Main Street – March 25, 1948

By Morris Rote-Rosen

SPRING IS ON ITS WAY

Days are getting longer,
Skies are getting blue,
Perfume scents the balmy air
With the morning dew.
Sugar-snow is falling,
Crows have come to stay,
It's a sign that winter's gone
And spring is on its way.
Ice cakes taking their departure,
Travel down the Mettowee,
Bobbing, weaving as the struggle
In an effort to be free
From the grip of Giant Winter,
They throw up a silvery spray,
One can almost hear them shouting
Wake up! Spring is on its way.
Maple trees will soon be dripping
Nature's honey from their spouts,
And the buckets will be gathered
To the tune of children's shouts
As they taste the fresh boiled syrup
When it's loaded on the sleigh
That alone is good assurance
Spring is really on its way.
Boys are gathered on the sidewalk
Some down on a bended knee,
Playing with some colored marbles,
Cheered by youngsters full of glee
As the winter clicks his agate,
Pick it up and shouts "Hooray."
Just to see him stand there grinning,
Tells us spring is on its way.
When we meet our friends and neighbors
On the street this time of year,
There is something nice about them,
Every one seems full of cheer,
Their winter scowl no longer present
They greet you with the words: "Nice day."
And the world seems so much brighter
Knowing spring is on its way.

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When we met Truman Temple and Fred Allen, on the street, a few weeks ago, we listened to a proposed plan to observe the 60th anniversary of the blizzard of 1888, and the result of that conversation brought together about 40 survivors, of that never to be forgotten storm of that memorable occasion, who totaled 2,743 years, averaging 69 years in age. It was the first gathering of its kind in Granville, but not the last. Plans were made for the reunion on March 12, 1949.

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We were invited as a guest. It so happened that we were a few years late in arriving on this planet and missed that still-talked-about blizzard, but we never spent a more pleasant and happier evening than we did at Dwyer's restaurant, with a group of men, a cross section representing the finest type of solid American citizenry, men who represent the best of American tradition and democracy. Men of various background in industry, agriculture, and profession. To us the group represented the nobility of our country. The nobility which constitutes our Republic.

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The oldest in the group was 82 years of age; the youngest, a blizzard baby, 60 years of age, two were 81 ... There were five who had reached the 80-year mark; four were 76 years of age; four, 70 years old and so on down to 60 years ... Truman Temple's last few words of a poem he quoted, were in keeping with the spirit of the survivors who were present. He said: "Old time is a liar, we're 20 (years old) tonight." ... The ages of the "girls," Mrs. Bert Robinson and Elizabeth Temple Braymer, remain a secret - that is until next year when the ladies will be invited and then the secret will be out.

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How did Jay Gould of Middle Granville get mixed up with such a group when he gave his age as only "58"? ... When the group posed for a photograph, Professor Lewis M. Dougan picked us out as the "baby" in the group and designated us to hold the snow shovel - the symbol of the blizzard of 1888 - which was inscribed as follows: "1888 - 1948" ... "And," announced Mr. Dougan, "if there is any one here who doesn't know how to use the shovel, Morris Rote-Rosen is delegated as instructor." ... The shovel looks exactly like a modern one ... No improvements and no gadgets.

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We sat next to Daniel Hurd of Salem, who is 78 years of age. The subject was the effect snow shoveling has on one with a weak heart. Said Mr. Hurd: "When I talked about it with my daughter she said that there was no danger of any Hurd killing himself shoveling snow." ... And yet, Mr. Hurd related some interesting stories about snow shoveling back in 1888. ... When "Jim" button said that he remembered a depth of 14 feet of snow during the great blizzard, Mr. Temple jokingly interjected: "You will have a bigger one than that before we are through."

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And then came a story from one of the survivors present that the snow had drifted so, that he remembered a bird house on top of a house, to which, during the blizzard, one had to reach down in order to find it ... This almost, but not quite, rivaled the one told about "Pete" Foster, the old lamp lighter in this village, who had to dig down into the snow drift in order to light one of the street kerosene lamps ... No doubt true, but Williams Quinn remarked that he had been told that some one planted a lie detector under the floor in the room where the 88'rs were meeting.

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There was such a pleasant exchange of tales and experiences that Mr. Temple, the master of ceremonies, reminded them with: "Remember, gentlemen, we are all under oath," ... It was perhaps the first time that "Allie" Bump of Hartford, in his 73 years, talked about something besides horses and harness racing ... And when someone mentioned blizzards of other years than 1888, they were admonished that "there was not one in the gathering who would concede that there ever was a blizzard that can beat the one of 1888." ... The spirit of the gathering was truly such as to be descriptive of the quoted line: "Old time is a liar, we're 20 tonight."

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From Mary Leslie of Wells, Vt., who was made an honorary member of the "88" club comes the following: "I am 70 years old. I worked in a camp of 65 men in Elizabethtown in 1888. My father came for me and they were getting the road plowed on each end till they met. Each had three teams of horses. We had to stop three times to build fires with boards taken from an old barn. I was so near frozen that I could not walk and had to be carried to the hotel. They put cold blankets around me and they gave me cold drinks of whiskey. There aren't many at the age of 18 today who would be alive to tell the story."

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Harry Rood from Poultney mailed some snap-shots, taken during the blizzard of 1888, of Poultney. There are two large photographs in the Pember library photo-history collection of Main street in Granville taken during the blizzard of 1888. One is from the railroad crossing looking east and the other from the village square looking east. The photo is one of the most interesting relics of old Granville of 1888 because it shows the old buildings, residential business, on the Main street, most of which have since been destroyed by fire or replaced with more modern buildings.