Up on Turkey Hill
12 Saturday Nov 2011
Posted 20th Century, Color Slides
in12 Saturday Nov 2011
Posted 20th Century, Color Slides
in11 Friday Nov 2011
Posted 20th Century, Color Slides
inNovember Series
“Elmore + Clint + Two Bucks” November 15th, 1942 by John Losee
Elmore is our cousin Elmore Fraleigh 1909 – 1995 who lived at and worked Rose Hill Farm in Red Hook, NY. I do not know who Clint is, but he’s probably a local as well. Data from Grampa’s slide diary indicate that the picture is local, but not exactly where these gentlemen are. Grampa and his friends were avid hunters, fowlers and fishermen even before the war and hunted both for sport and for food.
Next post, I think I’ll introduce you to Fred.
09 Wednesday Nov 2011
Posted 20th Century, Color Slides
inLeft: John Losee’s slide diaries.
I am the custodian of my grampa John Losee’s color slide collection, which numbers over 7,600 individual slides. One of the most unique subjects details his years as an apple grower in Red Hook, NY in the 1930s and 40s. Although family snap-shots do make up a great many of the images in the collection, he was just as likely to photograph an insect or rock or landscape that struck his scientific sensibilities. It didn’t surprise me, as I indexed the images, to put any given shot from a family vacation into the categories “archaeology” or “geology” – not many families can claim such excitement!
I spent the last couple years indexing all of his slides and categorizing them as well so I might make interesting slide shows of them. It wouldn’t have been such an easy task but for grampa Losee being so well organized. Some might say “obsessive/compulsive” or “anal-retentive” but I think he was just an engineer who ended up having to be an apple farmer and later a teacher who loved to take pictures. He kept a tiny notebook with him anytime he brought his cameras with him and jotted down the date, the number of the shot, the subject matter and the camera settings and filters used to capture the image. At the top of most pages he also noted when he sent the rolls to Kodak and when he got them back.
Right: This hand-made storage box had only a few hand-bound glass slides when I got it, most of them were commercial paper slides.
When I began work on the slides in May of 2009, they (and my granfather Hermans’ slides) had been in the attic of my garage freezing in winter and baking in summer for the better part of a decade. Many were in carousels (all of the Hermans’ slides were in 40 of them!) but most were stored either in the little yellow Kodak boxes they came in, in special plastic or metal slide storage boxes or in DIY boxes grampa made himself, like the one seen above.
Left: My 21st century archival storage system for the slides with Grampa Losee’s markings.
I decided that if I wanted to print them, scan them, share them, I would have to organize them. I labored over whether I would destroy a part of the collection if I moved them from their original locations were grampa intended them to be. This was solved by marking their original location in my database. I also felt he would really, really like the sharp, uber-organized way I would be able to pull any image I wanted quickly and easily by putting them all in one place and making the database for them. He had already given them catalog numbers, himself, so organizing them in this way was easy. The new system is working like a charm! I have a photo of grampa Losee sitting in front of a slide-projector screen hanging on my wall in my work room that looks down at me while I work on them. I think he’d approve.
08 Tuesday Nov 2011
Posted 20th Century, Color Slides
inI’m still working on a series of posts about urban renewal in Poughkeepsie, so in the mean time, here is a first post in a series of images taken locally in November.
“Sunset – Llewellyn” November 22nd 1942 by John Losee
Llewellyn’s was further down the lane from our cousin’s farm, Fraleigh’s Rose Hill Farm (still in operation!) in Red Hook, NY
07 Monday Nov 2011
Posted 20th Century, Color Slides
inTags
20th Century, John Losee, kodachrome, photography, red hook, WWII
As you probably know, during WWII many things were collected and recycled for the war effort like metal and rubber. Grampa Losee cleverly titled this “Tire Shortage” but it was most likely the truth to the image. Not only are these gentlemen changing a flat, they are probably worried about how many times they’ve patched the same tire over and over. This was probably taken along Rt. 9 in Red Hook, NY.
“Tire-Shortage” 4/12/42
I finally remembered the other day where I had put grampa Losee’s civil defender arm band, too late now for the “Buried Liz” post about civil defense, but not far from the subject of this post. The location was a lot safer and more obvious than I had given myself credit for!
05 Saturday Nov 2011
Posted 20th Century, Genealogy
inTags
When I went away to school I was given my grandfather’s WWII pea-coat to wear. It was and is quite honestly one of my prize possessions. I wore it for many years until I noticed it was getting quite a bit threadbare. Too anxious that it should be ruined beyond repair, I stopped wearing it and it has hung in my closet ever since.
Shirt and Peacoat – note Walter’s name and serial number bleached into the lining, which has been repaired at the top by my grandmother Losee
After he passed away, I also came into possession of one of his navy shirts (behind the coat, above). Though, probably not the one he’s wearing below, it does have his name and serial number in it. I wore it to work just the other day!
Bertha M. Kilmer Hermans and son Walter C. Hermans in 1945
Honorable Discharge, 1 Apr 1946
Seaman Second Class, Walter Clayton Hermans
Post Office, Copake Falls, Columbia Co NY
Occupation, Park Superintendant, Taconic State Park Commission.
03 Thursday Nov 2011
Posted Apple Farming, Color Slides
inMy Grampa Losee ran an apple orchard he inherited when his father (a country doctor by trade) died. Having previously been an engineer working at Bell Labs, grampa went about the science of raising apples very seriously. I own more color slides example of damage to apples than anyone has a right to. There will be quite a few more posts about this subject in the future, rest assured!
“Picking Kings” (Kings are apples, not people) October 4th, 1939
Being an avid photographer, Grampa Losee gave talks on the subject of apple farming complete with his own slideshows. I have a booklet for one these shows, titled “Apple Valley 1939-1951” listing all the slides used and one page of notes – he must have given this presentation without script.
“Inspector Amos” October 7th, 1939
The inside cover notes perhaps when and where he gave the talk: “Wappingers Falls Historical Society, 10/24/72 Stanford Grange @ Pine Plains School – Oliver Orton, Oct 1973 Friends of the Library – Starr Institute, 5/1/74 St. George’s School – Mrs. McMannis, 2/26/75 Rhinebeck Garden Club”
Page one is a list of points he must have used as his introduction to the show:
“Low C. Apple in Apples. Engineer Apple Grower. Half a farm – all in apples. No understanding of the “ecosystem”. Pictures mostly random interludes in the life of a fruit grower. Independent life. Only one task mistress – Dame Nature put Simon Legree to shame! Pictures span 12 years in the evolution of the apple industry.”
“McIntosh Culls” September 6th, 1939 (with Amos the dog driving the truck)
02 Wednesday Nov 2011
Tags
Below is a transcription of an undated letter from my grandfather, Walter Hermans to his wife Helen Pulver Hermans. The letter is written on a scrap paper labeled “Taconic State Park Commission Weekly Record of Telephone Calls”. He was the superintendent at Rudd Pond in Millerton in the 1940’s.
This was written when Walter was in the Navy. He never went overseas, but was stationed domestically. His job was to guard the bridge he mentions in the letter as being only 5 minutes away: the Taconic Parkway bridge that runs over the Croton reservoir. Today there are two bridges for each direction of the parkway. Pleasantville, NY is about 5 miles from Millwood. The ‘Puddy’ he refers to is his first child, my aunt Linda. He calls Helen ‘Punky’ and signs the letter ‘Punky’ as well.
Judy Snedeker (Walter’s neice), Helen Pulver Hermans and Walter Hermans
Dear Punky,
Well I got settled here this morning about 7:30 and got in bed at 8:15, slept until 5:30 this afternoon. Now I feel like a million dollars. It is plenty warm down here in the building.
The post office is Millwood, NY c/o T.S.P.C. The phone number is Briarcliff 2185.
It seems quite a relief not to have to drive all the way up to Rudd Pond as it only takes about five minutes to get to the bridge. They are going to put in a phone at the bridge and I will give you the number as soon as it is put in.
I got my radio hooked up and so far it plays good.
I me most of the fellows here this morning and they seem to be a pretty good lot, mostly Sweeds and Dutchmen.
I hope you don’t miss me too much but if I get as much rest the next few nights I may take a run up early in the week. But I will be home Wednesday a m anyway.
The night man just came in and is going to take me over to Pleasantville to show me a good place to eat. I’ll follow him over and then hope I can find my way back. I’ll mail this over there.
I broke a shoe lace tonight so I’ll have to invest 5$ for a new pair.
Well darling you take good care of Puddy and tell her that her daddy will be home soon. Good night Punky be a good punky cause I love you
Good night little Punky.
Punky.
01 Tuesday Nov 2011
Posted Genealogy
inTags
The below poem, written sometime between 1924 and 1942, is an ode to my grandfather’s family and the family farm on Academy Hill Rd. in Jackson Corners, Town of Milan, Dutchess County NY. I’ve transcribed it from the hand-written copy in my possession.
The author, William K Munro was born c. 1880 in Australia. He immigrated to New York State in 1874 and married Florence Kilmer, half-sister to Bertha Mae Kilmer, my great-grandmother. (1930 census Albany, Albany Co NY page #5A, ed. #1-51, fam. #88 & 1920 same location page #6B, ed #94, fam. #120)
Bertha is ‘Mom’ in this poem. She married Clayton Hermans (‘Pop’), son of Jacob Luther Hermans 1841-1924, the ‘Grampy’ and ‘Uncle Jake’ of the poem. William and Florence did not have any children of their own (1920 & 1930 census) as did many of Florence’s siblings, which might explain why he doted on his nieces and nephew so much.
My grandfather Walter Clayton Hermans 1915-1994 and his sisters Madge Julia Hermans Snedeker Petty and Louise Hermans Johnson Weiss are the ‘cute little tots’.
One Beautiful Dream
I am dreaming of a homestead upon a little hill
Where I visited very often, but seldom against my will
A mother standing by the door and shading eyes with hands
Peering up and down the sunny roads and across the woody lands
Those actions as I saw her, knew they were a mother’s love
Always a prayer upon her lips to one who is above
Ever anxious to see or hear the pattering of small feet
All the time worrying that an accident they should meet
And when the twilight’s ended and those shadows come again
I can hear those childish chatters, just before the sandman came
When suddenly as if by magic you couldn’t hear a peep
Then Mom’s cares are over, as they all are fast asleep
When the dawn did come at last with cloudy skies once more
Again was heard the pattering feet upon the bed-room floor
Not dreaming of the outside world, which sure was a sight
When looking out upon the ground, it was their great delight
Nature’s mantle so fine and soft lay there, yes, ’tis but a dream
Spreading oe’r the woody lands and that hilly road did screen
Oh Mom, where’s our rubbers and our sleds we cannot find
Oh dear, please hurry Mom this weather is divine
In Mom’s haste to find those things in nooks and places galore
Some squeals or childish laughter were coming thru the door
When looking out into the snow, goodness, lo and behold
Stood Louise in snow up to her knees and Madge and Walt as bold
Walt was out without his hat, Madge without her rubbers
Louise was stunting in the snow which that night did cause some blubbers
Mom was getting desperate, she didn’t know what to say
So took a chance upon them once and outside they did play
Great fun they were having scampering to and fro with glee
Not thinking of the night of sniffles and coughs that would surely be
What a busy night for Mom and Dad, including Grampy too.
Rubbing goose-oil and mustard on some chests and praying they’d pull thru
Jacob Luther “Jake” Hermans 1841-1924 with Louise and Madge c. 1914
After their troubles were over and the doctor went his way
Once more Mom’s heart beats quieted down as in the house they play
Cutting funny pictures from books and placing blocks in stacks
Dressing dolls, scribbling in books and mauling those poor cats
The days were getting longer now and outside they again did roam
Traveling over the woods and fields, but at meal-time sure came home
Pestering the chickens and turkeys, poking at a pig
If they saw a ground-hog, boy, wouldn’t he have to dig
Climbing rickety old fences, tearing stockings and shoes
Rushing around that farm at anything they choose
Teasing the fat old gobbler, making him puff and swell
Raising the dickens all over till Mom gave her famous yell
Madge you come right in this house, you also Louise
Now Walter’s crying, is it right of you girls to tease
Oh Mom, we didn’t bother him, just wanted him to play
But he had to go and beller because he slipped from off the hay
Helping Grampy feed the chickens, then those eggs they’d steal
Mooing to the pig pen when those pigs let out a squeal
Shooing pigeons from the roof, as they take their rest
But keeping their distance from hornets, which they knew was best
Wading in the creek, coming home with wet feet
Doing the most impossible stunts, most people wouldn’t seek
Chasing grass-hoppers and butterflies, sliding down the cellar door
Going to Mom with splintered fingers, next day they’d have some more
Finding of old dead sparrows, burying them with pomp
Crying over an old rag-doll that a picker wouldn’t want
Leaving carts and dolly carriages out in the path
Along comes Pop, hits one, then shows a little wrath
Walter, Madge and Louise (with cat in lower left)
Riding horses down the road just for their usual drink
Making guinea-fowls noisy and things you wouldn’t think
Hugging and pinching the puppy’s tails until they set up wails
Doing everything imaginable, probably cans attached to tails
Playing hide and seek around the house, shed and barn
Stepping on the kitten’s tails and didn’t give a darn
Leaving the screen door open, throwing sand in each others eyes
When Mom comes down from the up-stairs, the house was full of flies
Romping around the homestead, just doing as they please
Running close to hives out front, then getting stung by bees
Climbing that old apple-tree, skinning a few shins
The crawling home again at night with all but broken limbs
Chasing chickens from the road, sliding down the hay
Punching holes in screen-doors so flies could have their say
Tramping over to the woods, gathering nuts and flowers
Sneaking upon setting hens and getting soak in showers
No they didn’t hunt for snakes, but they might have stoned some frogs
Then coming home with sloppy clothes, in trying to cross those bogs
Twisting the calves’ tails so as to hear them bawl
They were afraid of nothing, these kids sure had gall
I know there were a bunch of sheep down on that farm
And I think they were the only ones that didn’t come to harm
The reason no harm came to them was on account of their lope
But if they couldn’t get a sheep they’d surely get your goat
Now remember folks some of this, ‘tis not a dream
I used to go there sometimes and this is what I’d seen
You see at that time they were such cute little tots
You couldn’t help but like them and I did lots
When I used to visit them, mornings I’d lay late in bed
They used to come like crazy Indians and leap upon your head
Sleep then was a thing of the past, you sure would get your digs
And then on top of all of that, Uncle Jake would feed the pigs
And when I speak of Uncle Jake, who long has passed away
And his love he had for others, I remember to this day
We are all slipping just like he, we’ll have no used for skids
He was devoted to you all, when you were little kids
My thoughts are often about him, I can see him on his farm
That good old soul was as fine as gold and with a certain charm
If you got into trouble, some scrape or some jams
No matter how it came out, you were his blessed little lambs
Now Mom and Pop are getting along, Mom’s hair retains its hue
While Pop’s is getting silvery, no doubt t’will happen to you
Time changes everything, but nothing really to cause any alarm
But did change three pair of pattering feet that echoed on that farm
– William K Munro