Tryon Books and More

Books I Love...LITTLE BLACK SAMBO By Helen Bannerman

2009-03-10T15:29:00.000-07:00

"A beautiful new edition of the original Sambo story that belongs in every child's library. The amusing, sparkling illustrations do full justice to this famous tale of the appealing little black boy who lived in the jungle."
I always loved the Sambo story, because I always loved pancakes, and so did Sambo. This edition published in 1942 is the one I love best. I have several editions, including some very early ones, that are nowhere near as apealling as this one. The illustrations are stilted, and not very colorful, more like stick figures. G&D did a great job when they published this. It is a shame that political correctness has put a tarnish on this lovely story, of courage, and family togetherness. I was alway very pleased that Sambo was able to outwit the tigers and get all that butter (which I also loved) for the piles of pancakes that Mambo made.....which reminds me of another story my Mother used to tell.
Barely past the depression, and still living in stringent times, although Daddy now had a job, we went grocery shopping Friday's after work. We went to Putman's market for meat, Acme market for canned goods, Grant's for any clothing purchases budgeted for that week ....socks for Dad if they were past mending, and of course we kids outgrew stuff faster than it could be replaced.
Sometimes if we had a lot of groceries, we would get a Cab home. Mostly we walked each carrying a paper bag scaled to our ability. This time, I don't remember how we got home, because Ed and I were quite small. Mom told us that they set the grocery bags on the kitchen table. She and Dad had to do something out in back before they checked the groceries. I think it had started to rain and they were bringing the clean clothes in off the clothesline before they were soaked. They always checked each grocery item against the register tape to be sure they had all they had paid for, and each price was charged correctly. If there were any errors, even if something had been put in the bag without being charged, Dad would go back to the store and make it right.
When they came back into the house after rescuing the clean clothes, they found Ed and I, up on the kitchen table with the groceries each eating a bit from a stick of butter. We must have worked up an appetite from the long walk home from downtown.

Think Hope! Think Spring!

2009-02-11T09:17:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I saw a robin. A Real LIVE one. He (she) was flitting around in the crab apple tree outside my dining room window. I was lingering over a late breakfast, enjoying the rare sunshine, and a bowl of my special fruit laced oatmeal when a movement caught my eye, and the flash of the red breast. I peered. I didn't have my "see the bird" glasses on, but the formation and the color convinced me. I enlisted Dad to look. "It's just a starling." he pronounced. He couldn't see it that well. It was behind some branches in a crotch of the tree. I kept watching. He came out to the end of a branch. It was definitely a robin. "You should put it on your blog." Dad said, even though he didn't believe it was a robin. "Yeh" I agreed. I hadn't been able to sign in the last time I tried, so I didn't hurry to the computer.
We went on with our usual daily pursuits. We unloaded the car..34 boxes of books brought home from the show. Two were empty. That was good news. Now we had to replace the books we sold. That is a litte easier said than done. Some things we had back ups for, others we will never be able to replace. I contacted a couple of local dealers and was able to fill in some holes. Then I remembered a crate of books Dad had purchased at Rochester, three or four, or maybe five or six shows ago. Most of the books in it were items we already had in stock, so we just pushed it under the stand in the front hall and forgot it. Out of sight, out of mind.
I dragged it out of the front hall. It now reposes in the living room. Some of the books are still ones we don't want to take to shows, but a couple of them were really nice to find. Sometimes it is like Christmas going through boxes. A nice monograph of Roland Clark's hunting pictures will look nice on the table at the next show. I don't remember when we sold the last copy of "The 45-70 Rifle". There was a second printing in the box, and one on the Sharps Rifle too. So it was a good treasure hunt. Now I have to put the crate back.
So today at breakfast, (fruit bowl, bacon and toast, orange juice & coffee) I remarked, "I wonder where my robin is?" I looked...and there he (she) was! Right back in the crab apple tree for breakfast! This time Dad saw him, and pronounced, "By golly you are right, it is a robin! This is pretty early for them here!" Of course, the thermometer says it is 50 degrees and the snow is melting off the roofs of the sheds so Dad won't have to shovel them now....unless the storm heading our way piles it up too high again!

The carved robin was done by Dad in 1981. He went to a couple of carving shows and then was sold to a dear neighbor, who loved Dad's carvings. When she moved to a small apartment, after her husband died, I bought him back, and appreciated her offer of him, because I always loved him too.

Theodore Roosevelt Montgomery and Helen Grace Lippincott

2009-01-17T09:05:00.000-08:00

Theodore was the youngest of James & Carrie's boys. He was about 16 when he lost his mother in 1920. From the tales he told, I am inclined to assume he was something of a devil. He told one of the truant officer coming to find him one day when he skipped school. He was up on the shed roof, making repairs ( if his story is to be believed). "I'm looking for Theo Montgomery", the gentleman called up to him. "Nobody here by that name", he replied. "How about Theod. Montgomery?" the gentleman inquired. "Nope, nobody here by that name either." After several tries to make something of the abbreviated name in his records, the officer left, but somehow, I think he knew his quarry was right in plain sight.

Playing in the streets was commonplace during Ted's boyhood. One fall evening, when dusk was approaching, he and a bunch of his buddys were tossing matches (lit of course) down through the hole in a manhole cover. All of a sudden, the sewer gas in the pipe was afire, and flames were spurting up through the hole in the manhole cover. Fearing that the burning gas would somehow catch a passing hay wagon afire the boys tried to put out the fire by tossing dirt down he small hole in the manhole cover. Handful, after handful went down the hole. Suddenly, there was a horrible rumble and the manhole cover flew up, up, up into the air, followed by a rush of air that put out the fire.

Not waiting to see where the cover landed, the boys hightailed it home. Ted ran through backyards, ducking under clotheslines filled with clean white linens, and plodding through gardens with abandon. Upon his arrival, he was met by an irate father, who dragged him out behind the woodshed and proceeded to whale his nether regions. He thought one of the neighbors had complained about his mad rush under her clothesline, or through her garden. It wasn't until many years later, somewhere around 1935 that his brothers explained to him that the sudden rush of sewer gas from the exploding manhole had "Blown the old man off the toilet!" and somehow he knew that Teddy was involved.

Back row: Dan, James E. Front row: Ernest, Earl and Ted.

Ted

A buddy on the left Ted on the right

"The Alfred Sun, Wednesday, March 21, 1900, Alfred, NY

A TERRIBLE FIRE.

Last Sunday morning the inhabitants of this community received a shock, which,, while it excited the sensibilities, at the same time touched the inmost hearts and sympathetic natures of all, when it was learned the the home of Eugene Ferrin, who lives in a house belonging to Wm Ostrander, situated three miles from this village on the McHenry Valley road, was burned to the ground, together with the entire contents and two of the Ferrin's children had perished in the flames.

About twelve o'clock Saturday night Mrs. Ferrin arose and put a chunk of wood in the stove to keep the fire unti morning. She then retired again and her attention was soon attracted by a reflection of light which proved to be a fire which had started around the stove pipe hole down stairs. Mrs Ferrin gave her husband the alarm and went to the stair door and called the three older children who were sleeping overhead, two boys in one room and a little girl in another. They answered and the little girl came down. The fire was at first apparently not very serious and Mr. Ferrin endeavored to extinguish the flames with tow pails of water which were handy; but this amount being insufficient and the water privileges being very inconvenient, he was obliged to abandon the effort.

When it became apparent the house would be destroyed, Mrs. Ferrin rushed out of the house with her baby and little girl.

Seeing that the boys did not come down stairs in response to the call, Mr. Ferrin became alarmed for their safety and started up the stairs to rescue them but was met by a wall of seething flame which caused him to retreat. He then rushed out of the house and after procuring a ladder climbed to the chamber window which was located near the bed in which the boys had been sleeping. We are informed that when Mr. Ferrin broke through the window he found that the children had left their bed and were in the opposite corner of the room cut off from him by the flames so that it was impossible to effect their rescue. In his efforts to save the children he was very badly burned, the hair being burned from his head and his hands and one side of his face being entirely blistered. The two boys who were cremated were aged 9 and 3 years. Mr. and Mrs Ferrin and the other two children escaped with nothing save their night clothes and walked one third of a mile to Mr. Otrander's in their bare fee. The night was severely cold, the thermometer standing at eight below zero, and their feet were badly frozen from the exposure. They are at present at the home of Mrs. Ferrin's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Henry McIntosh, and it will be some time before they recover from the burns and effects of exposure. Mr. and Mrs Ferrin have the sincere sympathy of the entire community in their great calamity and bereavement, and several parties are busily engaged in collecting effects to aid them in their time of need. Surely this is a Christian duty, and we trust that all will join in bearing these heavy burdens that they may be made as light as possible for those on who they will fall with crushing weight. The remains of the little ones were placed in a casket together and interred in Woodlawn Cemetery Monday afternoon."

Helen was born four years after the fire. She was later adopted by the Lippincotts. Her older brother, the baby in the fire, came looking for her when she was 15 years old. Until then, she hadn't known she was adopted.

James Edson Montgomery

2009-01-16T14:52:00.000-08:00

Handsome fellow, don't you think? He was born November 22, 1869. He was a conductor on the Erie Railroad, Hornell to Port Jervis run. That is his caboose in the header. He was almost 21 when he married Carrie Alison Nolton

She was born 1/1/1867, so she was 23 when they married 9/6/1890. Together they raised a family of seven boys, including one set of twins born from 1892 to 1904.

The youngest was Theodore Roosevelt Montgomery, born on the day TR was elected.

It has been a lot of fun researching this family. We have met a lot of nice people in our travels. We met a very nice town clerk in Afton, where they were married. She made us a copy of their marriage certificate. We have not been able to find out much about Carrie. According to the certificate, she was born in Courtland, and lived in Windsor. He was born in Harpursville, and lived in Holmesville...all NY locations.

We have been able to trace James' family, on the Edson side, all the way back to the Mayflower. His mother was Adelia Edson, and he was given her maiden name for his middle name.

Adelia's parents were Jacob Edson, and Sophoria Bowen. Jacob traces on the female side to James Chilton, who arrived on the Mayflower with his daughter Mary.

This quest was a lot of fun. We keep hoping to make connections on the Montgomery side, but so far Elias, found in Otsego Co NY previous to 1800 is as far back as we can go there. If you have any clues, we would be glad to hear them.

Three of James and Carrie's sons, and four of their grandsons. This was taken in the early 50's. Back Row: Left to right Lowell, Roger, Ernest. Lawrence, Front row, James, Paul, and Ted Montgomery. Paul, Ted, and Ernest are brothers. Roger, Lawrence and Lowell are brothers, sons of Ted. James is son of Ernest. Nice looking crew! I think this picture was taken in Hornell, or Arkport, NY

The Beautiful Rocky Mountains

2009-01-10T15:55:00.000-08:00

In late August we drove to Estes Park, CO for the Clan Montgomery Society International Annual Meeting 2008. As part of the glories of that meeting we took a van trip up into Rocky Mountain National Park. The views were breathtaking! I was a bit short on the breath anyway because of the altitude. We live in the foothills of the Adirondacks, a very old, old mountain chain. They are very worn and aged. The Rockies are fresh and new, and while both are beautiful, the Rockies are a lot more of mountain than I am used to seeing.

This year they are suffering an asault by the Pine Bark Beetle so many of the trees were dried out and losing their needles. Our guide told us this is a cyclacle thing and the beetles only attack mature trees, so the young ones will grow to fill in the spaces left by the loss of the older trees. This problem is facing both Wyoming and Colorado.

Somehow the forest isn't the same with the mature trees dying.

We saw elk and deer and chipmunks. There are a couple of new bird species marked in our birdbook. We both had a wonderful time.

The New Year

2009-01-09T15:39:00.000-08:00

We didn't have a Christmas tree this year (2008) so I am showing you the last Christmas Tree we put up. It was a little bit Charlie Brown, but the aroma was wonderful. Since we are now heating with wood, it was somewhat not a good idea to put a live tree in the same room with a wood fire. Especially since our rooms are small and chock full of stuff. I missed it a little bit, but we shared the kids' tree so that filled up the gap.

We spent New Years Day traveling to Stamford CT. for the Greenwich Fine Arts Gun Show. We set up our booth at the show on Friday, and that evening there was a nice coctail party for the exhibitors and special ticket holders. It was a nice evening and we got to see all the wonderful things the dealers transported from the four corners of the country for exhibit. There were several engravers, all who do beautiful work, a very artistic taxidermist, and Indian artist with prints etc. and lots of tables with very fine guns, swords, militaria....one whole room of Indian regalia, some plains Indians, and some Iraqouis. I was very tempted by two dome top, hide covered boxes that some fellows from Alaska showed. There was also another dealer with Indian things, and she had some Noone photographs which were hand colored, enlarged and framed in beautiful gold leaf frames. One of a little girl was especially appealing. George Neuman was there of course. He is such a knowledgeable man on early firearms, and other early things. I stopped at a table displaying Japaneese swords and learned a little about them and the very collectable little decorative pieces that go between the blade and the hilt. There were several beautiful Civil War Swords with documentation. There was also jewelry, photographs, busts, and of course books. We took three tables this year, and selling was acceptable. One has to know a lot about history to truly enjoy a show like this. The more you see and ask questions, the more you learn. The dealers seem to be very helpful, and willing to talk about their goods with you.

We stayed over an extra day, as the years are beginning to weigh on us, and drove home via the Taconic Parkway on Monday. It was a bit gloomy, but a nice ride as opposed to the NYS Thruway madhouse. Next show will be the 24th and 25th at the Convention Center in Albany New York. Look for us there!

The Montgomery Side of the Story

2006-09-10T14:56:00.000-07:00

Our branch of Montgomerys are an adventuresome lot, who love to hunt, and fish, and camp, and enjoy the out-of-doors. Sometime in 1980, after my father-in-law died, we were visiting Mom Montgomery, and she gave me a box of pictures, and negatives, that she thought might have been Dad's. She thought his oldest brother Dud (Henry Dudley Montgomery) had taken most of them. Few were marked with the names of the people, but the one on the right above was marked Cameron, NY, Canesteo River.
Once upon a time, when Dad's next older brother was visiting, I got him to sit beside me on our couch (sofa) (davenport) , and identify all the people he could. I wrote as fast as he scanned. We got the names of almost everybody, even the dog. But, being male, he didn't remember the names of the little girls. Some of the pictures were just negatives, and we didn't get them printed until after Uncle Ernie died, and he was the last of that generation, so we do not have identification on them.
My husband, Roger, remembers his Dad, Theodore Roosevelt Montgomery, talking about camping on the Canesteo River. The pictures tell the story.
Above left is James Edson Montgomery, and Ralph Kenneth Montgomery rowing a load of camping gear and supplies to the site. On the right above is the camp all set up. In the center is Theodore (about 6 years old, 1910) watching his mother Carrie, and his sister-in-law Fanny cooking the catch for the crew.
Lower left is Fanny Esther Osborne Montgomery, with a little unnamed friend and a big catch.

How peaceful the river, how quiet the camp, how much fun they had!!! Remember when?

Ancient Memories

2006-04-30T15:38:00.000-07:00

This is my Mom and Dad's first home together. Mom labelled it "Home May 1929"
Their first child Robert William, was born in the hospital, and died there shortly after his birth. My brother Ed, and I were both born in this house 1932 and 1933.
They lost the house during the depression, and later my Dad built a house in the same neighborhood. Mom told us about this being our house, and there were pictures of us as babies sitting on blankets on the lawn. I always thought I could remember the house when we visited friends there, when we were growning up. The stairway was familiar, and I always felt somewhat haunted there.

More about Grand Uncle John Grovenberg

2005-12-11T14:17:00.000-08:00

12/11/2005
Wow! Talk about the power of the internet! After posting my pictures of Uncle John, I got terribly busy with my life, doing things like dishes, and housework, and cooking, and all the daily things that are busy work. I did manage to do some updating on my genealogy, but just hadn't taken the time to add to my blog. One day last week I was sitting here in upstate NY, scanning some pictures for our website, when I got a phone call from a lady in Idaho about my Uncle John! She referred me to a cousin of hers, who has the genealogists information on the Grovenbergs. He e-mailed me. They are tracing from a John Grovenberg from NY, but much earlier than mine. Who was mine, and was he related? I didn't know.
I was delighted to talk, and e-mail with them, and promised some more pictures, when my daughter http://northviewdiary.blogspot.com/ suggested I put them on the blog for everyone to see. So....I am following her suggestion.
I happened to go to the library today (aren't we lucky to have a library that is open on Sunday) to pick up some adventure fiction for my gout inflicted husband, when I got the idea of looking Grovenberg up in the card catalog for genealogists which the Johnstown Public Library has kept for at least 50 years. (I was able to find a lot of good information about my Wilders there years ago) However, there was very little on Grovenbergs, none that I knew, not even Uncle John.
So..back to my Mother's little yellow box. There I found his obituary, which I now post here.
Taken from the Saturday, November 18, 1939 paper..either the Leader Republican or The Morning Herald

Body of John Grovenberg is Found in Cayadutta Creek

Well Known Teamster Believed to Have Fallen While Taking Short Cut Home Last Night Along the Railroad Tracks

The body of John Grovenberg, 44, 120 West Fulton Street, well known local teamster was found this afternoon about 1 in the waters of the Cayadutta Creek a few feet from the railroad bridge which crosses the stream between West State and Washington streets.

Beleived to Have Fallen

The discovery was made by an employee of L. L. Streeter & Sons, who notified the police. Officers William Laird and Donald Patterson responded and Patterson donning rubber boots pulled the body to the bank.

Although no definite information could be secured, it is believed Grovenberg fell into the creek some time last night and the body remained unnoticed until this afternoon.

Inquiry among his friends and acquaintances disclosed, so far as is known, he was last seen alive in Charlie's Grill, 17 1/2 West State street, last night about 11:30.

He had been drinking and it is thought he started for home by taking a short cut along the railroad right of way and lost his balance while crossing the bridge or became confused and walked along a stone abutment which starts at the north end of the bridge.

The point at which the body was found is shallow and barely covered the body which was found face down on the creek bed.

Dr. Frank G. Calder, coroner, was called and after viewing the remains and securing an identification ordered the body removed to the Fulton County Laboratory for an autopsy.

Served in World War

The victim of the mishap was born in the Town of Johnstown February 16, 1895, son of Charles and Elizabeth Jackson Grovenberg and was a lifelong resident of this section.

He was in service during the World War and was well known and liked among a large circle of friends who mourn his tragic death.

The survivors are his widow, Lulu, parents and one sister, Mrs Amy Lingenfelter, residing on the Fort Johnson road and one brother, William, of the Town of Johnstown.

The funeral arrangements had not been completed and will be announced later.

Clyde, John, and Mitzi...all in uniform

Horse and pony pictures

2005-09-08T12:32:00.000-07:00

Uncle John and foal

Uncle John pony and pug

Main St. Johnstown, NY circa 1920, Uncle John driving his big greys.

2005-09-03T15:36:00.000-07:00

Grand Uncle John Grovenburg, circa 1920

2005-09-03T15:32:00.000-07:00

My Mother Was a Saver

2005-08-21T17:29:00.000-07:00

I have just spent much of the last two days going through my Mother's little yellow box.
This delightful little box with a brass clasp and shiny brass innards houses her collection of newspaper clippings.
I have had a wonderful trip down memory lane reading some of the various news stories about weddings, births, showers, deaths, automobile accidents, family reunions, The County Bicentennial, and more. I have used the dated clippings to update my genealogy program with births and weddings.
The obituaries of my Grandparents and Grandaunts and Uncles were also included. I found that my Great Grandfather was the last living Civil War Veteran in the County. He served in the 29th Ohio, fought at Gettysburg, and died in 1913 at 72 years of age of pneumonia.
One of my grand Uncles was killed by a freight train, while walking along the tracks. He was dragged for quite a distance....and garnered large Headlines. Another grand Uncle, one I remember dearly, fell from a railroad trestle, and drowned in the creek it spanned, while making his way home. He was a very special Uncle. He was a teamster. Not the union, the Horses. He had a beautiful team of dapple grey horses. He hauled anything that needed hauling in the early days of the 20th century. His team appeared in every parade decked in bunting and polished highly. He and my Father took me to the barn to see the horses whenever we visited. When the family gathered at my Grandmother's, for happy occasions (usually every Sunday), and the men settled down to a little liquid libation and some card playing, and the little ones were piled like cordwood on the beds, and the ladies in the kitchen swapping tales and recipes, Uncle John would sit in the big old maple rocker with the pressed carved decoration in the center of the back, and watch the game. He didn't like to play. When I got restless, because I was a big kid and there was no bed space for me, he would take me on his lap, in that big old rocker, and rock us both gently while the game progressed. He smelled like tobacco, and Burma shave, and maybe a little horse, but he was warm, and kind, and he loved me. And I loved him. After he fell from the trestle and drowned (Some say he was pushed, and rolled for the large sums of money he often carried), he was laid out in the parlor of my Aunt's home. My Mom and Dad, and older Brother and I went to "see" him. It looked like he was in bed, but it was a big shiny metal box bed. My Mother said,"Go ahead you can touch him." So I took one of his big gnarled hands, the hands that had held me while he rocked. It was icy cold. His eyes were closed, and his lips stern. I realized then what dead meant. My dear Uncle John was gone. He wasn't here anymore...and I cried.. and I knew why my Aunt cried. But he still lives. As long as there is a memory alive he will live.
I was just over five years old when he died in 1939
Not all memories are sad. One funny one was about a Pet contest held at the Fonda School summer program. Children brought pets and prizes were given to the longest tailed cat, and the best groomed dog, etc. etc. My youngest won a prize for the smallest pet.....a caterpillar.. and of course his grandmother clipped the article in the paper, and kept it in her beautiful yellow box.

THIS IS WHERE WE LIVE

2005-08-20T18:46:00.000-07:00

Just Beginning

2005-08-16T10:12:00.000-07:00

Grandpa Joseph and Grandma Julia Wild Lachmayer in front of the house they built circa 1915
This is Grandpa and Grandma McGivern taken before the Senior Ball 1950

I think a lot about the past, and how fortunate I was to have such a happy childhood. I had parents who loved me, my brothers and sister, and each other. The depression was a hardship, a challenge, but it didn't dominate our lives. Hope did. "When our ship comes in" was a frequent statement at our house. We didn't wait at the dock, we enjoyed each day as it came.
We had three grandparents, who were very precious in our lives. Our paternal grandfather had died before our parents were wed, so we only had pictures of him. We had numerous Aunts and Uncles, all contributed a measure of love to our environment. Our father was one of five, our mother one of nine.
© copyright 2005 Tryon Books and More