February Musings

Both my children took their first breaths in February. They likely roll their eyes when I get all sentimental remembering those days and those times but mostly they humor me and hear, once more, pieces of the story of the beginning of our lives together. 

Now they're both parents - making their own histories and telling their own stories. And that's the way it is with our collective history - it begins with the personal, adding more stories, more people telling them and before long the stories work their magic. The telling of the stories - and the listening too - brings us to a  different place.

The stories from another time -  the stories told during Black History Month - another February observance. 

Where do we hear the stories of local black history?

Are the teachers telling  of  Asylum Peters - or Peter Asylum from some sources - buried on Ayers Hill. In 1810 census, the population of Potter County was 29. Among those was listed Mr. Peters, colored, a slave.

Are we sharing the stories about local stops on the Underground Railroad? The Mann Houses - in Coudersport and in Millport and other stops along the way to freedom in Canada. W.W. Thompson, local historian and founder of The Potter Enterprise, told a story, some years after the Civil War, about the discovery of a hidden room, complete with a straw tick and blankets in a commercial building at the corner of West and Third Streets, a building once owned by J.S. Mann

Rev. E.S. Toensmeier preaching from the pulpit of the Presbyterian Church in 1906: "The attempt to paint slavery as an ideal institution as is being done in so many quarters should meet with the condemnation it deserves. There were doubtless homes in the South where the relations between Master and Slave was one of affection, of loyalty, of kindliness yet when you have said all you can in praise, the fact remains it was slavery. The Negro was a human being who was bought and sold."

Are they hearing stories from the CCC Camp at  Bark Shanty where W.C. Handy entertained in 1941? The newspaper relates "Mr.Handy will play his music 'conceived in torment' as the featured attraction of a program of entertainment sponsored by the camp. The Bark Shanty Camp was a negro camp.

And who remembers the time The Globe Trotters, described as the "negro wizards of the hardwood," played a game against top local basketball stars in the spring of 1948. 

And what about teaching about the migrants who played a big role in the county's rich agricultural history. To help develop the county's agricultural economy, farmers of the late 1940s and 1950s, began to put more acreage into crop production - peas, beans and potatoes in particular. And so, crop workers from the south - mostly black folks - were brought to the county for harvest. 

Newspapers of the day chronicled the influx of more than 3,000 individuals, while at the same time touting the economic impact for the county.

"A talented writer could almost produce another "Grapes of Wrath" book with the setting in Potter County."

"The Enterprise has pointed up squalid living conditions in migratory labor camps. The paper only finds fault with those old buildings with leaky roofs and no sanitary facilities where scores of men and children are crowded in, and in many cases each man and woman is charged one dollar a week room rent."

"If the workers fight and cut each other or commit other crimes, the cases are reported truthfully. If slot machines are seized or men arrested for the sale of intoxicants, the reports are made. Isn't it just possible that showing of condition will have a tendency to improve them." (1950) 

"Potter County is not only paying gigantic bills of costs to enforce the law but it is being given most damaging publicity because of the bringing of hundreds of Negroes here as farm crop workers."

And this ... 

"Law and order took a holiday Monday at a migrant worker camp in Bingham Township, four miles north of Ulysses. Crimes ranged from assault and battery through sale of illegal intoxicants to selling venison to Negro crop workers. Right in the middle is the white boss at the camp."

And in the background, the work of  local communities of faith.

"The pastor stressed the importance of the assistance-type service rendered. 'Right here in Potter County during farming season there are far more people who need help than society likes to admit. But caring for the deficiencies of mankind in a modern and expedient way is something new, something not wholly accepted."

Local Black History Month

It's Black History Month. Reflecting about black history and being somewhat immersed in local history of late, what about local black history? I began with a personal post here. And now I share my reflections on this little bit of Potter County's black history - history from my times.

It was in 2020, the first summer of the Covid-19 pandemic that I came across this piece of Potter County black history. I was handling long-forgotten documents, picking up the pieces of a long-form writing project I had put aside years ago and researching in old newspapers.  A free trial of newspapers.com opened up the archive of The Potter Enterprise and I went to October 1951 - to find a record of my birth - and a record of the times in which I was born.

This was the shocking headline on October 25, 1951

Ulysses Men Invoke Reign of Terror

in Effort to Drive Negroes From Village

One of the trio of pictures on the front page of the newspaper. And the accompanying news story begins:

"The race problem in America found expression in Ulysses on Saturday night - and it was promptly labelled 'alarming' by many leading citizens.

"Another incident Sunday night near Ulysses indicated, according to one citizens, that a 'virus of race hatred is not limited by geography.' Both incidents were believed to be attempts to drive a small group of Negroes from the community by terrorism. ..

"One of the chief targets of the anti-Negro feeling is Mrs. Louise Underwood, a widow with two small sons in school. They occupy a shack not farm from the Ulysses Vocational High School and reportedly are on relief.

"Shortly after 7:20 o'clock Saturday night, the neighborhood in which the Underwoods live was rocked by a dynamite blast. Almost immediately after the explosion, the Underwood shack was caught in the glare of a six-foot fiery cross blazing less than 50 feet away."

 

"Terror stricken, Mrs. Underwood and her two sons sought refuge in the parsonage of the Baptist Church about three blocks away. The Rev. Howard R. Faulkner is pastor of the church. Assured by the clergyman they had nothing to fear, the Negroes returned to their home ....

"The six men allegedly responsible for the incident were seen by the Rev. Mr. Faulkner as they roared away from the scene in their car. Attracted by the dynamite blast, the clergyman was on the front porch of the parsonage when the car carrying the men sped past.

"After learning what had happened, the clergyman went to the home of one of the men he had seen in the car and accused him of 'acting like a child.' The man, whom the clergyman did not identify, freely admitted taking part in the cross burning."

The reporter then launched into a report of the Rev. Mr. Faulkner's sermon that Sunday and went on to report the Rev. Mr., Faulkner's observations about Mrs. Underwood and the other negroes. 

"The clergyman said that the townspeople had cause for complaint insofar as the behavior of some of the Negroes was concerned. ...

"Habits of the two sons of Mrs. Underwood were a source of embarrasment to white neighbors, one of whom is the mother of a small girl. ...

"Much of the objectionable behavior was chargeable to 'the increasing boldness' of the Negroes in stores and other public places, the clergyman said.

"Basically, however, the 'shameful episode' was rooted in the resentment of a few men in an all-white community against the continued presence of Negroes, the clergyman led the reporter for this newspaper believe. ...

"Interviewed at home, Mrs. Underwood said she was frightened and upset and would leave as soon as possible. 'Never in all my years in the south did I see a fiery cross,' the woman said. 'Guess I had to come up here to Pennsylvania to see one ...  up here in Ulysses, Pennsylvania.'

The article continues with the following subhead:

Shotgun Fire Rakes House

Fourteen Negroes in a dwelling ... located between Ulysses and Gold were terrorized about 11:00 p.m. Sunday by a barrage of shotgun fire. According to Charles Jackson, one of the Negroes, 10 or 11 charges were poured into one side of the house. Several 20 gauge casings were found on an earth and 40 feet away. ...

"All 14 said they had planned to remain this winter and work ... 'Now we're going to leave - and right away,' an unidentified woman said. 'The devil is shonuff after us - he sho is' "

In the following week's paper came was this report.

This editorial appeared in the newspaper the following week.

I found no further reference to Mrs. Louise Underwood and her children. No one I have spoken with has any recollection of this story from more than 70 years ago.

Flash forward -  there's this ...

Black History Month

It's a good bet that most of my generation from this small town would recall the Skinners, who lived on  West Street, and Missouri Latham, who lived on Woodlawn Avenue as the only black folks in our little community back in the 1950s.

Mrs. Latham's rambling white house was across the Allegheny River behind my family's home. I remember watching from my little hideaway behind the bushes in our back yard as this tall, thin woman, her hair confined in a kerchief, emerged from her back door across the concrete ditch, toting a laundry basket to hang clothes on a clothesline strung in a sunny spot next to the channel. Mrs. Latham went to our church, where she sat in one of the back pews and always wore a hat and white gloves. My father was a pall bearer at her funeral at the church in 1970.  

The Skinners raised a family in Coudersport. My mother remembers their son and daughter going on to attend Hampton Institute (an historical black college) in the late 1930s. Granddaughter Beverly visited her grandparents some summers in the late 1950s and Mr. Skinner checked with the authorities to make sure it was all right for her to use the community swimming pool.

But the other folks with black skin in this white skin world were the migrants who followed the vegetable harvest north every summer, many traveling with their families.  At times, there were more than 3,000 itinerants here. Every fall,  there were a few dark faces in school – there and gone before leaves fell from the trees. 

"My first experience with black folks was when my grandmother took me to a migrant camp," related my friend during a recent dinnertime conversation.

And instantly I was sitting next to MY grandmother in her black and white Chevrolet, bouncing across a rutted dirt track on the way to deliver clothes to a migrant camp one summer. It was hot, the windows in the car were open. Grandma was intent on her driving and on her mission to help the poor .

I remember a long, shabby barracks, open doors and weathered steps and the dry packed earth. Boxes of donated used clothing in the trunk of the Chevy – faded t-shirts, shorts, pedal pushers, blouses missing buttons - perhaps even some of my own outgrown clothes.  And the sad, uncomfortable feeling that these little girls would pull on panties that had first belonged to others.

Later that same summer, a team of all-stars from nearby migrant camps came to Coudersport for a softball game at Metzger Field against a team of local men. The church women prepared a picnic for afterwards at Mitchell Park. Again, my grandmother was there and so was I.  It was there, for the very first time, I had a bologna sandwich with mustard on white bread.

 work of Kerry James Marshall, American artist
from the Cleveland Art Museum
(acrylic and collage on canvas)

 

   

The Old Rail Splitter

In the days before the Monday holiday celebrating two presidents with February birthdays, we observed Abraham Lincoln's birthday on February 12, the date he was born in 1809.

An unknown artist created this mythical,
life-size portrait of Lincoln used at public
rallies during his presidential campaigns.
Notice the image of the White House
on the distant horizon

From the pen of my grandfather, I found this piece from the 1960s.

 

Today is Lincoln's birthday. The former president has been called the "rail splitter," but somehow we cannot believe he ever split many rails – he had other chores first as an attorney and later as president of the United States.

There is a trick and know-how to rail splitting and if Lincoln did much of such work he had to know!

This scribe is no expert as he never split a rail in his life. My dad was a carpenter – and a good one. There are a goodly number of houses and barns in Whitesville and vicinity standing today that he built. As a youngster, I learned a few tricks from him, and one would have to do with splitting rails.

In winter carpenter work was pretty much suspended because of cold weather. In order to earn a living he built sap tubs, bobsleds and axe handles. The latter were made of hickory but no hickory grew in the vicinity of Whitesville so he had to buy hickory butts from some distance. A butt was from the larger part of a tree and long enough to make a handle.

The trick in splitting was to always split from the smaller end. In that way the wood split straight with the grain. It would apply to splitting rails or other articles.

Those axe handles Dad made were really beautiful, especially the ones for a single bit axe. They were so graceful and smooth a fly would fall off one. Dad got 50 cents apiece for those handles. This scribe, a lover of wood, would give ten bucks for one today.

I've rambled a long way from Abe's rail splitting but we'll bet he splits rails from the small end of the log.

Football

It's no secret that I am not a fan of football. 

It is interesting to note that perhaps it's hereditary.

October 12, 1911

(Letter to Editor) 

Saturday I had business at State College, Pa. was fortunate enough to see a game of football between teams representing State College and Pennsylvania College of Gettysburg. The play was fast and furious and when State College had given the last college yell of victory, fully 2000 strong, the score being 31 to 0 several men had been carried off the gridiron.

But this was tame as compared with the game of “push ball” in which the freshmen and sophomores took part. This was made an annual event at the college last year and as the writer had never seen it played before it made a decided impression upon him. … Yes, I did get excited and yell like an Indian, “Give it to ‘em freshies!” But at the same time, my humble opinion is that it is brutal and I like it not.

Yours very truly, W.D. Fish, Williamsport Pa.

And for the fact-checkers, this is what I found:

 

Adumbration

February 1. Sunshine through the clouds, stray snowflakes in the air, chickadees perching on branches above the bird feeders and Jane upstairs in the office, dressed in layers topped by an old black shawl, cold fingers moving across the keys on the laptop. Perhaps the frosty smoothie this morning wasn't the best idea!

Tomorrow is Ground Hog Day.... again.

"Groundhog Day. If the pesky rodent saw his shadow, or did not see it, I will give you a written guaranty that we'll have six or more weeks of winter weather after February 2 – this year or any other."  so said Golly* one of the many times he wrote of the 'holiday'.

"Not that it means one darned thing we'll be checking Ground Hog Day tomorrow to note if the pesky little cuss sees his shadow when he peeps out of his hole. If he does he goes back into hibernation for six weeks; if not we'll have summer weather right off the bat.

Horse feathers!

The Almanac tells us spring will not come until March 20. Ground Hog in or out of his hole, we will have snow and plenty of cold weather in the coming six weeks." (1968)

"The groundhog saw his shadow Monday – if he was fool enough to creep out of his burrow – so what! Daily papers wasted a lots of ink on the little rodent." (1953)

"Yeah, he saw his shadow or did he?

From Punxsutawney, National Groundhog Headquarters, came word that the sunlight was so dazzlingly brilliant that the old rodent was blinded by it and retreated to his comfortable hole in the ground and continued his nap.

Regardless of the wisdom(?) of groundhogs, I am always willing to bet shillings we'll have at least six weeks of winter following February 2, and before the peepers begin their spring chorus." (1957)

This was written in 1941:

"A Kane writer, in commenting on the groundhog seeing – or not seeing – his shadow says the "'chuck cast an adumbration here,"

By golly, we'd never waste a two-shilling word like 'adumbration' on a pesky woodchuck.

Such prodigality is excruciating."

However, here's his own 1966 Ground Hog Day take:

"Ground Hog Day – February 2.

The old lingo is that is the pesky herbivorous quadruped rodent recovers from hibernation on this date, ventures from his burrow, sees his shadow –

O, horror –

He disappears in his hole and takes another period of six weeks of somnolency and winter!

I will make a small wager on any February 2 that winter will last at least that long, ground hog or no ground hog.

... and until press time, there has been no sunshine and the groundhog has seen no shadow but do not expect to pick any roses before March 15."

 

* "Golly' is my grandfather, W.D. Fish (1875-1969) who spent much of his life as a small town newspaper editor & publisher. His weekly column in the newspaper here was published under the heading "Golly."