history

The William Morgan Affair: Masonic Mystery in Upstate New York, by Ann Webster Bunch, was released this month by The History Press. Dr. Bunch uses her background as a forensic anthropologist to analyze the extreme cold case of what happened to William Morgan after he was last seen in Batavia in 1826. 

She takes particular care to comb over the evidence, or lack thereof, surrounding the mysterious circumstances of Morgan’s last days, and the many legends that surround what became of him. The author’s focus is to delve deeply into the scientific and investigative methods that were employed during the various investigations conducted following Morgan’s vanishing in September 1826. 

The story of William Morgan is one steeped in so much speculation and hearsay that very little is known about the man himself.  This has led to many theories on what happened to him, and has left many heroes and villains surrounding the ordeal. 

Dr. Bunch focuses on the case as a cold case, not necessarily a murder case. This flies in the face of the inscription of the Morgan Monument located in the Historic Batavia Cemetery, put in place by the National Christian Association in 1882, which paints him as a martyr and makes it confusing as to whether he is actually buried in the plot, which he is not. 

In looking at Morgan’s case from an evidential perspective, there are so many unknowns when it comes to Morgan; even the life of William Morgan is steeped in a lack of solid evidence. It is not even clear what Morgan really looks like or when he was born. The same can be said for the events surrounding his disappearance, which are only clear to his holding at Fort Niagara, and then the sure evidence dries up. Bunch also notes the political atmosphere, factors that came to surround the case, and the severe influence that played a part in it. 

Dr. Bunch focused on the inconsistencies of the early 19th century when it came to evidence and investigation by taking each coroner’s inquests relating to Morgan into deep analysis.  

The three inquests in question all revolved around a seminal moment in the Morgan saga, when a body washed up on the Lake Ontario shoreline in Orleans County on October 7, 1827, more than a year after Morgan’s disappearance. The first, Slater, inquest follows the standard procedures for the day but does not lead to an identity of the victim, though it being Morgan is not a consideration. The second, Brown, inquest is just the opposite, as Thurlow Weed, a newspaperman and local politician from Rochester, inserts himself to gain traction that the body is that of Morgan’s. Bunch points out that this attempt to make a “good enough Morgan” flew in the face of the evidence based on Morgan’s last known appearance on top of substantial decay. It signified how the evidence can be influenced to a great deal by outside political forces, especially when one wishes it to be the evidence they seek. The third, Hurlburt, inquest reverses the second’s findings when new evidence comes to light in the form of the family of a fisherman in lower Canada, Timothy Munro, who had gone missing in a storm. 

Dr. Bunch then goes a step further in looking into the second inquest led by Weed and what factors at the time can make people look past distinct evidence to come to another conclusion. The most obvious is political pressures and orientations. Weed and his followers were against the Freemasons and were looking for anything to help put more public opinion against the Brotherhood. This went all the way to Albany, as the opponents of the Erie Canal and its supporter, Governor DeWitt Clinton, sought to work against anyone associated with the Masonic Order. This would eventually lead to the first third party in the United States, the Anti-Masonic Party. The age-old contest between the “haves” and “have-nots” also played its role. 

The author then turns to other important pieces of evidence, the several confessions by individuals who claim to know the outcome of Morgan’s ordeal with the Freemasons. She focuses on seven confessions that came about from the 1830s through the 1860s. Each is analyzed in comparison to the evidence available to determine some level of validity, though many are lacking in key areas. 

The confessions range from the 1830s to the 1860s, with varying degrees of involvement. In some cases, confessing to be the killer, in others to be an accomplice, and in others to be there at the time of his disappearance. In her analysis, Dr. Bunch concludes that most of the confessions lack much in corroborating evidence, with Whitney’s having the most merit but not without its questions. The point was that confessions were taken with more facts than what evidence could support them, at least for a time, and in some cases, the confessor's background or character was a severe influence.

The next chapter of the Morgan mystery is the issue of the Pembroke Skeleton found in a quarry in 1881. This discovery brought William Morgan back to the forefront of everyone’s thoughts. 

This again brought up the issue of integral evidence. There were items recovered with the skeletal remains that led the discoverers to unofficially connect it to Morgan, but the remains were never compared to Morgan. This discovery very well has led to the National Christian Association taking advantage of the newfound public sentiment and building the monument to Morgan monument being built the following year.

Therefore, the question is “What became of William Morgan?” 

There are 17 hypotheses that are explored and have been put forward since 1826. They are gathered from two sources, particularly from H.V. Voorhis in 1946 and Robert Morris in 1884. They range across the spectrum and place Morgan all around the world if he survived at all. They are grouped into five categories by the author: “Morgan Becomes a Hermit,” “Morgan Returns to Life at Sea,” “Morgan Reinvents Himself,” “Morgan is Murdered,” and a more specific tale, “Morgan Returns to Sea and Reinvents Himself, Dies in 1864.” The author then associates any corroborating evidence through the confessions or other information available to each hypothesis. Some even connect to modern-day descendants of Morgan. Everyone has their holes, some with more than others do.

In summation, Dr. Bunch focuses on the need to implement the scientific method even in this very old cold case, though it is always important to remember the human and those outside aspects that can influence it. She lays out five steps of an empirical-skeptical approach to any case, using Morgan as an example. In simple terms, collect background information; compile the scientific data and evidence; understand the political context and prior work; factor counter-information to the evidence; use all of the factors together to form a conclusion. Each of the chapters within the book focuses upon one or more of these steps.

The purpose is to take all of the evidence available and to expose others that have less merit. Dr. Bunch does not intend to solve the mystery, so if looking for the final answer, the reader will be disappointed in that regard. However, the strong historical and scientific research will show just how murky the whole event his, from Morgan himself to the various investigations. The work does lay out all of the possibilities with the supporting evidence or lack thereof. It is a very interesting read, especially for those who may be of a more skeptical nature and those who like the mystery-solving procedure. 

Ryan Duffy is the executive director of the Holland Land Office Museum.

Bergen resident C.M. Barons was inspired by the column published last week by Anne Marie Starowitz on her reading of old local directories. He also owns a couple of antique directories, one from 1992 and another from 1917. He also has a souvenir publication, "Illustrated Genesee County and its Industries," published by The Batavia Times in 1907.

Previously: Recovering local history in names and places from old directories

By C.M. Barons

The 1882 directory contains useful information such as "A barrel of apples, pears, quinces, or potatoes, must represent a quantity equal to one hundred quarts of dry grain or dry measure, and a person buying or selling either of these commodities in the state, by the barrel, is understood as referring to the quantity specified in this section." It also explains mortgage laws, wills, contracts and deeds. Rules of polite behavior include guides for cleanliness and proper dress for men and women. The section on helpful information concludes with a brief history of the county and its towns and villages. 

What follows is an alphabetical directory of residents by town, detailing street address and occupation. EG: BATAVIA Kibbe, Chauncey S. dealer in gloves and mittens, Gloversville, N.Y., res 33 State. McKenzie James, builder, 1/2 (Bergen,) Vill. (James and brother, David, built many of the era's homes in Bergen, including mine.)

The 1917 directory has a more familiar feel, opening up with an advertisement for Scott & Bean, dealers in dry goods, carpets, notions, lace curtains, etc. Another ad was placed by C. L. Carr, 101 Main St., pledging to carry as much splendid stocks of reliable merchandise, to sell at such reasonable prices, to give such pleasant, courteous service that you will instinctively turn to this store when in need of anything in the Dry Goods or Coat and Suit Line.

Other familiar businesses include Le Roy Lime and Crushed Stone Products, Batavia Times, Sibley, Lindsay & Curr Co. (Rochester), H.E. Turner Furniture - Funeral Directors, Chas. J. Call, J G McJury Photographic (Bob McJury was a photographer/stringer for the Buffalo newspapers and the Batavia Daily.

The 1917 version of the directory (which bears the same cover plate as the 1950 version, image of the county courthouse) does include general information, but perhaps of a more down-to-earth practicality than mortgages, deeds and New York commerce regulations. There is a handy guide to weights and measures, e.g., an acre is 8 rods wide by 20 rods long; a pint of water weighs one pound. A spraying calendar for pesticide application on various produce crops, preventing crows and blackbirds from pulling up your seeds, farm animal diseases and do-it-yourself treatment, measuring a room for wallpaper- each is thoroughly covered in the volume.

The Batavia Times souvenir booklet is a trove of pictures--- the officers and directors of the Batavia Board of Trade, Batavia Mayor George D. Williamson, schools, churches and local businesses. There are also backgrounds of local businesses and business leaders such as the Richmond family, William Bohm, John Ward, Wiard Plow Co., Bidwell Thresher, Dr. Gray's Primrose Hospital and E H Gamble, giving mention to Eli Fish.

Also mentioned: Batavia Gun and Forging Co., Minor Shoe Mfg Co., W F Crickler, Fix & Fix Printing Establishment, Casey Moving, E J Salway, C M Ebling, The Eagle Hotel, Joseph Lapp, Wiss House, Beaudry Pipe Organ Co., W S & C E Housel, bankers, Miller Bros grain, A S Fisher & Son druggist and A J Tanner & Co canning.  

I was given some old books to look through for a possible article. I chose The First Directory of the Village of Batavia 1877-78 and a phone directory from 1950-51. You get a peek into what life might have been like during those eras. 

The early directory gives a little history of the village of 6,000. The Court House on Main and Ellicott was built in 1842 with a jail. The county clerk and surrogate's offices were in the front of Main Street. 

The small book explained the New York State Institution for the Blind. It also named the churches in the village: St. James Episcopal Church, The First Presbyterian Society of Batavia, the Baptist Society, St. Joseph's Roman Catholic Church, and the Methodist Church. 

There were three newspapers: The Progressive Batavian, Republican Advocate, and Spirit of the Times. 

There were six schools, three public and three private.   

The largest manufacturer was Wiard Plow. The Batavia Portable Steam Engine Company was another notable enterprise. Genesee Agricultural Works on Ellicott Street sold every possible farm implement used in farming, and all were operated by horse or steam power. Two hose companies took care of the village that was lighted by gas. A dollar store sold glassware, crockery, china lamps, and chandeliers. All goods were warrantied and sold for 99 cents and were cheerfully shown.   

The streets listed in the directory mainly were Main Street, Ellicott Street, River, Lyons, Evans, Oak, Walnut, Ross, Cherry, Bank, and Union Street. The book contains 46 pages; of the 46 pages, 14 include the names and streets of the villagers.

The 1950 phone directory had a hole at the corner of the book for you to hang near your stationary phone. Also interesting were the phone numbers. There were phone numbers with 2, 3, and 4 digit numbers, and a letter followed some phone numbers. A phone call outside Batavia but within the county costs 10 and 15 cents. Buffalo was 35 cents, and Seattle, Washington, $2.45. 

The job of the operator was vital. All calls out of the area required an operator. 

According to the Yellow Pages, you could buy a car from 28 places. Some names you don't hear today were DeSoto, Nash, and Studebaker.

Adding machines were also a very popular item to buy from many area stores, along with an address machine. There were seven department stores, 28 fruit and vegetable growers, 60 restaurants, 13 hotels, and 10 furniture stores. One ad I found interesting and a little upsetting was: "Dead Animal Removal, we buy grease, fat, bones, hides and skins. The highest price paid for horses, cows, sheep, and hogs." 

There were so many auto repair places that they took up an entire page. 

Before Dunkin Donuts, there were Freddie's and Jackie's Doughnuts. Many homes sold eggs because they had chickens in their back yards. You could buy baby chicks by calling the phone number 2150, which is listed in the advertisements.   

Most homes were heated with coal.   Colantonio Coal Co., Holland Furnaces, and Thomas Wood and Coal were the most popular places to buy coal. There were also 40 gas stations and 40 small grocery stores, most likely on every corner. The book was 180 pages long, and 81 pages contained the residents' names, addresses, and phone numbers.

Today, we have Dollar Stores, which are considered department stores. You can also rent furniture and appliances and lease a car. 

Some things do stay the same. Looking through the 1950 city directory, I recognized some existing establishments.    In no particular order they are: Max Pies, Arctic Refrigeration, Sallome Heating, Bohm Mortuary, Falcone Electric/Green Mountain Electric Supply, Genesee Lumber, Dougherty Heating, Batavia Downs, Batavia Players, McAndrew Funeral Home, Chapin Manufacturing, Adam Miller, Oliver's, Northside Grocery, Pero's Plumbing, Polish Falcons,  H.E. Turner Mortuary, WBTA, YMCA, YWCA, Charles Men's Shop, American Legion, Miss Batavia Diner,  The Kelly's Holland Inn,  Mancuso Bowling Lanes, Wortzman Furniture, Max Pies Furniture, Upson and Maybeck, Knights of Columbus, Batavia Marine Sporting Goods, R.A. Haitz,  and Wills Wallpaper and Paint. 

Please share the names of any other businesses from 75 years ago that are still here today. 

Back in the day, your phone book and directories were "smart device" connections to the world around you. Today, you can find everything you need on your iPhone. 

I love to take long walks on the streets of Batavia. It is like taking a trip to a different time in our history. So many places trigger so many memories.  

Recently, I was walking by Farrall Park. It was a beautiful fall day. I sat on one park bench, and my mind took me back to the 70s when I was a playground supervisor. I closed my eyes, and it was 9 a.m., and I could hear the front doors of the homes on James Street, Otis, Osterhout, Clifton, Jackson, Swan, Sumner, and Williams Street slamming shut as the neighbor kids ran to the park to begin their day. We had already unlocked the storage door and removed the sports equipment and the craft they would make that week. 

The children were all friends, and many were cousins. I’m looking at the old swing set and remembering the merry-go-round where we gave endless pushes to the squeals of delight from the children. 

When all the parks opened at 9 a.m. all over Batavia, all the supervisors experienced what I was experiencing. You owned that park and were there to encourage all the children to have fun and use suitable sportsmanship, but you also tried to beat the other parks in everything competitive.   

We had the smallest park, and it did not have a wading pool, but it had the best kids. I worked with two excellent park supervisors, Gary Starowicz and Tim Beers. We all said we had the best kids. 

Every week, we did a different craft. One week, it was boondoggles. Unfortunately, the little kids had no idea how to make them so that they would be clipped to the chain-link fence. A supervisor like myself would begin making them as the young child would watch in anticipation of getting their boondoggle. You can’t forget the little clip that was added at the end.

Another week would be the plaster of Paris. Hopefully, it would be a warm sunny day so the plaster would dry. I think that was one of the children’s favorite weeks. We would line up the molds, mix the plaster, pour the plaster into the rubber molds, shake the mold to eliminate the air bubbles, and insert that tiny hook into the back so your creation could hang on the wall. After we removed them from the rubber mold, the children painted them. They were all masterpieces.

Some of the weekly contests we had were sandbox, coloring, stuffed animal, jello eating, tetherball, pet show, baby picture contest, stuffed animal, scavenger hunt, peanut hunt, and bean bag contest, to name a few. Another favorite was the Park Penny Carnival. Anything you can think of was a contest, and everyone was a winner because everybody at the park was a winner. The Daily News posted contest winners from the various parks in the paper every Friday.

The highlight of the summer was the park parade. Today, my children and grandchildren can’t imagine closing Main Street and having a hay wagon pulled by a tractor showcasing the most beautiful park float. It was covered in chicken wire, twisted, and stapled to 2X4s, depicting the theme of a particular year. Children today can’t imagine building a float, making flowers out of crepe paper, and stuffing the crepe paper flowers into the holes of the chicken wire. The older park members built the float if they were not hopping a train to Pembroke! People would offer their barns or garages to construct the float. We had a garage on Liberty Street for one year and Hawley’s barn on Bank Street for a couple of years. A lot of this took place after park hours. 

I miss the sounds of voices as I sit on a park bench at Farrall Park today. I miss seeing the smiles of those kids who had a safe and fun place to go every day. The boys would jump on their bikes and ride to another park if it were a baseball game. The same was true for the girls, who were amazing athletes.

On the day of the park parade, I remember walking with our park kids down Main Street with our float and ending at Austin Park. Every park had a location to display its float. Looking at the park from the street, you would see a wonderland of children and parents standing proudly by their float. Their park scrapbook was displayed with pictures from the summer. There was also a talent show and a place for our king and queen winners, regally dressed, to be judged. Every park waited to hear the winners. 

I can’t say we ever came in the first place, but in my heart, they were all first-place winners. I cherish the memories, but my heart is so sad that children today will never have the experience that the children from the city parks had back when the parks were open from 9 to 5 with a lunch break from 12 to 1. 

Every child back then had similar memories, and in their hearts, their park was the best it could be. You can delete Farrall Park and insert Kibbe, Williams, Austin, John Kennedy, MacArthur, Woodward, or Pringle Park, and the memories will all be the same. 

As I leave Farrall Park to continue my walk, I leave the voices of children’s laughter and the camaraderie of the voices I hear daily as a supervisor. Today, children’s memories are captured on their iPhones.   That is their playground.   I don’t think kids today can relate to what it was like to belong to a park. The memories from all those beautiful summers go to the park supervisors who made the memories possible. I thank former supervisors Marcia, Bill, and Gary for their help with this article.

If you recognize your park float, please post the name of the float and your park. ENJOY!

The park supervisors in 1972 were: Debbie Lampkin, Ann Gorton, Mary Preston, Doris Holvey, Nancy Manchester, Ann Pietrovito, Marcia Macugowski, Anne Peca, Roberta Thrasher, Laurie Winegar, Dennis Buckley, Larry Barone, Mike Stevens, Marie Howe, Bill Bostwick, Gary Starowicz, Wayne Benedict, Jeff Smith, Peg Marone, Fred Francis

I remember walking into the Holland Land Office Museum and looking at the large portrait of a young child hanging on the wall. 

It brought me back to a time when I took my daughters to have their yearly picture taken. It was either at J.J. Newberry or W. T. Grant Department Store. The cost of the sitting was free, and the price for an eight by 10 picture was 99 cents. 

You had three choices for background. If your child behaved and smiled, you could be on your way in 15 minutes, but if your child was not in the mood for that milestone 5-year-old portrait, you might have to leave without a picture. 

As difficult as it was to get a photo of a 5-year-old picture in 1981, the process was much more challenging in the 1850s. 

When Alva B. Willis from Elba wanted a portrait of his five-year-old son, Charlie, referred to as his favorite son, Willis needed to find an artist, which was a difficult task. 

One day, a peddler/sign painter put up a sign at Willis Tavern stating that he would do paintings of all kinds at a reasonable rate. Mr. Willis commissioned this artist to paint his son’s portrait.

In the 1850s, making paints and brushes was tedious. The brushes were made of squirrel and oxen hair tied together and inserted into a turkey quill. The quills were attached to wooden handles that were also made by hand. The different-sized brushes were distinguished by comparing them to the size of a bird. For example, the smallest brush would be called a lark, and the largest brush would be a swan. 

Making the paint was also quite an ordeal. The Colors were dull or muted earth pigments, red, yellow, ochre (yellow-brown), and lamp black (bluish-black). The pigments were ground into a powder and put into small containers. When needed, the powder was mixed with linseed oil. 

The next order of business was what Charlie should wear for his portrait. It was decided that he would wear his Sunday best. His mother made him a soft red dress embellished with many tiny stitches at the neck and hem. White pantaloons, daintily embroidered with delicate flowers, covered his knees. This was not an unusual outfit for a young boy in the 1850s.

The setting for the picture was at Spring Creek in Byron. It was a four-mile wagon ride for Charlie and his father. In the spring, Charlie was positioned with a fishing pole and a line of three freshly caught fish in one hand. On the ground beside him was his white hat, and in the band of the hat was a large ostrich feather.

It was a long and tiring day for Charlie to stand in the hot July sun for four to five hours. 

He would celebrate at the end of the day that he was free until tomorrow, when this ordeal would begin again. 

Charlie’s father was thrilled with the results and promptly paid the artist $160.00 for the portrait. 

Unfortunately, the portrait was never signed, and the story did not end there. Charles' great-grandson, Donald Prichard of Georgia, donated the portrait to the Holland Land Office in the 1990s. Many visitors have enjoyed viewing the portrait over the years, but it began to need restoration. So, after months of being away for conservation, the portrait of Charles Willis is back at the museum.   

So, please visit the Holland Land Office Museum and view a portrait of the 5-year-old Charlie with a fishing pole, holding a line with three fish, and posing in a red dress with white pantaloons.

Take Me Out To The Ball Game
In several of my previous stories, I have indicated that I was an enthusiastic sports fan (especially of Notre Dame University football), even as a little kid. I'm not sure why that was because it didn't really come from my parents, and I was the oldest of three brothers.

My dad was a Notre Dame fan, but other than that, for some odd reason, he chose teams more to dislike than to root for. Also, strangely, he saved his ire for the teams closest to Batavia. He detested the New York Yankees and despised the Cleveland Browns of the NFL. When games would come on ( in black and white, of course), he would quickly identify the underdog, and if they were losing, he'd claim they were being cheated, or the contest was “fixed.” It was almost impossible to watch a game with him.

Apparently, my mom was a big baseball fan of the Batavia Clippers when she was young and single in the 1930s and 40s. My Uncle Bob, now 94, remembers her going to the games even out of town in Wellsville and Olean when they were in the “PONY” ( Pennsylvania, Ontario, New York) League. Back then, the team was community-owned, and I still have a stock certificate that my mother purchased for the team. But after she married and when I was a kid, I don't remember her caring much about sports. Maybe my dad's attitude had something to do with that.

Besides Notre Dame in college football, my favorite team was the Cleveland Browns in pro football first. In baseball, it was the Brooklyn Dodgers, but when the team moved to Los Angeles after the 1956 season, I switched to the Milwaukee Braves until they moved to Atlanta. I haven't had a favorite baseball team since then. 

I have also previously mentioned that I have an extensive collection of Milwaukee Braves memorabilia from 1957, when they beat my friend Charlie's favorite team, the Yankees, for The World Series.

Pro Football In The 1950s and '60s
In the 1950s, there were no Buffalo Bills nearby to root for. They didn't become a team until 1960 and didn't join the NFL until 1970, the same year the Buffalo Sabres joined the National Hockey League. There were only eight teams in the NFL in the 50s (now there are 32), and most Batavians are rooted for the Browns or the New York Giants. Those teams were most likely to be televised locally, too, on Sunday, which is the day all games were played. Friday was for high schools, and Saturday was for college.

My team was the Browns with quarterback Otto Graham, speedy pass catcher Dante “Sticky Fingers“ Lavelli and combination offensive lineman and kicker Lou “The Toe” Groza. (they seemed to have cooler nicknames then, too – there was a defensive back on the Detroit Lions named Dick “Night Train” Lane). Then, into the 60s, while the Bills were still in the old American Football League, the Browns had Hall of Fame running backs Jim Brown and Leroy Kelly. The Browns won NFL championships in 1950, 1954, 1955 and 1964. I had all the football cards of the Browns back then, but like my baseball cards, they are long gone, unfortunately.

I never got to go to any Browns games. People didn't travel to games as much back then, and as I said, my dad disliked them. But in the 1950s, I got to a Notre Dame game and went to Cleveland's Municipal Stadium, where the Browns played, but to see baseball games.

Cheer, Cheer For Old Notre Dame
In November 1957, my parents drove to a Notre Dame University football game with my younger brother Dan and me (my mom was pregnant with brother Jim Jr.) in South Bend, Indiana. This probably didn't mean much to Dan, who was 7, but it meant the world to me. I had been a devoted Notre Dame football fan since I was 7 or 8 years old. I kept a scrapbook of stories about their games and followed some of their stars like Johnny Lujack, Ralph Guglielmi, and Paul Hornung. The very Saturday before, Notre Dame had pulled off a huge upset, ending the Oklahoma Sooners' 47-game winning streak, which still is the record today, by beating them 7-0. I was ten and watched every second of that game on our black-and-white TV.

My first memory from the trip was getting caught in a whiteout blizzard, probably somewhere near Dunkirk, as that is the time of year when lake-effect snow comes in off Lake Erie. We made it through okay, but it must have been a “white knuckler” for my dad at the wheel.

On the Friday night before the game we went to the pre-game pep rally which I recall was in a big field house. The place was packed with students and fans and the band, coaches, and players whipped everyone into a frenzy with the memories of the previous week's gigantic win over Oklahoma. It was deafeningly loud to say the least. My years were ringing the rest of the night.

The game was against Iowa, and I don't remember much about it except that Notre Dame lost, so I was pretty down afterward. My biggest recollection from the game was when a Notre Dame running back was hit so hard by an Iowa defensive player that you could hear the “crack” of helmets and pads up in the stands. I think the ND player had to be helped off the field.

I do remember that Notre Dame had a beautiful campus and that we saw the famous “Golden Dome.” However, the iconic mural on the Hesburgh Library with Christ's arms raised, commonly known as “Touchdown Jesus,” was not completed until 1964. Oddly, I have continued to be a Notre Dame football fan all these years, but I have never been back to another game.

At the Old Ball Game
The next summer, in 1958, my dad and his friend and customer Leo Reinhart, who owned a grocery in Pavilion, took Dan, me, and Leo's son to Cleveland to see a couple of major league baseball games. This time, mom had to stay home with a newborn, as brother Jim had been born that April.

I have good memories of the games, a bad one of the hotel, and a funny one of an event on the trip home.

My first recollection of going to the game is the same one I have seen other people comment on. It was in the now-demolished Municipal Stadium, but when we walked through the portal to where our seats were, I was stopped in my tracks by the vista of the big, beautifully manicured green field in front of me. My mouth probably literally dropped open. I had never seen anything like it. Also, as I previously mentioned, it was the home field of the football Browns in the fall.

The games were between the Cleveland Indians (now Guardians) and the Chicago White Sox. I was not a fan of either team ( again, my team was the Milwaukee Braves, who had won the World Series the previous year, but that was too far to drive), but there were some great players on the field. The White Sox had the Hall of Fame double-play combination of Nellie Fox at second base and Luis Aparicio at shortstop. Cleveland had slugger Rocky Colavito in the outfield, a young Roger Maris before he got traded to the New York Yankees and broke Babe Ruth's home run record in 1961, and another Hall of Famer from Cuba, Minnie Minoso, who had played for the White Sox the year before. I don't remember who won the games, but I do recollect that Minnie hit a home run and I was very excited by my first big league baseball experience.

I suppose the hotel we stayed at in downtown Cleveland was okay, but we had no prior warning that crews were going to be working all night sand-blasting the edifice of a building across the street. Needless to say, sleeping (when you added in my dad's snoring) was hard to come by.

On our way home at night, we stopped at a gas station to refuel and use the restroom. As we got back in the car to leave, we noticed Dan (about age 8 ) was missing. My dad went looking and found Dan, a notorious sleepwalker, urinating on the rear wall of the station. In his sleep, he thought he was in the restroom. Everyone had a good laugh about that, except Dan, when he woke up and we told him.

Since I became an adult, I have been to many Bills games (especially in the 1990s and early 2000s) and a number of Sabres contests. I have also attended baseball games in major league stadiums in Chicago (both Cubs and White Sox), Baltimore, Montreal, and New York (Yankees). I also became a fan of the Syracuse Orange college basketball team and have attended some of their games in their Dome.

But my childhood memories of going to my first “big time” games in South Bend and Cleveland will always stay with me.

A unique and significant object from Batavia's history is now permanently displayed in Buffalo at the Pierce Arrow Museum at 263 Michigan Ave.

There is no other car in the world like the Thomas Rocket Car, built by Charles Thomas and Norm Richardson from 1935 to 1938 in a garage at the corner of Main Street and Ellicott Avenue in Batavia; the concept car was years ahead of its time. He had a periscope (or "Ventriscope" as Thomas called it), anticipating backup cameras on many vehicles built these days, mounted on its roof. It had independent four-wheel suspension, unheard of in the late 1930s.  There was also extra padding -- before the invention of airbags -- to protect occupants in a crash.

The refurbished Rocket Car currently sits next to another of Thomas and Richardson's contributions to automotive history—the prototype of the Playboy, a tiny single-passenger car that the Playboy Motor Car Company made in Buffalo in 1947. Only 97 Playboys were ever manufactured, and the automotive museum has a handful on display.

"For us, it's a big deal to have a Thomas car but to have the Thomas Rocket Car is very important," said Jim Sandoro, museum founder. "If you look at all the publicity the car got nationally and internationally, and even right now on the internet, when you look up the car, you find fabulous things written about it."

The museum took over the restoration project from a group of Batavia automotive enthusiasts in 2023, putting together all of the final and finishing touches.

The original restoration group included Ken Witt, Dick Moore, Dave Howe, Dick McClurg, and Josh Quick, Jeff Ackerman, among others.

In 2015, the group intended to restore the car and find a home for it in Batavia. The City Council of 2015 agreed to accept the car as a donation if a suitable place to store it and display it could be found. That place was never found, and the restoration effort became cash-strapped, which is when Sandoro stepped in.

"We're the Buffalo Transportation Museum, which is Western New York, of course," Sandoro said. "As soon as I saw it a few years back, I said, 'Boy, if it doesn't happen the way they think it is going to happen, we could finish it. I made it known at that time, but then I stepped back and let everything happen. There was some progression, and it did. And I'm so happy. ... It just worked out. It worked out. It was meant to be."

There were about 100 people on hand for the unveiling on Saturday morning, including Thomas family members.

Jeff Thomas remembers how proud his father was of the car. He drove it for years until one day, the engine didn't get enough fuel going up an incline, and it stalled on railroad tracks.

"My mom said, 'That's it. I'm never driving the car again," Jeff said. "So that was the end of it being used as our family car, but it got a lot of looks around town and stuff like that because it's obviously very special."

The car, Jeff said, meant "Batavia" to his dad.

"That's where he grew up," Jeff said. "That's where he made the car. I even ran into a guy who happened to be the grandfather of a guy I worked with in a pizzeria. And he said, your dad was from Batavia. And I said, 'Yeah,' and he goes, 'Thomas.' 'Yeah.' And he goes, 'I used to ride around in this car he was building in the 30s before the body was on it.' They would ride around Batavia on just the chassis. So you run into people, you know, that have a connection to the car. It's just part of history. So it's great."

The car was also unique for its hidden door hinges, low-set headlamps, one-piece frame, independent front and rear breaks, and no running boards.

The engine was 80 horsepower and, for the time, got a fuel-efficient 15 miles to the gallon. It had a top speed of 80 mph and could comfortably seat six.

Sandoro confirmed that if Batavia ever wants to "borrow" the car for display, he would make it available. It would need covered transportation and insurance, he said.  When the time is right, Batavia Downs might make an appropriate place to display it, he said.

Councilman Bob Bialkowski presented a Batavia City Council proclamation and praised people like Charles Thomas, who helped build Western New York, as "people with vision and determination."

He recalled seeing the car for the first time after it had been recovered from a barn in Lockport in 2015. 

"It was just such a disaster," Bialkowski said. "If it wasn't rusted, it was broken."

He especially praised Dick McClurg, proprietor of Old World Collision on West Main Street Road, Batavia, where much of the restoration was completed.

McClurg said the Pierce Arrow Museum is a "fitting home. I think it's really fitting."

He said, "The museum made it look good."

"I wish I could have met Thomas. I really do. But I feel he was with me the whole time I was working on it," McClurg said.

When Thomas showed off his car in Detroit, experts agreed it was at least a decade ahead of its time.

But timing and circumstances were not on the side of automotive innovation. War was looming in Europe. Preston Tucker's then-recent failure to bring a safety-first mass-produced sedan to the market scared off the Big Three automakers in Detroit. They may also have felt threatened by all the innovation or decided it was just too expensive to retool to build such a futuristic car.

Whatever the reason, once the Rocket Car was done, Thomas never built another one. It became the family sedan and a showpiece for auto dealers on visits around the region.

Once the car disappeared from sight, it sat in a field in Batavia for years before a car buff in Lockport, Gary Alt.

Alt, whose antique car collection consists of dozens of Chevys from the 1930s, found the Thomas wasting away in a field in Batavia in 1977 when he drove out here with the intention of buying a 1934 parts car. When he saw Rocket Car, he had no idea what it was. He'd never seen it before or heard of it, but he knew it was unique and worth saving, so he bought it and the parts car and hauled them back to his farm property near Lockport.

Eventually, he tracked down the car's provenance and interviewed Thomas and Richardson in Buffalo, leading to a magazine article Alt wrote about the car. When that article reached local car enthusiasts who had long wondered what had become of the futuristic vehicle, they contacted Alt and arranged to buy it from him and retrieve the dust-covered relic from his barn.

The Thomas family has tracked the progress of the Rocket Car's restoration since it was recovered from a barn in Lockport in 2015.  Family members at the unveiling on Saturday seemed thrilled to see it again in all of its original pristine glory.

"It's great for our family, great for my dad," Jeff said. "I mean, he deserves to have this in a place where people can see it instead of in a junkyard or something. So it's just fabulous. We're so happy."

For all of The Batavian's previous coverage of the Thomas Rocket Car, click here.

For a photo slideshow of the Rocket Car's restoration, click here.

There are many hidden treasures in Genesee County. One beautiful gem is the Historic Batavia Cemetery.    

If you travel slowly down Harvester Avenue, look at the first cemetery on the left going south. A wrought iron fence and trees surround the cemetery. It is the home of our early leaders and pioneers from this area.   

I would bring my fourth-grade students to this living history book every year to learn about their local history. We would visit the various stones, and I would explain their relevance to Batavia’s early history. I could not wait to show them Joseph Ellicott’s Monument. As my students would sit on the grass looking at The Ellicott Plot, I would have them turn around and look toward Harvester Avenue.   They would see nothing in front of this monument but a beautiful lane lined with trees over 100 years old. I would then tell them about this brilliant man and his family. 

If you wanted to buy land and settle in this region, you purchased your land from Joseph Ellicott, founder of Batavia. He was the first surveyor and local agent of the Holland Land Company. Joseph was entitled by his contract to select a piece of land for his residence and land office. He claimed the land on West Main Street, opposite Walnut Street. His land occupied the areas we know as Thomas Avenue, Porter Avenue, and Washington Avenue. 

In 1802, the east wing of Ellicott’s mansion was built as his residence. In 1815, the Holland Land Office was completed across the street from his mansion, which remains the Holland Land Office Museum today. 

In 1818, the three-story structure of his home was finished. It included a large main building with two wings and additions to the rear of his house.   Behind his home were a pasture, barn, and a large flower garden. If you were fortunate enough to be a guest in Joseph’s mansion, you would have dinner on blue and gold English china. If you were overnight guests, a bed warmer warmed your sheets. A bed warmer consisted of a metal container, usually fitted with a handle shaped like a modern frying pan, with a solid or finely perforated lid. The pan would be filled with hot coals and placed under the covers of a bed to warm it up. A servant would then run the bed warmer between the sheets to warm them.          

Please visit the Holland Land Office Museum and enter the room where Joseph sold land to our early settlers. The museum has Ellicott’s China, a bed warmer, and a cabinet donated by the Ellicott-Evans family. Also, stop by the Historic Batavia Cemetery and find Joseph’s monument and other famous Batavians resting on Harvester Avenue.

The men from Genesee County who fought in the War of 1812, the Civil War, and the wars of the 20th Century are well represented in the Holland Land Office Museum.

The men who served the cause of freedom starting in 1776 are less well represented, and the HLOM, with the help of the Anna Ingalsbe Lovell Chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution, hopes to provide visitors to the museum information on those men who fight for liberty and then helped settle Western New York.

On Saturday, DAR members presented Tyler Angora, HLOM curator, with a check for $700 -- a $500 grant from DAR and $200 from the local chapter -- to create a display honoring the patriots who settled present-day Genesee County and immediately contiguous towns.

"There are a lot of people buried here but why did they come here? What did they do to help found our county?" said DAR member Robin Ettinger. "This is what our project is about."

In the past, DAR members identified all the patriots who purchased property from the land office and those names are already listed in a book in the research room. There are also men who acquired land in the county before the Holland Land Office started selling plots. 

Western New York was not part of the colonies at the start of the Revolution.

The Senecas did not cede control of Western New York until the Treaty of the Big Tree in 1797. In the treaty, the Senecas agreed to establish residences on reservations in the territory and receive $100,000 (about $1.8 million today) for 3.75 million acres of land. 

The Holland Land Company participated in the negotiations after acquiring rights a portion of the territory from Robert Morris in 1792. 

Joseph Ellicott started surveying the land in 1798. Two years after Ellicott completed the survey, new settlers were able to buy plots of land in Genesee County (then, all of Western New York).

The project involved creating a slideshow of names and background information on the patriots to display on a flat-screen TV in the War Room.

"Right now, the only Revolutionary War piece that we have is the drum (acquired by a prior, now defunct DAR chapter)," Angora said. "We do talk about it on tours and stuff, but people don't actually get to see the men; they don't get to see their history. Ryan (Duffy, HLOM director) and I don't personally have the time to do that (put the display together). We're running the entire museum. We've wanted to expand this because the rest of the War Room has all the veterans listed except this part."

He said the TV will show a slide show of the men sharing their stories and showing their connections to this county and how they built this county, Angora said.

"We've researched them and we found a lot of men who purchased large plots, multiple plots in certain sections," Angora said. "Once the land office was here, they started flooding into this area to start farming because it was wilderness and it was a good opportunity for those patriots to come and build their lives here."

DAR members concentrate a lot on history and geology because in order to become a member, you must document that you have an ancestor who was either a patriot or supported a patriot at home.

Most of the patriots were farmers, but they were also mill owners, tavern owners, and shopkeepers.

"There's a lot of farmers and they just came out this way and had to have that tenacity to -- especially the women -- to say let's go out there and build log cabin. So the whole focus is what these guys did, who they were in the war, and they came out here and settled our area."

A college professor told Deborah Wood, when she was working on her senior thesis, something that she has carried throughout her career: "It only takes one person at a time to get the stories told and the will to do so."

As the special collections librarian, helping people tell their stories has been a big part of her job, and that's one reason the Anna Ingalsbe Lovell Chapter of the Daughters of The American Revolution honored her as A Woman in American History on Monday.

For a woman to become a member of DAR, she must produce a genealogy that demonstrates an ancestor who assisted in the Revolutionary War effort.

"When I left teaching to pursue librarianship, I thought that part of my professional life was over, but in late 2021, the idea of history by the hearth was born in support of the library's mission, the local history collection, and by telling the people's stories of the journey through the Genesee Country region from a local and national perspective," Wood said. "When I was approached to collaborate with the DAR, to tell the stories of Deputy Husbands, women who provided direct support to the revolutionary patriots, and those that kept the home fires burning, I never blinked an eye."

Wood has a BA in history and a MA in history and public history from Brockport State College, and a MA in information and library science from the University at Buffalo.

At Richmond, she's organized many history lectures and discussions as well as conducted classes on genealogy.

The award recognizes women who have contributed or made a difference in their communities and who are or have been intellectual, educational, social, religious, political and significant or cultural innovators. 

Robin Ettinger, NY vice-chair of the prospective member database, said the more than one million DAR members nationwide have been through genealogy research, looking for documents that connect them to a Revolutionary War patriot. 

"Today, we have a large amount of information at our fingertips through the internet through the web," Ettinger said. "But a large percentage of the documents that we use and our members use are actually housed in churches, historical societies and local libraries."

Ettinger noted that the Richmond Memorial Library has received growing attention under Wood's guidance, and DAR members have noticed its dedication to genealogical research.

"Under her stewardship of the local history collection, she has made this library an excellent place to be in a person's family history research," Ettinger said. "Her mission of genealogy at the library helps her assist the researcher in discovering their story."

She said anybody with something to learn about genealogy would benefit from Wood's guidance.

"I recommend that if you are a new genealogist or if you just need a refresher course, you look her up when she's holding her genealogy workshops," Ettinger said. "Then, she can introduce you to all the tools available to research genealogy."

Wood said the award recognizes not merely her own efforts but all who support history in the library.

"I'm indebted to many -- our board of trustees, our present and past library directors and their support of the local history, the genealogy collection, History by the Hearth and Genealogy at the Library, where our collective memory lives, our stories are told, and our patrons discover the stories of their revolutionary ancestors in Genesee County," she said.

Today, making bread is easy. You buy a loaf of frozen bread, defrost it, and bake it. In 1996, there was a machine called the Bread Machine. You would put all the ingredients into the machine and turn it on. It would mix the ingredients, time the bread to rise, and then bake the bread. Now, you can go to a supermarket and buy fresh bread.

In the ‘60s, my grandmother, Jennie Bellow, would bring her homemade bread to Batavia every Sunday. We all enjoyed her bread and took it for granted. On one of my Sunday sleepovers in Le Roy, I watched my grandma get out all sorts of things to make her white bread. Flour, yeast, and Crisco were some of her ingredients. She also took out a flat piece of wood, a towel, and five bread pans. I asked why she was getting everything out the night before, and she said I would find out the following day. 

Early the next morning, I watched her make her bread. I had no idea it would take all day. First, we would measure the flour, put the yeast in warm milk, and add one scant wooden spoonful of Crisco. We would mix the ingredients by hand, which is called kneading. The towel was to cover the dough, hoping it would rise. Finally, the bread was ready for the pans. The result was beautiful but so time-consuming. My grandmother was born in 1900, and making bread was a way of life for women in the 1900s as it was in the 1800s.

One of the first things Joseph Ellicott did as a local agent of the Holland Land Company was to have mills, both grist and saw, built in Batavia to encourage settlement. Before the erection of the gristmill in Batavia in 1804, the people sometimes did not have bread or anything to make it from. Flour was brought on packhorses before the roads were of such a character as to allow better transportation. The Tonawanda Creek dam was used to power a sawmill and, a little later, a gristmill.

Both corn and wheat grain had to be ground for bread and other foods. The grindstones at the gristmill reduced corn to meal and wheat grain to flour. “Rye and Indian,” made from cornmeal and rye flour, was the only bread the early settlers could make. Grinding the grain into flour for the pioneers meant a journey to the gristmill by ox sled in both summer and winter.

I wonder if the giant stone doughnuts that stood on East Main Street near the corner of Ross Street could have been gristmill stones. Many years ago, they were at the entrance of a burned house. I can remember them always being there; after the fire, they disappeared.

In the Holland Land Office Museum, there is a colonial kitchen. You can imagine our early settlers cooking in the kitchen using a fireplace. Upon request, you can view a reflector oven. This was one way the early settlers made bread. A reflector oven is a box usually made of tin designed to enclose an article of food on all but one side to cause it to bake by capturing radiant heat from an open fire and reflecting the heat toward the food. The next time you buy freshly baked bread at your local supermarket, think of the time it took to make bread from “scratch!”

I treasure the memories of cooking and baking with my grandmother. I know how to make her bread from scratch, but it is not the same not having my grandmother next to me in her cobbler apron showing me how to knead the bread.

After talking to The Batavian in November 2023 about the premise and subject matter of his latest book, “Historic Chronicles of Genesee County,” county Historian Michael Eula will finally get to celebrate the official release on Monday.

The book is a twofer of sorts: it’s a local collection of essays on how American history affected Genesee County, and, per the stamp on the book’s jacket cover, it’s Made in the USA. Throw in assassinations, immigration, presidential politics and suffragists, and you’ve got a plethora of hot subjects as future reading material.

Eula said that one of his favorite chapters while working on the book was about the Cold War. While doing his research, he learned how much locals disagreed with the Korean War via letters to the editor in the local newspaper. He has also wondered—and examined—if all of society’s anxiety was really warranted during those Cold War days in which preparedness drills became more common.

“On Friday, Sept. 14, 1956, a civil defense exercise commenced at Batavia’s Veterans Administration Hospital.

At ten o’clock that morning, civil defense sirens blared, announcing a simulated fire raging in Ward D, part of a disaster test designed to recreate the conditions that would result from an explosion produced by an enemy attack. A second simulation that day include a nuclear attack that resulted in the destruction of the Batavia Post Office building. During this second simulated attack, a postal truck carried emergency supplies and equipment to a relocation site reached via West Main Street and Redfield Parkway. A second postal truck supervised by the foreman of mails, Arthur Norton, transported more people and equipment over Jefferson Avenue, Washington Avenue, Ellicott Avenue, Richmond Avenue and Redfield Parkway. A third postal truck remained on standby, while the Veterans Hospital supply officers, John Lane, ordered one truck to facilitate removal from what was left of the post office building while simultaneously keeping eight additional vehicles on standby. Officials drew on the help of volunteers responding to sirens located throughout the county.

In its Saturday edition, the Daily News reported that the exercise was an unqualified success. This drill serves as a stark reminder of the political and cultural realities of Cold War America in 1956 — and the anxiety regarding the possibility of a nuclear confrontation with the Soviet Union apparent in the county.

Why did a disaster produced by the enemy take place at all? Why was there a clear anxiety about its real possibility, who was this enemy and how could such an intrusion reach into the heart of an otherwise stable and peaceful Genesee County in 1956, Eula wrote.

He evaluates the situation in a section titled “What Happened and Why.” One line seems to answer it best: "The cultural preoccupation with a communist threat remained as apparent in Genesee County as it was in the nation at large. Local media continuously stressed the lethal quality of communist threats, subversion and attacks.” 

Furthermore, “newspaper articles emphasized the necessity of American involvement in the Korean War, as evidenced by the participation of county residents in a conflict half a world away,” he wrote, using Batavia Daily News headlines in 1953, such as the one proclaiming “Airman from Oakfield Expects Duty in Korea,” as evidence. 

“There were constant reminders of how hot the Cold War was capable of becoming and of how tragic the consequences were for some county families,” Eula said. 

He cited the example of Private John V. Peca of Le Roy, who at 24 died during this time, leaving behind a wife, brother and parents, and whose remains were returned from Korea. 

“Such stories abounded in the earlier years of the Cold War as the fighting raged in Korea,” Eula said. “Other accounts revealed that soldiers initially listed as missing in action subsequently reappeared as killed in action, as 18-year-old Army Corporal Norman F. Smart of Batavia. His brother, Private First Class Robert D. Smart, was also in Korea. While there, he suffered wounds.”

And those soldiers from the county that were not killed or wounded “sometimes languished as prisoners of war in communist prison camps,” he said. 

“This, too, brought home to rural Genesee County residents the nation’s very real conflict with the communist world,” Eula said. “The many media accounts of those killed, wounded and mistreated by communists during a very hot Cold War period reminded readers of the threat posed by the communist world.”

There are six chapters in which Eula takes a swim in how national affairs affected locals at the time:

1. In Only Six Years: Genesee County Reacts to the Assassinations of The Kennedys and Martin Luther King Jr.;

2. Batavia Explodes: Cold War Anxiety and the Preparedness Drill of 1956;

3. Immigrants to White Ethnics;

4. Hoover, Roosevelt, and the New Deal in Genesee County;

5. In Western New York?: The Ku Klux Klan in Genesee County in the 1920s;

6. Activists, Farm Women, and Professionals

What illumination might a farm woman have to share? Genie Green’s mother wrote, on Jan. 24, 1887: 

“There are periods in our lives when some new book or acquaintance comes to us like an added sun in the heavens, lighting the darkest places and chasing every shadow away.”

Eula noted that for many days after that entry, she spoke of drudgery in “doing odd jobs.” But then “an unexpected and particularly long entry appeared." On her 89th birthday, Genie’s mother wrote, “I can best honor it by consecrating myself to work for every good … for progressive thought and for moral and spiritual growth and development.”

“Much of her remaining diary entries exhibit much the same — her deep desire to light the dark places in a woman’s life,” Eula said. 

When all was said and done, and documented and written — what was his conclusion at page 125?

“I started to write this book wondering where to begin. I now end it wondering where to stop,” Eula said. “There remains so much to write. Nonetheless, I consciously selected areas of the county’s past serving to illuminate the reality faced by people living there. This is admittedly not a traditional history, as I did not confine myself exclusively to events or to an orderly chronological span of time.

“Genesee County’s history is a long stretch of time punctuated by specific realities. Those realities were influenced by the national events addressed in this book. In turn, local perceptions of those events shaped the understanding of nationwide phenomena,” he said. “There was an underlying continuity in the county’s history. While much changed since 1802, much also remained the same. The history of the county remained anchored in a belief in individual liberty. The enlargement of individual liberty was viewed as the cornerstone of a good life.”

The History by the Hearth series will feature Eula from 1:30 to 3 p.m. April 27 at Richmond Memorial Library, 19 Ross St., Batavia. 

He will read from the book, and a book signing will follow. The book will be available for purchase before and on the day of the event.

His book may also be purchased at Holland Land Office Museum and online at Barnes and Noble and Amazon. In addition to being the county historian, Eula is also Professor Emeritus of History at El Camino College. He is the author of more than 30 articles and books in American and European history, including “Between Peasant and Urban Villager: Italian-Americans of New Jersey and New York, 1880 to 1980--The Structures of Counter-Discourse.”

He was named a National Endowment for the Humanities Fellow three times, and received the DeAngelis Prize in History in 2000. He is an honors graduate of Rutgers and the Regent University School of Law, where he received an LLM degree. He holds an MA and a PhD in history from the University of California-Irvine.

Much of Batavia’s growth in the nineteenth and early twentieth century can be attributed to its location as a hub of major transportation systems. This was particularly evident with the passage through the Batavia of several major railway lines. 

However, another form of rail transportation through the heart of Batavia, though it existed only for two dozen years, left an impact upon first the village and then the city. The trolley line that ran the extent of Main Street was built as a precursor to Batavia's continued growth and to connect it further to the rapidly growing cities of Buffalo and Rochester at the dawn of the twentieth century.

The trolley line in Batavia was completed in 1903, though it was originally just a small piece of a much larger line. 

The Buffalo and Williamsville Company, who built the line, had plans for a line running from Williamsville and Depew to Rochester. They even had talks with investors of further expansion to Medina or Horseshoe Lake, and eventually across New York State. However, the Batavia Main Street line is all that would come to pass. 

The trolley was a single track that ran a mile and a half from Clinton Street to the intersection of West Main Street and Lewiston Road. A turnout was also built near Bank Street to allow the trolley cars to pass each other. It officially opened on September 2, 1903, with many of the village aldermen as its first riders. It quickly became the latest marvel in Batavia, and people flocked to ride the trolley, with reports of 3,300 people to board at some point during the first week. 

The trolley line's local patrons would soon have issues with its builder, the Buffalo and Williamsville Company. 

Though the line had a large number of riders, very little was done to improve the equipment or the quality of the ride. 

In 1911, East Main Street residents complained about the noise of the trolley cars, and many riders were less than thrilled with the uncomfortable seats on board. By this point, no effort had been made to add a second line. When some expansion began in 1912, the village aldermen asked the company to pave Main Street, which was never resurfaced after the line was finished. The village officials believed that this was the company’s responsibility.

The disagreement over the paving of Main Street became increasingly hostile. When pressured, the company hinted that they would just close the line altogether. The company would attempt to make good on their threat by applying for a permit to close the trolley line. In response, a commission of local men, including George Wiard and K.B. Mathes, sought out other entities to run it. In 1914, they found a potential buyer in the Storage Battery Company of New York City, but it was deemed soon after that it would be more beneficial if the line was owned and operated by a local company. 

A year later, the Batavia Traction Company was created to undertake such a venture. Though the trolleys still ran for another twelve years, there were never funds to make the necessary improvements. 

By 1927, the company was losing money, and the whole line was deteriorating beyond repair. 

Trolleys were becoming obsolete, replaced by buses, and there was little outside interest in keeping the cable cars going. By the end of the year, the trolley line on Main Street ceased to take Batavians to and from. 

Some of the tracks were dug up during the scrap drives in 1943; another part was covered by blacktop in 1947, while the tracks along East Main Street were still there until Route 5 was rebuilt in the 1960s.

Tonight's meeting of the Stafford Historical Society, originally scheduled for  7 p.m., has been canceled.

It has not yet been rescheduled.

NOTE: This week, The Batavian is highlighting the annual Chamber of Commerce Award winners with a story daily through Friday. The awards dinner is Saturday evening at Batavia Downs.

Perhaps an 11-year-old Ryan Duffy could have predicted that he’d be championing the preservation of valuable artifacts and would be involved somehow in the back stories of how historical exhibits and programs came to be presented to the public. 

“I always leaned toward that, and then we went to Gettysburg that cemented it. I saw the park rangers giving tours. The seed was there that made it a reality; it wasn’t just about learning the facts; it was something you could actually do. I’ve been directing myself toward that from then on,” Duffy said. 

Chosen in 2017 as executive director of Holland Land Office Museum, Duffy has now been named on behalf of the museum for the Chamber of Commerce Special Recognition of the Year Award. He shared the credit with Curator Tyler Angora, who has zealously bitten off the entire museum collection to sort through and organize for a multitude of exhibits now and into the future.

Duffy’s folks are well aware of his own enthusiasm for the job, and they have visited the site at 131 West Main St., Batavia “many times,” he said. They are the ones that got the ball rolling by taking him on that family trip to Pennsylvania to the famous Gettysburg National Battlefield and National Military Park, with a museum and visitor center, Civil War artifacts and a memorial to mark the site of Abraham Lincoln’s 1863 address. 

It was only 21 years later when the Holland Office Museum was established; it celebrates a 130-year birthday this year. Back when Duffy was hired, the museum had come to a standstill, which meant handing him the keys to drive it wherever he could imagine.

“It was kind of a blank slate. We were starting from scratch, putting new energy and new programs into it,” he said. “It was waiting for a new perspective. One of the first things I tried differently was a regular guest speaker series and trivia nights. It took a little time to build an audience up.”

Other programs were Java Joe, concerts, Murder Mystery Dinner Theater, and taking the show on the road, so to speak, as Duffy and some board members have visited groups upon request to share what’s happening at the museum and talk about local history. 

Did everything take off immediately? It did take a while to “get our name out there,” he said, and build up a customer base. But then that base began to spread out to Rochester, Buffalo, and even farther out to Syracuse. 

“It was about growing that. People have responded … our audience more than doubled, our overall visitor ship attendance and programming,” he said. “We added about 100 members as well. All of that has kept progressing in the right direction.”

An award nomination stated that the museum’s importance goes well beyond being “just a museum,” and in recent years, it has grown into a full-fledged community center, given all of the activities taking place there. 

“This year, Director Ryan Duffy and Curator Tyler Angora have been busy updating the exhibits to breathe even more life into the displays inside the museum. Tyler has brought his youthful energy to bring to life the lives of our predecessors, particularly in the ways they dressed,” volunteer Richard Beatty said, adding that Duffy has extended the museum’s reach by writing columns, producing videos and going into the community with his and volunteers’ presentations.

Duffy did also attempt to reel the antique show back into the fold, holding it at Batavia Downs, however, that darned COVID struck again, ruining yet another event, and “it fizzled out.” Duffy picked his battles and let that one go. “A lot is trial and error,” he said.

Meanwhile, though, he said he feels that the reputation of the museum “has come a long way” as an asset to the community since he took the lead. 

“And how people perceive us. Many more people notice us and take notice of us,” he said. “As a director, I’ve taken ownership … I’ve been the frontman; it’s my responsibility to make that happen. I’m very proud to make that happen and where we’re going to go. I’m hoping to continue a lot of progress of … the collection area, grow our outreach and membership. And grow into a wider area and become more of an attraction. Our base is here in Genesee County, but the Holland Land Purchase is all of Western New York.”

That means he’s eyeing from Rochester to Buffalo and down to the southern tier. 

“We're definitely seeing an uptick from people coming from areas outside Genesee County, and just our engagement, even if they're not visitors, but looking for research or wanting us to come and talk to them,” Duffy said. “And we get those kinds of calls from as far away as Syracuse, so we are getting our name out there. And that's what we want: the more people who know about us, the more people that will make the trip.”

Angora is planning to complete his master’s degree in history at Brockport State College in spring 2025, and has been full steam ahead since taking on the role of curator in 2023. The museum’s collection hadn’t been a priority up to that point, he said, so he “really took the reins” by organizing the upstairs area and unearthing buried treasures that had been there all along.

“There’s a clothing collection, Emory Upton items that were donated by his nieces, it keeps growing every day. We added 1,000 objects,” he said. “For the eclipse exhibit, 98 Years Since the Sun Went Out, people are seeing new parts they’ve never seen before.”

A grant has made it possible to digitize the entire 20,000-piece collection so that anyone will be able to view it online. That’s exciting, Angora said, because “it will allow accessibility” to any person with an interest or a research project to go to the museum’s website and view those artifacts for the first time. That should be a reality by the end of summer.

Also, later this year, Angora is hoping to do his long-awaited tours of the entire collection upstairs — a “behind the scenes” sort of take — that he’s been grooming ever since he began.

“It’s been exciting. It's been challenging. It's been everything encompassed in one kind of jar,” Angora said. “But overall, it's been an amazing experience to work with a collection that has so much history and a city and a county that has so much history tied to it that a lot of people don't know about. So being a part of getting people to know that history has been something quite fantastic.”

The work will never end, he said, but that’s a good thing. There are programs to come for the next several months.

Along with those coming months is an eventual expansion of the building on the west end toward the parking lot. A museum study made several suggestions to improve and preserve the old site, one being to add some much-needed space for a gift shop and to extend an exhibit room, Duffy said. 

In a nutshell, it’s about “looking good and being sound,” he said.

“Our expansion is looking at accessibility, breathing room, able to show off what we’ve got here for a better visitor experience,” Duffy said. “The county is dedicating funds to deal with the building, and we’re excited and very appreciative of that.

“Well, we're very honored to be recognized by the chamber. It is always a good feeling when people take notice of what you're doing. And especially see it as a positive aspect in the community. We always felt like we were a hidden gem, and it's nice to know that we're not quite as hidden anymore. And that the community appreciates what we do, because it's our first goal is to tell the history of our community,” Duffy said. “Tyler's got a long list planned out for the next few years too, I think, that will be very exciting for everyone. We're growing our partnerships and, with that, trying to create new programming or expand the programming that we currently have. 

“And just to be more exciting,” he said. “We’re really working towards making this place, creating a more vibrant atmosphere, a more welcoming atmosphere, that people will want to be here and be a part of what we're doing because we feel that we're on the way to some really big and important things.”

The 52nd annual Genesee County Chamber Awards ceremony will be at 5 p.m. March 2 at Batavia Downs Gaming, 8315 Park Road, Batavia.

Photos by Howard Owens

Although it’s fair to say the Rev. James “Jim” Morasco has been working on a genealogy project to trace various members on his dad’s side of the family for the last several years, it might be more accurate to say he’s been working to put the pieces of himself in order for more than three decades.

And, although he may not have planned it this way, the two have peacefully collided with his latest find: his grandmother Genevive and Uncle Nicholas, both who have been traced to the nondescript pauper’s plot on the Southside of Batavia Cemetery on Harvester Avenue.   

“When I called Catherine Roth the second time, she said they’re here; that was the a-ha moment; that’s how I found them,” Morasco said during an interview with The Batavian Monday at The Pub Hub just across from the cemetery. “When I was in Italy … I went to a church and touched the baptismal. All those people I never knew contributed to who I am.”

Roth was a staunch supporter of city and cemetery history and had helped Morasco with research to track the whereabouts of his long-lost family members who died in the 1930s. His grandmother had died at the age of 40 with heart issues, and Nicholas was just 6 years old when he died of scarlet fever. 

Shelves and shelves of darkened yellow parchment from so long ago.

Carefully guarding life’s passing of forgotten people.

Diligently searching for familiar names in memory.

Morasco only remembered hearing about how his father could feel the drip of melting ice that was packed around the bodies when temporarily at their house.

Neither of them had a burial or a headstone, which Morasco wants to rectify. He has compiled a book of poems written over the years in honor of his family, his spiritual work and beliefs, people and social justice, and Morasco’s own struggles and triumphs with alcohol addiction.

Suddenly they come alive after being dead for so many years. They shout at me from the page.

Congessio, Francesco, Giuseppe, Vincenzo.

Moresco, Morasco, Morasca.

Born, Married, Died.

Life’s important moments.

Suspended in time.

It was Vincenzo Morasco who led the way in America from Vasto, Italy, a hilltop ancient Roman town overlooking the cerulean blue waters of the Adriatic Sea. Not an easy task in its own right, emigrating to the United States was made even more difficult, Morasco said, due to Vincenzo having broken his leg and being advised that he wouldn’t be let into Ellis Island with such an injury.

So he bypassed the usual route by going through South America, traveled by banana boat, and ended up coming by way of Niagara Falls. Morasco has visited the famous falls and imagined his brave Italian elder making his way over to a whole new world, a new way of life and opportunities.

Vincent, as he was called on the Southside, worked for a while on the railroad, blasting rocks with a sledgehammer. He was blinded in one eye when a piece of rock flew up and hit him in the eye, and he apparently went on to own a big greenhouse on Swan Street, Morasco said. 

And after that first relative’s trek, six generations followed, he said, bringing with them a spirit of community and patriotism by serving in the military, nursing, as firefighters, and clergy — Morasco, a 1974 Batavia High School grad, is pastor at Morganville United Church of Christ. 

We were something once they say,

Mamma, papa, bambino.

We were flesh and blood once,

Now your flesh and blood.

And so we breathe again,

We are family.

It’s time to bring us home.

While he has been able to relate to family struggles with alcohol — “finding answers to why I act the way I do” — he also cherishes the advice given to him by his Irish mom, Margaret McCann, who shared stories and urged him to carry them on.

“My mother thought the stories were important. She would talk to me about things I didn’t know,” he said. “This is something that I've been thinking about for a while since I told my father I wanted to do this. But I was busy. I'm older now, and I’ve got a lot more time, so I can get things done that I wanted to do. It's kind of a closure for me.

“That was part of it because, you know, I've been in recovery for over 30 years. But that was finding answers as well. You know, finding answers to why I act the way I do, where that comes from, looking at my family history of alcoholism and substance use, and then I started on this as well, along with it, because I started digging up information on people,” he said. “I realized it was almost impossible that I wasn't an alcoholic; it was part of our family; we had the Irish and the Italian; it was an interesting mix.”

While it has also become a closure of sorts for the whole family, it has served as an opening for family reunions with siblings and cousins. Perhaps he’ll share his own stories of visiting Italy and sneaking into a fenced area to see old fishing platoons and envisioning how his own grandpa may have played there years before.

“I told my brother the other day, it's like the grandmother we never knew was bringing us together,” Morasco said.

Any remaining proceeds from the book will go to Batavia Cemetery Association for the good work that the nonprofit’s volunteers do, he said. “It’s important to me that they’re recognized as well,” he said.

Sharon Burkel said that, on behalf of the cemetery association, “we are very pleased that he wants to remember his family this way.”

“Every soul in the cemetery has a story,” she said. “We’ll pick a nice spot in that area for the marker.” 

She remembered reading a news article that, at one point, those in charge of the cemetery were burying people three bodies deep. They had no family to claim them and sometimes were indigents or had been in jail or for whatever other reasons. There wasn’t money or a prearranged plot for them in the traditional cemetery, so they would be placed in the pauper’s plot, a piece of unmarked land with a few trees dotting the landscape. 

Morasco’s book, “Dreaming,” is available at Holland Land Office Museum, GO Art! and HERE.

He isn’t quite done with his genealogy. He also discovered another uncle whose whereabouts were unknown up to now: Uncle Franchesco “Frank,” who drowned in the Tonawanda Creek at age 15. He is in St. Joseph’s Cemetery, though it’s not known exactly where, Morasco said. He’s onto another mission.

Take any object -- a house, office building, highway, bridge, car -- all will eventually fall apart if not properly maintained. 

The same is true of war memorials, the monuments communities erect to honor their war dead and help tell the history of their hometowns.

Rep. Claudia Tenney has co-authored a bill she hopes will help communities preserve those sacred monuments so the legacies they are meant to honor live on well after we're all gone.

The Remembering Our Local Heroes Act, co-sponsored by Rep. Chris Pappas from New Hampshire, allocates $2 million a year over five years that will act as matching funds for community groups to mount efforts to preserve war memorials as well as monuments honoring those who served in law enforcement and fire services. 

If a community group, such as a veterans group or a Boy Scout troop, can raise $10,000, for example, the group can apply for a grant of up to $20,000, which would result in a total of $30,000 for the project. If $150,000 is needed for the project, the group would need to raise $50,000.  The maximum federal grant under the bill, which is still pending in committee, would be $100,000 per project.

"We really would love to be able to do this," Tenney said. "There are so many areas where you go to, especially throughout my district, where you see these beautiful old monuments, including your Soldiers, Sailors, and Marines Monument that you have here, the Upton Monument, that could definitely be upgraded and cleaned and maintained. A lot of these monuments really aren't being maintained, especially the monument for our heroes."

Tenney stopped in Batavia on Saturday to visit the Upton Monument and discuss her bill with The Batavian.

"This (bill) would allow the federal government to participate in helping maintain veterans memorials and remembering local heroes," Tenney said.

In order to unlock access to the federal grant, all of the money to preserve a monument would need to come from private donations. Local governments could not help fund the project.

The bill combines twin interests and passions for Tenney, recognizing the sacrifices of those who have served their nation and their communities, and history. During the interview, she talked a good deal about Upstate New York's rich history and its contributions to creating the nation during the Revolution, the abolitionists of New York who helped free the slaves, most notably with the Underground Railroad, but also leading figures Frederick Douglas and Harriet Tubman, and New York's efforts to preserve the union during the Civil War and its role in the War of 1812.

"I brought Burgess Owens (to New York), who is a Republican, former football player, a Black Republican, whose hero is Harriet Tubman, his whole life, and he never knew that Harriet Tubman had a house in Auburn," Tenney said. "So I brought him in, and we went everywhere. He was amazed. We did the full tour. We went to all the different sites. And he was like, 'Wow, I can't believe this.' You know, we have such a rich history."

The germ of the bill began when Tenney served in the New York State Legislature, and she learned that Vietnam Veterans often have a hard time unlocking support that's available to other veterans groups because of the lingering controversies of that war.  During that time, she visited a group that wished to build a Vietnam memorial, but they couldn't access federal funds.  When she was first elected to Congress, she introduced the first version of this bill designed to allow any community group that takes on the task of ensuring local heroes are appropriately honored to tap into a small pot of federal funds to assist the effort.

"We (New York) were critically important in all the wars, whether it's the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, the War of 1812," Tenney said. "I think it's important that we know our history."

The Upton Monument was dedicated in August 1919 (see the 100th-anniversary documentary produced by The Batavian embedded below), with construction funded by donations and contributions from the city of Batavia and Genesee County.  It was constructed by Wardon Monuments, a company that built monuments throughout the northeast, including Gettysburg, and had its headquarters on Evans Street in Batavia.  Officially, it is the Soldiers, Sailors, and Marines Monument, but it carries a bronze statue of Civil War hero Gen. Emory Upton, who was from Batavia.

At 105 years old, it shows some age -- discolored bronze and cracks in the stone, including a large chunk of granite missing from the base.  There has been no known effort over the past several years -- and The Batavian has made inquiries -- among either private groups or the county government to take steps to ensure it is maintained and preserved.

That isn't unusual in her NY-24 district, Tenney indicated, because local governments are so cash-strapped these days.

On Memorial Day and Veterans Day, Tenney said she often goes for a ride on her motorcycle through the district and will stop at various memorials along her route.

"I'll drive around to the monuments and just kind of place a little flag or just kind of see what condition they're in," Tenney said.  "I did that a couple of years ago, I didn't last year, but I did that, and it was just really interesting to see how many people actually do care about what's in their community. But there's no money, and all these local governments are strapped with unfunded mandates from the state and all these other issues, so we have this as something that is supplemental."

When we remember our history, Tenney noted, it binds us to our community and it teaches our children the value of their community.

"If you don't remember the people who really founded your community, the principles that it was founded upon and that people actually served, died, sacrificed, lost life and limb, I think that really sends a message," Tenney said. "We want to send a message to our young people that their community is worth something and that they should be proud of their community, of the people that founded it."

Photos by Howard Owens.

Press Release:

The Oakfield Historical Society has a new book “The Other Oakfields” (Who Knew) by Darlene K. Warner. The book is available at the Oakfield Family Pharmacy.

The book highlights East Oakfield, North Oakfield, and Oakfield Corners. East Oakfield was at one time a bustling little town. There were 9 businesses in this little hamlet in the early years. 

Learn about its sawmill, cider mill, pump manufacturing business, wagon shop, cooper shop, blacksmith shop, grocery store, fruit drying, and heading & stave mill operations. How the Cope Pump Manufacturing business was known as “the most noted manufacture of wooden pumps in the United States”.

All this from a little town that was once known as Idleport. North Oakfield which started at the intersection of Lockport and Albion Road and continued until it connected with Fisher Road had two post offices before East Oakfield had one. It also had two schools. In fact, resident’s addresses were listed as living in North Oakfield up to the 1960s.

Oakfield Corners, besides having gypsum first located there, had two very prosperous farms, and even a hotel run by Dennis Watts. The former hotel still stands. So, it is not hard to understand why the subtitle is “Who Knew”.

The book is available at the Oakfield Family Pharmacy, payment of $22.00 plus $9.95 shipping and handling can be mailed to Oakfield Historical Society, PO Box 74, Oakfield. See our other available books on local history at oakfieldhistory.org.

During the first half of the 20th century, most Batavia families purchased their main courses from one source for all their meals big and small, Colgrove and Ryan’s Meat Market. 

The store became the preeminent meat seller in the area and even had a wider distribution area. Over its history, it had a few different locations in Batavia and even subsequent generations of stores after the owners went separate ways.

Colgrove and Ryan’s was the brainchild of the partnership of Myron Colgrove and Joseph Ryan. The two were seasoned grocers and meat sellers, coming from other businesses in the area. They began in 1920 and opened their first shop at 10 and 12 State St., which was named The Genesee Market. They stayed at that location until 1926, when they purchased Greentaner’s Sanitary Market at 54 Main St., changing the name to Colgrove and Ryan’s. 

This store backed up to the State Street market with a narrow alley in between. Due to the professionalism and expertice of the operation, the business became the go-to spot for grocery and meat shoppers. 

Adding to what the customers wanted, Colgrove and Ryan added a line of groceries in 1930, though their meat products were still their claim to fame. 

The store was also an early pioneer in telephone ordering, as people could order from their homes and pick them up at the market. In the fall of 1926, the store was featured in the magazine “Meat Merchandising” in an article, which commended them for the store lighting and the noted telephone service. 

Around 1945, Colgrove hinted at buying out his partner, but in turn, it was Ryan who bought out Colgrove. Under his singular ownership, Ryan turned the Main Street store into a wholesale meat center called The Western Provision Company. The operation grew quickly, and by 1949, he had several countermen and office clerks, as well as two order clerks, a receiving clerk, two sausage makers, and several delivery boys with a fleet of trucks.

Colgrove took his business back to 12 State St. and reopened The Genesee Market. The Genesee Market remained open until the building was bought during Urban Renewal, which was the same time that Myron Colgrove retired. He passed away in March 1966 at the age of 72. 

Joseph Ryan would fight in World War II and would suffer from the aftereffects of a sulfur gas attack for the rest of his life. At the time of his passing in 1960, he was not only the head of the Western Provision Company but also the treasurer of WBTA and the Batavia Baseball Club and a partner in the Ryan-DeWitt Oil Distribution Company. 

Western Provision Company was bought first by John Byrne of Niagara Falls and then by Harold Ironfeld before it was also closed due to Urban Renewal.

Ryan Duffy is the director of the Holland Land Office Museum.

As baby boomers, the Mancuso and Dipson theaters were essential to our childhoods. 

A Saturday afternoon in the 50s and 60s would be spent at one of these theaters. If we took our pop bottles to your corner store and redeemed two cents for every bottle, you could save enough money to afford the .50 needed for admission to a movie.   

We first had to check the Legion of Decency, a list of films nailed to the back door of our Catholic Church stating what movies were appropriate for our ages.  Disney movies were at the top of the list of acceptable movies.   

In the 70s, I remember exactly where I sat when I saw "Jaws." I can still remember the fear I felt when the great white shark opened its jaws and the screams I heard in the theater, including mine.

Theaters in Batavia have a very early history. Imagine, in 1874, an Opera House on Main Street. It had seating for 1,000 with a stage that could be converted into a dance hall. A balcony and seating boxes on either side of the stage were reserved for courting couples. John Dellinger built the Dellinger Opera House, the center of local entertainment for over 50 years. Most people saw their first live performance on the stage at the Dellinger. Road companies stopped in Batavia regularly in the 1880s and 1890s. Amateur shows could be performed on this stage one day, and the next day, you could watch professional acting companies take the stage.

In 1900, a store on Jackson Street was the site for the first showing of motion pictures. Later, silent pictures were shown in Ellicott Hall on Court Street. To make the silent picture more exciting, sound effects such as train whistles, blank gunshots, and the noise of crashing cars were added.

Batavia’s first theater was called the Lyric Theatre, located at 49 Main St. It had 36 seats fastened to the inclining floor. Other theaters, such as the Dreamland on Court Street and the Orpheum Theater at 122 Main St., were places to see “moving pictures.”

Two new moving picture theaters opened in 1913, the Grand at 72 Main St. and the Family Theatre on Jackson Street. The Grand could seat 584 patrons, and the Family Theatre could seat 600. A pianist or violinist could be heard while showing a moving picture, adding excitement to the movie.

A group of local businessmen financed the Family Theatre. It was considered to be one of the prettiest theaters in this area. The furnishings were from New York City and consisted of seats made of oak, 12 chandeliers, and a stage curtain that could be opened to show a stationary picture screen made of plaster.

Nikitas Dipson came to this country from Greece in 1909. He was interested in movie theaters, which began in 1913 when he lived in Jeanette, Pennsylvania, where he managed a small motion picture theater. He later moved to Batavia and managed The Family Theatre. 

In 1914, he temporarily bought the theater on Jackson Street until he could build a new modern theater on Main Street. He purchased two buildings at 36 and 38 Main St. They were not big enough for his new theater, so he closed the Family Theatre and moved the films, screen, and pianist to the Grand Theatre.

The New Family Theatre could seat 700 people and reopened in 1923 with a high domed ceiling lighted with radiant light and a 21-foot-deep and 43-foot wide stage. The orchestra seats were sitting from the other seats by a walnut rail. A console organ was in the pit, and a fireproof curtain could be lifted mechanically to the roof. The sides of the auditorium were decorated on either side with mural paintings.

The Lafayette Theatre, built just to show films, stood facing the Family Theatre for over 40 years. In 1947, the Lafayette Theatre, the property of Nikitas Dipson, closed. 

Nikitas Dipson finally could build his theater on 36 and 38 Main St. The theatre opened on April 17, 1947. The inner lobby was decorated with mural paintings depicting scenes from Genesee County’s early history. Floral designs covered the walls. After the house lights went out, the floral lights would glow softly for a few moments. This air-conditioned theater could seat 1,400. This theater would alternate with the Mancuso Theatre, housing the graduation exercises from Batavia High School and later Notre Dame High School. Dipson’s beautiful theater eventually fell victim to Urban Renewal in 1973.

Mancuso brothers decided to build a theater at 212 East Main St. It opened on June 4, 1948. The theater was as large as Dipson’s and advertised as modern as any theater in the country with “power enough to light a city.”  It had excellent acoustics because of the construction of the walls and ceiling. The side walls were decorated with flat sculptured figures. It was considered at that time to be one of the most satisfactory little theaters outside New York City. On opening night, 1,600 people filled every seat for the showing of "The Emperor’s Waltz." Today, that theater saved from the wrecking ball is currently the home of City Church. 

Nikitas Dipson dominated the motion picture business for 40 years, owning or operating all the motion picture theaters in the county at one time or another, including the two drive-in theaters on East Main Street Road and Clinton Street. Under an arrangement with the Mancuso Brothers, he ran the Mancuso Theatre, the Dipson Theatre, and the Family Theatre. Eventually, the two main theaters were ultimately divided into Cinema I and II. 

In mid-1979, William Dipson and Mancuso Brothers asked the McWethy Construction Company to build two mini theaters on the northwest corner of the mall. The theaters opened in 1980 as Mall I and Mall II. After 33 years, the theater closed. 

Over the years, Batavia has lost many buildings and businesses.   In June 2013, Ken Mistler, a local businessman who owned several downtown businesses, purchased Mall I and Mall II Movie Theater. He remodeled the Batavia Show Time Theater and showed first-run movies for many years. He's currently renovating the theaters into a new entertainment venue.

It seems sad that all we have left from these beautiful historical buildings are memories and pictures from old postcards and newspaper clippings. 

Photos courtesy Genesee County History Department.