many memories of her children’s adventures over the years with their neighbors. Her comments on raising a family in Roseboom reflect the importance of community in rural areas. Norma’s love for children shines through her recollections of her work at the Cherry Valley-Springfield Central School District as a bus monitor. Her fond remembrance of the students with disabilities that she has worked with shows her compassionate nature. In addition to working as a bus monitor, Norma worked in a restaurant in Roseboom. Her comments draw attention to the instability of businesses in Roseboom that reflects a broader understanding of changes in rural communities in New York. Her volunteer efforts with the fire department’s auxiliary board, the Roseboom planning board, and the election board demonstrate her active role in the community. I interviewed Norma VanBuren at her home in Cherry Valley, New York. While visiting Norma, I had the pleasure of meeting her family and seeing photographs of the Roseboom Antique Power Days. In the transcript, I edited for grammatical purposes. During the interview, the interviewer stopped the recording two times at Norma’s request when visitors entered her home. These pauses are marked in the transcription. While the transcript is helpful, I highly recommend researchers consult the recording of the interview to gain a better sense of Norma’s story. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Mallory Hanson Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2018-11-14 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Cooperstown Graduate Association, Cooperstown, NY Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource audio/mpeg 28.8mB audio/mpeg 230mB image/jpeg 2448 × 3264 pixel Language A language of the resource en-US Type The nature or genre of the resource Sound Image Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Upstate New York Cherry Valley, NY 1947-2018 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Cooperstown Graduate Program, State University of New York-College at Oneonta http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/9abf1e0ed3c1e4669f38b37fc1593d3d.JPG 9c09e9e0ce49de89b90a6277dfe90207 http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/47fb502717ab1250e448e452de5e3ab4.MP3 42dee47e24ac3b38dcc868eaae37553c http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/14bf74435fa402566954087270ba0c34.MP3 04ed4583d4aaae39b01b8f76e057cdbf http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/0dca6e05c7e73669ba296fe343736d97.MP3 1e3c7b61b8978303d9a3f126f56de247 http://cgpcommunitystories.org/files/original/d3f6817bcf1686c94c511d8af0a5d29c.docx 39ce4cc0dcc28be173a4ebb078cfc633 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Land, Water, and Environment Description An account of the resource This collection contains oral history interviews and excerpts that address topics related to land use, water, environmental activism, and natural resources in Central New York State. New items are added on an ongoing basis. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Cooperstown Graduate Program Subject The topic of the resource environmental history Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Cooperstown Graduate Program Oral History A resource containing historical information obtained in interviews with persons having firsthand knowledge. Interviewer The person(s) performing the interview. Kirbie Sondreal Interviewee The person(s) being interviewed. Esther Brooker Location The location of the interview. 10 Dante St. East Worcester, NY Transcription Any written text transcribed from a sound. EB = Esther Brooker KS = Kirbie Sondreal [START OF TRACK 1, 0:00] KS: This is the November 19, 2018 interview of Esther Brooker by Kirbie Sondreal for the Cooperstown Graduate Program’s Research and Fieldwork course recorded at Esther’s home in East Worcester. All right, Esther, to get started I thought we might start with a little bit about your childhood and where you grew up. EB: I grew up on a farm just outside of Westford, New York. I was one of six siblings. I was the third girl. I have two older sisters, two younger brothers, and a younger sister. An amazing fact is that our ages now range from 74 to 94 and we’re all alive—and functioning. [laughter] KS: What was it like growing up on the farm? EB: It was fun. Looking back, it was a very good time. We didn’t have a lot of money, but we never went without eating because we grew a garden. My father had a dairy farm, so I didn’t know we were poor. Actually, we were not. We were very rich. My father had met my mom when he was cutting ice at her father’s farm on Skellie Road in Westford. Back then, the farmers harvested ice in the winter, cut it into rectangular blocks, and stored it in an icehouse, which we had, with sawdust between the cakes of ice. That would cool the milk from the cows in the summer. Daddy would put the milk cans in a vat in the milk house. He would transfer the milk from the barn to the milk house, and then a truck would come and pick it up and carry it to the milk station. We played outside back then. We played games like hide and seek. We loved to go out and collect fireflies, put them in a jar, and of course, let them go. That was fun collecting them. We played leapfrog, all sorts of things. And of course we had chores around the farm. Some of us spent more time in the barn helping Daddy, and others were assigned to the house. Of course, with a range of twenty years in children, it was different. As the years went by the older children grew up, married, and moved away. Then later I went off to college, and then the young ones grew up and eventually moved away. Our clothing was simple. We had clothes for school, and then we’d get home and change our clothes, put on different clothes to play or work in. Everybody had woodstoves back then, so probably all of our clothes smelled like wood smoke in school. [laughter] We road a bus to school. I first attended Westford School, and later on the schools in the area were centralized and a new school was built in Schenevus. It was called the Andrew S. Draper Central School. Andrew S. Draper had been born in Westford, and I believe he was eventually the head of the Education Department in Albany. The school is now called Schenevus Central School. When I started, there were two classes in a room in school—first and second grade, and third and fourth grade, and fifth and sixth grades were on the first floor. Others were upstairs. Maybe even the fifth and sixth were upstairs. That was a long time ago. I liked school, and it was kind of easy for me. With two classes in the same room, when I would finish my work, the teacher would let me help the other children with their work, who school didn’t come so easy for. I liked that. I liked helping the other kids learn. I liked to learn. I liked to teach one-on-one, not a classroom full, but one-on-one I loved to teach and share my knowledge. We raised most of our vegetables. We did have apple trees in the orchard and a cherry tree. My mom taught me how to can the fruits and the vegetables. Usually we would raise pigs, and Daddy would have a hog butchered maybe once every year. Occasionally, we had beef, but more often it was a pig that we butchered. Daddy didn’t butcher it himself. He had someone do it, and then we would cut it up and even can some of the meat. If it was canned properly, it kept very well. I got to help my mom in the garden. I enjoyed that, and that followed me through my life. One of the highlights of the year would be a family reunion because all the relatives would gather, and we would have all sorts of dishes. People would bring different dishes of food, and we got to enjoy others’ cooking. That was always a big treat. The big thing in the summer, we could make ice cream in an old-fashioned crank ice cream maker with ice. We didn’t have electricity then, so when electricity came, things changed eventually quite a bit. At first my dad, older sisters, and mom were having to milk by hand. Then later on Daddy got a gasoline-driven engine to have milkers for the cows. We also had [kerosene]-powered refrigerator in our house. It was a monster! [laughter] At the bottom there was a heater and it heated as it ran and somehow made refrigeration to make things cool. I cannot explain how that worked. I don’t remember having an icebox at our house, but I visited my grandmother next door a lot, and she used to have an icebox. I was kind of intrigued by that. Of course the source of the ice would not be an iceman bringing the ice but Daddy’s icehouse. They would just go take a cake of ice out, brush the sawdust off, and use it. [TRACK 1, 10:57] KS: What do you know about the ice-harvesting process? EB: I never actually saw it myself, but I’ve seen pictures of the men with their long saws. They had to wait until the ice was a certain depth—I can’t tell you what that was—but then they would take the saws and cut the blocks of ice and then skid them off the pond. Then somebody with a truck would deliver them to the farms. I understand that farmers got together and helped each other do that. Apparently once in awhile they hired someone to do it, because when my Daddy moved from the Triple Cities—that would be the Endicott area—he worked at my grandfather’s pond helping cut the ice. I don’t know if they took it by sleigh anywhere or if it was just all trucked out. They probably used sleighs early on. They had to pack it carefully when they put it in the icehouse so that it would be stable and be well insulated with the sawdust and be able to stand in the icehouse until they were ready the next summer to use it actually. I have no idea how much those weighed but they were pretty heavy because they were pretty large…maybe a yard, 36 inches by maybe…[gestures roughly two feet across] We had ice tongs to handle them with. They had sharp points and you’d grab the cakes with the ice tongs. Probably everybody knows what an ice tong looks like. They’d be sharp and they’d just grab them into the ice and then lift the ice with those. Another thing we did on the farm was the haying, and that’s much different than today. Sometimes early on, farmers would put loose hay on a horse-drawn wagon, after they had cut it and raked it up in rows. Then later we had a loader that we put behind the wagon that pulled the hay up onto the wagon. Then we’d drive the horses to the barn, pull them into the barn floor, and we’d use a hay[fork]. It was kind of built like the ice tong that we’d put into the loose hay and then with a pulley system pull it into the haymow. And I think many, if not most, haymows had maybe a front part and a back part with a beam sort of in the middle. I know when the hay got high enough, we kids always liked to jump off the beam into the hay. The only problem was when the haymow got really full, you would have to climb a ladder to get into the haymow. Getting off the ladder was not so bad, but I did not like getting back onto that ladder to come down. That was scary, but I did like playing in the haymow. We all liked that, and we would jump far, too. Some jumps would make our neck kind of [motions stiff neck] jolt. [laughter] We got to be daredevils. Winters were a bit different back then. Sometimes the roads would be so full of snow, the farmers would have to go across a field with a horse and sleigh to get where they needed to go, like to take the milk to the creamery. They used to have itinerant milk testers who would come to the house. The milk had to be checked every once in awhile for the amount of butterfat that was in it, and so sometimes he would have to get to our house cross lots with snowshoes on. I remember that. Then he would do his testing. I don’t remember if he came every month or how often he came, but on some sort of regular basis he did that. Because the more butterfat you had in the milk, I think, the more money you got. I’ve seen pictures with snow banks sometimes up to second-story windows. That was not really unusual back then. A few years ago we had snowstorms that reminded me of the old days. As far as shopping, we had a Sears catalog, but we more often would order from the Montgomery-Ward catalog. That was easy, but sometimes the things that were ordered didn’t fit. I remember it happened to me one time. We ordered this pair of shoes that I liked so much. When they got there, they were too small and I couldn’t wear them. We had to send them back. Sometimes, people from cities liked to come to farms for vacations, and my dad had a buddy that he had worked with at IBM when he lived in the Endicott area. His buddy Carl, his wife Opal, and their son Claude would come and sometimes stay a week or two at the farm. They’d live there, and we’d feed them and have a good time. I remember Opal made me my first brand new dress. I can still see the dress in my mind’s eye. That was a big thrill. We got a lot of hand me downs, and I got luckier than my older sisters. I don’t know which cousins or where their clothes came from, but we had a city cousin that lived in Endicott. I would get her hand me downs, and they were a little fancier than some of my sisters’. That was nice. My mother was not a big sewer like some people were. I had an aunt that sewed a lot, made a lot of her children’s clothes. I’m sure my mother made some, but not to the degree that Aunt Silva did. My mother did teach me how to embroider and to operate a sewing machine. She didn’t teach me to knit, but we did crotchet a little. Knitting I learned later on by myself. Our water supply came from a spring up the hill in the cow pasture. Up there, there was a little springhouse that covered the well to keep it clean, keep it fresh. That was good water. Of course, it came to the house by gravity, because we didn’t have electricity until 1944 at the farm. They had it in town, but it wasn’t until the Tennessee Valley Project happened and a rural electrification act was put into force. With that [Otsego Electric Cooperative] came to the more rural areas, to the farmers, and my dad was very active in that. He was visiting other farmers to get them interested in signing up to have electricity, and that way they got enough farmers to make it worthwhile for them to bring the electricity to the farmers. He served on the board of the Otsego Electric [Cooperative]. A lot of people in Otsego County still get their electricity from the Otsego [Electric Cooperative]. He served on the board until he was nearly 90, if not 90. He also was a tax collector. He was also a member of the fire department. KS: Was it a volunteer fire department? EB: Yes, and presently Westford has a very excellent fire department that has carried through the years. I found out later in life that he was also on the school board of the Westford School. My mother was active in church. She played the organ at one time and played for the choir to practice. I believe sometimes they did that at our home. And the church suppers. We had them then as well as now, and they were always looked forward to. Mom would always be baking pies for that, and the teenagers used to wait on tables. Our family did as well as others in the area. I believe the kids are still doing that today, and Westford, they still have excellent church dinners. At one time there were many churches, some before my time. There was a Baptist church that was not functioning in my growing up time, so we attended the Methodist church. There was a Congregational church also that eventually became a community hall. There was an Episcopal church, and the Catholic people went to the Catholic Church in Schenevus. Now the Methodist and the Episcopal are the only active churches there. KS: How did getting electricity change life on the farm? EB: Well, it made milking the cows easier with electricity, rather than bothering with the gasoline engine. We had electric lights in our house instead of kerosene lamps that we had to wash the globes for. They would get all smoky, so we had to wash them. And we also had something called a mantle lamp. It had a very fragile gas mantle in it, but the light from that was brighter than just a wick in a kerosene lamp. It was a pretty good light. That’s what I used to study all my schooldays. Eventually, Daddy was able to install a bathroom. That was nice. That didn’t happen until I left for college, but it was there when I came home later on. That was a nice thing, much more desirable than going out in the little house out back in the cold. Then eventually Daddy got a tractor. At first it was just horses, horse power, and then he had an Allis Chalmers tractor, I think, that he used for unloading hay, for one thing. To pull that pulley system to get the hay into the mows, first they used horses, but eventually we used a tractor to do that, as well as to pull the wagons and other things. Daddy always had nice horses. Doll and Topsy were the ones that I remember from the farthest back. Doll was kind of placid, but Topsy was a go-getter. [laughter] They worked well as a pair. He was good with horses. I understand he had been a teamster down in the Endicott area, and he and his dad had drawn the stones for the arches that are in Union, New York, which is near Endicott. He always cared for animals, and he always treated them… [START OF TRACK 2, 0:00] EB: …well, and made sure we kids learned to also. KS: What kind of chores did you have to do growing up? EB: Oh, I had to dust, help with the cleaning in the house, and do dishes, and when I got old enough, they let me drive the tractor to hoist the hay up into the hayloft, too. I did some other activities on the farm, maybe helping feed the cows. I never did milk a whole cow by myself. Fortunately, we got the [milking machines] before I had to do that, but my sisters did. They milked cows right along with my mom and dad. Telephones back then, my grandmother had one on the wall I remember, because one day when she was talking, we had a thunderstorm and the lightning came there. It didn’t hurt her, but I was little and I crawled under the kitchen table, I remember. [laughter] Then later we had telephones that you could dial. We were on a party line. There were eight or twelve people on a party line. That was interesting. KS: So the lightning struck the telephone while your aunt was on it you said? EB: It was my grandmother. I spent a lot of time with my paternal grandparents. They had a farm next door. KS: Could you tell me a little bit more about the people from the city who came out to vacation on the farms? EB: Well, I don’t know what kind of a job Carl had. I think he was still working at IBM, and Opal was a housewife. Claude was a little younger than my oldest brother, so they played together. I don’t know a lot more about them really, except my dad and Carl had worked together, so that’s how Daddy knew them. They enjoyed coming. They didn’t actually do any work around the farm, except Opal did make me a dress. She probably did some other sewing, but the dress is what I remember. My mom had another older friend from the city who liked to come in September when the corn and the tomatoes were ripe. She’d come and help my mom can some vegetables. KS: Was that something you were involved with as well? EB: Yes, I helped plant and harvest from the garden and pull weeds. I liked to pull weeds. I didn’t mind pulling weeds. We had a lot of quackgrass in our garden, so we spent a lot of time getting that out. One of the big entertainments years ago was square dancing. That was big. My husband’s parents used to go to dances and take their kids along. He remembered that, but our family didn’t ever do that. It was just a different area, maybe, but the reason I mention that, I met my husband at a barn dance at Tyler’s. Harold Tyler was a local farmer who had a large maple business. He was well known in the area. He had barn dances once in awhile, and when I was grown—it was after I was in college, I was actually working—I went to a dance there, and my husband was there. So we always liked to square dance. KS: Where was your husband from? EB: Outside of East Worcester is a little area called Brooker Hollow, and back then a lot of Brookers lived on Brooker Hollow. Now there are none, but he was born in Brooker Hollow, so that would be the town of Richmondville actually, I think. He went to school in a little one-room schoolhouse in Brooker Hollow, and then he went to high school at Worcester Central School. My schooling was, through fifth grade, at Westford, and then my sixth-grade year was in Schenevus after they centralized. I went there and graduated there with about 30 kids that graduated with me. KS: Where did you go to college? EB: I went to Hartwick College. I decided I wanted to be a nurse, probably in part because I had an uncle who was a nurse. He was in administration at Binghamton State Hospital, and he saw a lot of nursing students who came for their affiliations there. He liked the ones from a hospital in Johnson City. Because of that, I went there and had an interview and was accepted, but after that a Hartwick recruiter came to our school and administered some tests that we could take to try to get a scholarship. So when I was awarded my scholarship, I changed streams and went to Hartwick College instead. Edith Lacey was the director of what was the school of nursing at that time, in 1948. It was very excellent; I got a really good education there. Prices were a little different then. I never personally bought any gasoline for eleven cents a gallon, but I’ve heard people say they have. I didn’t drive until I was twenty, so I wasn’t buying gasoline, but it was quite different. I do remember thirty cents in my driving time. We had two stores in Westford. We had Tyler’s General Store and then I believe at one time, the post office was there, but in my time in Westford, it was at Johnny Palmer’s store. Johnny also had a little truck and would peddle hot dogs house to house. They were always so good! [laughter] There used to be a man that would come around to the farms and pick up rags. I don’t know what he did with them, what they used them for. These days, I know they recycle some rags, but I have no idea whether he sold them to people who worked in garages to clean their hands, I don’t know. Our heat for cooking and for heating the house was wood. Daddy would cut the trees down and chop them up and bring them. I remember when I was little, maybe three-ish, my oldest sister Thelma and I had measles at the same time. We were in the living room, and my mom would open the door of the stove, and there’d be nice coals in there. She would have a toaster—a hand toaster, wire toaster—that she’d put a slice of bread in, and it was hinged so the bread didn’t fall out. She’d put it over those coals and make the best toast. Then we had a big cooking stove in the kitchen. That didn’t have a thermostat on it. It didn’t have a thermometer in it, so you would kind of bake by guess and by gosh. You’d adjust your fire in the stove to try to make your oven the right temperature, so it wasn’t quite as exact as it is today with the electric stoves. But it worked! We had good things come out of that oven. We ate a lot of potatoes. My dad always grew potatoes. Then later on when I was older, sometimes he would buy them from another farmer in town who grew a lot of potatoes just for selling. Actually, at one time Daddy did grow potatoes for selling, but one year, the price dropped out of the bottom. I don’t know what caused that, but after that he didn’t raise potatoes except for our own home use in the garden. KS: What other crops did he grow? EB: He grew buckwheat, oats, I think some barley, and corn. The corn went into the silo, and I always looked forward to harvesting time. The farmers helped each other harvest—thresh the wheat and harvest the corn. The farmers would all come and do the job, and then the host—the farmer that was getting helped—his wife and kids prepared a meal and fed them. That was fun to have neighbors come in and have a nice meal together. That was always fun. I’m trying to remember whether all the corn was cut by hand when I was little. It was put on a wagon, and then someone would have a corn blower that would chop up the corn and blow it up into the silo. Someone had to be in the silo and kind of level it out as it came down into the silo. They have different kinds of equipment for that now, as well as the threshing of the other crops. [TRACK 2, 16:52] Sometime probably in the 1930s, there was a milk strike. I remember hearing things. I don’t know a lot about it, but I think it got violent sometimes. I think they were dumping a lot of farmers’ milk. Basically, why I remember it is because my dad used to let the driver of the milk truck keep it in our hop house. We had a hop house on the property, which is a special barn that they use for processing hops. He would let Ralph put his truck in there to keep it safe, so the milk didn’t get dumped. I had no idea which side of the strike my dad was on. I never heard that discussed, but I know that he did that for Ralph to save the milk from getting dumped. I had hoped to research that more, but I didn’t have time. It’s interesting; I think maybe I will. [laughter] KS: So did your family grow hops? EB: No, there were some hops still growing in one field on the farm, but the hops had kind of gone. I was born in 1930 and I don’t remember anyone in town having hops actually processing the hops. They would put them in this special barn and dry them. I don’t know the whole process, but I know the town of Westford has a lot of pictures before my time of people who were picking the hops. Our hop house is one of the few left in Otsego County. It’s on County Road 36A in Westford, so it is a landmark sort of. Oh, you saw in the picture. That’s kind of history. I have no knowledge of how all of that worked. At one time Otsego County was a very big producer of hops, and I understand it’s starting toward that way again. People are growing hops these days. Churches back then were pretty much the center of social activities. I mentioned the dinners that they had. They had a young peoples’ group, sometimes it was called Epworth League. The ladies also had an organization called WCTU, and that was the Women’s Christian Temperance Union. Westford also had a group for kids called the LTL, which stood for Loyal Temperance Legion. I attended that, and I know we had picnics because one day downtown kids coaxed me to go swimming with them. There was a millpond in Westford. That was a swimming hole for the town kids, but our family didn’t get to go there. Swimming was unusual for me, and not knowing how to swim, I nearly drowned. Donald Huntington saved me. He pulled me out. So thanks, Don. [laughter] That was one of the things kids in town did for recreation. We sort of just ran around on the farm, playing tag, and hide and seek, stuff like that. It was fun, and much healthier than what kids do today with all the electronic gadgets. KS: So we are nearing the end of our time. How do you think that the landscape in this area has changed through your lifetime? EB: I don’t know about the landscape itself, but the use of the land has changed a lot. There used to be lots and lots of farms; that was the thing for the area. There are very few farms in the area anymore, and that’s sad. We still have pretty awesome autumn colors that’s one big plus of this area. It’s beautiful in the fall, just beautiful. The towns have changed a lot, because there used to be a lot of stores. A big thing that happened to Westford, there were a lot of stores and a lot of churches, but when they put the D&H [Delaware and Hudson Railways] train through, it went through Schenevus. At that point Westford started losing ground commercially. KS: Is there anything else you would like to talk about? EB: I’m trying to think. The farm life was a good life. It was healthy air; it was good. KS: Is your farm still in your family? EB: Yes, my youngest daughter owns it now. She’s not living there right now. She’s temporarily living in Virginia, but she will retire back there. I feel very fortunate that we’ve been able to keep it in the family. One thing about being born, all the children except my youngest sister Olive were born at home, though not particularly at that house on the farm. My oldest sister was born in a different place. My next oldest sister was born there in that house on the farm. I was born at my grandparents’ farm next door, but Gordon and Peter were born in the house on the farm. Half of our kids were born there, and then Olive was born in the hospital. She was the only one born in the hospital, but when my older brother was born—he’s not older than I am, he’s four years younger than I am—my parents took me away to my grandmother’s house. I didn’t like that because I liked to know what’s going on. [laughter] Then when Peter, who is ten years younger than I am, was born, I tried to peek down through the register—the register being a device put in the floor of an upstairs room and the ceiling of the downstairs room to let the warm air from the fire in the living room up to the bedrooms upstairs. I tried to peek down the register but I didn’t see anything. [laughter] They kept me upstairs. They kept me out of the way. Back then the midwives were not people who delivered the babies like they do now. There is a family joke. They were ladies that would come to the home and care for the mother and the baby because the mother had to be in bed forever, such a long time! I remember Peter was born on the 22nd of December. I think my mother ate her first proper meal on Christmas day, and I think she was in bed till New Year’s. There was a need for someone to help care for the infant and the mother because she was in the bed all that time. They tell me I tried to get rid of our midwife when Gordon was… [START OF TRACK 3, 0:00] … there, because I wanted to wash the diapers. [laughter] I was four years old; I didn’t know any better. But I guess maybe that was the beginning of my interest in nursing. I had a lot of experience along the way. When Olive was born I was 14, and I just took over her care. I was her second little mother. KS: All right, well, thank you so much for doing this interview with me. EB: You’re very welcome. I wish I could’ve done a better job. KS: You did wonderfully. Were there any last things you wanted to add? EB: No, I don’t think so. KS: All right, thank you. [END OF TRACK 3, 1:08] Duration Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.) 30:00 - Track 1 30:00 - Track 2 1:08 - Track 3 Time Summary A summary of an interview given for different time stamps throughout the interview Track 1, 10:57 - Ice Harvest Track 2, 16:52 - Milk Strike Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Esther Brooker, November 19, 2018 Subject The topic of the resource Rural Life Dairy Farming Westford, New York East Worcester, New York Schenevus, New York Otsego County Ice Harvesting Haying Rural Electrification Milk Strike Hops Description An account of the resource Esther (Mathewson) Brooker was born July 16, 1930 in her grandparents’ home near Westford, NY. She grew up the third of six children on a dairy farm of about one hundred acres near Westford. In addition to dairy production, her father also grew crops, including buckwheat, oats, corn, and potatoes at different times. Her family was also very involved in the local community, her father serving on the school board and electric cooperative’s board, and her mother an active member of the church. Esther grew up in a time of much technological change and got to see tractors take the place of horses and electricity replace kerosene on her farm during her childhood. Influenced by the push for nurses in the 1940s, Esther obtained a bachelor’s in nursing at Hartwick College in Oneonta, NY, graduating in 1952. After graduating she held a variety of nursing positions in Cooperstown, Cobleskill, Oneonta, and Sidney in the next few years. She was always eager to gain different experiences in new healthcare settings and worked as an obstetric nurse, private duty nurse, and night supervisor at different times. Esther met her husband Louis Brooker at a local barn dance, and they married in 1956. They moved to a house in East Worcester where they raised their four children and where Esther still resides. The couple enjoyed 56 years of marriage before Louis’s passing in 2013. Esther continued working while raising her family, and in 1960 took a position as school nurse-teacher in Worcester Central School where she could be close to and hold the same hours as her children. Taking classes during her summers off, she received her Master’s in Education from SUNY Oneonta in 1966. She continued her position as school nurse-teacher for 18 years before returning to Bassett Hospital in 1979 as Discharge Planning Nurse. At this time Esther also got involved in a task force similar to hospice and used the breaks during her shifts at Bassett to spend time with patients associated with this group. After more than 35 years in the field, Esther retired in 1987 but continues to remain an active member of the Worcester community. I interviewed Esther in her home in East Worcester, NY, where she showed me pictures and a painting of the hop house still standing on her childhood farm near Westford. The farm is a cherished part of her life still today, and much of the interview centered on her experiences growing up on the farm, the camaraderie of the local community, and the methods and practices of farming as they changed through time. Esther’s lifelong passion for learning and understanding the world around her is demonstrated in her insights on farm life and detailed descriptions of farming processes, making this interview a valuable resource for those interested in agriculture and rural life as it evolved through the twentieth century. When transcribing the interview, I edited for clarity but worked to retain the message of Esther’s words; however, I encourage researchers to listen to the audio recordings, as the demonstrative power of Esther’s inflection and storytelling cannot be captured on page. Despite the many interesting topics covered in this interview, it covers a mere fraction of Esther’s experiences. Her long and varied nursing career spent spread across the local area would provide wonderful insight into rural healthcare, and a second interview covering these topics is suggested. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Kirbie Sondreal Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Cooperstown Graduate Program, State University of New York-College at Oneonta Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2018-11-19 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Cooperstown Graduate Association, Cooperstown, NY Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource audio/mpeg 28.8mB audio/mpeg 28.8mB audio/mpeg 1.1mB image/jpeg 3024 x 4032 pixel Language A language of the resource en-US Type The nature or genre of the resource Sound Image Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Upstate New York East Worcester, NY 1930-2018