Otselic History - continued

Otselic History by Frank E. Cox

The DeRuyter Gleaner, December 24, 1942

Only four people living in the Burg now [1942], and they were babies when I came, Walter B. Peck, 1875; Florence Woodley, 1877; Gertrude Jackson, 1877 and Dr. J. Mott Crumb, 1878.  One William Sowter, Jr. had a jewelry store and watch repair shop, built out over the dyke close to the foot bridge.  This little shop was later used by March Etheridge for a barber shop.  However, March did the barbering feat in rooms rented by me over my store and reached by an outside stairway next to the vacant corner lot.  This lot about 30x50 feet belonged with the hotel property, and then used as a croquet ground.  A few years later I gave one thousand dollars for it.

Hiram E. Shaw was running his carding machine at Sandersonville getting power from the river by a little feeder.  I went with father in the 1860s to take wool or get the rolls for spinning.  Mother ran the big spinning wheel to make the yarn, which she knitted into our mittens and stockings.  Most farmers had a small flock of sheep, 10 to 25 for mutton and wool.  

There were more country lawyers in those days.  Ezra I. Webb held forth at Beaver Meadow a pettifogger of great ability and tact.  Jury trials in justice court were common.  I was often on a jury when living at Stanbro (Upper Beaver Meadow).  Henry Stanbro was justice of the Peace and surveyor with a part time office at the Burg.  There Morel F. Ufford, a very brilliant young man had kept the people law abiding for ten years or so when I came.  Bomty Ufford, a person very short of stature, doubtful if he weighed 100 lbs.  But he always wore his high silk hat (stovepipe style) which helped out some for height.  Morell went to Denver, Col., in the 1880s and died there January 8, 1888, the body being returned to the home cemetery for burial.  he was born in Pitcher in 1843.  Of other lawyers, Silas Warren began 1850.  He entered the army in 1863 and died soon after the war.  Frank M. Benjamin 1864-7, a Mr. Tiffany practiced law 1883-5.  Herbert A. Webb, our present [in 1942] incumbent, a grandson of Ezra T., came in 1908, was school commissioner, 2nd district, four years, supervisor of Otselic 21 years, president of our bank 10 or 12 years, until 1934, and is still going strong practicing law in 1942.

Taylor & Sons Geo. W. and Wm. W.J. dealers in flour and feed.  The old rope walk (200 feet long, 12 feet wide), who but myself I wonder, remembers going there when it was in operation.  It stood on the west bank of the dyke, back of the Stetson octagonal dwelling house.  In 1878 it was run by Coats & Reynolds, Harris Coats and Whit M. Reynolds, wholesale dealers in cordage.  One winter when I was about 12, my father was about to break a span of beautiful three-year-old bay mare colts that had never been halter broke.  We went to the rope-walk to have halters made and guaranteed unbreakable by colts.  It would not answer to have a halter stale break.  They made the two halters and we never had cause to return the goods.

Mr. Lyman Brown helped my father and it was some job you bet.  We had a farm team besides the colts and that helped in the breaking for we could hitch a colt in with a steady old timer and they could not get away.  Well they were finally broken to drive together and we did much of our Spring's work with them, even to gathering sap with the big tub on the bob sleighs, and drawing out manure onto the fields. The colts were a very lively team and required watchful handling.  With a long smile I remember how one day as we were returning to the barn after scattering the load on corn ground, father standing on the wet bottom boards, and I back of him holding onto his coat-tails, when the colts began to jump and run, I slid off the back and onto the ground kerflop, somewhat messed up I guess, but no bones broken, while dad steered a foot for each front stake, and dropped to a seat on the wet boards where he could get a good foot brace, which soon brought the colts to a walk.  I was frightened and quite satisfied to walk the rest of the way.

Father had been asking $350 for the colts, but one day in early June, two lightningrod agents (quite common in those days) called to see the beautiful bay team they had heard about.  The colts were in the pasture nearby.  The men desired a dinner, and while they were being served father had time to get the colts in and cleaned them up nicely (it had been raining) and put on their heavy work harness, we had no other, and hitched them to the old lumber wagon.

Soon as the colts had been broken to drive double together, first hitched to the bob-sleighs for snow travel, and then with the lumber wagon, they were given practice cutting the figure eight.  Well! of course, the men could not ride on the old farm wagon so they just watched dad show off the clever tactics as the colts had been taught. The men were delighted and quickly asked the price.  Father says, "four hundred dollars."  They counted out the money and away went our beautiful colts with nothing on them but their unbreakable halters.

From my earliest remembrance father was raising colts.  He had a pair of brood mares, Old Poll, a dark bay, and Old Blue, a sort of mouse color.  Usually the colts were halter broken when very young and tied to the mother's side during work hours.  I will mention two others aside from this pair.  One a perfect black, sold to Mr. Myers of Columbus, who succeeded in getting a perfect match and when broken he drove them to a fair, where he was offered one thousand dollars for the team.

Another of a peculiar cream color, a tall rangy fellow of sixteen hands, truly a perfect carriage horse.  Father got three hundred for him in a trade for a pair of chunky work horses and that ended the colt raising business.  On yes, we heard once from that beautiful bay team  The lightning rod men were careless and I guess too trustful with the colts for they had a terrible bad runaway staving up their beautiful turnout and killing one of the colts.

It seems to me, sometimes, that instead of writing Otselic History, I am, in a way, writing my own autobiography in part at least.  Well, I say again, too much is enough, and I wonder that anyone reads my stuff, and so I will say good-bye, for someday it will be good-bye surely.

Frank E. Cox at 87, South Otselic, NY, December, 1942.