Mohawk History Center

09/08/2024

The last pages of the reminiscence. I hope everyone enjoyed it as much as I did. Also thanks to Eileen for showing it to me.

09/05/2024

More from Mr. Cunningham
DOCTORS
We were most fortunate in having Dr. Joe Diss as our doctor. Dr. and Mrs. Diss lived in Ilion and had no children. Mrs. Diss took his calls and never failed to follow up on the patient’s request. This rotund fellow with a sense of humor loved his profession. He was a doctor, surgeon and delivered many babies including my three younger brothers. A house call was $2.00, and an office visit was $1.00. The doctor was extremely dedicated professional and very little seemed to phase him.
When I tumbled off my cart and cut my chin, he came to our house, hoisted me to the kitchen table and proceeded to sew up the cut. Once when Mom was ready to deliver and the woman who was supposed to help the doctor failed to show, he said to Dad, “I guess we can handle this ourselves,” and they did.
I have been in Dr. Diss’s office with my mother. He had no receptionist secretary or nurse. He generally had a cigar in his mouth and when the end that he was chewing became flat he would reach for a pair of scissors and cut it back.
When Dad was sick Dr. Diss diagnosed the illness as a ruptured ulcer. The doctor called the Ilion ambulance which in some ways resembled an antique milk truck. The driver was a policeman accompanied by a fireman. They took Dad to the Ilion Hospital where Dr. Diss operated and, without a doubt, saved our father’s life.
Glen Mosher’s grandfather had an infected big toe that had been treated without success. These were the days before sulfa drugs and antibiotics. The doctor who lived on S. Washington St. came to the Mosher home and with Mr. Mosher sitting in a rocking chair and the doctor sitting on and ottoman, the doctor proceeded to remove the old gent’s toe.
While the doctors made house calls without the expertise, facilities and medicines available today, there were times when there was very little they could do. Of course, records and formal required reports were almost non-existent.
THE DENTIST
A title that was synonymous with horror, pain, terror and fear. First you must realize that there was little or no preventive dental care. When one of us youngsters had a toothache, Mom would use all the remedies and medicines that were available in our house. Beyond that and when the jaw started swelling, the patient could continue to suffer or go to a Dentist. What a choice.
When I had a real painful toothache and Mom had exhausted all of her remedies, it was decided that I would meet Dad at the Re*****on Arms 9Arch gate on Otsego St.”. We would go to Winslow’s Saloon on Union St. for lunch. Dad would order a beer and eat the sandwiches he brought from him. There was soup and free food at the end of the bar but with an aching tooth I could only look.
After Dad finished his meal we went to the dentist, who had his office on the second floor over Powers Newsroom. I can’t recall anyone making an appointment. I just got into his chair and the dentist probed around with a tool that resembled a nut pick. He just said, “It has to come out.” There were no options. The next thing that I remember was the dentist come at me with a needle that resemble the tines of pitch for.
About 10 minutes later the dentist filled my mouth with a asset of piers (called forceps) and after some pulling yanking and bleeding the tooth was removed. The cost was $1.50. Dad gave me a nickel to ride the bus back to Mohawk, but I would walk to Mohawk spitting blood all the way! When I got to Mohawk I would go to Tom the Greek’s for an ice cream cone.
Toms was a confectionary store with wire-back chairs and round marble tables. It was in the old Cunningham block at the corner of W. Main and N. Otsego Streets.

DEATH
Death was a common occurrence during my youth and was discussed openly with children. Consequently, we were involved in wakes and funerals. Unlike the children of today who are reluctant to become involved or don’t want to go near the deceased in a funeral home, we seemed to be close to our friends, family or neighbors.
Within a short time of learning of the death of someone we knew our family was ready to help. One neighbor would take up a collection for Mass cards or flowers while the other would begin baking beans, bread and various meats. When Mom died, the first person to arrive was the insurance man.
People were much closer and depended on one another so consequently they felt the loss to a much greater degree. There was very little immunization and other than a school nurse most of the care was in the hands of our parents. Many of our schoolmates left us prematurely.
When a person died, the “undertaker” was called. He hung a black wreath on the front door and proceeded to help the family make the arrangements. He could prepare the deceased at his establishment or at the family home. At the time most funerals were held at the descendant’s house.
The calling hours at the family home could start as early as 8 in the morning and last as long as there was someone to answer the door. At Irish wakes, the family and friends stayed up all night and about midnight they had a huge meal. Then, of course, during quiet periods a bit of a drink was passed around. And there were some stories and plenty of reminiscing.
An acquaintance told me of the death of a small child in his family before the advent of burial laws. The mother and women members of the family cleaned and dressed the child while the father and some friends built a coffin and dug a grave near their orchard. After the local clergyman said a few words, the father placed a homemade casket on his shoulder and, together with family, friends and neighbors, moved off to the cemetery. The families in rural areas formed their own cemeteries and there are still old monuments that can be seen in out of the way places. My great-grandfather was buried along Cole Hill Road.
In the late 1920’s a relative who had a farm was taken ill. This happened in the winter when you drove a horse and cutter or you walked. There was no telephone at the house and as his condition worsened the family knew that he needed a doctor. His wife could do nothing but send the two oldest boys on foot to the nearest relative who had a phone and ask them to try to get a doctor. With the snow blowing, the mother was afraid that the youngsters might become separated and lost so she tied them together before sending them out for help. The boys managed to get to the house of a relative and the doctor was called, but they lost their dad.
I remember attending the funeral with Mom and Dad. Many of the neighbors shoveled and plowed the road the night before the funeral so that the family could take the body from the house to the church.
At one of the farms on Vickerman Hill there was a death in the family and the drifts made the road impassible. Neighbors hitched a team of horse to a pair of bobs and with some men cutting fences and driving around drifts and across lots, they finally arrived at Mohawk and the residence of the local undertaker.
According to a news item, when a funeral home serving a rural area received a call requesting their services, they would load two caskets (to allow for choice) on their wagon. If the deceased was a farmer the neighbors would do the chores and care for the livestock until the funeral was over.

09/01/2024

Reminiscence Continued:
GROCERY STORES
Besides the various grocery stores in downtown Mohawk which included the A&P, Market Basket, Co-Op, H. Myers Market and Lee Branch’s Grocery and Cheese Stoe, there were small family stores throughout the residential community. George Bacon’s Grocery on E. Center St. served the South and East areas of the village. George would deliver on request. A few doors down the street at the corner of Walnut and W. Center St. Jack Chambers operated a fish market.
Frank Minosh had a small grocery, wholesale vegetable route and coalyard next to the Spinner Homestead. Al Marmet delivered cuts of meat to the rural area.
Just west of the Fulmer Creek Bridge on Main St. nest to the trolley barn (now Holt Auto Sales) was a small grocery. It was rumored that the owner also used the store as a house of ill repute. When the ladies of the evening were in residence, he would hang a sign on his porch reading “Horse for Sale”. This would let the young blades know where the action was. No one ever indicated how many horses changed hands.
The meat market was operated by a kindly fellow who was hardworking and serious. His store was located on Main St. near the Weller Block and Post Office. The gentleman was a practicing Catholic and always sat in the last pew of the old Blessed Sacrament Church.
When Father Brennock (1942-1960) came into church on Sunday morning he would always rub Tony’s bald head for good luck.
Tony was a daily breakfast customer at “Arthur & Lakes” Restaurant and Butch Arthur derived great pleasure in tormenting Tony. Some of the tricks would be setting the strings of Tony’s apron on fire, frying a condom in his eggs or putting a sign “Butter 35c/Lb.” in the front window of his store. Actually butter was in short supply and sold at a premium.
The crowning act happened one day when Tony had finished cleaning his meat display cabinet. Leaving his bucket of bloody cleanings on the floor he began moving articles in the walk-in cooler. When he came back into the store, he found that some one had duped the whole bloody mess all over the shop. When he had pretty well cleaned up the place a second time, he saw someone go by his side window.
Thinking that it was Butch Arthur and his buddies who had caused him to clean the market a second time, Tony got behind the back door and when this fellow entered the doorway, Tony let him have it with a pail full of bloody water.
But now Tony had a larger problem. The recipient of his anger happened to be a 6-foot+ employee of the slaughterhouse delivering half a carcass of beef to the meat market. Once the young man shook some of the debris from his face Tony could see that no explanation was going to be sufficient, and he headed for the door with well-soaked delivery man in close pursuit.
Once they had circled the block a couple of times with Tony tiring, he decided to try for diplomacy, so he dived through the back door of the post office with the young man close on his heels
With a couple of the postal employees delaying the delivery man, Tony visibly shaken and pooped from running) explained the mishap and apologized. Everything must have been resolved, for Tony was back in business the next day.
When we wore knickers and long underwear, it was a real problem to keep your stockings from looking like a rutted road in April. We were always happy when we could discard the long Johns at the end of the winter.
Characters were in abundance and men with various backgrounds plied their trade. There were numerous carpenters, masons, painters, paper hangers and bartenders with all various degrees of excellence. Smokey was a swamper. He emptied spittoons, swept the bar floor and slept in the cellar. If you left an unfinished drink on the bar or a cigarette on and ash tray, Smokey would finish it for you.
SCHOOL
My first exposure to education was the day that my father took me to the old Columbia Street Elementary School. It was located where the village offices are now situated. This was a three-story building of stone and brick that housed grades from one 10 six. There was no kindergarten or Pre-kindergarten. In fact, there was not even a playground.
We were called to classes each morning and noon by a large bell located at the very top of the building. If the janitor, whose job it was to ring the bell, saw a student who might be late for class he would continue to ring the bell until the youngster was in the classroom. If any student was late for class during the week the entire class had to stay after school on Friday afternoon. Needless to say, the tardy student was about as popular as a dog in church.
The floors of the school were soaked with oil and the lighting left much to be desired. About 10:30 each morning we were taken to the restrooms (I use the word loosely) en masse. The boys would sit on the stairs going down to the basement to wait our turn. The odor of the “facility” next to the boiler was unmistakable. Any requests to use the facilities at any other time was considered a felony.
During the winter when we returned from the comfort station we were made to march around the large hall to the accompaniment of an ancient Victrola. This was undoubtedly the required exercise for the day.
Students from rural areas that did not attend “one room schoolhouses” could come to our school. There were no buses and without a cafeteria the students ate their lunch in the auditorium. Many of the older boys quit school when they were sixteen. A picture of the graduation class had very few graduates, mostly girls.
Discipline was a few degrees below the military and oversized rulers were not prohibited. One sixth grade student, who must have upset his teacher, lost his shirt in its entirety. Needless to say, the teacher replaced his shirt. This same teacher was known to sail a blackboard eraser or inkwell across the room at anyone who might have provoked her.
We could buy used schoolbooks second hand from the classes ahead of us (providing we could come up with the cash). On Saturday mornings before football game I would borrow a couple dollars from the school principal, I could buy candy bars three for a dime at the A&P and sell them at the game for a nickel apiece. After the game I would take the two dollars back to Harry Fisher.
On some Saturdays we would canvass the neighborhood for papers, metal or junk of any kind. If we found a battery, we were in seventh heaven. We would take our b***y to Mr. Williams the junk man on Green St. for enough money to go to the Liberty Theatre in Herkimer.
Later in the 1940’s this older Jewish man would canvas the village in truck looking for junk. When I was a teller in the bank, he would occasionally buy a $5.00 money order payable to “Boy’s Town”. I asked Sam why he was supporting a Catholic institution instead of a Jewish charity and he said, “Gene, ‘Boys town ’always says “Thank You’.

08/28/2024

I have more of the reminiscence article. I hope everyone enjoys this as much as I do.
Winter was all a part of living in “upstate New York” Only the sidewalks were plowed and there were no horseless carriages. Most everyone walked and if you had to leave the village you used a trolley that received its power from overhead wires.
Two horse-drawn V-plows cleared the snow from the sidewalks. Adney Shaul plowed half of the village sidewalks with one of his horses and Walt Brownrigg plowed the other half with his horse.
Winter had good and bad sides. Bobsledding had no restrictions, and you could slide down Shoemaker or Putts Hill to Columbia Street and into the cemetery. During the day we had to watch for freight trains on Columbia Street. You might see the occasional team and sleigh delivering coal.
The rural mail was delivered by a mailman who used a horse to pull a sulky or a light sleigh. While the average family did not have a telephone the mail was the main source of communication. Most of the mail was first class and it cost $.03 for the average letter. Postcards, as they were called, could be mailed for a penny. On one positive note, there was no advertising in our mail.
The horse population was phased out prior to World War II. Most farmers had tractors but some, such as Ray Shaver kept a team to help move the manure to the meadows when the snow was deep. Mr. Shaul also had a dump wagon that he used for picking up garbage, ashes, and junk. He would drive his team and wagon to the village dump at the bottom of New York Street where he would dump the load by winding the bottom of the wagon open. An old fellow had a shack at the dump and after Mr. Shaull left, he would check the load for anything of value.
One farmer, after having one too many at the hotel bar, started their team toward home, crawled under a blanket or several feed bags and woke up later in their own backyard.
Mr. Peplinski of Warren Road was one of the last farmers to drive a buggy. He and Mrs. Peplinski would come to town to do their shopping once a month driving the one-horse buggy with the fringe on top.
During the 1920s and early 40s most of the heavy work was done by horses. Millard Johnson and his brother John bought their farm from Marvin Kittle. This land had its beginning at Columbia St. and ran up behind what is now Hillview Dr. The farm also included the elementary property and everything between Marmet and Fulmer Streets.
I can remember some of the merchants who sold their goods from wagons on the street. We had a bread man, a milkman, a junk man and a fellow who sold vegetables. There were no women (except one).
Our ice man from “Wood and Little” delivered ice twice a week. He had a large white horse and a high wagon. The ice was covered with a heavy canvas. The customer had a four-cornered sign to hang in the window telling the ice man how much ice she needed. Once the ice man started for the house with the ice on his shoulder the kids would hop on the back of the wagon and grab handfuls of ice chips. The iceman generally collected on Fridays and was known to stop at the local saloon for a repast. So, on Friday the ice man’s wife would ride shotgun to keep the old fellow from giving into temptation. As I look back, I have to wonder how he ever got so much woman in that seat on that high wagon.
The food that was purchased in a grocery came in a can, paper bag cardboard box or tub-like container. Peanut butter, lard and hamburger were all sold out of such a container. Many families grew their own potatoes, carrots, beets, parsnips and onions. These items were then stored in the dark area of the cellar. After the first of the year, we had to remove the sprouts from the potatoes that we were going to eat. Some smoked meats were buried in piles of sand. The women would can vegetables, fruits and meats in the summer and fall for use in the winter.
The only refrigeration was called an “ice box.” We had to keep a pan under our ice box to catch the water as the ice melted. It was usually my job to dump the pan at least once daily. You could purchase cakes of ice in 25, 50, or 100 pounds.
We lived near a farm owned by J. Millard Johnson and could go there daily for our milk. The milk was raw and cost $.09 a quart. If milk was delivered it cost $.11 a quart. This was before pasteurization. If the milk bottle was left on the porch in cold weather, the cream on too would push the cap out of the bottle.
In 1928 before the Depression, Dad was working at the Re*****on Arms in Ilion. Every Friday morning, I would leave Mom’s grocery list at the A&P on Main Street where the furniture store is now located. During the day the clerks at the A&P would make up the order and have it ready when Dad got off the trolley. I would meet him at the store with a cart and he would pay the clerk $5.00 for the week’s groceries. I would never forget the aroma of coffee in the A&P.

08/25/2024

Reminiscence Continued: Winter was all a part of living in “upstate New York” Only the sidewalks were plowed and there were no horseless carriages. Most everyone walked and if you had to leave the village you used a trolley that received its power from overhead wires.
Two horse-drawn V-plows cleared the snow from the sidewalks. Adney Shaul plowed half of the village sidewalks with one of his horses and Walt Brownrigg plowed the other half with his horse.
Winter had good and bad sides. Bobsledding had no restrictions, and you could slide down Shoemaker or Putts Hill to Columbia Street and into the cemetery. During the day we had to watch for freight trains on Columbia Street. You might see the occasional team and sleigh delivering coal.
The rural mail was delivered by a mail man who used a horse to pull a sulky or a light sleigh. While the average family did not have a telephone the mail was the main source of communication. Most of the mail was first class and it cost $.03 for the average letter. Postcards, as they were called, could be mailed for a penny. On one positive note, there was no advertising in our mail.
The horse population was phased out prior to World War II. Most farmers had tractors but some, such as Ray Shaver kept a team to help move the manure to the meadows when the snow was deep. Mr. Shaul also had a dump wagon that he used for picking up garbage, ashes and junk. He would drive his team and wagon to the village dump at the bottom of New York Street where he would dump the load by winding the bottom of the wagon open. An old fellow had a shack at the dump and after Mr. Shaull left, he would check the load for anything of value.
One farmer, after having one too many at the hotel bar, started their team toward home, crawled under a blanket or several feed bags and woke up later in their own backyard.
Mr. Peplinski of Warren Road was one of the last farmers to drive a buggy. He and Mrs. Peplinski would come to town to do their shopping once a month driving the one-horse buggy with the fringe on top.
During the 1920s and early 40s most of the heavy work was done by horses. Millard Johnson and his brother John bought their farm from Marvin Kittle. This land had its beginning at Columbia St. and ran up behind what is now Hillview Dr. The farm also included the elementary property and everything between Marmet and Fulmer Streets.
I can remember some of the merchants who sold their goods from wagons on the street. We had a bread man, a milk man, a junk man and a fellow who sold vegetables. There were no women (except one).
Our ice man from “Wood and Little” delivered ice twice a week. He had a large white horse and a high wagon. The ice was covered with a heavy canvas. The customer had a four-cornered sign to hang in the window telling the ice man how much ice she needed. Once the ice man started for the house with the ice on his shoulder the kids would hop on the back of the wagon and grab handfuls of ice chips. The iceman generally collected on Fridays and was known to stop at the local saloon for a repast. So, on Friday the ice man’s wife would ride shotgun to keep the old fellow from giving into temptation. As I look back, I have to wonder how he ever got so much woman in that seat on that high wagon.
The food that was purchased in a grocery came in a can, paper bag cardboard box or tub-like container. Peanut butter, lard and hamburger were all sold out of such a container. Many families grew their own potatoes, carrots, beets, parsnips and onions. These items were then stored in the dark area of the cellar. After the first of the year, we had to remove the sprouts from the potatoes that we were going to eat. Some smoked meats were buried in piles of sand. The women would can vegetables, fruits and meats in the summer and fall for use in the winter.
The only refrigeration was called an “ice box.” We had to keep a pan under our ice box to catch the water as the ice melted. It was usually my job to dump the pan at least once daily. You could purchase cakes of ice in 25, 50, or 100 pounds.
We lived near a farm owned by J. Millard Johnson and could go there daily for our milk. The milk was raw and cost $.09 a quart. If milk was delivered it cost $.11 a quart. This was before pasteurization. If the milk bottle was left on the porch in cold weather, the cream on too would push the cap out of the bottle.
In 1928 before the Depression, Dad was working at the Re*****on Arms in Ilion. Every Friday morning, I would leave Mom’s grocery list at the A&P on Main Street where the furniture store is now located. During the day the clerks at the A&P would make up the order and have it ready when Dad got off the trolley. I would meet him at the store with a cart and he would pay the clerk $5.00 for the week’s groceries. I would never forget the aroma of coffee in the A&P.

08/23/2024

Recently my girlfriend brought me a booklet her Dad made about Mohawk. I found it so interesting that I wanted to share it. Since I didn't grow up in Mohawk but in the country, I can't speak for my generation, but I was hoping some of my friends could contribute their memories. I am starting this with his memories and hope to be able to share all of it with you.

"THE WAY IT WAS" Reminiscence by Eugene D. Cunningham.
This is an attempt to give those who are coming after us a picture of what it was like to live, work, play and exist at the beginning of the 20th century. These are some memories of an old man nearing the end of his days
Being in the post-World War I era, I had the questionable privilege of growing up during the dark days of the “Great Depression”. My dad, a veteran of WWI, son of a Civil War veteran was left to his own devices on the streets of Albany after his mother died. Dad was a youngster of 12.
Mom was raised on a farm near the home base of the infamous Loomis Gang, between Sweets Corners and Hubbardsville on the Cole Hill Road adjacent to the Nine Mile Swamp.
The reservoir at the end of our kitchen stove and a couple pans of water heated to the boiling point served as our primitive source of hot water. On Mondays, after the clothes were washed and rinsed in the bluing tub, they were hung on a clothesline in our backyard. During the cold weather our frozen long underwear resembled ghost-like creatures swinging back and forth in the wind.
Baths were a weekly event. The rinsing tub was put into service in the middle of our kitchen floor. Our sister (being the only girl) had first dibs. From there it went from the youngest child to the oldest: Me’ I often wondered why they even bothered, except that I got clean underwear.
Our existence was extremely basic and there were no frills or unnecessary expenses. Other than running “cold water” and an “inside toilet”, we had no conveniences. Our parents had electricity (Basic 2 wire 110) installed prior to the Depression. We had no hot water or Central Heat. When we first moved in, our parents used kerosene lamps and they were moved by Mom and Dad only.
We knew little or nothing about telephones, except that were used by wealthy people who were too busy to write. Of one thing I am certain: when we saw our neighbor Carrie Stewart, who had a telephone heading for our house with that purposeful pace, someone was dying or already dead.
We had our first telephone installed after I began working at Reminton Arms in 1941. The number was 300M and the cost was about $2,00 a month. When you picked up the receiver the operator would as, “Number Please?”

08/07/2024

Another picture of the Duofold. I believe this is from 1956 and it is the workers in the finishing Room. The boss was Francis Schoendorf.

07/30/2024

I have a few more pictures of the Duofold Fire.

07/25/2024

I recently received some color photos from a friend here in Mohawk. They are pictures of the Duofold Fire. This fire was fought in June of 2000. Duofold, underwear, ski, and sportswear manufacturers organized in 1906 in the old warehouse building on Canal Street. Many inhabitants of the valley worked there.

07/09/2024

While going through my files, I found a copy of a sketch with a view toward Mohawk. I do not know the date but the thruway is in it.

05/29/2024

Smokey Run ‐-----
I'll pass along this information to jog some memories for older folks and let younger folks know how Smokey Run got its name.
Originally it was called the Spinerville Gulf road
then just the Gulf road. Then the Caulkins family set up a sawmill just south of Bell Hill rd. across by the stream. They had 2 steam tractors that used the scrap wood from the sawing operation for fuel. When they were running full bore, and there was no breeze, a heavy haze of smoke formed that laid between the hills from the first reservoir to the rt 51 bridge. On a sunny day, we'd come down the hill into the smoke and you'd be in a weird reddish yellow haze all the way to the bridge. That's when it became, Smokey Run. To the Post office it was always RD #2 Ilion Until.
I believe early seventies when the 911 system came in and they renamed it Elizabethtown road with box nubers. I noticed my GPS still has lower portion as Gulf rd.
Further up the hill, you went around shirt tail or Bubbles bend, past the 2nd reservoir up Smiley gum- chewers hill, (don't ask me how it got that name)
past Jesus Never Fails Church and over the next hill, you finally arrive at Elizabethtown. All 4 houses of it.
If you remember this, you're officially old.
I've already been asked so I may as well answer it.
Yes. I did sell motorcycle s above the reservoir. Smiley Mountain Cycle Sales. So now you know where my handle comes from.
I just had another comment come in by a regular and I think it's an appropriate conclusion. As Paul Harvey says "And now you know the rest of the story".
Don Haponski

05/26/2024

03/02/2024

In the 1950s Lloyd Robinson’s health was failing and knowing he would not be able to work much longer, Alton contacted his son Alba in Michigan and offered him a job. Alba accepted the job and took his family, which included his wife, Diane, son Kim, and daughters Brooke, Lynne, and Stacey to live in Mohawk. Alba learned the service business from Lloyd. Diane started working there in 1971. After having Alba Mac, Diane returned to work as the office manager.
When Alton retired, Alba Lloyd, with the assistance of his wife, Diane, became the third generation of Robinsons to take the helm of the business. Their son, Kim began helping with deliveries while at Mohawk High School, in the late 1960s. After college he began to work full-time.