Winter, 2001
By Ed Kirby
Only one and four-tenths driving miles west of the Gay-Hoyt House, the Stage I level of the preservation of Sharon’s only major remaining industrial structure is underway. This stage includes an archaeological study of the Sharon Valley Kiln and its site and historic links to eighteenth and nineteenth century industry in the Sharon Valley Historic District. Once the preliminary study was completed, excavations at the ruins of the Sharon Valley Iron Company blast furnace, and a study of the tail race from the former Jewett Manufacturing Company were started.
Because of their heavy fall schedule, Ganem Contracting Corporation, a restoration contractor based in Clifton Park, New York, started work later than anticipated. Finally, on Friday, October 12, excavation began to bring the ground level around the kiln to its original elevations, c.1881 to c.1905. Contractor Peter Ganem engaged Sharon’s Up-Country Services for this work. Considerable machine digging, removal of buried rock, and stockpiling of rock was required to bring the ground down to its earlier level, in some places requiring excavations of as much as four feet.
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Pointing work begins on the South side of the limekiln
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Hand dug well in front of the smokehouse. Note the
solid bedrock below
the laid up stone |
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Replacing the first timber binder
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Phase I includes the pointing of the stack along with the replacement of the timber binders. Timber binders were originally incorporated to stabilize the stack while allowing for expansion due to the intense heat created during the period the kiln was fired. On November 3, restoration masons “Ziggy” Swieton and Joe Aulicino began work pointing the south face of the kiln stack. By mid-month the old timber binders on the south face were removed and new timbers put in place. At this writing the east side timbers have also been replaced. When Phase I is completed, or as close to complete as the fall weather allows, the kiln will be covered for the winter to prevent further damage to the interior from rain or snow.
Few small historical societies would attempt one, to say little of two projects of this stature. Yet, your Sharon Historical Society is doing just that. To succeed we need your financial support. We extend thanks to the many of you who have already generously contributed. If you have yet to get involved in these remarkable projects, please help by sending a check to the Sharon Historical Society, designated to either the SHS Building Renovation or the Preservation of the Lime Kiln. We promise to keep you posted on further developments. Meanwhile, thanks for your support.
By Marge McAvoy
“Blizzard: n. (unknown origin), 1. A long severe snowstorm, 2. An intensely strong cold wind filled with fine snow”. (Webster’s New Collegiate Dictionary, 1974)
In 1870, the word “blizzard” was used to describe a massive snowstorm in Iowa. Prior to that date, the word referred to a volley of musket fire or cannon shot. But the term seemed so fitting for the severe Iowa storm that by the 1880s it was widely used throughout the northern United States. On March 11, 1888, a storm hit the East Coast that clearly fit the new definition of the word “blizzard”.
It began as a low pressure system in the Gulf of Mexico, and worked its way up the coast. Other storms may have had stronger winds, colder temperatures, or heavier snowfalls, but by the time this system reached the state of Maryland it had a lethal combination of all three. The National Weather Service estimates that 50” of snow fell in Connecticut! Wind gusts up to 45 MPH caused snow to drift 40’ high. Telephone and telegraph lines and poles snapped. Houses and farms were buried under mountains of snow.
New York City was hardest hit. Hundreds of ships were grounded in New York harbor. Several sank under the heavy snow load. Only 30 members of the New York Stock Exchange made it in to work, and local bars sold record amounts of whiskey and hot buttered rum. Transportation in the city was completely paralyzed, to the extent that one of the first actions taken by city officials after the storm was to begin planning the New York City subway system.
Here in Sharon, CT, residents faced their own set of daunting problems. Sharon Historical Society President Ed Kirby remembers his grandfather saying that the first order of business was to dig a tunnel to the “necessary house” in the backyard! Once that was done, other tunnels and paths had to be shoveled to other parts of the farm. Life pretty much came to a standstill in most rural New England towns.
In the Sharon Historical Society archives, we have several volumes of a diary kept by Richard E. Goodwin (1848-1904) in very cramped handwriting. Mr. Goodwin and his wife Emma lived on his family’s large estate just south of the Episcopal Church on South Main Street. He also had several other farms in town. Mr. Goodwin, as all good farmers did, made regular diary entries about the weather. Beginning on March 11, 1888, we find the following description of the horrible storm that buried the town of Sharon.
From the Diary of Richard Goodwin of Sharon
Sunday, March 11th, 1888
Snowed most of the day with S. E. wind until this P.M. then changed to N.E. Very few at church. Mr. Baum preached fine. Numbers 32:23. John down here all the A.M.
Monday, March 12th, 1888
One of the worst storms that ever came to Sharon we are having today. Wind blowing a perfect hurrycane and snow piling up. Almost impossible to get through the drifts to the barn and in going for milk have to wade up to my body in the snow. Warmer this evening than during the day. It has been raging about 24 hours.
Tuesday, March 13th, 1888
Snowed here all day but not as blustery this forenoon. Took us a long time to get to the barn to feed the horses. This P.M. started for the milk at E. B. Reeds and had to give it up. Could not wade through the snow. It was up to my body.
Wednesday, March 14th, 1888
Cleared off this forenoon. Very pleasant when they came out with their teams and broke the roads down through the village. Some of the dwellings uptown are nearly covered up with snow and no one ever saw such drifts in the street. Cloudy this eve and wind changed from N.W. to N.E. No mails yet and no cars running on any of the rail roads. They have finished shoveling as far as State Line toward Sharon Station.
Thursday, March 15th, 1888
Quite a little stirring around the village today and the milk train got to Coleman. The first mail went this P. M. to Sharon Station but no trains on any roads yet.
Friday, March 16th, 1888
Southerly winds until toward night then changed to N.W. Today the snow plough in Harlem Road opened the road to Coleman from New York, then going through a bit above them with five engines they were going with such force as they struck the drifts they piled the engines on top of each other and killed four engineers and ten of the firemen thought would die. No mails yet and none goes further than the station.
Saturday, March 17th, 1888
Quite cold all day. Wind N. W. This A. M. E. B. Reed, Will, Norman, Ray, John and I went over with the Reeds to Coleman Station to visit the wreck. Reached home about 1 P. M. Mails came from both roads today for the first since March 10th.
Sunday, March 18th, 1888
Cold blustery day - very few out to Church. No service this evening. Mr. Baum preached this A. M. from Hebrews 12, parts of 1 and 2nd verses. Mrs. St. John came in as she was going home from Church. Nelson down this P. M.
Like Mr. Goodwin, most people before the widespread use of television and radio were able to predict the weather by noticing what was happening around them. They had to use their eyes and ears, and count on the experience of earlier generations. Though not always accurate, these methods of prediction are intriguing.
Often, winter weather forecasting began much earlier in the year. For example, in August the old timers would note how many foggy days there were. Each foggy August day meant a snowy day in winter. As the corn ripened, farmers checked the thickness of the corn husks — the thicker the husks, the harder the coming winter would be. An examination of onions produced a similar forecast. More layers in the onion meant more winter. The same result could be predicted by looking at the bushiness of a squirrel’s tail in October. If hornets built their nests close to the ground, a bad winter was on the way. When the leaves on trees stayed green long into the fall, or even worse, fell off green, the old folk knew they were in for a long winter. They counted acorns and pine cones. They looked at smoke coming out of chimneys — if it blew back down to the ground a storm was coming. And of course, they checked the wooly bear caterpillar! More black than brown meant a long winter.
But long snowy winters were not dreaded by most of these folk, who were more used to dealing with nature than we are today. Once the snow-related chores were done, or while the blizzard raged around them, there was much fun to be had.
Fires were built in all the fireplaces, and the family gathered around for warmth and entertainment. Often fruit wood, such as apple or pear, was thrown on the fire to add a delicious aroma. Whittling was a popular winter past time, and a leisurely spell in front of the fire offered an opportunity to make wooden toys, or to carve new, needed tools for the household or the farm. Closet deodorizers could be made in front of the fire — all that was needed was a few oranges and a good supply of whole cloves. The cloves were stuck into the oranges so close together that no orange skin showed through. A string was wound around each orange so that it could be hung in the back of a closet. The fragrance lasted for weeks.
Games were played, such as Topsy Turvy, in which the family was split into two teams. One team left the room for a set length of time. The other team rearranged objects in the room, including maybe their own clothing, and then the first team came back into the room and had to figure out what had been changed. Points were given for each item discovered, or subtracted for each item missed.
Once the children were tucked safely into bed (with three of the family dogs if it was a particularly cold night…), the adults brewed up a batch of hot buttered rum. An 1885 recipe calls for 2 lumps of sugar, 2 wineglasses of boiling water, 1 wineglass of Jamaican rum, a little butter, cloves and allspice.
When the storm ended, and chores had been done, a whole world of new delights awaited the family. Fresh animal tracks in the snow gave clues to the activities of rabbits, weasels, fox, mice, deer, squirrels and perhaps even bears. People were very familiar with the different tracks, and often donned snowshoes to follow the tracks through the woods.
Just about every family had at least one home made sled of some sort, and children seemed to have had the right of way on the roads! Two “runners” were used — one at the top of the road and one at the bottom. These runners were to tell any approaching wagons that there were sleds coming down the hill. But sometimes a heavily laden wagon started down the hill after the sled had gone, and couldn’t be stopped. So the runner had to race down the hill and tell the children on the sled to get out of the way fast!
As we approach another winter here in New England, we certainly are not hoping for a storm of the magnitude of “The Great White Hurricane” of 1888. But a few lesser storms might give us the excuse we all need to slow down and enjoy the life around us.
By John Quinn
George “Fred” Poehler, who died at 95 earlier this fall, was long active in the Sharon Historical Society and served as its president from 1977 to 1979.
A graduate of Yale School of Architecture and one of the country’s vanishing Beaux-Arts architects, Fred was an associate in the New York City firm of Alfred Easton Poor. Among his notable landmark projects were an addition to the United States Capitol in Washington, D.C., the new wing for the Frick Collection in New York and restoration of the exterior of Manhattan’s historic Woolworth Building.
Fred moved to Ellsworth in the 1950s, personally converting a barn into a charming rustic home for his wife Evelyn and twin daughters Judy and Jane. Actively involved in the community over the years, he designed and guided the renovation of the Sharon Playhouse, an addition to the town’s firehouse and the War Memorial on the Sharon Green.
He and Evelyn (Nowack) Poehler had a long association with Chauncey Stillman and Wethersfield, his country estate in Amenia. A well-known landscape architect, Evelyn Poehler, who predeceased her husband, designed the formal gardens at Wethersfield, and oversaw the grounds and gardens for some 30 years. Mr. Stillman, who had graduated from Columbia University with a degree in Architecture found a kindred soul in Fred Poehler and his classical design. They both were members of Classical America, a society that encourages classical traditions in the arts of the United States.
Two of the major projects Fred designed for Wethersfield were the Palladian Arch, a focal point of the gardens, and the Gloriette, an addition to the main residence. Initially conceived as a conservatory, it evolved into a gallery featuring the wall and ceiling frescoes of the Italian artist Pietro Annigoni and other paintings and sculptures.
Another New York City landmark Fred designed was the Federal Building and its plaza at Foley Square. To his distress this open plaza was chosen as the site for Richard Serra’s modern iron sculpture “The Tilted Arc”, which physically split the plaza’s open public space in two. The furor created by the less than people-friendly sculpture ended when it was dismantled in the dark of night and stored under the Brooklyn Bridge. When the plaza was renovated as an open space with trees and benches, Fred was pleased to be invited to the rededication and bid a fond farewell to what he dubbed “The Jilted Arc”.
Fred was a gentleman who exemplified the best of the classical tradition his work represented - excellence, order and restraint. Sharon is fortunate to have had Fred Poehler live here and leave examples of his great talent.
Great progress is being made in the effort to have the Upper Housatonic Valley designated as a National Heritage Area. The Tri-Corners History Council, under the auspices of the Salisbury Association, began the process in 1999. Now there is a non-profit organization, known as Housatonic Heritage, working with the National Park Service to make the designation a reality.
The National Heritage Area is very important to the Sharon Historical Society. Society President Ed Kirby is on the Board of Directors of Housatonic Heritage, and SHS Trustee, Carter Smith, is an active member. The Society has contributed to the funding of the project, and it is our hope that Society members will become involved on a personal level as well.
The National Park Service is looking for input from local supporters of the area. They need proof that the Upper Housatonic Valley has a cultural, historical and natural heritage of national significance. We certainly do! Housatonic Heritage has begun a newsletter to the supporters of the Upper Housatonic Area, asking for help in providing the necessary facts to the National Park Service. The Park Service says that the Heritage Area designation will enhance the region “through public-private support for preservation and investment…[by] educat[ing] residents and visitors about the region, protect[ing] its natural and cultural heritage and enhanc[ing] the economy”.
Specifically, Housatonic Heritage is looking for information about the area’s writers, musicians, artists, scenic and recreational assets, iron and other manufacturing industries, and any other significant aspects of the Valley’s history. Housatonic Heritage has developed five themes to use to illustrate our national importance. They are (1) The Iron Corridor, (2) Artistic and Cultural Wellspring, (3) The Natural Surround, (4) Small Town Traditions, and (5) All Manner of People. They would like your input on any of these themes, as well as your ideas about any other topic that makes the Upper Housatonic Valley so special.
An informational meeting with the National Park Service was held on Saturday, November 17th. Ed Kirby reports that there was much positive exchange between Park Service reps and local interested citizens. For further information, please contact the Housatonic Heritage, P.O. Box 493, Salisbury, CT. 06068
As we have mentioned elsewhere in this newsletter, many fascinating articles in our collection are coming to light as we sort through the documentation as part of the McCarthy Foundation project. Upstairs in the archives room there is a small closet full of assorted framed items and old books. While taking inventory of this closet, Meg Szalewicz spotted something that piqued her interest. It is a framed sampler showing the western and eastern hemispheres of the globe. Being an accomplished needle worker herself, Meg took the sampler out of the closet for a closer look. What she found is fascinating, and we recently had a chance to talk about it. Meg was so excited about her discovery that I constantly had to slow her down so that I could take accurate notes.
Marge: “Tell me what it was that first caught your eye about the sampler?”
Meg: “Well, obviously, it has been carefully protected by someone. It had been in bad shape, but now it looks terrific. The deteriorating silk it was stitched on has been reinforced. It is framed with acid free materials. The details in the stitching are very easily seen.”
Marge: “How did you find out about its history?”
Meg: “Not all our items are as well documented as this one. It already had an accession number on the frame, so I just had to go to the files. I found nothing specific at first, but the accession number led me to the 1969 file, where I found some information about it. This is the beauty of our new three part numbering system. We found that the sampler was donated in 1969 by Mrs. Stanley Dodge. Caroline Gay Wilgus Dodge was the great granddaughter of Julia Gay, whose name, along with the date 1806, is stitched on the bottom of the sampler. We looked in our Gay genealogy file for clues about the creator of this beautiful work. As it turned out, Julia Gay was the great-niece of Colonel Ebenezer Gay, builder of our Gay-Hoyt House! She was the granddaughter of Ebenezer’s brother John, Jr., and grew up in the old stone house owned by the Gay family, off Gay Street in town. She was born on February 1, 1789 and died May 7, 1836.
Marge: “You obviously wanted to find out more about this sampler, didn’t you?”
Meg: “ Yes!! I am a member of the Dutchess County Embroiderers Guild, and just passionate about needlework. I looked at the neat, careful stitching, and just had to find out more about the sampler. Globe samplers are very rare. I asked about it at our next Guild meeting. We have about 80 members, and I figured someone would know something about it. I ended up talking to our Education Chairperson, Anne Friedland, who told me that the Dutchess County Historical Society has a similar sampler. Anne has done a great deal of research on this subject which has been published. She agreed to come to speak to the Sharon Women’s Group, at which time I showed her our sampler.
Marge: “What was Anne able to tell you about the samplers?”
Meg: “She said that there was a Quaker school in Pleasant Valley, NY, from 1803 to 1817, at which point it burned down along with all of its records. It is very possible that Julia Gay attended this school, and stitched the sampler there. I want to go through our Gay family correspondence, hoping to find some reference to Julia and her schooling. There was also a school in Litchfield, CT, that was attended by two young girls of the Gay family in the early 1800s. I will get to the bottom of this!”
Marge: “What was special about the Quaker School that made Anne so intrigued with our sampler?”
Meg: “The Quakers believed in educating women long before the general public did. Quaker schools for women were opened early on, mostly attended and taught by Quakers, though everyone was welcomed. Some schools were co-ed. Stitching samplers was part of the curriculum for the girls, who had less emphasis on higher math. The teachers combined the stitching with other studies, and in the case of the globe samplers, the girls learned much about both embroidery and geography. Students learned their stitches in graduated levels of difficulty, and were required to spend about a third of their time stitching. By the time they were able to do a globe sampler, they were very accomplished needle workers!
Marge: “So our sampler shows evidence of some hard work by young Julia Gay?”
Meg: “Yes, it really is remarkable. Julia would have been only about 16 or 17 years old when she did it. She must have already taken several classes in both world history and the methods of stitching. She had probably already completed several separate samplers showing skills in darning, alphabet, extract and geometric stitching. For this intricate sampler, she had to be well acquainted with the geography of the world at the time. Some of the names of the countries she stitched are still familiar to us, but some are long gone, such as “Barbary Coast”, “Mogul Empire”, “Tartary”, “Persia” and “New Holland” (Australia). The Pacific Ocean is “The Great South Sea” and the Antarctic is “The Southern Ocean”. Some globe samplers were actually meant for three dimensional display, being stuffed with cotton and mounted on a stand, but ours is framed flat. It is no less special, though.”
Marge: “We really have a treasure here in our collection at the Gay-Hoyt House!”
Meg: “We sure do, and to have the connection to the Gay family makes it even more special. Our thanks to Mrs. Dodge for donating the sampler to the Society!”
In preparation for next summer’s move into the newly built collections storage area, Curator of Textiles Francoise Kelz has been hard at work upstairs in her cramped workroom. Over the years, many items have piled up on tables and clothes racks which need to be properly identified and entered into our new computer data base. Francoise is determined to get this all accomplished before moving into the new space. The task is daunting. Each item needs to be carefully examined and described, and any existing paperwork needs to be gathered and filed before a proper three-part number can be assigned to the object and entered into the data base. A single small object can potentially take hours or even days to catalog.
One recent piece of clothing illustrates the process well. As Meg Szalewicz moved from room to room in the museum, numbering items in the collection as part of the McCarthy Grant project, mysteries often arose. Recently, Meg found a small, delicately embroidered white christening cap on display in the Hamlin Room. With the cap was an envelope that said “Christening cap 1800, Deacon Benjamin Smith Hamlin , handmade”. The cap was stuffed with pale blue tissue paper, to help hold its shape and to highlight the detailed open work on the cap. There was no other identification.
Meg brought the cap to Francoise, who decided to first examine the cap and then determine its identity. She pulled out the blue tissue, and discovered that it had been wrapped around some older yellowing tissue, which in turn was wrapped around an aging ball of string, no doubt used to shape the cap. All this stuffing was discarded, and Francoise went to work on the examination. The cap is a very heavily embroidered, yet delicate piece of craftsmanship. Even with her expert knowledge of materials, Francoise is not sure exactly what the cap is made of. She thinks it may be linen, but says it doesn’t really feel like linen. It may be fine lawn. The high quality of the stitchery is causing Francoise more than a bit of frustration in her attempt to determine the nature of the fabric. Under normal circumstances, she would simply snip a minute piece of loose thread and examine it under the microscope, which would reveal to her well-trained eyes the identity of the fabric. But there is not one loose thread on the cap! It is an exquisite piece of workmanship, and she is still deciding what the next step should be to make an accurate determination.
In the meantime, Francoise went back to Meg to track down the identity of the cap, having found nothing in the Textile files upstairs. The sleuthing began! Meg asked her husband, Steve, who is currently entering the newly numbered items into the data base, to pull up all references to christening. No direct references to christening caps were found, but several gowns appeared, one of which had a note about a cap in the description. The computer listed the location of the gown, giving closet # and box #, as well as the accession # .
So the sleuths headed for Closet #4 and found Box #1, located, of course, on the bottom of the stack. They opened the box and looked for Dress # SHS156, again, on the bottom of the pile of dresses. Finally the gown appeared, but without a cap. A comparison of the gown and the mystery cap was made. The styles did not match. However, this does not mean that the mystery cap is not the cap noted in the gown’s description. Often different family members gave different pieces of a baby’s christening ensemble, so it is not necessary that they match.
The next step was to examine the paper records accompanying Dress #SHS156. Aha! The object work sheet in the file for #SHS156 had a pencilled note that said “bonnet mentioned on label”. What label??? Digging further into the file, a tiny piece of paper (the label) was found, with the words “Christening gown and cap, 1847, loaned by Hamlin family”. But the envelope with the cap said 1800, and the date in the computer was 1874! This could mean though, that the cap was older than the gown, perhaps having already been worn by the baby’s parent (possibly Deacon Benjamin Smith Hamlin ) or another relative, which would explain the fact that they do not match. The 1874 in the computer data base was copied from one of the many cards in the dress’ file, and was probably simply a transposition on the card of the two numbers. The original papers all say 1847.
At that point, Meg suggested that the records for other christening caps be checked again. Back to the computer. No caps are listed, and no cap is mentioned in any decription of other christening gowns. There is another, also unidentified, cap in the collection, but it did not seem to fit the bill at all. Several pieces of paperwork about Dress #SHS156 mention a cap, along with the fact that the cap and gown had been loaned by the Hamlin family. Since the mystery cap was accompanied by the envelope citing Deacon Benjamin Smith Hamlin , it seems fairly clear that the cap might belong with the Hamlin gown.
Our hope is that as Meg continues her remarkable progress through the mountains of collections documentation, a piece of paper will surface that definitively ties the cap to the gown. In the meantime, the computer data base put Meg and Francoise on the trail, and the information gathered during the hunt is now in the file with Dress #SHS156. When all the information in the collections documentation is finally entered into the data base, the mystery of the beautiful little christening cap may well be solved.
I never met a fort I didn’t like. Ever since I was a child, I’ve had this thing for forts. Let me hasten to say, it is not my fault. You see, I have this dad and he had this amazing, almost magnetic attraction, to military history in all its forms. Not only did he read military histories, he collected swords, attended military ephemera shows, and selected family vacation itineraries by his most current research interests, e.g. Gettysburg and Antietam during the Civil War phase; Philadelphia and Trenton during the Revolutionary period; and assorted other sites during the French and Indian, Spanish-American...you begin get the picture!
As an adult, I seem to run my life (and vacation/leisure activities) by two cliches: “When given lemons, make lemonade,” and “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em!” In other words, old habits die hard. Luckily, there are lots of forts to climb through and battleships to explore at historic sites throughout the United States, so there is usually no shortage of weekend trips. Two weeks ago, I bundled the entire clan into the car on a wet (it’s Portland, Oregon, after all!) Friday and headed to Vancouver, Washington, home to the nineteenth century center of northwest coast trade, Fort Vancouver.
In 1825, England - with a strong desire to establish some kind of dominion over the northwest territories, established Fort Vancouver as the headquarters of its Hudson Bay Company. Under the leadership of Chief Factor John McLoughlin, the fort and trading center prospered. In fact, McLoughlin was known as such a generous man and kind leader that he even helped the new American settlers gain a foothold in the territory by extending credit to all who were in need (much to the displeasure of his British superiors!).
The fort enjoyed twenty years of prosperity, but in 1846, the mass migration of U.S. citizens to the territory resulted in a division of Oregon Country between the United States and Great Britain. Fort Vancouver was relegated to American soil and the fort was closed. By 1860, the Hudson Bay Company had moved out and six short years later, fires and decay had destroyed what was once a bustling trade center. Currently, although encumbered by a complicated chain of ownership and oversight, the fort is administered by the National Park Service. Guided tours are provided by volunteers, and funding (ever dwindling) has been used to recreate many of the fort’s original buildings.
So what was the most enjoyable part of our visit? The answer would depend on which of the party you ask! Steve, my husband, liked John McLoughlin’s house. He was impressed by the degree of elegance in the living and dining areas, especially given the rough conditions of life out west at the time. My seven-year-old son loved touching all the different animal pelts in the visitor’s center at the beginning of our visit. These pelts made the centrality of the pelt trade to life in the fort a reality.
Helen, my five-year-old, liked anything that had to do with the life of women and girls at the fort. The child’s chairs and tea set in the living quarters, and the three narrow beds covered plainly with Pendleton woolen blankets, reminded her that mothers and daughters had a role to play even in a world dominated by men. And me, what was my favorite part? Why, the cannons, of course! From my childhood on, cannons always seemed the ubiquitous symbol of life during a time when “we” had to live seperately from “them”. The barrels come in all sizes, and many shapes. Every fort has them — even the ones which never fired a shot in anger or self-defense. But why do cannons really play such an important role in my happy memories? Because they make a wonderful perch from which to take pictures of your loved ones! I guess that’s what I’ve always loved about museums, their ability to make powerful objects into symbols, each representing something unique in the eyes of the visitor. In this case, it’s the ultimate example of adaptive reuse, turning an instrument of war into a symbol of family ties. The irony is obvious, but the message of the photographs is loud and clear. I should know, the Shapiro family albums are full of them!
The construction fences have gone up around the Gay Hoyt House, and the museum is closed, but remember — you may still visit us on the internet. For those of you who have not tried out our web site, give it a try! We have a virtual tour of the two most recent exhibits — Bursting at the Seams and The Elms of Sharon. The current newsletter, including photographs, is there for your perusal. There is a fascinating history of Sharon, as well as a history of the Sharon Historical Society.
Genealogical research is still possible through our web site, even though our archives are closed. The web site gives you the necessary information to contact the various offices in the Town Hall in order to access their records. We also list several other organizations and offices elsewhere in the state which have valuable information for you. We can put you in touch with Jeanne Majdalaney, our Town Historian/Genealogist, or give you a list of the local cemeteries and how to find them.
You can read about the Iron Industry, a major economic player in the northwest corner in the 19th century, with remnants and relics still hidden away in our woods. In the spring of 2002, we hope to have Ed Kirby lead a Field Trip to some of these places. Check out the web site and learn about this fascinating subject so that you will get more out of the field trip with our resident expert!
The Society is always looking for new members and new volunteers. Information about how to join and how you can help out is at your fingertips. We list many of the volunteer opportunities, both long term and short term, with a description of the various projects and estimated time commitments. Although things are quiet here now, once we open up again, it’s going to be a very busy, exciting place. Plan now to be a part of our renewed activity!
You can also browse through our Gift Shop on-line, or check out our school programs. And please, give us some feedback! We’d love to hear your thoughts about the web site, about the Society, or about our community. Just give us a call, a letter or an e-mail. We look forward to hearing from you.