Archive » August 2022 » Columns

Do you know what day it is — do you know what day it is? Nope, it is not Wednesday; it is Tuesday, Aug. 16, and the Old Men of the Mountain met at the Your Way Café in Schoharie.

This Tuesday, the scribe made it and the notes will be firsthand, if that means anything. Only one hearing aid is working, and even that doesn’t mean much — it is still all noise and this scribe tries to filter out words here and there.

One conversation was on the Yankee baseball team and how they seem to be falling apart. It looks like there are a few Yankee fans in the group, but the Mets did not seem to have any, at least any that were as vocal as the Yankee fans.

Apparently the Yankee baseball team was cleaning house and way ahead in league standings. Then, according to these fans, they (top Yankee bigwigs) thought there were better players out there and so the Yankees went after them. Now the team with all these new hot-shot players is worse than the ones that got them on top in the first place.

These fans think management should have left well enough alone and the team would still be going great guns. Then again, what does the scribe know at his age? At the ages of the OFs, none of them could hit a 90-mile-an-hour fastball.

 

Fickle weather

Rain this year is a scarce commodity in many areas of the country, and in other areas way too much rain is falling. One local storm was discussed at Tuesday’s breakfast and this storm apparently hit one very small area in Schoharie County.

One OF said it was right over his house; another OF who doesn’t live that far away did not get a drop. The first OF said there was thunder, lighting, wind, and rain by the bucket for about 20 or so minutes, and then it was done.

Gone! Leaving sunshine and wet grass like someone turned off a faucet and turned on the heat.

 

Driving discourse

Another OF told of his planning for taking a thousand-mile trip to visit relatives that he has not seen in years. It is good to plan trips like this while the OFs are young enough to drive and still enjoy it.

Driving, to many of the OFs, is getting to be nothing but a chore. Too many cars are on the road, and all these cars seem to know where they are going and have to get there in a minute or so.

One OF thought differently. This OF said he has observed driving habits for a long time, and part of his job was driving. This OF said that most drivers behave themselves; it is the occasional jerk that causes all the problems.

Watch a busy street out of a window and note how most vehicles behave the same way in terms of their speed, stopping distance, start-up, and all the drivers’ abilities. This is regardless of age, sex, race, education, or physical ability. On an interstate, it is basically the same.

But don’t forget everyone should watch out for the occasional “jerk.” (The scribe’s wife says, when we OFs were young-uns, weren’t we all jerks, and in more ways than one, she added.)

 

Flea markets return

It seems the “pandemic” as it is now termed, was more pronounced than when the OFs were going through it. Some of the OFs feel we are still in it.

However, a good number of OFs in our group are flea-market aficionados and say many of their haunts are back in business. Who would have thought during the two years of COVID that this type of business would also become a victim and dry up? But, according to some of the OFs the flea markets are back and seem to be doing well.

The OFs are happy that the number of vendors and those attending the place where fleas can be purchased have also increased. One OF said he thinks any events like this are well attended because people are just glad to get out.

Another OF mentioned he thought that flea markets, garage and estate sales, and auctions will do well right now because buying used items is going to be the thing to do, mostly because buying new is too expensive.

One OF who knows quite a bit about this example of merchandising says it always has been this way. This OF said there are a lot of good, used, high-ticketed items out there that many people miss out on.

The OF said, if young people are looking to furnish their first place, the best store to go to is the auction house and bid against a dealer. The OF said, that way, the young people will generally be able to purchase good used items at less than cheap new items in a regular store.

This scribe thinks this is much easier said than done. It might be best to go with someone who knows the ropes before jumping into this game on the first shot.

Those OFs who were so old that they are old enough to be auctioned off as antiques but instead were at the Your Way Café in Schoharie were: Jake Lederman, Wayne Gaul, Ted Feurer, Rick LaGrange, Miner Stevens (who was voted the oldest person with a beard at the Knox bicentennial; Miner was at the breakfast sans beard), Joe Rack, Mark Traver, Glenn Patterson, Doug Marshall, Jake Herzog, Marty Herzog, Pete Whitbeck, Bill Lichliter, Robie Osterman, George Washburn, Duncan Bellinger, Bob Donnelly, Dave Hodgetts, Elwood Vanderbilt, Rev. Jay Francis, Lou Schenck, Jack Norray, Ed Goff, Johnny Dap, and me.

— From Project Gutenberg archives

Jeanne Marie Bouvier de la Motte Guyon.

I’m still surprised at how few Christians, especially Roman Catholics, have heard about the spiritual writer Madame de Guyon — though small groups of believers practice the prayer she taught.

I came upon Jeanne-Marie years ago when I was writing a book-length essay on the Trappist poet Thomas Merton who prayed the way Guyon did. Though living three centuries apart, they would have made an interesting couple, comparing notes on what it takes to be happy.

The public became aware of Madame De Guyon’s ideas in 1685 when her mini-tome “Moyen court et très facile de faire oraison” appeared. In English it’s: “A Short and Very Easy Method of Praying.”

Part of the reason Guyon has been swept under the rug of Christian consciousness is because of the style of prayer she advocated. The Roman Catholic Church condemned her as a “Quietist,” a heretic they went after with bilious venom.

It was an economic matter: Guyon and her acolytes were drawing customers away from the Catholics: People liked the concept, the method, and the results her Moyen court produced.

It’s hard to say exactly how popular she became but popular enough that the hierarchy of the Catholic Church began to surveil her, and later took her into custody.

Guyon said the most direct way to be in touch with God is for a person to sit and listen — for a period of time each day, day after day, as a way of life — in total silence. She said in the depths of silence is the depths of the soul and that is where God resides — quite different from the person who says God tells him what to do — a neurotic projection.

Not long after Guyon’s book came out, it was filed in the stacks of books the Catholic Church forbade all Catholics to read; it was called “the Index,” short for Index Librorum Prohibitorum, which needs no translation.

As a kid, I recall going into our parish rectory for some reason or other and there, right in front of me in the foyer of the priest’s house, was a tall glassed-in bookcase that housed the Index; a sign on the glass said so; I have no idea who collected them.

Such a prohibition would be laughed at now, a lot of people saying: Who the hell is some bishop to tell me what I can and cannot read; hey, I watch porno on the internet!

The Catholic Church hierarchy said anyone who read one of those books was going to hell and to prove it on earth, they had their ecclesiastical police drag transgressors to the church station-house to be questioned by one of Torquemada’s kin.

You’d think the work was “Das Kapital” or Mao’s “Little Red Book” even “The Anarchist Cookbook,” or the in-the-works, “How I Led a Violent Insurrection Against My Country, Went Unscathed, and Made Millions.”

Guyon says people by nature are “called to inward silence” and that prescribed vocal prayers detract from it. She intimated that in silence a person can find “that self,” as Kierkegaard says, “which one truly is.” All religions are based in psychology.

Nancy James, a serious student of prayer and of Guyon’s life and method, put together a beautifully-arranged, -written, and -edited “The Complete Madame Guyon” (Paraclete Press, 2011). The introduction is a touching portrait of Guyon’s life before the quiet — she was married, had kids, etc. — and why the Roman Catholic Church shut down a peaceful woman who all she wanted in life was to sit and speak to God.

James said the Church lost its mind because the “hierarchy feared this popular movement [Quietism] … was attracting so many to a spiritual path that did not need the mediation of the clergy or bishops.”

To be saved, Catholics had to go to Mass, receive the sacraments, pray the “Our Father” and “Hail Mary,” memorize a catechism of questions: That came with the answers! Guyon said all that was unnecessary.

She also said meditative reading can enhance the silence but, to be effective, the aspirant must withdraw from the marketplace, factional politics, and obsessional consuming — to simply sit and read and render thanks for living.

French monastics called this set-aside time l’examen particulier — the particular examen — when a person assesses how well he or she or they are doing that day. Did they grow more? Were they good to others? Had they heard the voice of God?

Guyon said the aspirant should pick, “some strong abstract or particular truth” and read, “two to three lines and look for … the essence of the passage,” find the truth therein.

Does this sound heretical? Like something someone should be locked up for?

Jeanne-Marie became a hit in Paris but, while she and her followers were practicing Zen-like silence, the Roman Catholic Church sicced its police on her, arrested her, locked her in an airless room in a convent, and quizzed her like she was Judas Iscariot.

Nine months later, without an evidentiary leg to stand on, the fascists let her go, but did not release her from the cross-hairs of their long gun. On June 8, 1698, she was back in jail, this time by order of Louis the XIV — a favor to the Catholic hierarchy — they locked her in the Bastille of Le Quatorze Juillet.

They put her in solitary, interrogated her, threatened her with other forms of torture. The charge? Praying in quiet; living the life of a contemplative wanting to be a better person.

She was released from the Bastille in March 1703, again charged with nothing but being a pious old lady seeking to be with God. Her daughter took her in; she was 70 and feeling the effects of prison.

She wrote about it in a personal book that came out in 1772, fifty years after she died. The title page is truly 18th-century and worth sharing in full: The Life of Lady Guion, Now Abridged, and translated into ENGLISH, Exhibiting her eminent Piety, Charity, Meekness, Resignation, Fortitude and Stability; her Labours, Travels, Suffering and Services, for the Conversion of Souls to God; and her great Success in some Places, in that best of all Employments on the Earth.”

It continues: To Which are Added REMARKABLE ACCOUNTS of the LIVES OF worthy Persons, Whose Memories were dear to Lady Guion. BRISTOL: Printed by S. Farley, in CASTLE-GREEN.  MDCCLXXII.

Toward the end of the second volume, she addresses those who harmed her: “I forgive those who have been the cause of my sufferings, from the bottom of my heart, whatever they have done against me, having no will to retain so much as the remembrance thereof.”

She says it all started when a friend saw her notes on prayer, read them, and took them to share with others; Guyon says, “Everyone wanted copies. [The friend] resolved … to have it printed.” Guyon said she received all the “proper approbations” from the Church, there was no mention of heresy.

Guyon said the work, “passed through five or six editions; and our Lord has given a very great benediction to it. [But] The devil became so enraged against me on account of the conquest which God made by me, that I was assured he was going to stir up against me a violent persecution. All that gave me no trouble. Let him stir up against me ever so strange persecutions. I know they will all serve to the glory of my God.”

They were the same people who killed Jesus.

This is so far a two-parter; it will be the meeting of the Old Men of the Mountain at the Chuck Wagon in Princetown on July 26 and the one at the Middleburgh Diner on Aug. 2. Even though it’s hot, the summers just seem to fly by.
Many say it is already August and there is nothing anyone can do about it. August is August, and September is September; no one can say they are not ready yet. It is here.

On July 22, the OMOTM had their annual (or it is becoming an annual) event, a picnic hosted by a gracious OMOTM that allows the OFs to come to his cabin on Warner Lake, then park and stomp all over his lawn.

According to the OFs in attendance, the weather was hot but in the shade and on the water it was more than tolerable. The reports stated that the Old Men of the Mountain and the wives who made it to this situation had a good time, with conversation, boat rides, food to pass, and the host preparing the burgers and dogs.

Like one OF said, “We are too old to have this much fun.”

However, no OF has ever heard that, once anyone becomes 80, fun stops. Maybe it becomes better because at that age fun is more appreciated.

One of the topics at the picnic was the use of air-conditioning. What an invention that is, especially with a summer like this.

Now last summer was a different story. Take the two summers and average them out and it is not that bad. This is how figures can lie if looking for a place to move to.

The area looks good when figuring in the averages; however, no one says freeze one summer or cook the next summer, shovel snow over the OF’s head one winter, mow the lawn in January the next.

Ah! The Northeast! At least we are not burning up, or washing away in a flood, or blowing away in a hurricane.

 

Hearing aids

The breakfast for July 26 was at the Chuck Wagon in Princetown and, by the reports forwarded to this scribe, most of the discussion was typical for a gathering of OGs. The reports of the OMOTM have reported many times on hearing aids.

This time there was a unique description on the OFs leaning in to listen to the conversations. This is understandable to those who wear hearing aids.

The OF reporting commented that we should all just pass notes back and forth. Not a bad idea. At least that way there would be fewer mistakes in the conversation by the OFs not hearing the right word.

Sometimes this scribe bets there are as many as four or five interpretations of the same conversation because of the misunderstanding of the same word.

 

Food for thought

At the Middleburgh Diner on Aug. 2, the early topic (of course) was food, and often the OMOTM mentioned food because that is what the gathering is all about — breakfast, and not having to get your own.

It was brought up who has the best, and also the worst of the morning’s repast. One breakfast item mentioned was waffles (best and not so hot) but it was also mentioned that not all restaurants have waffles.

Some years back, there was a restaurant the OMOTM frequented called the Alley Cat, and on occasion when strawberries were in season they had waffles with strawberries and whipped cream. At one time, when this was on the white/black board as a breakfast special, a few of the OFs ordered that for breakfast.

At that time, we had an OF who, in his bibs, carried a complete tool box in one pocket; a whole design package in another; and pens, pencils, rulers, etc. in another. In this pocket, the OF had what he called his boarding house-reach fork. This fork extended to about two feet so the OF was able to reach just about anywhere on the table.

This OF ordered the waffle with strawberries and Cool Whip; when the breakfast arrived, the OF whipped out his ruler and measured the offering. That thing measured 8 inches high. Have that for breakfast and the OF was able to skip lunch. The OMOTM have not seen that type of waffle for breakfast since the Alley Cat.

 

Inflation

Eating out as the OFs do is getting to be a serious chunk of the budget nowadays. This is understandable because the OFs know what it costs to produce food, with all the increases thrown in.

The grocery stores and restaurants can’t sell at a loss for many items, so guess who pays in the end? The OMOTM, and all the others.

The problem is, most of the OFs pay more, but their income stays the same. Duh, the OMOTM want to know — does anyone see a problem here?

 

What a mess!

The problems with the rain in the central-eastern part of the country brought up more discussion on our own Irene flooding but the problems there made Irene look like the bathtub overflowed. What a mess!

The OFs say the country is dealing with the two worst scenarios: fire and water at the same time.

 

Condolences

It has been brought to our attention that one of the Old Men of the Mountain has passed on. Bob Benninger has died and is another OMOTM going to join the band of OGs in the clouds for breakfast on eternal Tuesdays.

As this is a report for a couple of Tuesdays the list of names for protection will be omitted and those who got into trouble and planned on using the OMOTM as an alibi are on their own.

Portrait of Michel de Nostredame painted circa 1614 by his son, César de Nostredame. 

I’m not a social psychologist but I venture to say America is suffering from a dystopia complex that’s manifesting itself in national malaise.

People don’t use the word despair anymore but America is suffering from despair as well that manifests itself in anger. The cocktail of malaise and anger has people reaching for guns when they feel wronged.

A number of folks told me they like shows like the “Handmaid’s Tale” and other depictions of a fascist society, which the late great sociologist Erving Goffman called a “total institution” and Hannah Arendt totalitarian society.

I do not know if young people today, or people of any age, read Orwell’s “Nineteen Eighty-Four” or Aldous Huxley’s “Brave New World,” stories of societies where people’s choices are made for them: by the State, corporate entities, or some zealous prelate — the nightmarish life of an automaton.

And when I meet people who relish such darkness, I ask why, and they never have an answer.

Nevertheless, I’ll offer a few Nostrodamic predictions from my dystopian “Faithless New World: Two Thousand Thirty-Five.”

My Number One prediction is: Within the next decade or so, the American experiment called The Democratic Republic of the United States will be done for. It’s already gasping for air with social arrangements that divide more than heal.

It’d be worthwhile for the U.S. government to fund a study on how the Italians became a fascistic nation under Mussolini — they sure were Julius Caesar’s kin.

Number Two: There’ll be great migrations of people from the western part of the country and down south, ousted from their homes by drought or fire or overwhelming heat; when California goes dry, millions and millions of Americans will head east like pioneers in a wagon train.

Number Three: When it comes to governmental elections — at all levels — illusion-based factionalists will reach for their guns to pick a winner. A few weeks ago, Lee Zeldin, New York Republican candidate for governor, was attacked on stage by a guy with a blade, letting Americans know democracy is a no-go.

In some areas there won’t be elections at all.

Number Four: The great migrations from drought-ridden states and those torched by unquenchable fire — multitudes on the run — will aggravate the ethical divide that exists in the country, further mocking “America the Beautiful.”

That is, Americans who reject — even scorn — involvement in “community-making” will more boldly declare: This is mine and will stay mine, and that Second Amendment you see hanging from my hip says so too.

And, because we’ve stopped making community for so long, we’ve lost the competencies that come with it — the methods, techniques, strategies that facilitate accommodating difference without resorting to violence. Becoming involved in a community group like the Kiwanis is a thing of the past.

Thus, Americans know more about Maury Povich than what families, countries, individuals, local communities need to do to flourish. On July 20, Bloomberg News posted a bulletin saying Americans are migrating to Europe because they can’t afford to live here anymore.

Another study that needs doing therefore is: What’s the cause of America’s worries, and what’s the relationship between those worries and despair? We can easily develop a Happiness Quotient Inventory (HQI) to assess the depth of America’s neurosis and her willingness to change.

That is, if I brought in 10 judges right now — noted for their no-horse-in-the-race Solomonic wisdom — and asked each to size up the health of America’s institutions — rate them from 1 to 10 — and come up with a composite of how good Americans feel about being alive, how much family, church, workplace, school, even national pride affect their well-being, and how confident they are that — when things go wrong — the guy next door and people down the street will come running like a fire brigade.

That’s what Robert Putnam was talking about in “Bowling Alone” whose subtitle reads: “The Collapse and Revival of American Community.” Putnam said America was breeding isolates, a condition for mass-shootings.

Dystopians know all about the collapse part and, while continuing to whine, refuse to administer the mouth-to-mouth America needs to resuscitate.

I won’t say boning up on these matters is summer reading, though it’d work for some — the ideas need a quiet place for pondering and study groups to discuss the conditions of a happy society, the feeling of being connected and looked after, of believing one’s dependencies (needs) will not be greeted with grudge-filled resentment.

Which is to say that, when Utah is asked to take in 11 million Californians arriving like dust-bowl Oakies, and Mississippi two million, how will Utah respond? What will Mississippi say? A sharp-mouthed cynic would say: Them down-home folk don’t even spend on their own.

I looked at what Mississippi spends on educating its young; they’re fifth from the bottom in how much states encourage kids to expand their vision beyond the kitchen door; Utah is last.

The DODS, the Diaspora of Displaced Souls, will need jobs, a place to live, a school for the kids (that’s somewhat culturally sensitive), a feeling of being at home because the guy next door and neighbors down the street helped heal the pain of a trip that started from nowhere.

We must never forget that the Diaspora did not cause the drought, the wildfires, or killing heat — we all cause them. We cannot treat them like some do rape-victims: Hey, lady, you asked for it!

Number Five: There’ll be a mass shooting every week — we may be there already — the non-stoppable collapse of a dying body-politic, the way a body disintegrates, afflicted with muscular dystrophy.

Never mind red states and blue states, the new criterion will be just states and unjust states, just communities and unjust communities, the same for families, schools, places of work — even intimate personal relationships.

Over the years I’ve been involved in discussion groups on justice at all levels and, when appropriate, have asked someone in the group: Well, do you consider yourself a just person?

It always brought puzzlement; the thought of being just versus unjust, or being a stooge for Mussolini, is not part of America’s patois.

In school, kids do not collaborate so they lose out on the practice of community: I’m talking about two of them — even a group — working together all semester, doing exams together, the same homework, getting the same grade. One for all, all for one.

Years ago I taught a course at the State University of New York at Albany — twice — called “Utopia,” in the once-exalted School of Criminal Justice. We looked at societies opposite that of the handmaidens’ Gilead.

A few people asked what a course like that was doing in a School of Criminal Justice.

I said: If a person is interested in ridding society of crime, and harms that tear a society apart, he, she, they need to find examples of social life where everybody gets along, where the needs of all are met, where no one feels compelled to shower a neighbor with bullets because they feel cheated by life.

As the great American poet, Williams Carlos Williams — a revered physician by day — used to say: People can’t speak about these things because they do not have the words. The beginning of his great epic “Paterson” goes:
 

The language, the language

                    fails them

They do not know the words

                    or have not

the courage to use them . . .
 

they say: the language!

                   — the language

is divorced from their minds,

the language … the language!

On Tuesday, July 19, The Old Men of the Mountain met at the Your Way Café in Schoharie.

When traveling, many of the OFs (along with many others) drive right past restaurants and diners like those the OMOTM frequent. The thought, by some, is that they are not too sure how clean these places are or what the food is like.

One OF said that he thinks those travelers are missing out on some great places. Still another said that he has found it both ways.

Some eateries (like the ones the OFs visit) are great, but others are just like what the OFs fear — greasy spoons, torn seats, surly waitresses, and food and flies on the same plate. One OF said places like that are fronts for whatever is going on in the back.

“Yeah,” another OG answered, “could be.”

The OF added he looks where there are a lot of trucks, or pickup trucks parked, and eats where he finds lots of these trucks.

A third OF said most of these guys don’t put up with any nonsense; they want a clean place, lots of good but not fancy food, and maybe one or two good-looking waitresses. To which another OF replies that he doesn’t care, he will take a waiter, or a mom or grandma, as long as they are pleasant and efficient.

The question still remained: How does anyone know if waiting on table is their first time through? Good question was the answer; that is part of the thrill of the trip, unless someone has told the OF where to go before he starts out.

Many OFs have been trapped by signs along the roadway. Stop where the signs suggest and the place is a dive.

 

Dearth of young volunteers

It has been mentioned over and over in this little report how the OMOTM is loaded with volunteers for this, that, and the other thing. Some of these OFs were talking about how volunteering has fallen off. All the OFs were wondering why this was so.

It seemed to be that it was harking back to the internet and too many young people, at the age they are encouraged to volunteer, are working their thumbs on their smartphones.

One OF did say there are some that do volunteer and he mentioned a recent experience he had with the Boy Scouts helping out. But (the “but” still remains) there do seem to be fewer young people volunteering and the OFs are concerned.

 

On the tongue of the taster

Sometimes this scribe comments on the breakfasts the OMOTM put away. Tuesday morning was maybe a winner.

One OF was telling how another OF prepares his oatmeal. According to the OF (snitching on the other OF), by the time the OF gets done with the add-ons, oatmeal is a minor ingredient.

He winds up with only one of these ingredients being oatmeal, the rest being honey, fruit, and peanut butter. That must be a weird taste sensation; then again each to their own taste as well as their eyesight. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so it must go: Taste is on the tongue of the taster.

 

Baler fire

There was some discussion on a local fire; one OF asked another OF a simple question, “I hear there was a fire up your way yesterday?”

“Yeah,” the OF answered, “It was me.”

That perked everybody’s ears up. The OF said it was his baler that caught on fire.

Odd the OFs talked about balers last week and now we have a baler catching on fire.

The OF said he tried to extinguish the fire himself but it was too hot to get close enough to be able to do that so he called the fire department. The OF said everyone showed up, police, ambulance, fire trucks, the whole ball of wax.

The way things are this summer no one wants a field of hay to start burning and work its way into the woods. As was said just recently, what a mess.

 

Drought drama

There was a brief discussion on wildlife. Somehow this was connected to the volunteering but was a side track that didn’t seem to connect.

Some of the usual watering holes, which are tucked off on the trails, that birds and animals would frequent are drying up, and the same creatures are going to the bigger ponds. So th OFs are reporting seeing, at times, deer-like cows at farmer’s ponds around the area, and some of these ponds are getting low.

It is not like situations like this haven’t happened in the past where wells and ponds have gone dry. According to the OFs, we are close, really close, but not there yet.

It is time to let the car get dirty and forget washing it for a while. Let the lawn turn yellow or brown — it will come back. Hey! Brown is the new green.

The Old Men of the Mountain who met at the Your Way Café (and lucky for the OMOTM no OMOTM way of eating was peanut butter on oatmeal) were: Mark Traver, Glenn Patterson, Joe Rack, Doug Marshall, Wally Guest, Harold Guest, Miner Stevens, Rick LaGrange, Jake Herzog, Marty Herzog, Duncan Bellinger, Robie Osterman, Pete Whitbeck, Frank Dees, Bill Lichliter, Herb Bahrmann, Lou Schenck, Warren Willsey, Jack Norray, Russ Pokorny, Dave Wood, Dave Hodgetts, Bob Donnelly, Gerry Chartier, John Dap, and me.

— Photo from Mary Ellen Johnson

These two bottles were issued while Alansen F. Dietz was producing soda and they illustrate wires that were part of his patented soda-bottle stopper seal. The one on the left is marked Knowersville, Albany Co. while the one on the right is from the period when Dietz’s operation was located in Guilderland Center. Later bottles are marked Altamont. All are part of the collection at the Mynderse-Frederick House.

The delicious prospect of enjoying a frequent, inexpensive dish of ice cream or a glass of soda became reality for young and old alike during the last quarter of the 19th century. By 1900 these treats had become an established part of American life.

Ice cream was originally a luxurious dessert for the wealthy few — think George Washington or Thomas Jefferson. In 1843, an ice-cream churn using ice and salt as a way to chill ice cream was patented and over the next few decades  improvements on this basic idea resulted in the ice-cream freezer, a hand-cranked churn that, with the aid  of salt and ice, made ice cream available for the masses.

By 1897, the Altamont Hardware Store advertised, among other merchandise items, an ice-cream freezer. That same year, the Sears catalog, the Amazon of its day, pictured an ice-cream freezer that came in seven sizes ranging from two quarts to 14 quarts with list prices ranging from $1.43 to $6.04.

A few years later it was possible to buy an even larger freezer that made 30 quarts. Being that so many Guilderland residents owned one or more cows and an ice house, ice cream could be made as a special treat at home, though the hand cranking of the freezer was tedious and took strength.

Local churches found serving ice cream at socials a profitable fundraiser that proved to be a popular scene for socializing, especially among the young. “The young ladies of the [Guilderland Center] Lutheran congregation sell a large quantity of excellent ice cream at their new hall Saturday evenings. Their unaffected politeness and winsome cheery ways causes the boys to purchase several dishes during the evening,” The Enterprise reported.

Youth groups such as Christian Endeavor in Meadowdale sold ice cream at the Gardner Road Schoolhouse, while in Guilderland Center the Christian Endeavor group’s ice cream sales took in $50 in a month.

Church lawns and church halls all over town held ice-cream socials. In spring, a special attraction was the ripening of local strawberries that were served along with the ice cream.

In June 1901, the State Road Methodist Church at Parkers Corners offered a strawberry and ice-cream festival for the benefit of the church, one of many churches and temperance groups that organized ice-cream social fund raisers. An annual tradition was the Hamlet of Guilderland’s Presbyterian Church and the Good Templars, a temperance organization which met at Red Men’s Hall, each offering ice cream and strawberries on Memorial Day after the ceremonies at Prospect Hill Cemetery.

Occasionally church ladies such as those from the McKownville Methodist Church held an ic- cream social on a congregant’s lawn, having scheduled one at the home of G.A. Manville and his wife in 1907 and cordially inviting the public to attend.

Guilderland Center’s St. Mark’s Lutheran Church seemed to have served ice cream on Saturdays all summer each year. One 1907 August “Saturday night was certainly the record breaker for the sale ice cream at the Lutheran Hall, $35.80 and could have easily been brought up to $40 had the ice cream held out. As it was quite a few were turned away disappointed.”

Unless they used commercially made ice cream, churches must have been one of the buyers of the 14- or 20-quart ice-cream freezers and depended on some strong men of the congregation to crank up all that ice cream.

Hotels took notice of ice cream’s popularity, often announcing that at times on Saturdays or Sundays they would be offering ice cream in their parlors. Both summer visitors and locals alike could stop by Altamont’s Union Hotel, Guilderland Center’s Fowler’s Hotel, or the Dunnsville Hotel among others.

A few ladies advertised in the 1880s that they were serving ice cream for customers at their homes, but that did not seem to have caught on. Also in the 1880s, Ogsbury’s Dairy advertised it had an ice-cream parlor open where they were serving ice cream as well as having a soda fountain.

In addition, ice cream was available for purchase in pint, quart, or gallon sizes. The venture seemed to have lasted only one year.

The Novelty Store, opening in Altamont in 1908, offered both Colburn’s Ice Cream and Deitz soda in an area set aside in the new store. Colburn’s ice cream seems to have been commercially made, an activity in cities as early as 1851. Certainly by 1900, ice cream was no longer a novelty, but had become a common part of American life, at least in summer.

 

Soda subs for liquor

With the temperance movement gaining strength decade by decade, especially in rural areas, soda was increasingly considered a worthy substitute for alcoholic beverages, and in fact Hires Root Beer, developed from a tea made of various roots and herbs by Charles Hires in 1876, was originally advertised as “The National Temperance Drink.”

Many small-scale soda manufacturing operations began about this time, among them Alansen F. Deitz’s. He first established his soda-making business in East Worcester, Otsego County, then moved his business to Guilderland Center in 1873.

His production there included sarsaparilla, ginger ale, seltzer, and birch beer. He had developed a new improved soda bottle stopper seal, which he patented and which would preserve the effervescence in his soda created from infusions of carbon dioxide.

Various herbs and roots provided the raw materials for his flavorings. Burdock root for example was supposed to have been an important ingredient of root beer, which he does not seem to have bottled. Today his formulas for other varieties of sodas aren’t known.

As soon as The Knowersville Enterprise began publication in 1884, A.F. Deitz frequently advertised his wares, sold in clearly marked glass bottles sealed with his patented stopper. Several of these bottles with various locations imprinted in the glass where they were filled survive.

Each held about an eight-ounce cup of soda. With the rapid growth of Knowersville and its rail line, probably recognizing it would be a better market for his soda, Deitz in1885 moved his operation to Knowersville’s Church Street, which is now Maple Avenue.

There he remained in business until 1909. At first he advertised the flavors he was producing, but when his soda’s popularity took off, Deitz no longer had to advertise and his Enterprise ads disappeared.

Americans had developed a taste for soda as soon as it became readily available. Within two years of relocating to Knowersville, Deitz added 26 gross [3,744] bottles to his operation.

The Enterprise pointed out that he was “daily receiving orders from different stations along the railroad and his business was increasing materially.” Within a few years, Dietz purchased an additional $800 worth of bottles.

“Mr. Deitz puts up a nice line of goods and increasing trade is the result,” The Enterprise reported. The paper referred to Deitz as “the pop-man” in one reference when he purchased an additional horse for deliveries.

The price charged for a bottle of his soda is unknown; it is also not known if there was a deposit on his bottles or if he reused them. To produce soda at that time, it was common practice to steep or simmer in water the natural ingredients, add sugar, and then put in additional water to bring it to the desired intensity. Finally, the fluid was carbonated and bottled. Soda brands still favorites today were developed during those years: Pepsi Cola, Orange Crush, Dr. Pepper, Hires Root Beer, and Coca Cola.

They became known as soft drinks, promoted by temperance organizations as the alternative to alcohol, known as hard drinks.

The A.F. Deitz soda business prospered throughout the 1890s and early 1900s. In 1892, mention was made of the elaborate advertising calendar Deitz was offering customers, “one of the prettiest calendars we have seen this year.” Described as “our wide-awake manufacturer of mineral waters.” In the mid1890s there appeared a notice, “if your appetite is poor, try a bottle of Deitz’s Bozendale Appetizer, made from roots. For sale by A.F. Deitz, Altamont, N.Y.”

A notice inserted in the Dec. 18, 1906 Enterprise warned, “The young men who took A.F. Deitz’s road wagon from under his shed Hallowe’en night must settle for breaking it to pieces. They can settle for $10 now before any costs come by law. You had the pleasure of destroying the wagon, you will also have the pleasure of paying for the same.”

The year 1908 was not a good one for Deitz; he had been in a serious accident returning home from a business trip to New Salem. His team took a fright, bolted, and, when one horse fell, Mr. Deitz was thrown to the ground. He broke bones and was badly bruised, but his horses and wagon were unharmed.

The year before, one of his employees was on his way to Voorheesville to deliver soda when the team became skittish and overturned the wagon with the loss of several cases of bottles. Whether these accidents influenced his decisions is unknown but in 1909 Deitz sold his soda business to Sands Bros. who moved it to Park Street. They delivered the soda by motor truck.

Meanwhile, soda fountains had become a popular feature of drug stores and at times had been installed in some general stores. As early as 1885, The Enterprise observed that “large quantities of soda are sold daily at the Knowersville drug store.” 

Within two years, owners “Mssrs. Davenport & Frederick” invested in a “very attractive soda fountain” made of marble. The Enterprise observed, “They always draw a very nice glass of soda,” predicting a new flavor would be added soon.

Blood orange syrup was added to their flavors, and two years later the paper stated, “Our druggists are receiving many complimentary remarks from city people boarding in our village in regard to the superior quality of the soda they draw.” In the hamlet of Guilderland at Carpenter’s store, a soda fountain had been added and was described as well patronized.

By 1900, America’s love affair with sweets really had taken off. Once it was realized the profits to be made, church ladies and small local bottling companies were pushed out of the way by commercial production of ice cream and soda

 Soda certainly benefited from the temperance movement and later Prohibition, while the development of electric refrigeration contributed to ice-cream production and distribution.