Sometimes disaster strikes. But it also comes with some silver linings.
Recovery is going to take a long time, and my co-workers and I have been spending our days securing our collections. After Friday we will not be allowed in the building till further notice.
Today I was finishing boxing up our vertical files. These files contain a variety of information, much of it published material that serves as background information. Other items, such as the one I found today, really should join the archival manuscripts.
If you are unsure of this significance of this piece, please re-read the end of Monumental: Part 1.
Had it not been for the flood, I may never have found this bit of family history (but I still would have preferred if it hadn’t happened).
Every week I select a photo or two to share on our Instagram at work for “Throwback Thursday.” Sometimes this is easy, particularly on major holidays. Other times, such as the middle of August, require a bit more effort. I find myself browsing through folder after folder, looking for something that may resonate with our followers. There isn’t a magic formula. Occasionally I’ll post a photo I doubt will garner much interest, and it ends up being very popular. The opposite happens, too. For me, the best part is when I try to learn more about the photo and come across new-to-me bits of information about Hartford. Even if the story isn’t exactly what I wish it were, the journey can be amazing.
While searching recently, I came across a series of 20 photos in the City’s Department of Engineering collection. They were all marked as being buildings to be torn down for the extension of Hudson Street. What struck me was how much life was still present in an area about to be demolished: The bookcase next to the front door has a sign reading, “Books for sale, 5 cents”…
Hudson and Elm have ended up being a microcosm of urban renewal in Hartford. Housing was destroyed in favor of automobile pathways. The Park River was forced underground. And after years of neglect (parking lot creation), developers are now trying to reinvigorate the neighborhood.
Using both the Historic Hartford Courant and the Street Commissioners records within the Hartford Town and City Clerk archives, I was able to ascertain that in his 1916 inaugural address, Mayor Frank Hagarty proposed an extension of Hudson Street from Buckingham Street to Elm Street. A bridge would be built over the Park River to connect the new road to Wells and Trumbull Streets to the north. Combined with South Hudson Street and the existing Hudson Street to the south, this would provide a route parallel to Main Street from one end of downtown to the other. The hope was it would reduce backups on Main Street.
The new route would require demolition. On August 14th, 1916, the Commission on the City Plan wrote to the Court of Common Council, recommending the extension. They provided this map, with the path (faintly) outlined in red:
Hartford Town and City Clerk Archives, Box 74, Folder 4, Hartford History Center, Hartford Public Library
In January 1917 the Hartford Courant wrote that the extension “is to start at Buckingham street and traverse back yards and marooned spaces until it gains egress just north of the old armory, there to plunge across the river opposite the bend in Wells street.” By June 1917 the plan had been approved, including the award of the following damages to those owning back yards and marooned spaces:
Hartford Town and City Clerk Archives, Box 74, Folder 4, Hartford History Center, Hartford Public Library
While many of these property owners lost their house/land, Bessie M. Beers and her mother, Martha P. Skinner, went for a different angle: a 90º angle. The 12-family house they owned originally ran east and west. To make room for the new street, the building was jacked up and turned to run north and south. The brick, three story structure was thought to be the largest house moving ever in the city.
There certainly were some innovative approaches. This row of houses was split in half, with one portion being moved to the other side of the new road. The eastern portion still stands, the western portion is now a marooned space we call a parking lot.
Hartford History Center image. View on the Connecticut Digital Archive: http://hdl.handle.net/11134/50002:16796Row houses on Capitol Avenue, 1917 and today.
Less than two years later, the bridge was operational. In early January 1919 there were 1000 cars crossing it daily. The Courant believed “Mayor Frank A. Hagarty was justified in his recommendation.”
At this point in the story we begin to learn some of the City’s insurance history. In 1924, Connecticut General Life Insurance began preparations for their new headquarters on the block bordered by Elm Street, West Street, Capitol Avenue, and Hudson Street. During a rain storm in February 1925, the foundation of the 12-family Skinner-Beers house threatened to collapse. An estimated 125 people were living in the structure at the time. All were able to find a place to stay, and Connecticut General pledged to cover expenses. Workers were able to remove the tenants’ belongings, and soon the structure was razed.
Excess rain is a recurring theme in the Hudson-Elm area. An article in the Courant in April 1936 stated that $90,000,000 worth of stocks and bonds had to be dried out after the Connecticut General building was flooded the previous month.
Flood of 1936. View south toward Hudson Street from Jewell Street. The Connecticut General building is on the corner of Hudson and Elm. Hartford History Center Image.
The bridge itself had a short lifespan. In October 1942, three months shy of its 24th anniversary, removal began in order to make way for the Park River conduit. The flooding was used as an excuse to snuff out something natural in favor of concrete.
In 1957 Connecticut General Life Insurance (known today, following a merger, as CIGNA) moved to a new headquarters in Bloomfield. The next April, Aetna Insurance moved into the Elm Street building. Aetna – not to be confused with Aetna Life Insurance – was a property and casualty subsidiary of Connecticut General. Known as “Little Aetna,” they remained on the site until 1982. CIGNA sold the building a few years later. Most recently it was leased by the State of Connecticut for the Comptroller, Treasurer and Attorney General offices.
55 Elm, October 2022
Today 55 Elm Street is under construction, being transformed into residential apartments (and a few other uses). Neither housing nor business ever fully left the Hudson-Elm area. But between the new road, the encapsulated river, and the continued creation of parking lots, it has become more of a shrine to the automobile than a place where books are sold, people converse on porches, and wet clothes are hung to dry. Maybe that will change.
We did it! In April I posted about my Colgate University class’s campaign to raise $50,000 to endow a scholarship in honor of our classmate, Dr. Tonya Gscheidle Henderson ’98. I asked for your support, pledging in turn to ride my bike 113 miles.
Not only did I raise more than my $1300 goal, as a whole we have raised over $52,000. In June the fund became an official endowed scholarship. It will have its first recipient this fall.
Thank you. Whether you shared social media posts, donated financially, or sent positive thoughts, your support made this happen. My classmates and I are incredibly grateful.
On Thursday morning, Tonya’s 45th birthday, I started my ride in Schenectady. It was the best weather the east coast had seen in a month; I don’t know how I pulled that off. My biking buddy, Susan, joined me for the first 25 miles, which made that portion go by quickly. We took the Erie Canal path. With all the rain we have had lately, the water was crashing through the locks.
Lock 8
The Sprakers Reformed Church offers their building as a “comfort station.” I was grateful for the clean restroom and the bottled water.
I saw a variety of animals along the trail: three deer, two groundhogs, a small snake, a turkey, a handful of rabbits, and while going by a farm, some really big pigs.
Sprakers Reformed Church
Mmm…bacon
The biggest obstacle occurred around Herkimer. I knew there was a chance part of the trail would be unpaved. Indeed there was. Without warning, the surface changed from pavement to stone dust. This is a step above sand, and not something you really want to ride on with skinny road bike tires. I was looking forward to my next turn, but when I glanced to see where I was supposed to go, all that was in view was a muddy hill. Without a mountain bike and/or hiking boots, there was no way I was tackling that. The turn was supposed to be a short cut. Even though I was afraid continuing straight would add a few miles, that was clearly the better option. Miraculously, it didn’t add any significant mileage.
Herkimer House: Not on the initial itinerary
When I initially planned the ride, I was going to get off the canal trail around Ilion. I later adjusted that, deciding to continue on to Utica. From there it would be local roads. It was therefore a big deal as I approached the city line. There were some nice areas of the city. This, however, was not one of them.
I was slowing down at this point. I was tired, a little sore, low on water, and had reached the uphill portion of the program. I invited my father, also a Colgate alum, to join me for the last 13 miles. I was running late, so he met me at the 97 mile mark. After having ridden 72 miles alone, it was incredibly comforting to see him. Our paces are different enough that we didn’t really ride together for those final 16 miles. But between knowing he was there, and being on the home stretch, I got enough of a second wind to power through.
By the time I reached Lake Moraine Road, I was on autopilot. I could see the campus from afar, and felt at home.
Nine hours after departing, I reached 113.8 miles as I coasted along the pathway to East Hall. Darcie Leach Loveless ’98, Associate Director of Stewardship, greeted me with a huge smile and a hug. She brought swag, and I felt like I was on the Tour de France podium.
Somehow, despite the fatigue and sore muscles, the experience was amazing.
Class of ’98 and Class of ’72: An Alumni Event
Videos
My camera only has four hours of battery life, so I couldn’t record the entire ride. Believe me, you wouldn’t want to watch that much anyway! There are three options below: short, medium, and long. I recommend watching these with the sound off. Most of what you hear is the camera rattling.
Photo by Andrew M. Daddio, Colgate University, August 5, 2009. Retrieved from flickr.com.“1819” sung by the Colgate 13, Cutting it Close, 1980
I’m going on a bike ride, and I need your help.
After years of saying I don’t want to do charity rides, and I hate fundraising, I’m doing a ride to raise money.
Here’s what you need to know. My friend and college roommate, Tonya, has cancer. She has reached the stage where there are no more treatments available. Over the past several months, she has been in hospice care. In her words:
Facebook post, April 2021
Tonya has immeasurable wealth. It is not the kind backed by a federal agency, but a wealth of faith, determination, courage, and an ability to befriend anyone who crosses her path. My classmates and I want to honor this spirit; it is the “spirit that is Colgate.” In order to do so, we need to raise tangible funds. Everything we raise will go toward financial aid. Hopefully we will raise enough to endow a scholarship in Tonya’s name. Financial aid made Colgate possible for Tonya, and our goal is to pay that forward (More about Tonya in our official ask below).
It is in this same spirit that I am committing to ride my bike 113 miles, ending at East Hall, our freshman dorm. The ride will take place on Tonya’s birthday, July 22, 2021 (severe weather threats will change the date). I hope you will consider supporting this effort. My initial goal is $1300. All money raised will go directly to the fund set up by Colgate. This is not a glitzy fundraiser; swag is pretty limited. Any gift amount will be appreciated, you do not have to choose from Colgate’s default amounts. If you need some inspiration, here is a range of possibilities:
$13: Sets the thing in motion (listen to the song at the beginning of the post). Colgate’s lucky number. $18.19: Year of Colgate’s founding. $19.98: Year of our graduation. $41.31: Tonya’s CU mailbox number $56.50: 50 cents per mile! Anyone pledging at this level or above will get a handwritten, rather than email, thank you note. $113: One dollar per mile! Anyone pledging at this level or above may opt to receive a text update from the road. $133.46: Colgate’s zip code Anyone pledging at this level or above may opt to receive a selfie from the road. $197.75: One Slice per mile! (At current day prices. Still plain only.) Anyone pledging at this level or above may opt to receive two selfies from the road (neither selfie will include pizza). $282.50: Two and a half dollars per mile! Anyone pledging at this level or above may opt to receive three selfies from the road. $565: Five dollars per mile! Anyone pledging at this level or above may opt to follow me electronically through Garmin’s Livetrack*, and receive three selfies. $860: Number of students starting out in the Class of ’98. The biggest and the best! Anyone pledging at this level or above may opt to receive four selfies. $1130: Ten dollars per mile! Anyone pledging at this level or above may opt to be tagged/thanked in social media posts, and receive five selfies. $1300: Genuine fan of Tonya. Pledge this much, I’ll buy you something from the bookstore.
*Limited number available
Prefer to drive rather than write a check? I am also looking for someone (must be fully vaccinated) to help get me to the Schenectady area (beginning of the ride) from Colgate (end of the ride). I would like to leave my car at Colgate, and have someone drive me from there – the day before the ride – to a hotel near the starting point. Please let me know if you can do this!
Next steps!
— Donate at: http://colgate.edu/hendersonfund (Please contact me if you’d prefer a different method. Please note that donating directly to Colgate comes with a tax deduction, other ways do not.)
— In the comments section, please write, “Jennifer’s bike ride.”
— Email me your gift level and phone number (for texts or selfies)
— If you would like to follow my training progress, sign up here to receive updatesSorry, too many issues with the site. See my usual FB updates.
Also welcome are cheerleaders at East Hall! Our official ask is below the map. Please let me know if you have any questions. THANK YOU and GO GATE!
tonyasride@gmail.comTentative route – with elevation. It’s going to be a climb at the end!
Our official ask:
It is with a very heavy heart that we write to tell you that our classmate, Tonya Gscheidle Henderson, is losing her life to a rare form of cancer. Tonya was, to so many of us, the epitome of what was best about our Colgate years. She was a community builder, spreading ’gate enthusiasm and creating lasting friendships in every corner of her campus life. Tonya’s grit and joy forged the course of her life, and Colgate was a momentous chapter in that journey.
After Colgate, Tonya earned her PhD in School Psychology and recently won School Psychologist of the Year for the state of Oklahoma. Tonya was the first person in her family to graduate from college. In many ways, Colgate changed the trajectory of Tonya’s life. We would like to ensure that more students like Tonya attend Colgate by raising $50,000 to endow a scholarship in Tonya’s name.
We hope to make it possible for Colgate to be an important chapter in another student’s life, so that like Tonya, they can go on to build community wherever their life journey takes them. If we reach our $50k goal within the next year, an endowed scholarship will be named in perpetuity for Tonya.
$50k is a great deal of money to raise in a short period of time. “Up the hill with profound determination” is our guiding motto. Tonya has never given up. Not when she was told Colgate’s hills might be too difficult for her as someone diagnosed with muscular dystrophy. Not when she was told to retire because of her health, but continued to work. Not when she was told there were no more treatment options, and has lived long beyond any medical experts’ hopes. We will not give up. We will walk up that steep hill. Please join us on this climb as we raise $50k to honor our determined and brave classmate.
For some of you, this this is a familiar scene. After a day of swimming, walking around the lake, maybe a few holes of golf, some attempts at getting a Rainbow out of Doc’s, you’ve exchanged your grubby clothes for something a little nicer. If you haven’t put your shoes on yet (you’ll need them for the walk up to dinner), you can feel the decades old, scratchy, straw mat on the bottoms of your feet. You sit on the couch, with its faded orange and green upholstery, which Grandma was so proud to have selected in the 1970s. A hummingbird might beat its wings at the feeder, hanging from a tree behind you. No one is swimming right now, but laughter is carried in the breeze from a couple cabins down. Elbow’s water sloshes against the bottom of the Pel Mel. The cheese is from Kugel’s, your beverage, or its ingredients, purchased at the Pig when you last went into Crivitz. It’s Thursday, so after cocktails you’ll head up for Prime Rib; Thursday has been Prime Rib night as long as anyone can remember. The toughest decision you will have to make in the next hour or two is, mint chocolate chip or Mackinac Island fudge? You share all of this with some combination of your siblings, parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, and nephews. You are not alone.
It is the opposite of quarantine.
I took this photo two summers ago, and a print hangs in my kitchen. Lately it has been reminding me that after a big disruption, though things may never be exactly the same again, they can get very close.
The scene I described is a compilation of forty years of memories. While I was growing up, my family would travel to Wausaukee every couple of years. As an adult, I chose to go each summer. It is where my grandmother would gather us for family reunions. My siblings, cousins, and I learned to fish, first on Elbow Lake, and later at Doc’s Pond, Springer, Lily, and the ultimate, Pond 2. We swam from our dock to the float, or attempted the diving boards at the Main Dock. The first time I saw a Bald Eagle was while I was walking around the lake (I hardly ever did that walk with a pair of binoculars, which my ornithologist grandfather could never understand). We knew where to find the ginger ale when we were younger, and to always have limes on hand when we were older. Pancakes, the clang-and-bang, ice cream twice a day, the row boat Nancy and Grandpa built by hand, Sunday basket, the tarpon mounted over the living room door – these were constants year after year. There was a time I couldn’t imagine life without them.
Then came the sale of the cabin. The place my cousins and I had gathered together the most, and was always a topic of conversation at other times, was no longer available to us.
August 2018 was my third trip back after the sale, and the first time staying again in our former cabin. There was a new hunting trophy over the fireplace, new linens on the beds, and the hot and cold water knobs had been switched to their proper sides in the shower. However, Margaret and I were home. We still made our beds before, or right after, breakfast as had been insisted upon by our grandmother. If it was raining when the bells called us to a meal, we grabbed a bumbershoot from the same corner of the porch they’ve stood for decades. Memories of those who were not with us were certainly on our minds. But we had new adventures, too, like hiding the gnome. It wasn’t exactly the same, but it was very close.
This is how I imagine life, post-quarantine. We can go back to our places, be with our people, and reminisce without glass screens in front of us. There may be differences from last year or the year before, but we will still enjoy these things. We may keep the masks around, like the pick-up sticks in the cabin closet that nobody has played with for decades. But Thursday’s Prime Rib will be served in the dining room, and will not have to be distributed Sunday basket style.
Margaret and I had talked about another trip to Wausaukee this summer. It doesn’t seem like the world will have righted itself enough for us to travel to the Midwest from our respective coasts, but we know that some time in the next couple of years, we will once again be able to revel in the continuity.
Around this time last summer, I decided I needed a new bicycling goal. It had been over a year since I surpassed my goal of biking to work every day for a year. For the past few summers I’ve aimed to (and reached or exceeded) ride 100 miles a week in July. And while there are certain hills I look forward to incorporating into my routes each season, and particular roads I enjoy returning to, without a goal it sometimes feels as though I’m merely going around in circles.
While I do accumulate many miles each year, I am not fast and have no desire to race. As I see it, this leaves me with repetition and distance. Cue Kevin Costner in Field of Dreams and the voice saying, “Go the distance.”
Each summer I manage to do at least one 50-miler. Occasionally I have done a 60 mile ride. I’m fairly certain that at some point I said I would never do a century, but it was starting to feel right. A century for cyclists is about what a marathon is for runners. I’ve been at this for a while; it seemed to be time.
I had certain parameters, though. There are many supported century rides to select from, but they don’t have rain dates. While I’m willing to ride less than three miles to work in the rain, I have no desire to pay for a ride and then be in wet spandex for dozens of miles. Many of those rides also have a fundraising component, and that is not for me. Did I want to invite someone to ride with me? Sure, it would have been nice to have someone along to chat with, to help change a flat tire if necessary. However, I didn’t want anyone struggling to keep up with me, nor did I want to struggle to keep up with anyone else. More importantly, the date chosen for the ride needed to be a date when my body, with its various and sundry limitations, was ready. I wanted to reach my goal without hurting myself in the process. I concluded it was best to ride alone.
Where did I want to ride? I could start at home (another advantage to riding alone) and ride round trip to the Connecticut shore, or do a loop in the central part of the state. At some point I decided I wanted something more adventuresome than repeating the roads I’ve been riding for two decades. I wanted to make it an event; to start at home and go in one direction or another for 100 miles.
Sitting in a coffee shop one winter day, I shared these thoughts with a good friend. How we got from my “I want to ride 100 miles in one direction” to her “my family’s house is 100 miles from here,” I no longer remember. But between then and now I spent copious hours on mapping websites, calculating any number of possible routes between Chez CyclingArchivist and the Homestead of the Family W (century routes – one, two, three – and 50 mile routes for the area where I’d be riding are publicly available).
The goal was set.
I found a training plan that would be a good model for me. When spring arrived, I started pedaling. As spring became summer we started discussing dates. The chosen date made its appearance in the 10-day forecast, sunny at first, then progressively rainier. At the 11th hour we postponed from Tuesday to Thursday.
Thursday morning arrived and the weather was perfect. The ride itself was better than I had imagined. The Connecticut portion was quite familiar. I had tried out the segment between Lake Congamond and Northampton, MA once before. The rest was entirely new. The Connecticut River Valley in Hadley was green with ripening corn, with equally colored, tree-covered hills in the distance. Move over Filet Mignon, the first protein bar I ate, at almost 39 miles in, was the most delicious food I’d ever encountered. I’m pretty sure that was situational. An employee of the Sunderland Corner Store generously let me use the sink to refill a water bottle. The one portion of trail I wasn’t sure actually existed, was in fact in place, and was followed by one of the more unusual buildings I’ve seen in a while.
Your guess is as good as mine.
Back along the river, Turners Falls provided a scenic snack break, my second of three.
Protein bar with a view.
I sent a selfie to my co-workers when I crossed the Vermont state line.
Say cheese!
At that point I still had over 20 miles (uphill!) left to ride, but it was an accomplishment nonetheless. My penultimate stop was a photo-op with the West Dummerston Covered Bridge.
Longest covered bridge entirely in VT.
A few more miles of climbing, and I was there.
My bike computer was set to display the number of miles left to ride. I tried not to read it too often, but it surprised me how the numbers seemed to melt away. 89! 49! 34, I can do that after a full day of work! 17! 2.9, that’s my commute to work; think how quickly you get down Park Street!
Yay, I made it!
I arrived with a smile on my face. I didn’t get lost, or have any mechanical issues. Perhaps I should have had more water, but I wasn’t parched. Mentally, the last seven miles were toughest. But I made it.
Total mileage: 102.11 Moving time: 7:11:38 Elapsed time: 8:15:37
My friend had driven up just to meet me and bring me back home. When I first discussed this with her, I’d envisioned meeting her there at the end of one of her stays. I never expected she would travel all that way for me. After I got cleaned up, we enjoyed some time on the porch and walked around the property (the house is amazing, and there’s some manuscript material I’d love to see some day). We had burgers at a local restaurant, then drove back home.
Two days later I remain elated. My training had been effective. I accomplished another goal, on a beautiful day with a spectacular route. And I enjoyed the absolute best of friendship.
This coming week I will be attending the National Council on Public History’s annual conference, here in Hartford. I am very excited to be attending a national conference right here at home. Having followed the twitter feed, and read the conference-specific blog posts, I decided to write one that I would be looking for, if I were traveling to Hartford for the first time.
Yes, it involves a bicycle.
If you are bringing a bicycle (or have access to one, as well as a helmet, appropriate attire, etc. etc.), or want to walk/run 13.5 miles (🥵), this route will bring you past a number of interesting spots in the city. This is a completely urban route, so you must be comfortable riding on city streets with traffic. There are a couple of painted bike lanes, but no protected bike lanes. Often you will have to share the bike lanes with the city buses (among others 🙄). I do ride these streets, and am comfortable doing so, but like everything in life, there is risk involved; you are responsible for your own actions. I have not accounted for any construction that may be in progress; please re-route yourself if necessary. Attempt to follow the “same road, same rules” adage. Sometimes it’s easier than others. You are allowed to ride when the walk sign is on.
You could also do this by car. If you do, please do not drive through an intersection when the walk light is on.
However you travel the city, I hope you enjoy your visit!
These are the points of interest you will encounter. The distances shown are approximate, and cumulative from the Convention Center:
Alexander Calder’s Stegasaurus, with the Wadsworth Atheneum and Travelers tower, March 2018.
0.3 milesStegasaurus by Alexander Calder, adjacent to the Wadsworth Atheneum (the country’s oldest continuously-operating public art museum).
JFK spoke from the portico of UConn’s building across the street.
0.5 miles Next up is the Old State House. Lots of things have happened here over the years.
[Oops…I left the Isham-Terry House out of the route. You could take a left onto Walnut St (at 0.9 miles) then a right onto High St. to go past it. You will return to the route at the intersection with Main St (straight-ish) and Rt. 44, when the route has just gone past the Keney Clock Tower.]
1.6 milesOld North Cemetery. Frederick Law Olmsted is among those buried here.
The SAND School is across the street from the cemetery. You may notice the
Ropkins Branch of Hartford Public Library is located in the school. During riots
over Labor Day weekend in 1969, the library (then located in another building
right near by) was fire bombed. The Hartford History Center holds one photo
of the library after it burned. Among those in the photo is a priest. When
researching the fire recently, I found out the priest was the branch manager
that year! No one currently working for library had been aware of this.
2.9 milesCircus Fire Memorial behind Wish School. A lifelong Nutmegger, I visited the memorial for the first time last year. The weather is taking its toll on some of
the pieces, but it’s still an incredible experience. So many people attended, or
were supposed to attend, or have a story about the fire. It’s hard to put into
words the impact this event had on the city. Continues to have, really. The trees
indicating the location of the tent helped me put into perspective how the
chaos ensued. The structure was small, and the number of people was not.
7.7 milesElizabeth Park contains the country’s oldest municipal rose garden. Most of the park is actually located in West Hartford. Connecticut has 169 separate cities and
towns, and no county government.
Ana Grace playground, December 14, 2017.
8.5 milesAna Grace “Love Wins” playground, also in Elizabeth Park. Very relevant to
the repair work theme of the conference.
10.8 milesSoldiers and Sailors Memorial Arch. It’s architect is buried inside! Also, it was dedicated on my birthday, so very cool in many ways.
About to win the Hartford Marathon! Ok, maybe it was the next day. Soldiers and Sailors Memorial Arch, October 2017.
11.4 milesButler-McCook House. The house will be open for tours on Saturday. It was home to four generations of one family, and is the only 18th century house remaining on Main St.
11.9 milesChurch of the Good Shepherd was commissioned by Elizabeth Colt in memory of her husband and four of their children.
12.7 milesColt Armory. Formerly the site of gun manufacture; now being turned into a national park.
I know I left places out, none of them intentionally. There is pretty much another entire route I could (and still may) put together focusing on the southern portion of the city. And even though Kevin the Turkey is no longer there to greet you, it is worth going a couple extra miles to visit Old Wethersfield. If it were a few weeks later, I would encourage you to ride to Rocky Hill and take the nation’s oldest continuously operating ferry over to Glastonbury. There you would ride past farms, and visit Nayaug, before continuing up to Main St and past the Old Cider Mill; the nation’s oldest continuously operating cider mill.
One time, while attending a conference in Chicago, I borrowed a bike from a fellow attendee and got in a few miles along the lakeshore. It was a great way to start the day. I also brought my bike to a conference in Burlington, VT a little over a year ago, which was equally fabulous. Depending on your needs, I might be able to help you out. You could also check with BiCi Co.
And if you’re looking for something to read, before, after, or during the conference, check out the news from the Hartford Courant, the nation’s oldest, continuously published newspaper. See a theme here?
Last week, in Part I, I wrote about finishing a project I began over six years ago. This week you get the rest of the photographs, and an attempt at a wrap-up.
Jacob and Hannah were my great-grandparents, my grandmother’s parents.
Their kids were Bessie (not pictured, I went down a rabbit hole and discovered she is buried in Queens), Henrietta (not pictured, buried in Providence), Dorothy (not pictured, died in San Diego), Matilda, Evelyn (not pictured, died elsewhere), Jesse (not pictured, died elsewhere), and my grandmother, Mabel:
Morris and Polena were my grandfather’s parents.
Their kids were Marion, Minnie, Nathan, Bessie, Julia, Ida, my grandfather, Philip, and David.
Notice that Bessie and Ida are both Zwillingers. Bessie became a widow in the 20s, and Jacob became a widower in 1931. Subsequently, they got married. But what really cuts down on the relatives at Thanksgiving is that my grandmother and her niece Ruth (the daughter of Mabel’s sister Henrietta) married brothers Philip and David. Hard to tell in this pic, but here are David and Ruth together:
This project was a combination of doing the research, wondering what else I could find, and exploring the area around me. There are so many news articles, census forms, city directory listings, and Sanford maps I haven’t included here. I was also looking for destination bike rides, and affordable entertainment. Cemeteries are quiet, outdoor museums. They have art, history, low-traffic pathways, and I have yet to see a gift shop.
When I started the project, I remarked on how close by the cemeteries were, and I had never stopped before. As the crow flies, none of these cemeteries is more than 10 miles from me. I’ve driven farther than that for good ice cream. One of the cemeteries was even…wait for it…over the mountain!
For those unfamiliar, we here in Connecticut have an obsession with boundaries. The mountain separating West Hartford and Bloomfield on the east, and Avon on the west, is mostly a mountain in our collective psyche. A former co-worker laughs at the Connecticut River. She grew up near the Mississippi, and considers the Connecticut to be an overgrown stream. But heaven forbid if I’d had to cross it to reach one of the cemeteries (having grown up East of the River, it doesn’t stop me much). I joke that anything that’s a 45 minute drive from Hartford is a day trip; clear your schedule. Longer than that? Pack an overnight bag. Heaven knows what you’ll find when you cross the New York, Massachusetts, or Rhode Island border.
All of this is to say, I still believe the cemeteries are close by. And being able to bike to all of them reinforces how close by, and how much you miss when you’re car-dependent. Walkers may even glimpse more.
There was no prize for finishing this, just the satisfaction of knowing I did it. And in case you’re wondering, I have crossed a state line to visit another set of (grandparents and) great-grandparents. I made it back the same day, too!
Once upon a time, in a galaxy quite nearby, I started a project. It was Fall 2012, and I really anticipated I would wrap it up in fewer than 6 1/4 years. Alas.
If you haven’t read the old post, it contains photos of the graves of my maternal great-grandparents, and a few great-aunts and uncles. At some point, I made a list of the aforementioned, as well as the rest of my maternal ‘greats,’ and decided to bike to all the sites.
Since the initial visits to Zion Hill and F.D. Oates Ave. in Hartford, I have pedaled to The Emmanuel Synagogue’s cemetery in Wethersfield, Beth El’s cemetery in Avon, Veterans Cemetery in Windsor, and finally, today, to Rose Hill in Rocky Hill. A couple of years ago I also threw in a visit to Beth Jacob Cemetery (extra bonus points if you know where that one is before I talk about it below).
Rose Hill proved the most difficult. When I first researched it, I couldn’t find any indication online as to where the specific graves would be. This didn’t really phase me, and one day last year I rode over to see if I could locate them. What I had not taken into consideration, on that fine March day, was there was more snow on the ground at that spot in Rocky Hill than in my yard in West Hartford. Further complicating the matter, all the graves in that cemetery are flat. Pancake flat, and under said snow. I’m willing to visit cemeteries, but I choose to keep my digging metaphorical.
I felt confident today that the ground would be clear. And in my research this morning, I found a new (or new-to-me) Rose Hill website providing the section and plot numbers! It was like finding a clearly marked treasure map. It was a nice, sunny, warm day, and since Sundays are for relaxing, I decided to go on an almost 22 mile ride.
(Turns out 32° was not warm enough, at all, for a ride of this length, and it was hard work defrosting my toes when I got home. A little more than three hours after returning, I’m starting to feel warm again.)
Mission accomplished! There they were, my mom’s aunts/my grandfather’s sisters, Marion, Minnie, and Julia.
Marion
Minnie
Julia
Group shot
The family lived for many years on Wayland Street, in the south end of Hartford (landmark: Modern Pastry is on the corner…so hard not to stop for a baked good). I rode by as I made my way home. I believe it had a front porch in its early years [update: it didn’t], but otherwise, still there.
“The house on Wayland Street”
I was also able to ride by the Dwight School, where Minnie was a teacher.
My plan back in 2012 was to put all the photos together, family tree style. Look for that post in the next week to 6 1/4 years 😂. The most amazing part is that I have managed to locate all of the photos I’ve taken. The cobbler’s child goes without shoes, and the archivist’s personal digital files go without metadata…
Regarding Beth Jacob Cemetery…somehow I found out that my great-grandmother/my grandmother’s mother had a brother, who had a few children. These folks are buried in Beth Jacob. If you did a Google Maps search, it most likely came up fruitless. In West Hartford, if you stand in the parking lot of the Shield Street Post Office, and look across the road, there’s a small parcel of land where you will find the forever-stamps of my cousins (I think they’re cousins…) Bernard, Henry, and William Glaubman; their father, Isadore; and his second wife, Rose (his first wife, well, read all about it 😳).
Bernard
William
Isadore
Rose
Perhaps some day I will go back and take photos with the sunlight at a better angle. In the meantime, I’m very excited to have finally visited all the locations on my list, and to have all the photographs. After more than six years, three smartphones, and two hybrid bikes, I have one more post to go before I put this project to rest.
There are some very common refrains when I meet people and, in the course of conversation, tell them I work in a library. Generally, they express their love for my workplace and its most well known contents; occasionally they express concern for its future. After my most recent experience with this scenario, I silently wondered how many people, upon meeting a plumber at a social gathering, gush (pun intended) about that line of work.
“You’re a plumber? Oh I just love my kitchen sink! It’s so easy to get a drink of water.”
“You drink a lot of water?”
“Oh, yes. I always have a bottle of Poland Spring in my hand!”
The library is as integral to your community as the plumbing is to your house. Yet so many people are unaware of all a public library has to offer, and how easy it is to support.
Like a book written in a foreign language, there could be countless translations of the above conversation from plumbing to librarianship.
“You’re a librarian? Oh I just love the library! There are so many great books.”
“You read a lot?”
“Oh, yes. I order from Amazon all the time!”
I don’t know enough about plumbing to carry this analogy much farther, but I do know that plumbing isn’t simply about one type of pipe, in one location. Similarly, public libraries are far more than just books on shelves.
On an average day at the library where I work, an adult can study for their GED. A recent immigrant can enroll in English lessons, and find help applying for citizenship. Life long learners can watch a film together, and have a discussion about its relation to current events. While parents ask questions about navigating the public school choices, their children may participate in multicultural events. A social worker has a place to bring children for supervised visits with their parents. Anyone can print, scan, or fax a document. Computers and the internet are available for (almost) anything you may need to use them for. Your card will also provide you with access to an array of databases and downloadable material, much of which may be accessed from anywhere you have an internet connection.
You can support this sort of activity at your library just by maintaining your library card. Libraries with active users (as determined by the number of card holders) will get more funding from existing pools of money. These days we all seem to be in the shallow end, but if your library can prove usage, the finances have a better chance of flowing their way. So to make a splash for your library, walk in every couple of years and renew your card. That’s it; it won’t take a single extra penny out of your wallet.
If you want to take it to the next step, come in and borrow material more frequently. Circulation numbers reflect how well we are choosing material, and in turn, promoting literacy in the community. Little Free Libraries have sprung up because so many people have books they read once, and no longer want in their homes. The “big free library” buys the books (CDs, DVDs, garden tools, etc.) so you don’t have to. We acquire and shelve them, and you may take them out as frequently as you like (ok, there are some restrictions). Our checkout and renewal numbers, and your available shelving space, both rise; and everyone is still reading. It’s a winning formula (and if that money you are not spending at Amazon is burning a hole in your pocket, I can make some recommendations as to where to direct your funds).
I admit that until I entered this field, I was unaware how much is available. These days, when I relate the offerings to someone, their next comment is, “libraries have changed so much.” Yes, gone are the days of the shushing librarian, physical card catalogs, and paper copies of the Readers’ Guide to Periodical Literature. At their core, though, public libraries have not changed. They are still providing resources and services to improve people’s lives. In Hartford we are still doing the same work Caroline Hewins did in the late 19th and early 20th centuries (these diaries are my favorite examples of this work).
While I do expect libraries (and plumbing) to continue meeting the needs of the public and evolving, I am under no delusion this post will change the course of cocktail party banter or coffee talk. I also realize that libraries, being run by human beings, are not perfect. Hopefully, though, you will at least be moved to make sure your library card is up to date.
Of bicycles and archives 