history

Batavia officially became a city on January 1, 1915 after having been an incorporated village since 1823. The transition involved a progression through several steps during 1914. During 2014, I will be acknowledging each of these events 100 years after their occurrence.

On this date 100 years ago, June 9, 1914, Batavians went to the polls to vote in a referendum on the proposed charter that would make Batavia a city. Earlier in the year, there had been two different proposals before the State legislature with one providing for a city government run by a city manager and five nonpartisan councilmen elected at large. That proposal failed to gain sufficient support from assemblymen and senators. So, the proposal now before voters in Batavia was a second one which had passed the Assembly and Senate and had been signed by the Governor. This second proposal featured a mayor, six city wards, and a council person from each ward, all with party affiliations.

Earlier in the year, a straw vote had been taken among Batavians on this second proposal, but many questions had been raised about the voting procedure. While the second proposal seemed to have voter support at that time, there was enough doubt about the matter to warrant voting again. Consequently, when the second proposal was passed by the Assembly and Senate, it had been amended to require a referendum on June 9th. If voters failed to again support the proposal at that time, Batavia would not become a city despite approval by the State legislature.

And so, on June 9th, Batavians once more went to the polls. The turnout was not very high, resulting in only a little more than half of the ballots normally cast in village elections. It was not clear what that might signify and it made some supporters of the second proposal a little nervous.

As it turned out, no one needed to worry. One-thousand and seven ballots were cast, with 795 yeas and 212 nays. Thus, after several years of discussion and debate, Batavia was finally going to become a city. All that remained was to elect the new government in upcoming December elections. Who would be elected to serve? In six months, I will let you know.

We published photos of Whiskey 7 over the weekend from its refueling stop at the Genesee County Airport and shared that the plane is leaving today for France to take part of D-Day anniversary ceremonies.

This morning, The New York Times published a lengthy story about the plane and the historic trip.

The five-person, all-volunteer aircrew is packing life rafts, survival suits and other safety gear in the event of emergency. “There will be five of us onboard,” said Mike Lindsay, the crew chief, “and five parachutes.”

The farthest the Whiskey 7 has flown recently is to Wisconsin for an air show. But Mr. Lindsay and his fellow airmen say they are confident, even if the men they intend to honor are a little less so.

“I think it’s kind of nuts,” said Richard Ladd, 89, a local Veterans of Foreign Wars member who jumped out of a similar C-47 on D-Day as part of the 101st Airborne. “They’ve got more guts than we have.”

Great and great-great nieces and nephews of Gabriel De Fabbio were at the Holland Land Office Museum this evening for a ceremony honoring De Fabbio and Paulo Busti.

De Fabbio was a resident of 38 Center St., Batavia, when he joined the Marines. He was killed in Vera Cruz during the Mexican-American War in 1914. One hundred years ago today De Fabbio was buried at the St. Joseph Cemetery in a huge public ceremony, the largest funeral in Batavia history (see the front page of the Buffalo Evening News from 1914 for photo depicting Downtown Batavia on that day).

Pictured are Joan Tresco, Kailyn Tresco, Peppi Palmer, Paul Tresco and Kay Emanuel.

A wreath was placed in front of the marker, erected in 1915, in the side yard of HLOM honoring De Fabbio, by Michelle Fuller, Jeff Donahue and Barb Toal. Assemblyman Steve Hawley presented a resolution honoring De Fabbio. HLOM board VP Garth Swanson gave a presentation on the life and military service of De Fabbio.

Paulo Busti was the principal agent of the Holland Land Office starting in 1800 and gave Batavia its name.

Frank Penepento played horn accompaniment just outside the museum while Anne Marie Starowitz inside read the lyrics to a song sung at De Fabbio's funeral.

Tom Cecere

An honest bit of history was parked at the Genesee County Airport for a time this afternoon. Whiskey 7, a Douglas C-47 that actually dropped paratroopers on the beaches at Normandy, June 6, 1944, stopped for refueling on its way back to Geneseo. 

The aircraft "has been all over" said Naomi Wadsworth, the pilot. It's currently owned by the National Warplane Museum in Geneseo. After the war, it was sold to Capital Airlines, then Frontier Airlines, and then it was flown commercially in Alaska then South America before returning to the U.S. to be displayed in museums. The folks in Geneseo acquired it in 2006. 

Wadsworth said they've actually located one of the paratroopers who jumped from the plane on D-Day.

The plane is returning to Normandy on Thursday for the 70th Anniversary of the famous battle. The crew has raised enough money for fuel to make the trip there but still needs to raise money for the return flight. Six bucks buys a gallon of gas. To find out about making a donation, visit www.rtn2014.org.

Centennial Blog -- eighth in a series

Batavia officially became a city on Jan. 1, 1915 after having been an incorporated village since 1823. The transition involved a progression through several steps during 1914. During 2014, I will be acknowledging each of these events 100 years after their occurrence.

On April 15, 100 years ago, the governor of New York, Martin H. Glynn, had before him a bill proposed by the Village of Batavia Aldermen and passed by the State legislature. It was a bill that would make Batavia the 54^th city in the state. However, there was a question as to whether the governor would sign the bill. His predecessor, William Sulzer had vetoed a highly similar bill a year earlier because of opposition from Batavia’s Charter Revision Commission.

On the surface, the situation hadn’t changed much. Members of the Commission still favored a city government run by a city manager and five nonpartisan councilmen elected at large. The Aldermen’s bill, approved by the State legislature and now on the governor’s desk, provided for a mayor, six councilmen each elected from a city ward, and all seven affiliated with a political party.

However, there were two differences this year. One was that the Aldermen’s bill had been amended to require a referendum vote by the residents of Batavia. If a majority voted against the Aldermen’s bill, its provisions would not go into effect. A second difference was the existence of another bill moving through the legislature, the so-called Murtaugh Bill. Under this bill, residents of a city could petition for a change in the form of their city government; and if a majority of voters favored that change, it would go into effect.

Among the options under the Murtaugh Bill was one that matched the form of government favored by Batavia’s Charter Revision Commission. So, even if the Aldermen’s bill was approved in the referendum, Batavians could later vote to change the form of Batavia’s government to the one proposed by the Commission.

Under this new set of circumstances, the members of the Charter Revision Commission chose not to seek the governor’s veto of the Aldermen’s bill. And so, on April 15^th, Governor Glynn signed it into law as Chapter 354 of the Laws of 1914. The next step would be the required referendum vote to be held on June 8^th.

How did Batavians vote in the referendum? In seven weeks, I will let you know.

The Oakfield Historical Society held its annual open house today, marking the opening of its museum for the season.

Above, reenactor Jim Ferris shows off his flint smooth-bore rifle.

Sue Conklin shows Olivia Tobias, age 7, how to spin yarn.

Reenactor Pete Bosch sits for a photo next to one of the displays in the museum.

The Holland Land Office Museum hosted a Civil War Tea and Fashion Show this afternoon. Dona LaValle (gray dress) lectured in detail about Civil War fashion, mostly in the South; a model did show off a typical dress from the North during the era.

Participants included Melissa Landers, Kaitlyn Landers, Candice, Rachel and Elien Bachorski, Mary Joe Eddy, Rita Reichle and Anne Marie Starowitz.

Vocalist Amy Savino, accompanied by Jeffrey M. Fischer, performed (bottom photo).

Batavia officially became a city on January 1, 1915, after having been an incorporated village since 1823. The transition involved a progression through several steps during 1914. During 2014, I will be acknowledging each of these events 100 years after their occurrence.

Earlier this week, I reported on a hearing that took place in Albany where competing charter proposals were presented before a joint committee of Senators and Assemblymen. One proposal, offered by a Charter Revision Commission appointed several years earlier by village leaders, was notable in that it proposed a city in which the government would consist of a city manager and five nonpartisan councilmen elected at large. The other proposal, offered by the existing Board of Aldermen who currently governed the village, proposed a city in which the government would consist of a mayor and six councilmen, all with political affiliations. The relative merits of these competing proposals can be judged by what occurred 100 years ago this week.

Under the Village of Batavia charter that existed in 1914, village elections took place in March rather than in the fall as they do now. Going into the election 100 years ago, Republicans were in control of village affairs. However, after the election, a Democrat was the new mayor and the majority of the aldermen were also Democrats. Following the election, a headline in The Daily News read, “Democrats will sweep the deck: Little prospect of Republicans being left in Village positions.”

This was not a surprise to anyone. It was the tradition of patronage politics in Batavia and elsewhere. Because there were political parties involved in our community’s government, whenever the political majority changed, people like the village clerk, treasurer, police justice, village engineer, and even the fire chief traditionally lost their jobs because they belonged to the “wrong” party. The Charter Revision Commission sought to end this practice by establishing a nonpartisan city government.

In two weeks, I’ll let you know how the State Senate and Assembly responded to the competing proposals for Batavia’s future, one continuing the practice of partisan political affiliations and the other designed to establish a city government free of party politics.

Batavia officially became a city on Jan. 1, 1915, after having been an incorporated village since 1823. The transition involved a progression through several steps during 1914. I will be acknowledging each of these events 100 years after their occurrence in 1914.

Last month, I reported on how the Village of Batavia Aldermen, the equivalent of today’s City Council, had become unhappy with the work of a Charter Revision Commission appointed several years earlier. As a result, the Aldermen wrote a competing proposal and presented it to the community on Feb. 4, 1914. Then the Aldermen announced that their proposal would be submitted to a straw vote in order to gauge community support. The ballot simply read, “Shall the charter as prepared by the Aldermen be sent to Albany?” When voters cast 488 “yes” votes versus 451 “no” votes, the Aldermen chose to see the results as a ringing endorsement of their proposal and sent it off to the State Senate and Assembly.

It was 100 years ago, March 10, 1914, that a joint committee from the Assembly and Senate met to hear the competing charter proposals. Edward Russell, chair of the Charter Revision Commission, spoke to the gathering. He asserted that: the straw vote on the Aldermen’s proposal had not been taken in a proper or legal manner; that ballots were pre-marked and passed out on the street to any who might wish to go in and vote; that the total vote was a small proportion of the eligible voters; and that persons had voted who were not eligible to do so. Furthermore, Russell said, the Aldermen had used misrepresentation and deceit to persuade “liquor interests” to pay for lobbyists to speak against the proposal of the Charter Revision Commission.

At this point, Batavia’s mayor, Louis Wiard, rose to speak against these charges. But before he could do so, Senator Thomas Cullen, who was chairing the hearing, expressed disbelief that a community like Batavia would conduct an irregular vote and gaveled the session to a close.

In two weeks, I’ll let you know what happened when the Senators and Assemblymen eventually voted on the two charter proposals.

An Army field hospital during the Civil War must have been a horrid place to be. The stench of curdled blood. Limbs piled under the surgeon's table. The moans of the injured and dying. The acrid aura of death hanging in the air like a fog. The distant sounds of cannons turning more boys into fodder.

Hades holds more joy.

Warfare will always be a horror show, but it will never be like that again. The primitive conditions of a Civil War field hospital are just part of history now.

It's a history that can be found in museums, but not often quite in the way it's on display now at the Holland Land Office Museum.

Through April, visitors to HLOM can glimpse a time long ago in color and in 3-D, and in 1/32nd scale, when there was never enough morphine, scalpels were blunt and gangrene left a generation of young men crippled beyond repair.

In a display of dioramas and models created by local artist Dave Armitage, the Civil War comes to life in a way that mere photographs and historians' voluminous accounts can never capture.

We call Armitage an artist because like an artist, he creates, he imagines, he takes the formless and fills a void with a world that we all can share. He's more than just a model maker, though he might be too humble to call himself anything else.

The field hospital, part of a exhibit of dozens of models and dioramas at HLOM, all meticulously pieced together by Armitage, is such a work. It's creative and emotionally charged.

Armitage is originally from Williamsville but has lived in Batavia for a number of years. Since childhood, he's built more models than he can count. "Thousand and thousands," he said.

"People say, 'you've got too much time on your hands,' " Armitage said. "I say, 'no, I haven't got enough.' I've got (a) room in my house filled with unbuilt model kits that filled up two SUVs when I moved. Several thousand dollars worth of unbuilt kits. Some go back to the 1950s, the 1940s and some are made out of wood, not plastic. I figure someday, if I live long enough, I'll build them."

The only models that interest Armitage are those that depict something old, and old means before his lifetime, before the end of World War II.

"Anything after that is in my lifetime," Armitage said. "I mean, I saw it and I've been there. I'm interested in old things. When I was a little kid I was interested in old cars. I always used to draw pictures of old cars."

When he was a kid, his father's friends and relatives would come over to their house and the group would work on old cars. The boy was given model kits to work on -- the Revell Pioneer Series of the 1950s.

By the time Armitage was 17 he had worked enough and saved enough to buy his own Ford Model T, which he restored and still owns, along with three other vintage cars (a 1919 Model T Touring car, a 1925 Model T Depot Hack and a 1926 Star Station Wagon).

The 64-year-old Armitage is also a musician and Civil War reenactor, as is his wife, Donna. He's retired and he spends his time with this hobbies.

"I don't go out for sports. I never did," Armitage said. "I don't watch television very much. I spend all my time building models or playing music or working on old cars."

The Civil War isn't the only war that interests Armitage. He's built models and dioramas for battles scenes from the Crimean War, the American Revolution, the Russian Revolution, World War I and World War II.

"I don't like painting figures from the Napoleonic Era and back because they're too complex," Armitage said. "Their uniforms are too difficult with all the straps and buttons. The Civil War is bad enough."

And war isn't Armitage's only subject. There's old cars, of course, but Armitage also remains fascinated with the horror films of his youth - "Frankenstein" and "Dracula," and even "The Munsters."

In fact, Jeff Donahue, the director HLOM, is talking about displaying Armitage's monster collection around Halloween.

Donahue has been aware for some time that Armitage built models of history and had seen a couple, but never considered a display until Armitage approached him after one of his Civil War music performances at the museum.

"He asked me over to his house and I walked in and I was in shock," Donahue said.

What's on display at HLOM is only a portion of the Civil War collection.

"I had them stacked three or four high at home," Armitage said, "and Donna said, 'you're not building more stuff are you?' and I said, 'yeah.' 'Where you gonna put it?' 'I don't know.' "

The collection has rarely left his home. He's displayed some models at the train museum in Medina and he's taken a few to the Civil War reenactment camps, but they don't draw much attention there.

"I think most of the time people are more interested in watching the battles and the things going on outside," said the soft-spoken Armitage, whose gray mustache is as much a throwback to the 19th Century as some of the models he builds.

The Civil War collection at HLOM covers the panoply of the Battle Between the States. There are miniatures of historical figures from Robert E. Lee and Jefferson Davis to Ulysses S. Grant and Abe Lincoln; there are scenes depicting historic events; scenes depicting behind-the-lines life; and models of the machinery of war, from cannons to submarines.

"Dave has reproduced this to the finest minute detail," Donahue said. "It's shocking in a way, but of course war is shocking and the Civil War was a very horrible time. The man is a very gifted artist and this is artistry."

For many of the models, Armitage has typed up captions in the hopes that people will read and learn a little more about the Civil War.

"If they read half of what I typed up, they might learn something," said Armitage, a man of few words who gets right to the point on any question asked.

It's fascinating to see the old ships of the era, but what's interesting is the variety and number of ironclads and submarines on display.

We grow up learning about the Monitor and Merrimack, but have you ever seen the USS Alligator or the CSS Hunley?

Some of what Armitage builds comes from kits -- the ships and ironclads, for example, but what is often most fascinating and amazing are the scenes he depicts using a combination of kits and scratch-built pieces

The field hospital scene, for example, began with a model kit for a Union ambulance -- a wagon that could carry four wounded men and two medics.

Armitage didn't want to build just an ambulance. He wanted to put it in context.

A good portion of the scene springs from his own imagination and ingenuity, such as the tent, the scalpels and medicine bottles, the light by General Grant, or repurposed pieces, such as the surgeon that was originally a 1930s-era gangster, but Armitage shaved off his overcoat and put a blood-stained smock on him.

The black man sitting all bandaged up was created by Armitage from modeling clay.

On another model, the oars of a rowboat are shaped from soldering iron.

"You've got to think outside of the box," Armitage said. "You see something and think, 'I can make something out of that,' like I save the little brass rings from the ends of guitar strings and all kinds of junk."

Armitage said he has boxes and boxes of junk -- what model makers often call a boneyard -- waiting to be made into something.

When it came time to depict The Andrews Raid (the basis for the Disney movie, "The Great Locomotive Chase"), Armitage used toner from a copier cartridge to get the charred, burned out look on the blown-to-smithereens train station and littered the scene with repurposed former toy trains.

"I couldn't find any suitable Civil War soldiers in fatigues so I used Russian soldiers and shaved off their pockets," Armitage said.

Some of the scenes created by Armitage are inspired by photographs, such as the Matthew Brady picture of skulls and body parts being exhumed from the battlefield at Cold Harbor, Va.

"A lot of the soldiers pinned their names into their coats because they knew they weren't going to survive," Armitage said. These were the days before dog tags. When they dug them up, if they could identify the remains they notified somebody back home and if the family could afford it, they shipped the remains back home and buried him. If not, they reburied him there."

The scene might be shocking to some, but then war is shocking.

"As we've often said, history is not Hallmark," Donahue said. "History is not pretty. The Civil War was perhaps the ugliest times in our country's history.

"(The scene) brings a realization to people of what it was all about. What this country went through at that time. Families were literailly torn apart. The old saying brother fighting brother, well, happened. You didn't know if you would ever see your family members again or what kind of condition they would be in. The amputations, the horrific wounds of the war, due to the type of weaponry being used. Unfortunately, when a person was shot in the arm, many times it exploded the bone and there was nothing left to do but amputation. People died of shock from their injuries.

"It certainly brings home the cruelty of war. Very often people think, it's romanticized. They see the banners and the soldiers all dressed up and they think of maybe 'Gone with the Wind', but even later on in that movie, they showed the cruelty of war, how people were torn up, their lives were disrupted and never the same."

Armitage's work so masterfully captures a time and a place that is part of the fabric of our history that it's easy to get lost in the exhibit.

"I've had visitors come in, and you know, they normally spend five minutes or so to walk through," Donahue said. "With this, they come in and and you get busy working and you realize I haven't seen these people in a while and you go up and you look and they're in here an hour later, just examining every minute detail."

Armitage is grateful HLOM is providing a place for people to come and see his work.

"I'm glad to have stuff on display here because most of the time it just sits around my house and nobody sees it," Armitage said.

Batavia officially became a city on January 1,1915, after having been an incorporated village since 1823. The transition involved a progression through several steps during 1914. During 2014, I will be acknowledging each of these events 100 years after their occurrence.

Early in 1914, Village of Batavia Aldermen, the equivalent of today's City Council, had become unhappy with the work of the Charter Revision Commission appointed several years earlier. The Commission had developed a proposal for Batavia becoming a city that eliminated wards, eliminated political parties, and established a government run by a manager and five councilmen elected at large. As a result, the Aldermen wrote a competing proposal and presented it to the community on February 4, 1914. Then the Aldermen announced that their proposal would be submitted to a straw vote in order to gauge community support. That vote took place 100 years ago, today.

Voters might have anticipated that the ballot would provide an opportunity to indicate which proposal they preferred, the Commission's as described above, or the Aldermen's proposal which retained wards, retained partisan politics, and featured a mayor rather than a city manager. Instead, the ballot simply read, "Shall the charter as prepared by the Aldermen be sent to Albany?"

Since the Commission's proposal was already in Albany, a "yes" vote could only indicate a voter's desire to have both proposals presented before the State legislature. The wording on the ballot did not allow for a clear understanding of how voters assessed the relative merits of the two proposals. However, when voters cast 488 "yes" votes versus 451 "no" votes, the Aldermen chose to see the results as a ringing endorsement of their proposal over that of the Commission.

A month from now, I will provide another news release, this time reporting on what happened when the two competing proposals were presented to a joint committee of Senators and Assemblymen.

Batavia officially became a city on January 1, 1915 after having been an incorporated village since 1823. The transition involved a progression through several steps during 1914. During 2014, I will be recalling each of these events 100 years after their occurrence.

In the early 1900s, village leaders appointed a Charter Review Commission for the purpose of drawing up a city charter proposal. Despite several submissions to the State, the Commission’s proposal consistently failed to gain the necessary State approval. The matter came to a head early in 1914. On this day, 100 years ago, the Village of Batavia aldermen, the equivalent of today’s City Council, unhappy with the Commission’s work, offered a competing proposal.

One reason for the failure of the Commission’s proposal to receive State approval had been lobbying by certain Village aldermen against specific parts of the proposal that caused them displeasure. Those parts included the elimination of wards, the elimination of political parties, the election of councilmen solely at large, and the creation of a city manager position. Political pundits predicted that the Board of Aldermen’s proposal would have none of these features.

The pundits were right. The aldermen’s charter proposal, made public 100 years ago today, not only retained wards, but increased them from five to six. It retained political affiliations, featured a strong mayor, and doubled Batavia’s representation on the County’s Board of Supervisors. It also had a particularly novel feature. Under the aldermen’s proposal, if at least 25 percent of the voters petitioned for enactment of a particular ordinance, the Common Council had to either adopt the ordinance or submit it to a vote by city residents.

In a move surprising some, the aldermen promised to put their proposal to a straw vote of residents just six days hence. Next week, I will provide another news release, this time revealing the outcome of that vote.

When the Tonawanda Creek crested at 11.94 feet at 6:30 p.m. yesterday, it wasn't anywhere near its historical high.

In March, 1942, the river overflowed at 14.5, making the resulting flood the worst in Batavia history.

It caused an estimated $500,000 damage and put many people out of their homes for days.

Greg Brockway, of Pembroke, brought in these two pictures this morning from the 1942 flood.  They were taken on the Southside in the area of the Jackson School showing Hutchings, Otis and Swan.

The last time the Tonawanda crested over 12 feet (considered the major flood level) was 1998 when it hit 12.44. It hit 11.71 in December 2008, and twice in 2009 it exceeded 10.5 feet, once in February and again in March.

The creek has crested at more than 10 feet on 24 ocassions in the more than 60 years the National Weather Service has been measuring creek levels.

The Holland Land Office Museum welcomed three new board members at its annual meeting dinner meeting tonight and honored longtime museum supporter Helen Batchellor.

Batchellor, on the right, became involved with HLOM 50 years ago and stepped down from her board seat this year after 30 years on the board.

New board members are, Robert Ettinger, left, Aaron Blake and Donna Mruczek.

The dinner was held at GO ART!

This is a copy of a photo, like the one below, that I acquired last night at auction through Bontrager's.

It was shot Dec. 4, 1940.

The photographer was William Seaver. He resided for a time at 21 Ellicott Ave., Batavia. His office was at 90 Main St., Batavia.

We can assume, I think, that this picture was taken from his office window. The exquisite sharpness and detail of the photo suggests he was using a quality, large format camera (the single sheet of film was likely 8x10, much larger than 35mm film). 

The block you see is the south side of Main Street from Court Street (where the Hotel Richmond stood) to perhaps Jackson Street or just west of Jackson Street.

Seaver's office would have been approximately where Hillside Children's Center is now, on the west end of the mall.

Comparing it to the photo below, Seaver used a wider angle lens for the 1940 shot than he did for the 1927 shot. In 1927, he used some sort of telephoto lens. I don't know 8x10 format lenses all that well. It appears he used a wider angle lens in 1940 than he did in 1927 based on the crop and compression of space.

When I stopped by the County History office today, Larry Barnes, the city's historian was there. He had seen the 1927 shot before. It's in his book "Batavia Revisited." He had never seen the 1940 shot before.

I'm not sure if there are any descendants of William Seaver still in Batavia, but it would be something if his negatives still existed. These are high-quality photographs and it would be a shame if his negatives (and who knows what else he shot) were lost.

This geneology page says "William Seaver registered for the World War I draft on 12 September 1918 in Batavia, Genesee County, New York. He was age 45, born 18 May 1873. 

In 1910, he lived at 35 Center St., Batavia. In 1920, he lived at 21 Ellicott Ave., Batavia, and 1930, he was a lodger residing at 102 West Main St. In each census he was single, even at age 56, so perhaps he has no descendants.

There was also a William Seaver who lived in Batavia before the photographer. He was the first captain of the first fire department and a president of the Village of Batavia in 1838. That Seaver appears to have published a book in 1849 called "A Historical Sketch of the Village of Batavia."

The older William Seaver, judging by the genealogy site, was the uncle of the photographer William Seaver. The photographer's father was David Seaver, the son of a William Seaver born in 1789 in Peru, Mass., and died in Batavia in 1871.

To aid in seeing the pictures at a higher resolution, I've put them into a slideshow below. I recommend viewing them in full-screen mode.