Dear Folks, I'm overwhelmed by the number of warm messages I've received regarding my posting last night. Maybe I should have called it "I'm in a GRUMP!" I'll wait until this evening to respond to the entire list. P.S. I'm no longer in a grump! :-) But first I want to post a message regarding Groundhog Day around here. vee

Dear Vee & group: Forgive me for not posting anything for some time. I've had some major health issues affecting me, unfortunately. I've been recovering from cancer surgery and a bruised shoulder blade. I've been off work for over a month and a half, and I have just been starting to go back to work. Needless to say, it has been an ordeal, but they got everything, and now I'm in the healing stage. During my down time, I've been able to get all three of my gg grandmother's, Phoebe Ann Williams, diaries transcribed, and I'm typing out the third one, written in 1863, during the height of the Civil War! Phoebe's brother, William Fitzer Williams, was a captain in the 2nd regiment of the New York Mounted Rifles, co. 1. I have an ornate framed picture of Fitzer (as he was called) in his Civil War Uniform. He died at Petersburg, PA. I may have mentioned in past posts, about how Phoebe was stood up by a beau, Henry L. Johnson. He married someone else, and in Phoebe's second diary, she states that she was glad she did not marry him!! Anyway, Vee I sure hope you'll let this list continue, I've enjoyed your stories so much! Kim, In not so snowy Nebraska

I have recently joined your list and am enjoying reading all of your posts. I don't have any connection to the area except I stopped at Niagara Falls a couple of times on my way to Michigan. I join lists for various parts of the country just to get an idea of the area and the people who live there. Thanks for being here and please keep posting. Ruth in sunny southern Vermont At 7:39 AM -0600 2/2/04, matheson wrote: >Dearest Vee, > >PLEASE, do NOT stop sending your wonderful stories. As you know, I not only >read them, I print them out so I can read them again and learn something >about your part of this great land and the area where my favorite sister >once lived and died. -- Ruth Barton [email protected] Dummerston, VT

Dearest Vee, PLEASE, do NOT stop sending your wonderful stories. As you know, I not only read them, I print them out so I can read them again and learn something about your part of this great land and the area where my favorite sister once lived and died. You have taken the place of my sister, Clara or as she like to call herself, Mickey. You are now a part of my family and I would be sad if I could no longer read something about your past and present life, it brings joy to my life. I can not write anything about that area as I was born in Chicago and never had the opportunity to visit New York let alone live there. Maybe you should ask people to write about their birthplace and childhood so we can learn more about each other. There was only two times in my childhood that I traveled from my home. The first time was when my sister Clara moved mother, my twin brother, older brother little sister and all our belongs in the backend of a big truck from Chicago to Miles City, Montana in 1946. I did not get to see the country side and was a little scared when Clara told us we were going up a mile high mountain. We all were hoping the belongings would not fall on us but mother had seen to it that everything was packed so as to prevent such a thing from happening. When we arrived in Miles City, we found a two room house owned by the sheriff to rent. Then I got to see the old time wagon Clara lived in with her first husband. She cooked her meals over an open fire and claimed that when she made a pot of coffee, she tested to see when it was ready by placing a horseshoe in the pot and if it floated, it was ready to drink. Mother worked in the restaurant in town and I know they drank their coffee strong because I saw customers test it by standing a spoon upright before adding sugar or milk. Also, the people there did not trust paper money and used silver dollars to pay for everything. The next trip was about a year later when mother had saved enough money to purchase train tickets for all of us younger children and herself. We only took our clothing with us and moved to Los Angeles, California where we threw away our heavy coats we had to wear in Miles City and it was not long before we wish we still had them. This was in 1947 and Los Angeles received a hard winter storm for the first time in years. Although I was an avid reader even then, it never occurred to me to write anything about either trip and I only have faint memories of the trips.

Vee, Please don't stop the list. I'm like the others, I always read this list, no matter what. You write such wonderful stories, and well, you just seem like family. I think a roll call ever so often is a good ideal. Maybe you can try that. Just don't throw in the towel yet!! I enjoy hearing about historical society meetings, about your niece, and just all your stories. I will try to participate more. And how about the yearly reunion you've had for the past 2 yrs.? All this has to mean something to you?? Your friend, Janey Sczepczenski Wolfe ----- Original Message ----- From: "Vee L. Housman" <[email protected]> To: <[email protected]> Sent: Sunday, February 01, 2004 10:43 PM Subject: [FOLKS] I'm in a slump > Dear Folks, > > Maybe I'm just in a winter slump or my arthritis is getting the better of me or something along those lines, but for whatever reason, I'm in a slump. I feel pretty whiney here at the moment but please bear with me right now. > > Over the past number of months I've tried my very best to post quality messages to the list. Yes, a few others have responded and posted their own and I've noted them and appreciated them, but on the whole it seems that I'm the one who continues to prop up the list. And frankly I'm beginning to wonder if it's worth it on my part. (See what I mean about whining!) > > I know that all of you are genealogy based and I also know that there's NYNIAGAR-L to turn to for questions of that nature. Currently we have 101 subscribers to our list. I know that a number of you are lurkers who have enjoyed what has been posted to our list over the past. But right now, I'm wondering if it might just be best if I give up the list. > > If a number of you give me some pretty good reasons for continuing with the list, I'm all ears. If not (fade). > vee > > >

Hi Vee, It has to be the winter (or maybe your arthritis.. either one gets to be a pain). I don't have very much genealogical history in Niagara County. I think I've mentioned before that I joined this list because my mother lived in NT as a girl. In her diary, she always talked about wishing she was back there. I do know that later, after my parents met, going to Olcott was one of their favorite things to do. One of my aunts and her family lived in NT all their lives. Now my grandson's father and other grandparents are from Lockport. I don't have any "way back" ties to Niagara Co., but a lot of people in my life are connected. I belong to quite a few lists. This one is one I always read, even if I'm really busy. Your stories are interesting and knowledgeable. The fact that you are the author of a lot of the content, is because you are good at it, and many people aren't. It's easy for me to say that I was around during the blizzard of ' 77. But I was sitting at home in Buffalo, waiting for my husband to get home from the stone quarry in Lockport. Not much story there! I have my mother's diary. According to it, she went to church, went to school, and wished she was back in North Tonawanda. She obviously didn't care for Buffalo. Once again, not much story there either... I, for one, really hope you don't stop this list. Maybe if you want to make people add their two cents, you can request a sort of roll call. Who are you looking for, and what are you looking for. And what do they know about the people they are searching. Just a suggestion. Kathy

Dear Dorothy, Thanks so much for your warm and understanding message. Yes, your husband Charles and I have continued to exchange messages over the years regarding his sister and his connection with Niagara Falls. But to hear from you like this, pleases me so much. Please try to write down your own memories and transcribe your letters regarding your trips across the country with your grandmother. Also describe what those old black and white pictures were all about. I know that you have children and grandchildren and from my point of view, you're the only one who can tell that particular story of their family history. Also include the selling of your grandmother's house while she was in Colorado. You may still ache over it, but it's family history that you need to write down. vee ----- Original Message ----- From: "matheson" <[email protected]> To: <[email protected]> Sent: Monday, February 02, 2004 12:31 AM Subject: RE: [FOLKS] I'm in a slump > Please continue to write your stories. My husband is the one with the > connection to the list. But I read every message you send to the list. > Most of them touch my heart. The ones of the trips across the county made > me recall how lucky I was to take two trips across the country with my > Grandmother. Texas to Colorado when I was 11. And Texas to Michigan when I > was 15. My mother kept the letters I wrote from that time and I need to > take them out and read them again. I also need to get the black and white > photographs out and do a bit of journaling with them. > > My goodness my Grandmother was a courageous lady to take a child and travel > across the county. This was in the 60's and I am sure that most widow > ladies would not have done this. > To top the story off my parents sold my grandmother's house while she was > gone to Colorado and she had to move into a much smaller house in town > within two weeks of returning from the trip. > > Thanks for your stories making my memories vivid. > > Dorothy > >

Dear Folks, Maybe I'm just in a winter slump or my arthritis is getting the better of me or something along those lines, but for whatever reason, I'm in a slump. I feel pretty whiney here at the moment but please bear with me right now. Over the past number of months I've tried my very best to post quality messages to the list. Yes, a few others have responded and posted their own and I've noted them and appreciated them, but on the whole it seems that I'm the one who continues to prop up the list. And frankly I'm beginning to wonder if it's worth it on my part. (See what I mean about whining!) I know that all of you are genealogy based and I also know that there's NYNIAGAR-L to turn to for questions of that nature. Currently we have 101 subscribers to our list. I know that a number of you are lurkers who have enjoyed what has been posted to our list over the past. But right now, I'm wondering if it might just be best if I give up the list. If a number of you give me some pretty good reasons for continuing with the list, I'm all ears. If not (fade). vee

Please continue to write your stories. My husband is the one with the connection to the list. But I read every message you send to the list. Most of them touch my heart. The ones of the trips across the county made me recall how lucky I was to take two trips across the country with my Grandmother. Texas to Colorado when I was 11. And Texas to Michigan when I was 15. My mother kept the letters I wrote from that time and I need to take them out and read them again. I also need to get the black and white photographs out and do a bit of journaling with them. My goodness my Grandmother was a courageous lady to take a child and travel across the county. This was in the 60's and I am sure that most widow ladies would not have done this. To top the story off my parents sold my grandmother's house while she was gone to Colorado and she had to move into a much smaller house in town within two weeks of returning from the trip. Thanks for your stories making my memories vivid. Dorothy

Hi Vee - I have to say, my father died only a few years ago, and I always called him Daddy when talking to him. When talking to one of my siblings about him, we always referred to him as Dad. (And I have to say, I'm a lot older than 26... my daughter is 28). Kathy

Dear Folks, A couple of years ago I posted the following unusual reunion of Pattie Faix and me. In view of my recent postings of the 1938 trip my father took to France and Switzerland, I thought of Pattie. This is what I had written about our reunion at the time. An Unsual Reunion June 24, 2001 I've been wanting to share this story with you ever since it happened a week ago Saturday, June 16. That was the afternoon that we celebrated the 25th anniversary of our Town of Porter Historical Society museum. The turnout was more than we had expected and many meaningful speeches were given by village, town, county and state dignitaries. During the ceremony our society president acknowledged those of the society who had contributed to the museum's ongoing work and when he mentioned my name, I stood up as he requested. After the ceremony we gathered around the refreshment table and socialized. I had barely had my first sip of punch when I saw a gray-haired woman heading straight for me with a pleasant expression on her face. She was a total stranger to me but it was obvious that she just couldn't wait to ask me an important question. After she made certain that I was Vee Housman, she said, "My father used to work with your father." Well that pleased me that somehow she had connected my name with my father and I obviously assumed that her father had worked with mine at Pittsburgh Metallurgical Co. while he was there between 1940 and 1951. But she surprised me when she said that our fathers had worked together at Vanadium (Vanadium Corp. of America). What?? Vanadium?? That was back in the 1930s!! And then that's when I just had to blurt out, "Who ARE you??" With a big smile on her face she said, "I'm Pattie Faix." Oh my GAWD, Pattie FAIX!! I remembered her name instantly! And at that moment we took a step back into time to over 60 years ago in Niagara Falls. Back to where we both remembered knowing each other because our families socialized with each other. At best, I was only 9 years old the last time we saw each other and she was 10. But even at that early age we knew what was going on in our fathers' careers. She said that her father was an engineer at the plant and so was mine. I asked her if her father went to France with my father and she said that he didn't because of health problems at the time. Nonetheless, she knew precisely what I was talking about regarding the trip to France (in 1938). The company had sent a couple of their engineers over there to study the new French furnace and bring back suggestions as to how to improve the production of ferroalloys. When I mentioned that I recalled that Jack(?) Strauss went with my father, she nodded her head in agreement. I asked her if she remembered the Chadwicks-Gert and "Chad" (! Gordon)-and yes she did. Chad also worked at Vanadium. I mentioned hearing my father on the phone in the middle of the night when the plant called him because of some emergency regarding the furnaces and remembering him sleepily (but with sober authority) telling them to add more Indian ore or more African ore or some other such solution to the problem. Pattie knew exactly what I was referring to. It was obvious that she had heard similar conversations when she was growing up herself. Later that evening I realized what an amazing conversation we had. Not only did we instantly remember each other from over 60 years ago, more than that, it was the first time that I had ever had a conversation with anyone who recognized the term African or Indian ore in regard to the manufacture of ferroalloys. Especially a WOMAN!! One more thing. I finally got around to asking her what encouraged her to attend our society's celebration. She said that her friend dragged her along because she knew that Pattie was interested in history. She added that she's active in the Sanborn Historical Society and that her last name is now Rhoney. They live over the Rhoney Funeral Home in Sanborn. We let each other know that we're both in the phone directory and I know that I can just pick up the phone and talk with Pattie Ann Faix any time I want. It's been over a week since our reunion and I'm still in awe over it. After SO many years, it was like we just had to touch base with each other to reaffirm our childhood and share memories of our fathers and the ferroalloy industry in Niagara Falls in the 1930s. It was sooooo great!! Well, to get back to the present, for the past few days I've been trying to get in touch with Pattie but I only get their answer machine. I finally called another nearby number and got to talk with her sister-in-law Cindy. I told Cindy the whole nine yards of Pattie and me and our parents and the Vanadium and the trip to France in 1938. Cinday said that Pattie and her husband Paul are spending the winter in Ft. Myers, FL, but she gave me Pattie's telephone number and I gave Cindy my phone number and email address. After reviewing what Pattie told me several year ago regarding the fact that her father's health prevented him from accompanying my father, et al, in 1938, I'm still hoping that she would like to read about it. We'll just have to wait and see. vee

Dear Anna, I'm glad that you're enjoying my tales about Daddy's trip to Europe. But even more than that I'm glad that you mentioned that all of you called your father Daddy. Frankly, I've always been a bit embarrassed when I refer to my father as Daddy. I know that it's a childhood knick name. Nonetheless, I was barely out of my teens and living away from home when I lost any closeness that I may have ever had with him. He died in 1958 when I was 26. Daddy and I never really had an adult conversation together to the point that I could call him such a grown up name as Dad. And for that matter, on his death bed, he deliberately called me Stinky just to get a rise out of me! It was a name he had given to me probably when I was very, very little. Therefore, he has always been Daddy to me. I'm certain that I never called him by any other name. vee ----- Original Message ----- From: "Anna/Del Bristol" <[email protected]> To: "Vee L. Housman" <[email protected]>; <[email protected]> Sent: Sunday, February 01, 2004 11:29 PM Subject: Re: [FOLKS] Father's 1938 trip to Europe Pt 2 > What a vicarious pleasure I am taking as you peek into the past via your > dad's trunk. This is so entertaining. > > I noticed that you also called your father, Daddy. We did that also and had > that carved into his headstone, he was always Daddy, no matter how old we > were.

What a vicarious pleasure I am taking as you peek into the past via your dad's trunk. This is so entertaining. I noticed that you also called your father, Daddy. We did that also and had that carved into his headstone, he was always Daddy, no matter how old we were. Our entertainment today was arriving home to find a waterline in the second floor bathroom had broken. Water everywhere! We had been gone 10 hours, it was a 1/4" line. I had been in that bathroom earlier but did not notice anything. The den, powder room, our closet, and part of our bedroom on the first floor, plus the basement bathroom and the workshop areas are flooded. So, boys and girls...methinks Anna and Del will be very busy. Weary smile, Anna ----- Original Message ----- From: "Vee L. Housman" <[email protected]> To: <[email protected]> Sent: Sunday, February 01, 2004 7:31 PM Subject: [FOLKS] Father's 1938 trip to Europe Pt 2 1938 TRIP TO FRANCE AND SWITZERLAND February 1, 2004 My father was a collector of many things besides stamps and "covers." He also collected match BOX labels from all over the world, antique beer steins, books that interested him, shot glasses and swizzle sticks from bars all over, and he and Mother collected Early American patterned pressed glass pieces. Therefore, it didn't surprise me that he collected every bit of memorabilia from his trip abroad and filed it neatly into two bulging scrapbooks. For example, in the one scrapbook he saved the luncheon and dinner menus for November 19, 21, 22, 24 (Thanksgiving Day) and 25, 1938. The menus in themselves were works of art. Each day a different historic French sailing vessel originally painted in watercolors(?) was displayed on both the front and back of the menu. There was Le "Soleil Royal" (1690), La "Galere Royale (1690-1748), La "Couronne" (1638) and Le "Sphinx" (1829). However, the much larger Thanksgiving Day dinner menu's cover showed another watercolor but this one was of what appeared to be a simple countryside village, "Village d'Ile de France (Par Ceria)." For example of a typical luncheon menu was like, the one of November 22, gave a long list of choices in French on the left side of the menu and the same choices in English. However, in the middle was a Menu Suggestion. Note: forgive any typos in the French words below. I don't have a clue what I'm typing! Hors-d (Euvre Varies) [a variety of appetizers including olives, smoked salmon, Spanish melon, canapés, etc.] Truite Saumonee Belle Meuniere [that was the fish course-Salmon Trout Belle Meuniere] Rognons d'Agneau au Chablis [that was the entrée-Spring Lamb's Kidneys with Chablis Wine] Haricots Verts a l'lsigny [the vegetable-String beans a l'lsigny] Entrecote Minute Maitre d'Hotel [from the grill-Steak Minute Maitre d'Hotel] Pommes Copeaux [the potatoes-Potatoes Copeaux] Salade de Saison [the salad course-frankly I only know that apparently there was a choice of salad greens] Le Plateau des Fromges [A plate(?) of a variety of cheese] Patisserie Parisienne [a variety of pastries such as chocolate truffles, apricot tarts and jalouisies] Coupe Germain [a variety of ice cream such as vanilla, coffee and cherry] Corbeille de Fruits [Assorted fruits] Although the menu suggestion didn't mention it there was a variety of teas, French coffee, American coffee which also included Sanka(!). Regarding Thanksgiving Day's dinner menu you takes what you gets and the list includes eighteen items plus hopefully coffee and tea. And no doubt wine was served at every meal. Oh my goodness, I had overlooked a much smaller menu that on the inside reads, "Dinner tendered on board the S. S. Ile de France to Mr. H. Earl Dunn and Mr. C. W. Housman. At sea, November 23, 1938." The dinner started off with caviar, then a veloute something, then it appears that there was fish entrée Sole Normandie, then a poussin en cocotte something, then a salad, then a praline parfait and ended in a variety of fruits. No wonder Daddy mentioned that they served too much food! Among the "Things to Do" aboard the ship was (alphabetically) clay pigeon shooting, dancing, "Entertainments" such as Horse Racing, Gala Concert and Cabarets. Aboard the ship is a drug store, a flower shop, a gymnasium where the attendant in charge will give instructions in boxing and fencing, hair dressing parlors, a library, a lounge where games may be played such as chess, drought and backgammon, a massage parlor where a Swedish massage can be obtained, medical attendance consisting of a doctor and a nurse, moving pictures, musical concerts, novelty shop, outdoor sports including a ping pong tournament, photographer's studio, post office, a daily Punch and Judy show in the Children's Room, a chapel with religious services, a shooting gallery, stenographers (French or English) to take dictation and type letters, reports, etc., and finally wireless service, a mail department and wireless telephone service. Just two more things to comment about right now from Daddy's scrapbook. The first one is a card with his name handwritten, Stateroom 417, on it that said, "In the case of emergency, put warm clothes on, then your life jacket and proceed at once to Promenade deck, Starboard side where you will embark into boat No. 18." Right below the card on the same page of the scrapbook is a foldout that I can only assume my father received aboard the ship at the time. It's entitled, "Fromages, H. Androuet, Maitre Fromager." From my limited knowledge of French food, I know that fromage means cheese. Therefore I interpret it to mean that H. Androuet is the "Maitre de Fromager," THE head person on the subject of cheese aboard the ship. When I unfolded it I saw a list of more different cheeses than I ever knew even existed. Not only were there French cheeses from every province in France, but cheese from Belgium, Sweden, Holland, Switzerland, Hungary and Czechoslovakia. I thought that it was a bit odd that the ship would have such a vast variety of cheese available on board but upon closer look, it appeared that "Mr." Andouet showed two Paris mailing addresses in the event that anyone would like to buy from his vast inventory upon arriving in Paris. At least that's my take on it. vee

1938 TRIP TO FRANCE AND SWITZERLAND February 1, 2004 My father was a collector of many things besides stamps and "covers." He also collected match BOX labels from all over the world, antique beer steins, books that interested him, shot glasses and swizzle sticks from bars all over, and he and Mother collected Early American patterned pressed glass pieces. Therefore, it didn't surprise me that he collected every bit of memorabilia from his trip abroad and filed it neatly into two bulging scrapbooks. For example, in the one scrapbook he saved the luncheon and dinner menus for November 19, 21, 22, 24 (Thanksgiving Day) and 25, 1938. The menus in themselves were works of art. Each day a different historic French sailing vessel originally painted in watercolors(?) was displayed on both the front and back of the menu. There was Le "Soleil Royal" (1690), La "Galere Royale (1690-1748), La "Couronne" (1638) and Le "Sphinx" (1829). However, the much larger Thanksgiving Day dinner menu's cover showed another watercolor but this one was of what appeared to be a simple countryside village, "Village d'Ile de France (Par Ceria)." For example of a typical luncheon menu was like, the one of November 22, gave a long list of choices in French on the left side of the menu and the same choices in English. However, in the middle was a Menu Suggestion. Note: forgive any typos in the French words below. I don't have a clue what I'm typing! Hors-d (Euvre Varies) [a variety of appetizers including olives, smoked salmon, Spanish melon, canapés, etc.] Truite Saumonee Belle Meuniere [that was the fish course-Salmon Trout Belle Meuniere] Rognons d'Agneau au Chablis [that was the entrée-Spring Lamb's Kidneys with Chablis Wine] Haricots Verts a l'lsigny [the vegetable-String beans a l'lsigny] Entrecote Minute Maitre d'Hotel [from the grill-Steak Minute Maitre d'Hotel] Pommes Copeaux [the potatoes-Potatoes Copeaux] Salade de Saison [the salad course-frankly I only know that apparently there was a choice of salad greens] Le Plateau des Fromges [A plate(?) of a variety of cheese] Patisserie Parisienne [a variety of pastries such as chocolate truffles, apricot tarts and jalouisies] Coupe Germain [a variety of ice cream such as vanilla, coffee and cherry] Corbeille de Fruits [Assorted fruits] Although the menu suggestion didn't mention it there was a variety of teas, French coffee, American coffee which also included Sanka(!). Regarding Thanksgiving Day's dinner menu you takes what you gets and the list includes eighteen items plus hopefully coffee and tea. And no doubt wine was served at every meal. Oh my goodness, I had overlooked a much smaller menu that on the inside reads, "Dinner tendered on board the S. S. Ile de France to Mr. H. Earl Dunn and Mr. C. W. Housman. At sea, November 23, 1938." The dinner started off with caviar, then a veloute something, then it appears that there was fish entrée Sole Normandie, then a poussin en cocotte something, then a salad, then a praline parfait and ended in a variety of fruits. No wonder Daddy mentioned that they served too much food! Among the "Things to Do" aboard the ship was (alphabetically) clay pigeon shooting, dancing, "Entertainments" such as Horse Racing, Gala Concert and Cabarets. Aboard the ship is a drug store, a flower shop, a gymnasium where the attendant in charge will give instructions in boxing and fencing, hair dressing parlors, a library, a lounge where games may be played such as chess, drought and backgammon, a massage parlor where a Swedish massage can be obtained, medical attendance consisting of a doctor and a nurse, moving pictures, musical concerts, novelty shop, outdoor sports including a ping pong tournament, photographer's studio, post office, a daily Punch and Judy show in the Children's Room, a chapel with religious services, a shooting gallery, stenographers (French or English) to take dictation and type letters, reports, etc., and finally wireless service, a mail department and wireless telephone service. Just two more things to comment about right now from Daddy's scrapbook. The first one is a card with his name handwritten, Stateroom 417, on it that said, "In the case of emergency, put warm clothes on, then your life jacket and proceed at once to Promenade deck, Starboard side where you will embark into boat No. 18." Right below the card on the same page of the scrapbook is a foldout that I can only assume my father received aboard the ship at the time. It's entitled, "Fromages, H. Androuet, Maitre Fromager." From my limited knowledge of French food, I know that fromage means cheese. Therefore I interpret it to mean that H. Androuet is the "Maitre de Fromager," THE head person on the subject of cheese aboard the ship. When I unfolded it I saw a list of more different cheeses than I ever knew even existed. Not only were there French cheeses from every province in France, but cheese from Belgium, Sweden, Holland, Switzerland, Hungary and Czechoslovakia. I thought that it was a bit odd that the ship would have such a vast variety of cheese available on board but upon closer look, it appeared that "Mr." Andouet showed two Paris mailing addresses in the event that anyone would like to buy from his vast inventory upon arriving in Paris. At least that's my take on it. vee

Dear Folks, Recently Don White from Houston, TX, sent me the following article from the Buffalo Courier. When I read it, it was so exciting and sounded like the first chapter to a historical novel. I know it's a bit long but I didn't want to send it in two parts. Hope you enjoy it. vee The Buffalo Courier September 3, 1888 FROM FORT NIAGARA. A Thrilling Moonlight Ride Prompted by Visions of the Long Ago. The Ichabod Crane of the Niagara Frontier. Fort Niagara, N.Y. Sept. 1-It was two hours past midnight. The waning moon, four hours high, flooded the fields with her pale light. Over the road which skirts the eastern bank of the gorge of the Niagara, three miles below the great cataract, a solitary horseman was wending his way-as G. P. R. James, a British novelist long since dead, buried and almost forgotten, would have said. The horse, a rather undersized pony, was cantering easily, and his rider leaned over occasionally, patting his neck and speaking encouraging words to him, for the city-bred animal had a long jaunt the previous day. The rider showed by his bearing that he was no stranger to the saddle, although he was no adept in bestriding a horse. The river moaned and seethed and the sound coming up from the foliage-lined depths of the gorge fell not cheerily upon the ear. Over hill and hollow the horse and his master traveled. In the window of a farm-house he saw between the shutters the gleam of the night lamp. He heard muffled sobs, and intuitively knew that in the sick-room a soul had gone out into the impenetrable darkness of death. But the house was passed in a few moments. At the brow of the declivity leading to the Devil's Hole the horse reduced his pace to a walk. The rider guided the animal to the verge of the bank, and, gazing down into the darksome chasm, nearly two hundred feet deep, shuddered as he thought of the cruel massacre which the gulf had witnessed one hundred and twenty-five years before. The gigantic trees which springing from the bottom of the gorge, sent their leafy branches high up in the air above him, rustling mournfully. In his minds eye, the rider saw the long wagon-train of the English defiling along the road. He saw the tired horses stoop to drink from the spring of cool pure water, which then but not now, gushed from the hillside and poured its laughing water over the brink into the frowning chasm. He fancied in the rustling of the trees, he could hear the parting of the branches as the Seneca Indians peered cautiously out upon their prey. And then, he seemed to hear the unearthly yell of the savages, as they rushed out upon the unsuspecting teamsters and their insufficient escort of soldiery; he could distinguish amidst the din, the cries of the victims for mercy, and could see the forms of the Englishmen as, to escape the tomahawk of the howling Senecas, they hurled themselves over the bluff. The horse, neglected by the rider in his reverie, had stopped and was whinnying and tossing his head about nervously. He was urged to a trot and the hollow was nearly passed when the observant animal halted with an abruptness which nearly threw his rider. At the same instant the man saw an object to his left rising out of the gulf, which nearly froze the young blood in his veins. The figure of a boy eighteen or twenty years old, surrounded by the pale nebulous light, floated up from the leafy gorge, and was approaching him. The clothing was partly that of a drummer-boy and partly a mazy ethereal white shroud. A portion of the drum-strap hung diagonally across his breast. On his pallid forehead was a dark and bloody mark. A delicately shaped hand beckoned to him. All this the horrified horseman saw in an instant. Nearer and nearer came the figure. Recovering his wits with all the mental strength the rider could muster, he dug his spurs deep into the side of the horse and applied the whip. The horse needed neither. All of a tremble and perspiration at first, he gave a frightened jump and bounded up the hill, on a dead gallop. On they sped; the horse's hoofs echoed as they passed over the wooden bridge spanning the rocky cut half a mile below, and the horseman, glancing over his shoulder thought he saw the form of the figure, mounted on the horse of an English officer, a long sabre waving in his hand, and the scabbard clanking nosily on the horse's flank. The pursuing figure slowly gained on the fleeing horseman who brought his whip down on his animal as fast and as vigorously as his shaking arm would allow. Three, four miles flew away under the hoofs of the galloping horse, and just as the brow of the Mountain came in sight, the rider, casting his eyes behind him saw, with inexpressible relief, that the figure had vanished. The horseman drew rein under a great spreading oak which stands where the Military road debouches into the river road. The horse, still trembling, could scarcely be quieted. Finally, however he consented to graze the freshly bedewed grass by the wayside, while the rider, recovering from his fright, rested and glanced about him. The scene which met his eyes was peaceful and lovely almost beyond the power of words to describe, and had a soothing influence on his disquieted nerves. To his left was the slender silver thread of the river, shimmering in the moonlight as it issued from the turbulent gorge above. In front of and below him lay the village of Lewiston, sleeping almost as much by day as by night. He could descry the white stones in the graveyard where lie the bones of many of the warriors of the last war with England. The broad, fertile farms spread out before him, and disclosed their richness as he turned his eyes from one direction to another. His gaze followed the winding way of the river to the point where it loses itself in the lake of the Iroquois. The electric lights at the month of the river on the opposite shore, which on his ride up the river a few hours before he had seen glistening with their white glare, were not to be seen. The mellow beams from the lighthouse at the old fortress of Niagara twinkled and were more variable than those of the stars in the blue field above him. The night wind was chilly; he could feel the damp, moist air from the water roll over him in warm waves. He buttoned his coat closer about him, and resumed his journey. Down the steep Portage road they went-he and his horse-on a walk. He was wearied and trusting somewhat to his sure-footed animal, he threw one leg over the pommel, side-saddle fashion. When he had reached a turn in the road about half way down, he heard the beating of a horse's hoofs behind him. His mind instantly reverted to his former experience, he looked back, and there, on a sharp trot down the road was his ghostly pursuer. Releasing his leg from the restful position, he replaced it in the stirrup, and notwithstanding the fearful steepness of the road, urged the unwilling horse to a hard gallop. Though ordinarily sure-footed the animal was hardly proof against a trial and again and again did he stumble, threatening to throw the rider far over his head to the foot of the mountain. On came the pursuing horseman and on sped the earthly rider. "Go Major, go Major" called the man of flesh and blood. "Go" The horse behind flew like the wind. Around the curve at the foot of the hill they galloped, the rider in advance almost lying down on his horse's neck, in fear. Along the broad business street of Lewiston, then turning into a side street, which brought them to the river road, and then on and on. Both the fleeing horseman and his animal felt their strength giving way. The rider could scarcely keep his feet in the stirrups, and yet he know that he must or he would be thrown and trampled to death. The horse's breath came in short convulsive grasps. The turn in the road was reached which bends around the Five Mile Meadows, and the flats were passed, with no slackening of speed. For mile after mile the pursuit continued until the hollow through which flows the Bloody Run was in sight. Here, four years before the massacre of the Devil's Hole, the English had met and defeated with great slaughter a detachment of French and Indians who had hurried up from the posts on the south shore of Lake Erie, to the relief! of the besieged Pouchot at Fort Niagara. At a little mound half a mile above the bed of the rivulet, which the sage inhabitants of that region declare with wise looks, are the graves of some of the slain Frenchmen, the pursuer was seen to rise from his stirrups, and with a brandish of his cavalry sabre melt into air. When the horseman, who had been for the second time chased by this apparition from the Devil's Hole, turned in his saddle the clattering steed of the murdered boy had disappeared with its rider. The reeking horse was led into its stable nearby and the rider lay down in his bed to dream mingled visions of the competitions at the Fort, and Ichabod Crane, the luckless lover of Katrina of Sleepy Hollow.

Dear Folks, I managed to put together the first part of the story regarding the trip my father took in 1938. I hope I'll be able put together part two. I hope you enjoy it. vee 1938 TRIP TO FRANCE AND SWITZERLAND January 31, 2004 I'm putting this story together from memory but mostly from what I just discovered in the box of souvenirs that my father had kept of his 1938 trip to France and Switzerland. Since both Mother and Daddy passed away many years ago, I can only hope I can do the story justice. In the fall of 1938 Daddy announced to Mother, and my sister Norma (age 12) and me (age 7) that the plant he worked in, Vanadium Corp. of America, in Niagara Falls, New York, was sending him and several other key metallurgists to France and Switzerland for a month to study the new French furnace. When we questioned him about the French furnace, he told us that it was a new process for melting down iron ore, coke and other ingredients in a blast furnace. It was a better method to produce ferrous alloys. Although I was curious, I didn't understand it of course. We were all thrilled that he would actually be going across the Atlantic Ocean. I was especially thrilled when he told us he would bring back presents for us. When he asked me what I'd like to have from Switzerland, I was very definite. A Heidi dress just like the one Shirley Temple wore in the movies. Daddy just smiled at me. I can't remember our seeing him off to New York City but I can imagine that my mother, my sister and I went with him to the railroad station in Niagara Falls. And no doubt family members of the other metallurgists all were there with us to wave goodbye. His passport that was issued November 10, 1938, describes him as five feet six inches tall, with auburn hair and gray eyes. Place of birth, Steelton, Pennsylvania, date of birth June 23, 1904, occupation metallurgist. Of course there was a picture of him that looks just like I remember him only much younger. He was 34 years old. In addition there were limitations on his travel (in 1938). It said, "This passport is not valid for travel in Spain." No doubt Daddy and the other men stayed overnight or longer in a first-rate hotel in New York City and according to his first letter home, they must have had a first-rate Bon Voyage celebration! The next day they all went aboard the magnificent French ocean liner the S. S. Ile de France and set sail at noon on November 20, 1938. Just prior to departure Daddy received a Western Union Bon Voyage telegram from Gert and Chad. I forgot Chad's first name (their last name was Chadwick) but he was one of Daddy's closest friends from the Vanadium. My mother and father frequently played cards together with them. The telegram was sent from Niagara Falls and addressed to Charles Housman, "Sailing noon Nov. 20 Ile De France Cabin 477 NYK. "Good bye, good luck, good riddance to all cares and a good warm welcome when you come home again. Gert and Chad." In addition he must have received the following note prior to leaving Niagara Falls. It was from someone by the name of Bill who was an acquaintance of Daddy's. It said: Charles, Will you please get me a 2 ounce bottle of "Zibelin" perfume. It is about $17.00 here and ought to be almost half that price in Paris without any duty. I don't want to pay duty if you are bringing too much for yourself. Just let mine go. Also would like two small 1 dram bottles of "My Sin." It is $1.25 a dram here. Think it sells for $.75 in the foreign currency or something like that. Helen wants to know if she should pay now and if so, how much. She wants it only if it is coming thru cheaper. Got the book. How about sending me a couple [stamp] covers with the boat cancels on? Also when you are over there a nice cover or so with co, or special stamps on it. You know I am a cover collector. Bill-and good luck to you for a nice trip." [Note; my father was an avid stamp and cover collector himself.] Prior to his departure a woman by the name of Sherry Munson wrote a letter dated November 16, 1938 in French on the stationary of Hotel Niagara, Niagara Falls, N.Y. I know very little (if any) French but it appears that she is asking her friend, Helene in Paris, to be hospitable to my father while he is in Paris. It was in an envelope addressed to Madame Gues-Willer, 126 Boulevard, Raspail, Paris. There was no stamp on it so I suppose she handed it to Daddy as a letter of introduction. My mother sent him a Bon Voyage greeting card after he had boarded the ship. It was addressed to him, "French Line, Ile deFrance, cabin 417, New York City, N.Y." Inside was the standard greeting card verse: Here's a cargo of good wishes; For a fine and happy trip; From the time you are embarking; Till you leave the homeward ship." It was signed only "Verna." On November 20, 1938, he wrote a letter to my mother on the ship's stationary describing the first day of their voyage. It reads: Dear Verna, We are rolling along and so far I have not been sick (mal de mer) but when we came aboard we were not feeling so hot. You cannot mix wine, scotch, champagne and beer and feel happy about it. We have very nice cabins with two beds in each. Have not found any use for the second bed as yet but give me time. [Vee's note: Oh my goodness, what on earth did he mean by that??] [We] dressed up in our monkey suits [tuxedos] last evening for dinner and boy am I a knockout! So far Brennan is all wet on the quality of the French cooking. It is OK. Only thing I can kick about is the quantity. They give you too much. Earl and I bought berets today. They are better than hats on deck. [Note: there's a snapshot of him in his beret standing along the rail on deck. How debonair!] I think we will get dolls (custom) [meaning in costume of a particular area] for the kids. They are very nice and the most expensive even on the ship is about $7. We have a countess aboard. Also tell Chad that Messers Wile, Andre and Arndt are with us. They are all in the metallurgical game and he will have at least heard of them. They had movies at 5 P.M. last evening, "Tamchy[?] Gets Her Man" in English and a French news reel. After dinner they had a concert and then danced. Earl got left out in the cold. Not enough women to go around. Will write you further as we go along. Charly.

Dear Folks, It wasn't until this evening when I really studied the contents of Daddy's box of 1938 memories, that I saw things that I had never seen before and learned so many for things about my father that I don't recall ever knowing. When we took our trip from Spokane to Memphis in 1952 Daddy was 47 years old. However, he died in 1958 at the age of 54. I was 26 years old and on active duty in the Navy at the time. Daddy and I never had much quality time during my growing up years or my early adult years. But he sure filled in a lot of blanks with the souvenirs he kept and the two scrapbooks he put together of his trip to France and Switzerland in 1938 (I was 7 years old at the time and my sister Norma was 12). BTW, regarding those pictures of almost-naked ladies, I was wrong. They're TOTALLY naked! But I guess that was Paris in the 1930s! It will take me a while before I can put together some semblance of a story of his trip at the time but I'll certainly try. It will be especially difficult inasmuch as I didn't know that much about it at the time. Oh, another thing. Daddy kept track of what he spent on purchases he made during his trip. A special treasure he bought was a matched pair of Italian 17th Century (1600s!) dueling pistols for 260 French Francs which was worth $6.07 American at the time!!!! My brother John inherited them and I can only hope he keeps them under lock and key. However, I remember them being displayed proudly on our fireplace mantelpiece as long as I lived home. I hope I can write a true story of his trip but it wouldn't surprise me if I'll have to add a bit of imagination to it to flesh out the story that happened over 65 years ago. But WOW, where do I begin? Maybe a bit of an introduction of the circumstances of the purpose of his business trip and then transcribing the Bon Voyage telegrams sent to him aboard the ocean liner Ile de France (cabin 417) as he departed on November 20, 1938 for France. Now maybe you Niagara County folks may not think that voyage of 1938 had anything to do with Niagara County, but let me tell you this, it began in a simple house at 133-81st Street in LaSalle and ended up right back there again. Stay tuned. vee

Ah, Vee, memories how wonderful they are, and thankfully we can focus on the better ones :-) I look forward to what you find in that box even though, as you say, your imagination is already at work. Evelyn in Colorado ________________________________________________________________ The best thing to hit the Internet in years - Juno SpeedBand! Surf the Web up to FIVE TIMES FASTER! Only $14.95/ month - visit www.juno.com to sign up today!

OPENING A BOX INTO THE PAST January 29, 2004 Oh my goodness, because I became curious about my father's trip to France in 1938, I dug out the box of memories that contained them. It was a heavy box, much to my surprise, but when I started to sort through all of the contents in it, I realized, after all of these years (since 1938) I had never had the opportunity to read or absorb any of it because Mother had always shielded it from the young eyes of my sister Norma and me. Note: we had a feeling that there were pictures of almost naked ladies in it! I recall that it had to do with the Follie Bergere in Paris and I haven't even had the opportunity to dig into those pictures right now! There are pictures of my father on the Queen Mary and I was reminded that he sailed to France on the S.S. Ile de France and that I didn't recall reading the letters he had sent my mother at the time. I have barely skimmed the top of the box that is only the tip of the iceberg. I found a heavy fancy French snap purse filled with coins that I don't recall ever studying. Therefore I feel that for the first time I've been given the opportunity to dig into the past of our family of 1938 and knowing I might just be able to put together those details of our family history that none of us still alive truly know about and maybe I can write a story about it.Oh my goodness, the story is already starting to form in my head even though I don't know what I'll eventually find in the bottom of the box! But the box is still before me. vee

MY FATHER AND THE PEABODY HOTEL January 29, 2004 Tonight before I closed my Trip Journal and my album of snapshots concerning our family trip from Spokane to Memphis in 1952, I thought again of my father and his appearance. Although he held important positions as General Superintendent of several ferroalloy plants, the higher ups could never get him to dress appropriately in the very minimum of a coat and tie. After all, he was "management!" No, Daddy was never into "dress up," for appearances sake. When he walked into the plant on a daily basis he went straight into the blast furnace area of the plant where the real action was going on. He checked out the results of the most recent furnace tap and he checked out the ratio of iron ore to coke, to sand, and whatever else had been shoveled into the blast furnaces overnight and he took serious notes. And while he was in the blast furnace area, if he saw a laborer shoveling sand into the furnace like an amateur, Daddy took the shovel from him and showed him the right way. Hey, Daddy had been there and done that during his college years in the 1920s! There were only two times that I can remember seeing Daddy dressed up in a suit, white shirt, tie and shined shoes. Actually, it was only one time and that was on the occasion of my graduation from high school. I felt so honored that he would do that for me. The other time I saw him "dressed up," he wore a tuxedo and was leading me down the aisle as father of the bride. Of course, no doubt he dressed appropriately on other occasions when push came to shove. Note: that wasn't the first time that Daddy had worn a tuxedo, no indeedy. The Vanadium Corporation had sent him over to France in 1938 aboard the US Normandy to study the new French furnace and he returned on the original US Queen Mary. I have many, many pictures taken of him aboard such a glorious ship and he fit right in with the social crowd. But other than that, in my memory when Daddy left for work in the morning he always wore the same old baggy trousers, the scuffed shoes, the shirt that puffed out over his belt buckle, a jacket of some sort and his trademark, an old battered (but originally proper) hat that I remember always sparkled with the metal dust from the plant. That was Daddy and no one could ever change him. He was flexible but he never changed. And in the only two photographs I took of him on our trip to Memphis, he looked the same, including the stub of a cigar that always stayed with him. Therefore when we checked into the elegant Peabody Hotel in Memphis, there's no doubt but what he stood before the Desk Clerk in the same baggy pants, the unshined shoes, the stub of a cigar in his hand and his battered hat on. He may not have been viewed as a suitable guest of the Peabody Hotel, but trust me Montana Ferroalloys, Inc., knew his true value and trusted him to build their new plant from the bottom to the top. And by George, he did! I was there! vee