history

Submitted photos and press release:

Assemblyman Steve Hawley (R,C,I-Batavia) departed to Washington, D.C., for his 12^th annual Patriot Trip last week.

Hawley, local veterans and their family members will visit a host of famous military memorials in the area of the nation's capital.

The group left from Batavia Downs at 7 a.m. last Thursday and will spend four days visiting historical sites such as Arlington National Cemetery, the Capitol rotunda and the Vietnam War Memorial to name a few.

The group made a stop in Gettysburg, Pa., to visit the Civil War battlefield, and then headed to the Air Force Memorial in Arlington County, Va.

“I’m eager to embark on this journey with some of our finest veterans,” Hawley said. “This trip is consistently one of the highlights of my year.

"I’m grateful to spend time with our heroes and visit some of the most important sites in our nation’s history.”

The Barber Conable Post Office Building in Batavia is 100 years old.

Construction of the post office began in 1916 with a $57,993 bid awarded to contractor George F. Rossell, of Rochester, according to the City of Batavia History book by Ruth M. McEvoy.

Because of World War I, Rossell had a hard time completing the project as he was beset by higher costs and construction supervisors who kept going off to war. He gave up in October 1917, voiding the contract.

Progress continued slowly under the supervision of E.D. Gray and it was finally ready for postal employees to relocate from a rented building on Jackson Street to their new headquarters.

The post office was built based on plans by John Taylor Knox, the former architect of the U.S. Treasury. He designed dozens of federal buildings during his career, including the post office in Buffalo and Niagara Falls. 

The cornerstone was laid in 1916 and bears the name of William G. McAdoo, who was Secretary of the Treasury, as "supervising architect."

A few post offices in other communities share common designs with our post office, including Live Oak, Fla., Fulton, Mo., and Menomonie, Wis.

The name of the post office was changed in 2004 by an act of Congress to the Barber Conable Post Office Building. Conable is a former congressman who represented our area and later became president of the World Bank.

Ironically, perhaps, according to McEvoy's book, the Batavia Daily News reported in 1970 that the area's congressman -- who would have been Conable at the time -- had promised the community a new post office building. "In 1990," McEvoy notes, "that promise had not been fulfilled."

When the post office first opened, it had a front porch area. It was enclosed in 1961.

The postmaster in 1919 was John F. Ryan. According to McEvoy, Ryan and his brother William opened a light shop at 79 Main St., Batavia, in 1898. In 1910, they installed an electrical device that opened and closed their shop windows automatically.

His daughter was Dr. Edith F. Ryan. She intended to open a practice in Philadelphia but war disrupted her plans. She opened an office on Jackson Street and was then appointed as a medical examiner for the school district. That helped her practice grow. She retired in 1957.

Batavia's first postmaster was James Brisbane, who handled postal duties through his general store. He eventually became a wealthy man and the current police headquarters is the former Brisbane mansion. His son Albert was a social reformer and his grandson was the famous journalist of the early 20th century, Arthur Brisbane, who is buried in the Historic Batavia Cemetery. Arthur was also Nellie Bly's editor. The Brisbane Family Papers (1819-1965) are in the Special Collections Research Center at Syracuse University.

The second postmaster was Ebenezer Cary followed by Trumbull Cary. The Cary Mansion, long destroyed, is commemorated by a historic marker on East Main Street.

In 1829, Simeon Cummings became postmaster. He also owned a harness shop in Batavia.

The next postmaster was William Seaver wrote what is perhaps the first history of Batavia in 1849. Another William Seaver, perhaps his son or possibly grandson, or maybe not related at all, took two pictures of Downtown Batavia that The Batavian previously published.

Following Seaver the postmaster was Levant B. Coates, who appears to have owned a drug store that was destroyed in a fire in 1833. 

Then came Frederick Follett, publisher of a local newspaper, Spirit of the Times, and the author of a book on the history of the press in Western New York.

The first woman postmaster was Elizabeth R. Erbland, who served from 1994 to 1998, followed by Catherine M. Maniace.

Today (top photo), current and former local postal employees gathered on the front steps of the building for a photo.

Do you know what else is 100 years old? The Upton Monument (watch the video).

Press release:

Back and expanded by popular demand, please join the Holland Land Office Museum for a Westside Ghost Walk on three Fridays in October.

The walks led by Connie Boyd will take place at 7 p.m. on Oct. 11, 18, and 25.

Take a walk on the Westside and hear tales of murders, hangings, grave robbing, ghosts and other eerie happenings from Batavia's past.

Hear stories of Joseph Ellicott, E. N. Rowell and other famous and infamous Batavians.

Admission is $10 and reservations are required.

Tours are limited to 25 people each. The tour begins and ends at the museum and is approximately one-and-a-half to two hours in length.

For tickets or more information, please call (585) 343-4727, email at hollandlandoffice@gmail.com, or stop by at 131 W. Main St., Batavia.

(Also, be sure to check out the Old Batavia Cemetery's Guided Ghost Walk on Saturday, Oct. 26; must RSVP by calling the Batavia Cemetery Association at (585) 943-5662.)

Living history reenactors portraying Dean and Mary Richmond; taken by Howard Owens on Oct. 13, 2012.

Press release:

Join us to meet the famous and infamous movers and shakers who shaped and influenced the City of Batavia on Saturday, Oct. 26th, when the Batavia Cemetery Association will host a candlelight guided ghost walk through the Historic Batavia Cemetery on Harvester Avenue in Batavia.

The guided tour on candlelit paths will bring guests to meet men and women of Batavia, who, for various reasons, held great power and exerted great influence in their day, were victims of tragic events, or both.

Philemon Tracy, one of the few Confederate officers buried in the North; Ruth the unknown -- victim of a horrendous murder; Joseph Ellicott, a man of great power and great flaws; and William Morgan, the man who disappeared and was allegedly murdered before he could reveal the secrets of the Masons, are some of the ghosts who will tell their stories on the tour.

Also visiting will be Civil War veteran General John H. Martindale, who was Military Governor of the District of Columbia in 1865.

Dean and Mary Richmond, who greatly influenced civic life in Batavia in the 1800s, will meet with guests in their mausoleum on the last stop of the tour. Dean Richmond made a great fortune in Great Lakes shipping and was the second president of the New York Central Railroad. Mary Richmond vastly expanded her husband’s fortune after his death and sat on the boards of many businesses and civic organizations.

Come and have some spooky fun! Tours begin at 7 p.m. and run every 15 minutes until 8:30.

Admission is $10 and includes refreshments. Reservations are required. For more information, or to make reservations, contact (585) 943-5662.

Proceeds benefit the upkeep and restoration of the cemetery.

Back in May, I decided to make a documentary about the Upton Monument to coincide with its centennial. The initial deadline for finishing it was the rededication ceremony in August. Obviously, I missed that deadline, so then I tried for the end of August. Still, wasn't done.

Finally, it's done.

Thank you to Ryan Duffy, Michael Eula, Larry Barnes, Jim Neider, and Bill Kauffman for their help and interviews, and Dan Fischer for his narration, and to Billie Owens for reading the poem by Bessie Chandler.

I imagine more than 100 hours of work went into making this. I hope you like it. I thought it important to create something documenting and celebrating the history of our community's most significant landmark.  

Chances are, everybody who watches this will learn something new about either the history of the monument, the life of Emory Upton, and the context of the times in which it was built.

St. Mary's School first grade 1952. Dave Reilly was sick that day and is not included in the photo. His infamous pal Charlie is fourth from the left in Row 2.

I'm sure there has been plenty of research done about memory. Why do some people have better memories than others? How do our memories change as we age? Why do some people have vivid memories of their childhood while others' recollections are scant at best?

Of my elementary school experience at St. Mary's School in Batavia, grades 1-8 from 1952 to 1960, I only seem to recall funny or unusual happenings. What we were taught, projects we did, and most day-to-day classroom experiences elude me.

It's the silly or odd stuff that somehow has remained in my brain all these years. I guess that might be some kind of clue about my personality, but that would be for the experts to figure out.

St. Mary's was still being constructed when I started there, so for first and second grade we were housed in the lower floor of Notre Dame High School next door, which itself had just been built.

I started first grade at the age of 5 and didn't turn 6 until January. My teacher was a nun, a Sister of the Holy Cross, and that was the case seven of my eight years at St. Mary's. I do not remember her name or that of my second-, fourth- or sixth-grade teachers either.

I missed the first week of first grade due to illness. Not only did I not get to know the teacher and kids, I apparently also was left out of a group class photo taken on the steps of the school. We didn't have on uniforms, but we subsequently had to wear them.

A Howdy Doody Lunchbox and Terrifying Teens

For some reason on my first day of first grade (Maybe my mom brought me for my grand entrance later in the morning?), the nun sent me to the lunchroom all by myself.

So, there I was -- probably in a striped shirt with a clip-on bow tie and dark blue corduroy pants carrying my Howdy Doody lunchbox -- surrounded by high school kids. I do recall being intimidated by those huge, adult-like creatures and staring at them with a wide-eyed kind of terror.

I still can't believe the sister sent me alone. Knowing how shy I was I bet my mom had to work some magic to get me back there the next day.

Second grade (inset photo, left) is also a blur except for the time I got sick. I must have had a fever and recall shaking with the chills. Nonetheless, I was too afraid to tell the sister. When it came time to go to lunch, the nun lined us up and off we went down the hall.

I must have sneaked to the end of the line and as the class went one way, I went the other. Out the door I flew and on down the street.

It was probably about a mile from the school on Union Street to our house on Thomas Avenue, but despite being ill I made it. Imagine my mom's surprise (good thing she was home) when I walked in the door. “What in the world...?”, she probably said.

It's fortunate that she wasn't prone to any profanity until her elder years. After I was put to bed she must have called the school and reported my escape. I should have saved that skill for high school when I could have used it more beneficially.

The Lifelong Influence of Miss Marguerite Horgan

For Grade 3 we got to move into our now completed school. This was my only year with a secular teacher and it was my best and favorite one. Our teacher was the kind and gentle Miss Marguerite Horgan. Every day she would read to us and I enjoyed that. I like to think that she was a big influence on my lifelong love of reading.

When I became a fifth- and sixth-grade teacher myself for 33 years I made sure that every day after lunch I would try to choose some good example of children's literature and read an excerpt to my class.

The beginning of fourth grade is kind of foggy, but I think the nun who was supposed to be our teacher became incapacitated and as a result the fourth and fifth grades had to be combined.

Anyone who attended Catholic School in the '50s and '60s remembers that we always had classes numbering more than 40 students. I wish I had a class photo from that year because we must have been bursting at the seams with two classes joined together.

At lunchtime we were allowed to go outside to get some fresh air and play.

Fighting Dirty

That year some kind of construction was still going on and there was a big hill of dirt on the Union Street side of the school. This mound turned into a battleground of “king of the hill” between the fourth- and fifth-grade boys.

After about a week of torn and dirty clothes, bruises, cuts, several fistfights and most likely a bunch of parent phone calls, the principal put us on lockdown. Eventually the dirt hill was removed and we got to see the light of day again.

First and Lasting Impression

My only real memory of fifth grade happened on the first day before class even began. As we were milling about in the hall greeting our friends and looking for our classroom we heard some kind of commotion. Voices were rising, kids were laughing, and the queue of children and parents parted like the Red Sea.

But instead of Moses and the Israelites coming through, it was our classmate named Lenny. He had a wide grin on his face and a cigarette dangling from his lips.

Lenny didn't get too far before one of the nuns swooped in like a giant hawk and grabbed the cigarette in one hand and the collar of Lenny's shirt in the other. Away he went never to smoke up the halls of St. Mary's again. It was off to public school for him.

I was a student for 17 years and a teacher for 33 and absolutely no one ever made a more memorable entrance than Lenny.

Sixth grade must have been the year of boredom. One thing we had to do was memorize the Catholic catechism. The nun put a "Jeopardy!" like spin on this activity though by giving us the answer and we had to respond with the question.

A Pencil to Pass Time

To make the long day go by faster, I came up with a game to play. Did you realize that a pencil has six sides? Well, I made mine into a rolling die (as in the plural dice).

On a piece of paper I made a horseracing track divided into lanes of equal length. I would assign a famous horse (Citation, Whirlaway, Swaps) to a numbered lane and then roll the pencil to advance one to six spaces. I don't recall getting caught, but my mother had to have me tutored in math that year, so I guess one to six was my limit mathematically.

Grade seven (inset photo, left, doing homework) went pretty well for most of the year. Sister Mary Lourdes was young and seemed to convey a more relaxed and understanding atmosphere than my previous nun teachers. I really liked her and I think I started to actually enjoy school.

But, at some time in the spring that feeling went bad in a hurry.

One day we were playing outside at lunch and my friends Anthony, John and I wanted to know how much time was left. Not having a watch, we went around on the Woodrow Road side of the school to look in the window of our classroom and see the clock.

When we got back to the room, Sister Lourdes had a very sour look on her face.

As we took our seats she explained that she was horrified someone committed a grave sin by stealing the money we had been collecting for the “Missions” (poor Catholics in Third World countries) out of the container on the shelf by the windows.

If that wasn't bad enough, she said that someone had told her that they saw Anthony, John and David out there by the windows during lunch.

“Did you take that money boys?” she queried. Of course, since we didn't, all three of us adamantly answered “NO!”

Charlie -- Esquire, and a Jury of Peers

Well, the sister must have smelled a great teaching moment in the air because she told the class that since she had evidence she was going to put us on trial and the class would be the jury.

I only remember two things about the trial.

One, my friend Charlie, the costar of several of my previous stories, finagled the job of being our defense attorney. As a precursor to his later getting a law degree from Syracuse University, Charlie won the case. I think the vote to acquit was unanimous. Two, this was mostly because sister's “evidence” was solely the testimony of the informer whom she would not identify.

Afterward the nun tried to apologize and say that she really believed we were innocent, but she wanted to teach the class a lesson. Maybe, but I wasn't having it.

For the rest of the term I was disillusioned and never trusted her again.

Eighth grade was not an enjoyable year for me, or probably my classmates either. Our teacher in retrospect was not well suited or happy in her job and took it out on us on a daily basis. In my stories I try to find humor in my nostalgic remembrances and there wasn't much of that in our final year at St. Mary's.

Inventive, Perhaps, Amusing, No

I do recall one instance when I tried to be funny, but classmate Susan, who sat in front of me, was not amused.

The sister was teaching a history lesson and asked, “Does anyone know who invented the steamboat?” I whispered to the girl, “Stanley Steamer.” Immediately she raised her hand and called it out.

Now, I will give Susan credit, because when the nun reprimanded her for such a ridiculous answer she didn't rat me out. Maybe Susan had mercy on me because I was seemingly already the teacher's whipping boy. I hope I apologized to my classmate for embarrassing her, and if I didn't, I should have.

In June 1960 my elementary school career came to a close and it was on to Notre Dame.

My poor recall of any significant learning in those eight years at St. Mary's is a mystery to me. My hope is that over my three-plus decades of teaching, I provided my students with more substantial memories that they can look back on with fondness.

(Photos courtesy of Dave Reilly.)

From Genesee Community College:

On Tuesday, Sept. 17, at 12:30 p.m. all are invited to the William W. Stuart Forum on Genesee Community College's Batavia Campus to hear Associate Professor of History Derek Maxfield present "Lincoln: Constitutional Pragmatist."

This event is in honor of national Constitution Day. It celebrates the ratification of the U.S. Constitution on Sept. 17, 1787 when the supreme law of the land was signed by 39 men.

Maxfield will explore America's relationship with Abraham Lincoln and his association with its Constitution.

A deeper understanding of Lincoln may surprise some people, and even tarnish his popular image for others.

To some extent this is because Americans tend to think of Lincoln more as a statesman and hero, rather than a politician. The truth, however, is that Lincoln was a very talented politician and could be just as smooth, yet slippery, as the best and most manipulative of civic leaders.

Lincoln's relationship with the Constitution was shaped by both Lincoln -- the statesman, and Lincoln -- the politician, depending upon circumstances.

This event is FREE and open to the public.

From Genesee Community College:

The History Club at Genesee Community College has released an exciting lineup for the Fall 2019 Historical Horizons Lecture Series. This series is designed to educate, entertain and help stimulate the sharing of knowledge, discussion and learning all centered around the importance of history.

All Wednesday lectures in this series begin at 7 p.m. in room T102 of the Conable Technology Building, Batavia. All events in the Historical Horizons Series are free and open to the public.

The season kicks off on Sept. 4 as Chris Mackowski, Ph.D., professor of Journalism and Communications at St. Bonaventure University, discusses his book, “Grant’s Last Battle: The Story Behind the Personal Memoirs of Ulysses S. Grant.”

Facing financial ruin and struggling against terminal throat cancer, Ulysses S. Grant fought his last battle to preserve the meaning of the American Civil War. His war of words, “The Personal Memoirs of Ulysses S. Grant” would cement his place as not only one of America’s greatest heroes, but also as one of its most sublime literary voices.

Did you get to see "Hamilton The Musical"? Then you won’t want to miss this event - Oct. 2. Danny Hamner, adjunct instructor of history at GCC, presents “A Historian Reflects on Hamilton The Musical.”

In this talk, Hamner explores what "Hamilton The Musical" gets right and wrong about love, marriage, power and ambition in the early American republic, and what theater can express that traditional historical narratives struggle to capture.

Then on Nov. 6 Terrianne Schulte, Ph.D., of D’Youville College will present “We Have to Create a National Debate, Community by Community…” which celebrates women trailblazers in environmental reform.

Throughout the 20th century, women have played important leadership roles in environmental preservation and restoration, often by educating the public regarding complex environmental issues to encourage grassroots activism. These unsung heroes deserve our attention and respect.

Closing the Fall 2019 season, the History club is proud to present its own adjunct instructor of history, Melinda Grube, Ph.D., on Dec. 4 who will portray Abigail Adams – LIVE! One of the Founding Mothers of America, Abigail Adams is one of the most remarkable people of the founding generation.

Left to care for her children, the farm and the family business interests when her husband, John Adams, was off chasing political fame, Abigail carried on to the best of her ability. She accepted the long absences from her husband as a necessary sacrifice for the good of the country. Come hear her story live, as presented in period costume and tone by Grube.

Submitted photos and press release:

Over the this coming Labor Day weekend, Aug. 31 through Sept. 2, Genesee Country Village & Museum in Mumford will offer its neighbors a sweet deal: free admission for residents of Le Roy and Batavia (as well as Caledonia, Mumford, Scottsville and Avon).

Residents of those communities need only show proof of residency (i.e. ZIP Code) to get in for free, including on Labor Day when the Museum celebrates its Hop Harvest Festival.

In addition, a shuttle bus will run from Buffalo and Batavia to the Museum and back on Monday, offering a safe and convenient way for people to enjoy the day.

The bus will stop at the Williamsville AAA office and Batavia Downs Gaming & Hotel before heading to GCV&M in the morning, then return on the same route for afternoon drop-offs.

Bus reservations are required and there is a $10 fee for bus tickets, allowing visitors to relax and enjoy Hop Harvest and all the tastings on offer. Details can be found on the Museum’s website, gcv.org.

As one of New York State’s original cash crops, hops are enjoying a revival with the burgeoning craft beer industry that’s been thriving locally. During the Hop Harvest Festival on Labor Day, the Museum will take visitors on a tour of hop history, and provide a taste of the present day with their own signature craft brews, created from historical recipes and brewed locally by CB Craft Brewers.

Visitors to the Museum can tour the only working 19^th-century brewery in the United States and see the hops being harvested on site. In addition to the signature Fat Ox and Intrepid Ales on tap, there will be beer-inspired food tastings on hand throughout the village, as well as demonstrations and crafts all related to the theme of hops and history.

For families, games and sack races make for a fun day for all ages, plus a walk down to visit the farm animals is always a popular option. In the John L. Wehle Gallery, two exhibits are currently running, the popular "Victoria’s Closet" and the engaging "Working Like a Dog."

Genesee Country Village & Museum is open from 10 a.m. – 4 p.m. Tuesday-Sunday, plus Labor Day.

Presale tickets for Hop Harvest are discounted $2 each when purchased through the Museum website for a reduced cost of $20 adults/$17 seniors/$17 college students/$12 youth/free for children 3 and under. GCV&M members receive free admission.

Support for the Hop Harvest Festival provided by Market NY through I LOVE NY/New York State’s Division of Tourism as a part of the Regional Economic Development Council awards. This event is also generously sponsored by Tomkins Bank of Castile.

About GCV&M

It is the largest living history museum in New York State with the largest collection of historic buildings in the Northeast. The Museum, with its John L. Wehle Gallery, working brewery, vintage baseball park, and Nature Center, is located in Mumford, 20 miles southwest of Rochester and 45 miles east of Buffalo. Visit www.gcv.org for more information.

Top photo: Grieves Brewery at work, courtesy of Loyd Heath.

Bottom photo: Visitors at the farm, courtesy of Ruby Foote.

A letter in Friday's mail at the Genesee County Sheriff's Office took the term "snail mail" to a whole nother level -- the batch contained an envelope postmarked 12 p.m. Aug. 30, 1929, from Youngstown, Ohio to a man living at 14 Main St., the address of the local jail.

That's exactly one week shy of 90 years: Aug. 30, 1929, to Aug. 23, 2019.

"We thought it was pretty interesting," said Sheriff William Sheron this afternoon.

Even more notable is the black stamp on the left side of the "via air mail" envelope, distinctly bordered in red, white and blue, declaring it was being delivered by the "first official airmail pick-up in the United States."

Like the sender, the courier was also out of Youngstown, Ohio, a newfangled service named "Adams Non-Stop Method."

But the missive for Carl L. Wenzel was obviously dead in its tracks someplace.

The back of the envelope shows a stamp indicating it arrived promptly in Batavia, NY, at 9 a.m. on Aug. 31, 1929.

So Adams Non-Stop Method was fast; its claim valid. Trusty pilot Harry Seivers did his job.

The Batavia Postmaster at the time was Henry R. Ware (tenure 1927 to 1933). To think that this piece of mail has been next door to the jail at the Post Office on Main Street perhaps all this time...

But the U.S. Postal Service is dedicated and, by God, if a piece of mail turns up, they'll get it to you regardless. Remember their motto: "Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds."

The passage of time is irrelevant, even though the intended recipient is long dead. It's the principle that counts.

The envelope intended for Wenzel only contained seven small blank rectangles of paper, sent to him by someone apparently wanting to correspond or at least supply him with the means to correspond with somebody.

The sender in 1929 paid for two five-cent stamps with bespectacled Teddy Roosevelt on them -- a value of $1.50 in today's dollars. That's when gas was a quarter a gallon and a pound of steak cost 52 cents -- before the stock market crashed two months later and changed everyone's math for the worse for a long time.

(Here's a link where ephemera buffs can bid on similar pieces of mail.)

Below, the seven blank pages of writing paper that were inside the envelope.

Bottom, the back of the envelope, showing it was received in Batavia, NY, at 9 a.m. Aug. 31, 1929.

(File photo.)

Led by the Joint Veterans Council of Genesee County, local veterans will host a rededication ceremony Saturday morning marking the centennial of the city's gateway monument at the junction of routes 5 and 63 that pays tribute to the Union Army's Emory Upton, the military service of men and women of Genesee County, and its war dead.

It starts at 10:30 a.m. and everyone is welcome.

Commonly referred to as the Upton Monument, for the statue of the colonel of the Fourth Regiment of Artillery, Army Brevit Major General Upton, it is officially known as The Soldiers and Sailors Monument. The actual marker at the base of the bald-eagle-topped pillar is engraved: In Memory of The Soldiers, Sailors and Marines of Genesee County.

Doug Doktor, chairman of the Joint Veterans Council, said that James Neider, of the Glenn S. Loomis American Legion Post 332 in Batavia, will provide a brief historical overview of Upton, one of the nation's foremost military strategists of the 19th century. Then Elijah Monroe, of the Sons of Union Veterans of the Civil War, Abraham Lincoln Camp 6 in Rochester, will speak on that organization's instrumental role in fundraising and getting the monument constructed.

There will also be a rifle salute.

The dedication held a hundred years ago took place on Wednesday, Aug. 6, 1919.

According to City of Batavia Historian Larry Barnes, there was a morning footrace from Le Roy to Batavia, followed by the dedication ceremony at which a relation of the Upton family, Col. Upton, served as the keynote speaker. The special occasion was capped off by a grand display of fireworks at the old Genesee County Fairgrounds, where Tops Friendly Market is now on West Main Street.

Proposals for the monument were bandied about as early as the 1870s. But getting it funded and built was not a given. Its price tag of about $15,000 was considered steep. Funds were sought from the county, the city and fundraising campaigns were launched by Batavia City School District Superintendent John Kennedy and Sarah Upton Edwards, sister of Emory Upton.

In 1907, city voters nixed spending $5,000 as their share of the monument's cost. It was not until World War I that action was taken that would finally pave the way for the planned monument to become reality.

In 1917, city fathers managed to get the city's funding share approved by a bit of political maneuvering -- slipping language for the monument expense into a sewer and water appropriations bill.

The architect chosen to design the monument was C. A. Worden, a local company responsible for many monuments at Gettysburg.

Once built, there was controversy as to whether the statue of Emory Upton was based on the actual likeness of the man himself. And the question, some local historians say, has never been wholly resolved.

To read more about Emory Upton from an 1885 biography, click here.

Also, previously: 

• New book corrects the record on Emory Upton's attitude toward the military and the republic
• History Department receives collection of Emory Upton documents
• Emory Upton: No. 5 in What Made Genesee County Famous

(Editor's Note: Publisher Howard Owens had planned to complete a video of the history of the monument in time for tomorrow's rededication. That is no longer possible, but he does hope to finish it very soon.)

From Anne Marie Starowitz, on the passing of Ronald J. DiSalvo:

I had the pleasure of knowing this wonderful family -- the DiSalvos. I taught three of Ron's grandchildren. His death is a loss for Batavia of a wonderful store owner and an exceptional family man. Thank you for your memories Ron DiSalvo.

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An excerpt from "Back In the Day, Snapshots of Local History The Way I See It":

In 1949, Charles and Dominic Cultrara started the DiSalvo Shoe Store on a second floor over 111 Main St.

Dominic was then the podiatrist and his brother Charles managed the shoe store. Ronald DiSalvo, who assisted Charles in the shop, bought out his employer’s interest and managed the shop for his partner, Dr. Cultrara.

In 1973, Mr. DiSalvo bought out Dr. Cultrara’s interest and became the sole proprietor. In 1976, DiSalvo’s shoe store relocated to the Genesee Country Mall. After many years of serving Genesee County, Batavia lost another family owned store when DiSalvo Shoe Store closed.

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The picture below was given to me by Ron DiSalvo when I visited at his home in 2015.

For the full obituary of Ronald J. DiSalvo, click here.

At the Pentagon yesterday, walking down the hall toward the auditorium where the ceremony was held to induct David Bellavia into the Hall of Heroes, I noticed several Civil War displays, so I immediately started looking for anything related to Gen. Emory Upton. I spotted this small placard.

As I was trying to line up a shot, a Pentagon official walked up behind me and said, "Sir, photography is not authorized in this area of the Pentagon." I said, "But this is Emery Upton -- he's from our hometown; there's a big monument to him ..." the official said, "OK, hurry up."

Batavia is now permanently represented in the Pentagon by Upton, Charles F. Rand, and David Bellavia.

Anne Marie Starowitz, right, and her friend Cathy in July 1968.

Submitted photos and story by Anne Marie Starowitz:

By definition, a Baby Boomer is a person born during a period of time in which there is a marked rise in a population's birthrate: a person born during a baby boom; especially -- a person born in the United States following the end of World War II (usually considered to be in the years from 1946 to 1964).

That is the Webster's Dictionary definition. But it doesn’t adequately define a Baby Boomer.

I am a Baby Boomer along with my high school and college graduating classes of 1968 and 1972. There are a lot of us and our memories growing up during that time are very special.

We grew up in a world that was so different from the one our grandchildren are growing up in. We all heard about going home when the street lights came on, houses with the doors unlocked, and just playing outside.

In the summer we slept out in tents, caught fireflies, and swam at the community pool.

A telephone was attached to the wall. If you were lucky, you would have a long cord so you could stretch the cord into a closet or another room. There was no call waiting and rare was the household with an answering machine.

Fast forward to today's smartphone and see how technology has changed.

I loved the music of the '60s. A few had their very own transistor (AM) radio. You could walk around with it but the reception was usually terrible.

I remember playing kickball in our front yard every day. In the summer, the park program was the place to be. Everyone had their favorite park that was usually located in your own neighborhood. Of course, the highlight was the park parade.

The Memorial Day parade was always a really special event. There would be the fire trucks, Little League players, Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts walking down Main Street. There would be convertibles with our veterans that served in the early wars.

I always remember the Army tanks and jeeps going down Main Street and the feeling it brought seeing them. You also couldn’t wait for the Mighty St. Joseph Drum & Bugle Corps marching down the street.

It wouldn’t be Memorial Day if we didn’t go to the cemetery and walk to every gravestone that belonged to a relative. I would see my aunt and uncles, cousins standing by our grandfather's and grandmother's graves.

In the mid '60s there were tennis court dances and, in the winter, there was ice skating on the tennis courts. Also, in the summer the local churches would hold their annual lawn fete. We always looked forward to them. A Baby Boomer could drink at 18 and the lawn fetes had the best beer tents.

My memories were filled with a time of change. It seemed every generation was associated with a war. My uncle John was in the Korean War; my father in World War II; we were associated with the Vietnam War.

I remember being in college and there was the talk of classmates being drafted. That changed many lives as my college classmates said goodbye to their boyfriends and husbands.

There were protests against the war and I remember marching down Main Street in Buffalo. We wore bracelets of soldiers who were POWs (prisoners of war) or were MIA (missing in action) from the Vietnam War. We never understood why we were over there, and most of all we never understood when our vets were not honored or remembered like the other war veterans once they returned home.

My father told all of us how difficult it was growing up when he did. How many jobs he did and the best story was about the long walk to school in the snow and rain every day and going home for lunch.

Today this Baby Boomer treasures those memories along with my memories growing up during a much slower time, filled with our music, the Beatles, our dances -- the Twist, the Jerk, the Mashed Potato, the Pony, the Swim, the Boogaloo, Watusi and more.

(To view a YouTube compilation of '60s dances, click here.)

I tried to tell our daughters what it was like back then and now I see our daughters telling their children what it was like, their music, the fashion, and the war associated with them growing up.

Technology has changed our world and our children and their children.

All I really remember as a Baby Boomer was we didn't use the word "bored" because we really weren't bored.

Our music was played on a hi-fi system and we actually danced to a band in high school that just might have been your brother’s band.

I wouldn’t change a thing growing up as a Baby Boomer except honoring our Vietnam vets more.

Please share your Baby Boomer memories. They just might be similar to mine.

(Photo circa 1958. That’s Dave Reilly sliding and his infamous pal Charlie making the "safe" sign.)

This year Batavia will be celebrating 80 years of baseball. Through the names Clippers, Indians, Pirates, Trojans, back to Clippers, and since 1998 the Muckdogs, the local team has provided adults and kids with a source of entertainment during the summer.

It also indirectly affected me ending up in the back of a police car about 60 years ago.

In the late '50s and '60s when I was about 10 to 15 years old (before girls), baseball was king with my friends and me.

In the daytime in the summer we would constantly be on our bikes with our bats and mitts riding all over looking for a place to play ball. One of our favorite places was the Little League park on State Street, which was deserted during the day and another field right by MacArthur Stadium where the Indians (as they were called from '57-'59) played.

We had a group of our guys and there was another ”gang” who lived in the stadium area who we would play for bragging rights.

As long as we were near the Indians' field we would go there when the team was at home and see if we could talk to, get autographs from, or maybe even score a broken bat from our heroes. The “heroes” were in reality 21- or 22-year-olds who had slim chances of getting to the majors, but they were still gods to us.

In 1957 the star was Ken Kraynak, who led the league in batting average, home runs, and runs batted in and thus won the Triple Crown trophy. We had an in with him, too, because for the summer he was dating my buddy Charlie's older sister.

In 1959 the “man” was Al Luplow, who went on to spend nine years in the major leagues. Once again, Charlie stood out but this time for the wrong reason.

Luplow was there in the clubhouse the afternoon Charlie mouthed off to some kid and got his arm broken. Al tried to comfort my friend who was screaming in pain until the ambulance got there. At least Charlie got his cast autographed by most of the players, but he never did learn to keep his yap shut.

When we were younger, 10 to 12 years old, we might have been allowed to walk to the game, but one of our parents would usually pick us up afterward.

Batavia Baseball Bargain -- the 'Knothole Pass'

Also, we would most likely sit in the grandstand section and watch the whole game. We were there for the baseball.

Back then, they had a season ticket for kids called a “Knothole Pass.” It cost one dollar and was good for almost every game. We sure got our money's worth out of that.

I guess the team figured they would make up the money by us kids buying the proverbial peanuts, popcorn and Cracker Jacks. I rarely had any money though, so they lost out on me. Also, I hated Cracker Jacks and still do.

In 1960 Batavia did not field a team due to financial problems. I'm not sure what we did with our summer nights that season, but it probably involved whining at our parents that, “There's nothing to do in this one-horse town.”

However, in 1961 the team returned as the Pirates and we returned as teenagers and some of the shenanigans that come with that wonderful age came with us.

Our parents didn't know it (do they ever?), but now we were likely to spend more time fooling around outside the stadium than in it. Also, we would more apt to be in a group of guys and the monster of peer pressure was lurking around to rear its ugly head.

One of our obsessions was trying to get a foul or home run ball that was hit out of the stadium.

But, in those days, minor league teams had no money to keep replacing expensive baseballs. So, they hired a few teenagers to go get the balls and return them to be used again.

Now, I'm not saying that the team intentionally hired mean bullies for that job, but it sure seemed that way to us younger kids. 

The teenagers were faster than us and mostly got to the balls before we could. But, on the few occasions when we actually snagged a foul or homer before them, let's just say that they didn't ask in a polite way to get it back.

We'd usually submit pretty easily, but if not we might go home with dirt on our clothes or a bruise somewhere. I do not recall ever getting to keep one of those baseballs.

Around that time, like many young teens, we began to get daring and try to smoke cigarettes. Of course, even though many of our parents smoked, we'd be in big trouble if they caught us doing it: "Do as I say, not as I do."

Acts of Derring-do

So, we couldn't smoke inside at the game because someone might see us and tell mom and dad. In fact, one time in elementary school I had a candy cigarette (there's a great product for kids) in my mouth outside and by the time I got home, my mom had gotten a call that I had been smoking!

So, if we wanted to sneak a cigarette we'd have to hide outside somewhere. One night, this is what got us into a bunch of trouble.

Behind the center field fence of MacArthur( now Dwyer) Stadium was a stone structure everyone called the Civil Air Patrol Building.

Apparently, during World War II, volunteers used be stationed there with binoculars to keep an eye out for German bombers who wanted to take out the Doehler-Jarvis Tool and Die factory or some other Batavia target.

By 1961 it was pretty much deserted except for men's and ladie's restrooms, which were kept open for people in the park area. 

(Author's Note: I was surprised on a recent visit to Batavia to find the old building still standing, albeit in ragged shape and marred by graffiti.)

My friends Charlie (yup, him again), Jay, Mike, and I were in the vicinity of the Civil Air Patrol Building during a Pirates' game. We were most likely once again on a futile mission to get a home run or foul ball.

At some point we went into the men's room to sneak a smoke. We were such chickens to get caught that we even shut the door. But, since the building was really not in use, there were no lights and this is where someone, maybe me, came up with a completely idiotic idea.

Enter Excelsior

In another open but unused room there were some old, cushioned chairs. They had either fallen apart or been vandalized so the stuffing of the cushions was hanging out.

We must have had a good vocabulary because we knew this straw filling was called "excelsior," a word that becomes important in this tale later on.

We took some handfuls of the excelsior back to the men's room, lit it on fire for light, shut the door, and commenced to fire up our Winstons or whatever brand we had. 

With no ventilation, within seconds the room filled with dense acrid smoke.

Not wanting to suffocate we had no choice but to throw open the door and exit posthaste while choking and coughing. As we regained our breath the gagging turned to laughter at ourselves as we realized how dumb we had been.

This hilarity did not last long.

We went back inside to stomp out the now smoldering straw, but didn't realize that the plumes had been seen by people inside the stadium at the game.

As we exited again, we looked up to see a Batavia City Police car speeding across the grass toward us. It turned out that a Batavia policeman (who shall remain nameless) had stopped at the game on his patrol and had seen the smoke, too.

What would you do if you were 13 or 14 and saw a police car coming after you? Of course -- RUN!

I'm not sure where the other guys bolted to, but I took off for a huge junkyard nearby. I spotted a rusted out delivery truck and hid inside.

I cowered there trembling like a kitten in a dog kennel. After a few minutes I got up the courage to peek out. There stood the cop with an annoyed look on his face.

“C'mon kid,” he said, “and don't even try running again. Your buddies are in my car already.”

Busted, I hangdoggedly trudged to the cruiser.

Meanwhile, Back at the Police Station...

As we sat in the police car sweating, we asked the officer what was he going to do with us?

“You're going to the station and the desk sergeant can decide how to deal with you,” he replied. “You know you could be charged with arson for setting that straw on fire.”

Then big mistake number two happened.

Someone, and it definitely wasn't me it was Charlie who said, 'It's not straw, it's excelsior.”

“Seltzer?”, the cop asked? “What the heck are you talking about? I know straw when I see it, and I'd advise you to shut up before you get in more trouble than you're already in.”

Charlie eventually became a lawyer, but in this instance he was ruled out of order.

Upon our arrival at the station on School Street, mistake number three occurred. As I exited the police car I tried to throw my pack of smokes underneath it.

They clunked off the side of the car and fell on the street just as the officer turned around.

“Nice try kid,” he snorted as he picked them up. 

Once inside, the desk sergeant saw us being herded in and asked the cop, “What were these guys up to?”

“I was at the baseball game and saw smoke coming out of the Civil Air Patrol Building," he reported. “I drove out there and these kids had been in there smoking cigarettes and set a bunch of straw on fire. They ran, but I got 'em,” he announced proudly.

“What have you guys got to say for yourselves?”, the sergeant asked.

Remember, Charlie couldn't keep his yap shut. With aplomb, he unbelievably inserted his foot into his mouth yet again: “Well sir, we were smoking but it was just a little fire. And it wasn't straw, it was excelsior.”

Wow. Fresh blood might be redder than the first cop's face, but that's doubtful.

Perp Walk for Rare Company

Mercifully, we did not get charged with arson. Our parents were called and had to come pick us up.

My parents almost never had company, but on this night a group of people were at our house and I had to do the perp walk through them to my parents' embarrassment.

For the next month my mother had me scrubbing walls, pulling weeds, and generally working from morning until night.

And Charlie's fate? His parents promptly enrolled him in military school in Syracuse instead of returning to Notre Dame.

It was questionable as punishment though; he went on to become a Captain and got to carry a sword around. It also served to add to his already big ego.

All of us had to go with our parents to see the Batavia Police Youth Officer Lewis Snell.

I'm not sure what admonitions he gave or what advice he might have given for our future, but it must have worked on some level because that turned out to be my last time in the back of a police car.

Unless I really go off my old guy wheels, I'm pretty sure things will remain that way, too.

Photos courtesy of Dave Reilly.

Below, Batavia's minor league baseball field as it was when Dave Reilly was a boy, circa 1958.

Below, the old Civil Air Patrol Building as it stands today; the site of the excelsior escapade.

Pembroke High School Social Studies teacher Greg Kinal gets a hug from a former student, Terry Hendry, of Oakfield, after his presentation on D-Day for the Medina Historical Society.

Having taught Social Studies at Pembroke High School or nearly five decades, it’s not surprising Greg Kinal has an above-average interest in World War II, especially D-Day.

Kinal, who will celebrate 50 years as a Pembroke teacher next year, gives about 75 speeches a year and does 40 presentations for historical societies.

“Most of my speeches are to adult groups and I try to pick topics each group would like,” Kinal said. “I have always been infatuated with the events of D-Day and it is a favorite of audiences.”

His interest in D-Day is also fueled by his family’s ties to World War II.

His father was a top turret gunner on a B-25, serving in North Africa and the Italian Campaign. He also had an uncle, Dr. Murl Kinal, who was a neurosurgeon and served as a medic at Normandy. Another uncle, George Frank Schultz, served aboard the USS Quincy and was the first ship to fire on occupied Normandy.

A few years ago, the family arranged for Kinal to take a ride in a B-25 Mitchell bomber at Hagerstown, Md., to celebrate his 70^th birthday, but the weather turned sour and the flight was canceled.

Now they have made arrangements for the whole family to go back to Hagerstown this summer for the airplane ride in a B-25.

Kinal gave his talk on D-Day for a recent meeting of the Medina Historical Society at Lee Whedon Memorial Library in Medina. The presentation was timely as the world commemorates the 75^th anniversary of the attack on Normandy this Thursday, June 6.

He started his talk by explaining prior to World War II, America had an army of 334,000. By 1943, the number had grown to 12 million, and was soon at 16 million.

In 1939, the United States made fewer than 1,000 planes a year. By the end of 1943, they were building 8,000 a month.

By comparison, in Ypsilanti, Mich., the average car built by Ford Motor Company had 15,000 parts. A B-24 Liberator had more than 1,550,000 parts. When Ford started making B-24s, they were turning out one every 63 minutes.

Prior to the Allied invasion of Normandy, the United States set up a fake base in England across from Calais, with fake tanks.

“They wanted the Germans to think we were going to come across the Channel to Calais, and they bought it,” Kinal said. “Instead, our troops were in Southern England.”

The battle for Normandy was called Operation Overlord, and the D-Day beach landings on its coast was code-named Operation Neptune. The invasion was originally scheduled for June 5, 1944, but the weather turned sour.

They finally got a break, and at 9:45 p.m. on June 5. General Dwight D. Eisenhower issued the command, “OK, let’s go” and 800 Allied planes left England with 20,000 paratroopers for the June 6 invasion, which was a Tuesday.

It was the largest seaborne invasion in history.

The 5,000 ships carried 155,000 troops on the first wave. The average age was 22.

The Germans used machine guns which fired 125 bullets per second, Kinal said.

Five hours later, the Americans were in control of Omaha Beach and by night the Allies were 10 miles into Normandy.

Next came the assault on Utah Beach, and when night came, the Americans had taken all five beaches of Normandy, Kinal said.

During the attack, 300 planes bombed the coast and 13,000 paratroopers jumped into battle. There were 800 transport planes and the ships carried 448,000 tons of ammunition.

The Americans thought they were doing the soldiers a big favor by feeding them a big breakfast of steak, eggs, pork chops and potatoes, not realizing they would mostly all become seasick.

The fighting left 4,414 dead on the beaches, of which 2,499 were Americans. German casualties, however, were estimated at 10,000, Kinal said.

Today, 1,700 Americans are still missing.

“This operation was not planned with any alternatives,” Kinal quoted General Eisenhower. “This operation was planned as a victory. That’s the way it’s going to be.

"We’re going down there and we’re throwing everything we have into it and we’re going to make it a success.”

Kinal lives in Elma where he says they have a veteran who was on the first wave of the attack on Omaha Beach. Each year, the fire company has a gun raffle in Elma, and this veteran is asked to pull the first ticket.

Kinal said he was just asked to give his D-Day talk in Bennington and many people showed up to hear him. There were even six or eight people who had fathers who landed in Normandy on D-Day.

Photo by Virginia Kropf.