Old, old historic papers, legal and otherwise, reached out to me this week.  I'd like to share a few with Enterprise readers.

This historian has filled columns with information on the Schoolcraft House and the congressman that built it, John L. Schoolcraft.

ALTAMONT — An enriching evening spent in the Altamont Community Room on Monday, June 23, presented Everett Rau, a long-time Altamont resident, billed as “An American Farmer, Rich in Spirit.” He was interviewed by Laura Shore, a volunteer worker at the Altamont Museum Archives.

This historian has known Everett for many years, and his historic wisdom on the success and benefits of early farming and his great knowledge about historic barns is documented.

Everett, born in the year 1919, has lived his whole childhood and adult years on his grandfather’s farm, Pleasant View Farm on Lainhart Road.  His grandfather was Peter John Ogsbury, a Civil War veteran.

Everett spoke of the many aspects of early farming.  Using a Farmall tractor was a big step forward for American farms.  Up until that tractor, he said with a chuckle, “We made hay the old-fashioned way.”  The attentive audience seemed to know what the “old way” was.

Everett also described his family’s activities in tough times. “In 1929, our country was just entering the Great Depression,” he said. “Through that time, as farmers, they worked hard raising 300 laying hens, made our own butter and cheese, and grew fruits and vegetables.”

The Raus preserved enough food to feed their families and neighbors and to donate food to others in need. “We never went hungry.  Our root cellar was never bare,” said Everett.

In addition, Everett’s mother took in summer boarders for $22 a week.  That sum included three meals a day and room!

“Neighbors all helped each other then,” said Everett. The names of Altamont families that farmed included Lainhart, Pangburn and Ogsbury. They shared farming equipment, labor, and knowledge.

Oxen were used in early farming days, and Everett said, “I still have the original ox yoke hanging up in the house.”

Everything was grown from heirloom seeds, Everett told the group.  Food was grown naturally, without pesticides. “If we saw a bug or a small green worm on an ear of corn or fruit,” Everett said, “we just picked it off!”

Then he advised how to get rid of leaf insects or worms: “Very simply.”

When World War II broke out, Everett Rau went to work at the General Electric Company in Schenectady on a secret armament project.  When engineers couldn’t fix a particular problem, they turned to Everett.  He took it home and did fix it.

Everett still worked the farm while at G.E. and he sold green vegetables, chickens, and homemade sausages to the G.E. workers. He told the audience, “Most jobs make you a living but farming makes you a life.”

Everett Rau married Peggy Vedder in 1943 and, he said, “We set about making a family.”

Today, Everett and Peg have four children, 17 grandchildren, 25 great-grandchildren, and one great-great-grandchild.  Everett consulted his lovely wife, Peg, sitting in the front row,  to get the correct figures: They’ve been married 71 years!

After the war, the Rau family began raising turkeys — 3,000 of them.  In 1951, they opened a store called Turkeyland in Schenectady.   Six ovens would roast stuffed turkeys that sold to long lines of waiting customers.  It was a grand success until 1961 when a new highway bypassed Turkeyland and detoured traffic away from Ev’s store.

In the 1960s and ’70s, the Raus’ farm continued general farming and they also raised sheep. A field hay bailer was purchased and successful harvests followed.  Hay was donated to the state of Georgia when it suffered a really bad drought.

The Raus also raised wheat to donate feed to the Altamont fairground for the animals there, and they raised a special crop of rye straw for roof thatching needed for the Shakespeare Theatre in Lenox, Massachusetts.

At the end of the interview, Everett strongly urged everyone to grow and eat more “fresh” food.  “Start a garden, even a small garden,” he said. “If I have encouraged even one person to start a small garden or have chickens — if allowed — or at least decide to eat more fresh food because it is good for you, then tomorrow will be another precious day for everyone.”

The standing audience clapped and clapped for a very long time.  OK, Everett, I’m watching my first tomatoes and my first two cucumbers grow on the vine!

Historian’s Note: This event was the first in a series for a film being made about Pleasant View Farm. The filming will take place through the summer and early fall, according to Marijo Dougherty, curator at the Altamont Museum Archives.  It is an educational project planned for the  District Educational System.  We will all be looking forward to viewing that.

— Photo from the Guilderland Historical Society

The damming of the Normanskill Creek in 1917 created the Watervliet Reservoir, which supplies part of the Town of Guilderland’s water supply. All manufacturing buildings in French’s Hollow beyond the trestle disappeared at that time. 

— Photo from the Guilderland Historical Society

The house and barns of the old Chesebro Farm near the Normanskill were originally built in 1760 and occupied by Colonel Abraham Wemple. The farm was located near Fuller’s Station on a site that was cleared later to make way for the rising waters of the Watervliet Reservoir. The house was razed in 1915 for that project.

— Photo from the Guilderland Historical Society

An 1890 view of the old cloth factory at French’s Mills on the right. Students living in those houses walked out to the Fullers School, while churchgoers attended Guilderland Center or Parkers Corners Church. All of these buildings disappeared by 1917 when a pumping station was built in anticipation of developing the Watervliet Reservoir. 

Thoughts of the changing times, changing landscapes, changing ways of life coincide in several articles uncovered by this historian.

Joseph Roth wrote in The Radetzky March in 1932: “In those days before the Great War, when it had not yet become a matter of indifference whether a man lived or died. When one of the living had been extinguished another did not at once take his place in order to obliterate him:  there was a gap where he had been, and both close and distant witnesses of his demise fell silent whenever they became aware of this gap.

“Where fire had eaten away a house from others on the street, the burnt out space remained long empty.  Close neighbors and casual passersby alike, when they saw the empty space, remembered the aspect and the walls of the empty space.

“That’s how things were then.  Everything that grew took its time in growing, and everything that was destroyed took a long time to be forgotten.  And everything that had once existed left its trace so that people lived on in memories, just as now they live by the capacity to forget quickly and completely.”

One of the Chesebro brother’s letters that was not published in this historian’s book, From the Historian’s Desk, was written by Allen E. Chesebro.  He wrote of his grandfather’s farm by the Normanskill Creek and was later published by historian Author Gregg in The Altamont Enterprise in the early 1970s.

The sturdy old farmhouse and barns pictured years ago now lies beneath a manmade lake, the Watervliet Reservoir.

Chesebro writes “I can scarcely more than allude to the immense barns and sheds, in which we children used to swing and hunt for eggs, or to the orchards, the vegetables and flower gardens, the fruitful nut and sugar trees, and the large fields of broom corn grown each year by my uncles, to be made each year into brooms during the winter months.

“Besides gathering nuts, apples and eggs, we children sometimes coveted the privilege of helping to sort the broom corn brush in the preparation of the shelling and drying processes.  Though quite young, (I was then about 7 years of age) my impressions are that we worked as well and accomplished as much as the women and girls that worked for pay.

“But ‘every rose has its thorn.’ The peculiar broom corn dust that filled the air caused an itching that was not enjoyed by our tender skins!

“The recollections I have of this old place are many and very pleasant. There were numerous ‘Uncles and Cousins and Aunts’; the genial help both in and out of doors; the individual animals, several of which I recall as if they had been personal friends.

“Among these were Prince and Hunter, a smart team of bay horses that once upon a time ran away and made 7 or 8 miles before giving up the fun. Prince was a greedy one.

“While once upon a visit, the horses were fed oats from the same box.  Prince gorged his gullet with the dry oats which swelled and caused his death, the wise ones averring that he died of bots.

“Then there was ‘old Tom.’   I used to lead him up into the tread power where hour after hour he patiently plodded on, getting nowhere, though doing his part to shell out the broom corn seed.  He was more than 30 years old — and a year or two later, concluding he could render humanity no further service — he quietly gave up the ghost.

“About the place were some fine hills for coasting, and a creek several rods in width ran near the house.  It was fine to feed minnows with our hands; the boat was tied to the roots of a large tree.

“In winter, especially at Christmastime, there were rare sports up on the ice.  The family cutter, well loaded with women and children, would be pushed swiftly along by my fleet-footed uncles and sometimes spent spinning around in a circle that  to me seemed wonderful.

“Grandma Chesebro,  as we called her, was at the time I knew her, practically blind, yet she was always cheerful and most agreeable to those around her. She liked to hear the letters written by members of the family as well as those from outside.

“She was a great lover of flowers, though then unable to see them, and she cultivated many kinds, among them the glorious hollyhocks. I have never ceased to wonder that people do not cultivate more hollyhocks.

“But I must not linger to tell of the greening apples, the turtles and fishes, and a multitude of other objects and incidents that flock to my memory.”

Historian Arthur Gregg’s 1978 column in The Altamont Enterprise tells that the sturdy old farmhouse and barns lay beneath the Watervliet Reservoir since about 1920 on  the Great Western Turnpike.

The Albany County Book of Deeds: Volume 21, page 312  shows that, in 1765,  Stephen VanRensselar, the boy patron, and his guardian uncle, Abraham Ten Broeck, sold the farm containing 267 acres to Abraham Wemple for 500 pounds.  By his will, his wife, Antje, and son, John A Wemple, received the property.

They, in turn, conveyed half of said tract on June 10, 1801 to Adam A. Vrooman for $2,500.  Eventually, the property came into the possession of Elijah Chesebro, postmaster of Guilderland Center.

The house and barns were located on the Normanskill near Fullers. Through a dense wood, their road connected with the Cherry Valley Turnpike, while another paralleled the creek to French’s Hollow.

How special it is that we, as residents of the town of Guilderland, can be aware of and know the history of this important piece of land, an integral part of  today’s living.

Historian’s note: A young Guilderland girl, Susan Carhart Tallman, was the daughter of Edward Chesebro and granddaughter of Elijah Chesebro of this same  farmhouse on the Great Western Turnpike.  Susan wrote of the love and happiness she had when she and her family came back to visit her “Grandma.” Her story was also retold by Historian Arthur Gregg in a 1948 issue of The Altamont Enterprise.

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— Photo courtesy of Michele Perras
Villager Joe Gaglioti cashes out with Gil DeLucia at the register.  In the fully-stocked drugstore, the little girl at the ice cream bar awaiting her treat of Armstrong Dairy ice cream is Michele De Lucia, now Michele Perras, daughter of the owner.

— Photo courtesy of Michele Perras
The full staff of DeLucia’s drugstore in its heyday were, from left, Jack Walters, pharmacy student; Kay Bliss, clerk; Gilbert DeLucia, owner and pharmacist; and Gene Holenstein, pharmacy intern.

— Photo courtesy of Michele Perras
The bucolic scene on unpaved, tree-lined Main Street in Altamont shows the DeLucia drugstore sign, advertising drugs, sodas, and cigars, with the D & H Railroad crossing in the distance. The village park had a fence all around it.

A pharmacy, now called a “drugstore,” is an integral part of life in a small village.  Altamont residents have had a pharmacy, off and on, since 1885.

The pharmacy became a necessity and a social meeting place for villagers.

The beginnings of a pharmacy are very old.  The origins of pharmaceuticals started in ancient Greece when the juice was first extracted from a leaf to heal a wound.  In Egypt, physicians and priests were divided into two classes: those who visited the sick and those who remained in the temple to prepare remedies for patients.

In ancient Europe, the separation of healing between physician and herbalist was recognized.    In America, Benjamin Franklin took the step of keeping the two professions separate when he appointed an apothecary to Pennsylvania.   

This historian can remember in her hometown area when the pharmacy (drugstore) was just that.  A place to pick up your medicine and perhaps another few healing remedies like bandages or cough syrup.

American pharmacies or drugstores today have become small grocery stores, carrying canned food, cosmetics, soda, candy, paper goods, toys, personal toiletries, and many items needed in a household. In addition, large supermarkets today usually include a pharmacy within.

Altamont’s first drugstore was on Main Street and run by Mssers. Davenport and Frederick.  On July 4, 1885, The Knowersville Enterprise, Altamont’s first newspaper, which changed its name when the village did, announced that an ice-cream bar was going to open in that “drug store.”  That must have been real news for town residents!

There was the Stephen A. Venear Altamont Pharmacy on Main Street open from 1926 to 1954.  In addition to prescriptions, they served newspapers, candy, sundries and also ice cream.  Pictures accompanying this column are of Gilbert DeLucia’s drugstore  at the same location.  It opened in 1956 and closed in 1991.

It is the one most likely remembered by today’s village residents.The late Gilbert DeLucia was from Greenwich, N. Y. and opened the pharmacy at 182 Main Street, the familiar location.  The building once housed The Altamont Enterprise and the Altamont Post Office.

The DeLucia drugstore, besides filling prescriptions, carried many necessary items for the housewife and home, it also had a soda bar and sold Armstrong’s Ice Cream.

I wonder if anyone else might open an Altamont drugstore. Wouldn’t that be historic and nice?        

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