Rose Hill Turns 175!

Over the years several families have called Rose Hill home and one of them was the William Strong family.  In 1835 Strong purchased the Rose home and property.   After amassing a fortune as a wool merchant in New York City, Strong retired and moved his family to Geneva.    It was Strong who built the Greek Revival mansion people see and enjoy today.  To build the mansion, the Rose house was moved to the north and converted it into a carriage house (currently the Rose Hill Mansion Visitor Center and Gift Shop).  The original 1809 kitchen was kept in place and Strong built his mansion around it. 

Though we know that the mansion was built between 1837 and 1839, the earliest reference date for its completion is September 7, 1839.  Why September 7?    According to newspaper accounts that’s when President Martin Van Buren visited Rose Hill.  Below are two very different accounts of the Presidential visit.  

From the Courier

ROYAL PAGEANT.

Saturday the 7^th inst. was signalized by the “grand entre” of the President of the United States into our quiet little village; and as the old Federal Gazette has been discontinued, it may be expected that we should give some account of the pageant.

. . . Well – the day arrived – and the steamboat arrived, (with less than her usual number of passengers,) and Van Buren arrived, accompanied by a long string of carriages . . .

On reaching the Hotel, the Marshal requested the audience to give “three times three,” with which a part of the company complied, and raised a feeble cry, which died away at number seven, and the two remaining cheers were dispensed with. 

Mr. Van Buren then, with the federal office-holders “near his person,” mounted the piazza, the timbers of which being, like his sub-treasury scheme, somewhat rotten, gave way, and very disrespectfully landed the little group of “spoils men” safely upon the ground.  We understand the “Northern man with Southern principles,” was a little frightened, and that for a few minutes, heartshorn [sic] and cologne were in brisk demand.  . . . Mr. Sutherland made a long speech to Mr. Van Buren, and Mr. Van Buren delivered a short speech to Mr. Sutherland.   . . .

After shaking hands with some of the citizens, the President retired to a private house to partake of the hospitalities of a personal friend, leaving the “dear people,” some of whom . . . had come from fifteen to sixty miles to help do him honor, to go fasting home, or to take their dinners without him at the public houses.  Mr. Van Buren attended church on Sunday, and yesterday morning proceeded on his way to Auburn, where we understand the next act of the farce was to be performed

Martin Van Buren

An excerpt from the Geneva Gazette

“On Monday morning, in company with the Committee of Arrangements, and a number of citizens, [President Martin Van Buren] proceeded on his way to Waterloo. After visiting the splendid mansion of W.K. Strong, Esq., on the east side of Seneca Lake, he was received by the Committee from Waterloo with a great concourse of citizens from Seneca County and with them proceeded on to that place. We have thus briefly given an account of the President’s reception at Geneva, sensible that the description falls far short of reality…”  

In honor of the 175^th anniversary of PresidentVan Buren’s visit we will host a birthday party for Rose Hill Mansion on Sunday, September 7, from 2-4 p.m. Our Education Coordinator, Alice Askins, will present a program about William Strong, at 2 p.m. on the back patio. After the program there will be a behind-the-scenes tour of the mansion and, of course, birthday cake will be served. The event is free and open to the public. 

On a side note, after building his beautiful home, Strong did not live there for very long.  Four years after its completion, his wife died and Strong moved his family back to New York City.

William Strong

Meet the Neighbors: John Delafield

By Alice Askins,  Education Coordinator at Rose Hill Mansion

When the Swans moved to Rose Hill in 1850 their neighbor to the east was John Delafield.  Most of our information about John’s life comes from the Centennial Historical Sketch of Fayette by Diedrich Willers, published in 1900.  John was born in 1786 on Long Island.  After graduating from Columbia College in 1805, he found work in a dry goods store. In 1808, his firm made him super-cargo on a brig going to the West Indies and other ports. A super-cargo managed trade for his firm.  Basically, he sold merchandise at the ports the ship sailed to and bought goods to bring back home.  A brig is a sailing vessel with two square-rigged masts.  Used by merchants and the navy, brigs were fast and maneuverable.    

John’s voyage was not uneventful.  His brig’s captain died of yellow fever in Cuba, and the mate died two days after they left Havana.  At this point, John took charge of the ship.  Several days later, the crew mutinied and tried to kill him.  One of the crew helped him subdue the mutineers and the two men managed to get the ship to Corunna, Portugal.  At this time, Europe was in the middle of the Napoleonic wars, and France and England were wrangling over Spain and Portugal.

The USS Niagara is a wooden-hulled brig that was the relief flagship for Oliver Hazard Perry in the Battle of Lake Erie during the War of 1812.  The Niagara is one of the last remaining ships from that war.  It is usually docked at Erie, Pennsylvania, as a museum exhibit. It also often travels the Great Lakes during the summer. 

I have not found whether John’s ship was originally supposed to go to Europe from the West Indies, or why he sailed north after leaving Portugal in 1809.   He must have done so as Mr. Willers tells us the ship met a violent storm off the coast of France, and limped into Bristol, England, with a lot of damage.  There was tension at the time between England and the US that would eventually result in the War of 1812.  Mr. Willers says,

Mr. Delafield was here thrown into prison for some alleged violation of the revenue laws and although soon released he was detained within bounds of thirty miles around Bristol, a stranger and without money. He employed his time, however, in working for a cabinet maker, and in a drug store, remaining thus under British surveillance until the close of the war with the United States.

Eventually John was allowed to go into business for himself, and he married a Bristol woman.  When his wife died in 1820 he returned to New York City.  In New York John became a teller in the Phoenix Bank and ten years later he became the bank’s president.  John was an early promoter of the Hudson River Railroad, a director of the University of New York, and an organizer of the Philharmonic Musical Society. He retired from banking in 1841, and two years later he bought a farm of 352 acres near Rose Hill.  He called it "Oaklands," and dove into the improvement of farming.  He became president of the Seneca County Agricultural Society in 1846, and remained president until he died except for 1851.  That year he was president of the State Agricultural Society, and ran the State Fair in Rochester.  Oaklands won county and state awards.

John was crucial to the farming revolution that John Johnston brought to North America.  When Mr. Johnston was installing drain tile on his farm Viewfields, his neighbors were skeptical.  They assumed that an underground system could never work.  Many thought the system would clog up and the tiles would all smash from draft horses or oxen walking over them.  Ten years after Mr. Johnston put his first tile lines down, he uncovered one of them, planning to increase the capacity of that drain.  While he had it open, he asked John to come see it.  It looked just the same as it had when it was buried in 1838.  John decided that under-draining could work after all, and he imported a Scraggs Tile Machine from England.  Benjamin Whartenby of Waterloo was the potter who had been hand-making drain tiles for John Johnston.  John gave Mr. Whartenby the machine, in return for one quarter of the tiles produced with it.  This machine inspired the spread of under-draining in North America – once one machine was here, someone else imported a second one, a third man copied the first, and so on.

In 1850, John published a history and survey of Seneca County.  It was the most extensive and accurate account that had yet been published.  The work he was most devoted to, though, was the establishment of an Agricultural College for New York State.  He was involved with that at the time of his sudden death in 1853, at the age of 67.  John was survived by his second wife, whom he married in 1825, and by three sons and two daughters.  John’s sons became successful businessmen in New York City and elsewhere.   

The agricultural college was to have been centered at Oaklands, but after considerable time and debate it was located at Cornell.  The Agricultural Experiment Station, part of Cornell, is still with us in Geneva to remind us of John Delafield.

Meet the Neighbors: Herman Ten Eyck Foster, Part 1

By Alice Askins, Education Coordinator at Rose Hill Mansion

I had thought that Robert Swan was unusual in coming from a business background in New York City to farm in Seneca County.  There was at least one other man, though, who came from New York City to farm.  That man’s name was Herman Ten Eyck Foster, and thanks to Winterthur Museum, we have transcripts of his diaries from the 1840s.

We have a brief overview of Herman’s life from the memorial written by Abraham B. Conger, an ex-president of the State Agricultural Society.  It was printed in the Proceedings of 1870, shortly after Herman’s untimely death.  Born in 1822 Herman was the third son of Andrew Foster, a Scotch merchant, and Anna Ten Eyck, of a Dutch Albany family.  At 15 he entered Columbia University and earned a BA.  Though he tried being a merchant,  “his tastes, and perhaps also a regard to his health, prompted him to the study of farming.”  He spent a year on a farm near Ithaca, with the family of Aaron K. Owen, learning his new craft.  In June 1843 he bought 250 acres on the east shore of Seneca Lake, and called it Lakeland.  Lakeland was south of John Johnston’s farm Viewfields.  In fall of 1844, Herman married Pauline Lentilhon. She was the daughter of Antoine Lentilhon, a French resident of New York City.  Their marriage lasted for 4 ½ years, until she died. They had two daughters and a son.  He never remarried.

Herman tells us about his early days in upstate New York in a lively diary:  “May 3, 1842 - I felt, naturally enough, a little sad when I went to bed last night at the idea of being altogether alone among strangers without the prospect of seeing any of my friends for some months, yet I endeavored to overcome the feeling and succeeded pretty well.....”  He received many letters from home and wrote many in return, often in French.  Family and friends also visited him often.  Still, he had a little trouble adjusting to country life.  He subscribed to a newspaper, and said “It is astonishing, what patience one has when in the country to read even the advertisements.”

The Owenses were Quakers.  Herman, who visited several different churches, tried the Quaker services in May.  “Went this morning for the first time to Quaker meeting . . .  no one spoke a word, the whole time, and my thoughts were very naturally directed to my friends at home.  I do not think that their form of service is a good one, especially for the young people.”  Despite his wandering thoughts, Herman attended a Quaker wedding in June.  It was a very simple ceremony.  “We had a short address from Mrs. Otis who is I believe a preacher.  It was the first time I ever heard a female speak in public, the effect was very singular. …”  Herman played his flute for his hosts, and observed that “Though they are Quakers, they have not as many of their prejudices as might be expected.”  He was troubled, though, that “The quakers [sic] do not apparently think it wrong to visit on Sunday.”  In general, Herman thought, the sermons in local churches did not measure up to those in New York City, and “I have come to the conclusion that most people in the country pay too little attention to the Sabbath.”

Herman plunged eagerly into farm work.  On May 4, he had a plowing lesson, and found it easier than he expected.  Nevertheless, on May 30, he reported that he broke the plow.  He was amazed at the weight of the stones the farm workers could lift, but reflected that “it comes from habit.”   In August Herman recorded the arrival of a threshing machine that went from farm to farm in the area.  “The machine was put in motion by 5 horses, and required 14 hands, men and boys to tend it.  Ordinarily it thrashes 200 bushels a day, and Mr. O. had to pay $3.50 a hundred bushels.  We can not yet tell how many bushels we have, as it has not yet gone through the fanning mill.  We expect it will amount to 400.”  Mr. Owens had exchanged hands with several neighboring farmers, so he had to hire only one extra man for this job.  Herman mentioned that the wheat was rusty, and the dust all over the workers turned them red. He began keeping records of the butter produced by three cows, “as well for my own satisfaction as for that of Mr. O.”  He noted that he would draw a plan of the barn someday, because it was well-built and convenient.

Herman seems to have become close to one of the young Owens farm workers named Matthias. He often worked with Matthias, and mentioned him often in the diary.  (Later Matthias appears working at Lakeland.)  Apparently, Herman played the flute in his room, and Matthias objected.  In August, Herman went away from the house on a fine night, and played his flute; “Matthias tells me he heard it as distinctly as if I had been in my room.  I cannot help it, for music I must have.”  Besides music, Herman refreshed his spirit by visiting Taughannock Falls, having tea and dinner with neighbors (the Strongs, the Delafields, and others,) reading biographies and travel accounts, singing in a church choir, and taking impressions of flowers.  Always ready for new experiences, he worked the election in November as a clerk, and received 20 shillings – “this being the first money I ever earned.”

Taughannock Falls

Up Next:  Friends come to stay with Herman at the Owens farm

Lighting at Rose Hill

By Alice Askins, Education Coordinator at Rose Hill Mansion

For some time I’ve been telling visitors that we did not know exactly when electricity came to Rose Hill.  Recently, I found the answer to that question.

Advertisement for carbide gas household lighting, ca. 1915-20

Geneva Advertiser   September 23, 1890

People who happened to cast their eyes across Seneca Lake last evening must have been a little surprised to see so much illumination about the Rob' t J. Swan mansion, now the home of E. H. PLUMMER.  The occasion was the starting up of his new electric light, and . . .  quite a number were invited over to inspect the house and the plant.  About seventy responded, returning by carriages at a little after ten o'clock.    . . . [Rose Hill] is elegantly furnished from bottom to top, with electric light in every room and about the grounds.  He has a Dunning horizontal boiler, a Westinghouse engine and a dynamo of the United States Co., and the whole runs with less noise than a sewing machine.  . . .

According to the newspaper, Mr. Plummer came from Detroit, and he intended to make Rose Hill a race horse breeding and training farm.  He had plans to build a mile-long track (or at least a half-mile track) and spend the rest of his life at his new farm.  Three years later, he had sold the place.  Three years after that, Martin Smith of Geneva bought Rose Hill.  On February 14, 1896, the Geneva Gazette reported that “M. H. Smith, Esq., has purchased the magnificent Rose Hill farm on the east shore of Seneca lake  . . .   The mansion has 28 rooms, is heat [sic] by steam and lighted with gas generated on the premises.”

An exchange of emails with our Curator John Marks informed me that the gas lighting in question was probably carbide or acetylene light.  In 1892, the Canadian inventor Thomas Willson discovered an economical process for creating calcium carbide.  This was an important step in the industrial revolution in chemistry, and it was made possible in the United States by the massive amounts of cheap power produced at and by Niagara Falls.  Carbide was also useful for lighting.  Water combined with calcium carbide released acetylene gas, and it became available for domestic lighting in 1894.  The gas was piped through the house to fixtures where it burned.  Though it was prone to gas leaks and explosions, it produced a very bright flame and was inexpensive.  In fact, it was advised that you extinguish your cigar before refilling the system. 

Diagram of a house with carbide lighting 

Carbide lighting was largely used in rural homes, though the Daily Advertiser    said in January, 1896, that “Now is the time for cities desiring to operate their own gas plants to begin.   Acetylene gas, the new illuminant, is 40 times more brilliant than that used ordinarily.  People using it will therefore get much more light for less money.   . . . Besides being so much more brilliant, acetylene gas does not flicker, which will make it still more desirable.”

I had to wonder, though, what happened to Mr. Plummer’s electrical system. There may be a hint in the paper.  In 1893, Mr. Plummer tried to auction off all the stock and equipment at Rose Hill.  The sheriff of Seneca County showed up and attached most of what Mr. Plummer was trying to sell.  This suggests that Mr. Plummer was in financial straits and trying to sell things that other people claimed.  The electrical system might have been repossessed, or eventually sold.  It might also have been removed by the next owner of the property, Mr. H. S. Hopkins. 

A Westinghouse steam engine, 1890

However the electrical system disappeared, there are reasons a homeowner might have preferred carbide.  As my engineer brother Paul explained it to me, a steam powered dynamo running a generator would require more effort to turn on the lights, compared to the carbide generator:

1. Steam/Electric: 
2. Start a fire (probably coal.)
3. Wait for steam.  Monitor water level in boiler constantly so as not to have the house blown up.  By the 1890s they would have had semi-automated boiler water level control, but not so automated that it would not have to be watched.
4. Start the steam engine.  Monitor throttle setting for proper voltage.
5. Ongoing maintenance:  boiler cleaning, fire box cleaning, ash removal, steam engine oiling and packing repair, steam pipe repair, light bulbs.

An Edison generator ("dynamo") from 1890

Carbide:

1. Fill tank with water.  Dump in enough carbide powder for a while.
2. When lights dim, pour in more carbide.
3. Ongoing maintenance:  empty and refill the water tank, maybe replace the tank now and then, replace the lamp mantels, and occasionally repair gas pipes. 

Carbide seems to have been the way to go.  Now, at least, I can explain to visitors that electricity came temporarily to Rose Hill in 1890 – but after that, mysteries remain.

  

Carbide Lamps

Croquet

By Alice Askins, Site Manager at Rose Hill

The game of croquet was wildly popular in the 1860s and early 1870s.  It was  popular that it figured (in fantasy form) in Alice in Wonderland, published in 1865.  The craze began in Britain and soon spread to other English-speaking countries.  However, the origin of croquet is cloudy.  According to Wikipedia, the game derives from ground billiards, popular in Western Europe since the 14th century, with roots in classical antiquity.

By the late 1870s, croquet had been largely replaced by another fashionable game, tennis.   Many of the newly-created croquet clubs, including the All England club at Wimbledon, converted some or all of their lawns into tennis courts. There was a croquet revival in the 1890s, and again between the 1920s and 40s.  In the latter period, croquet was a favorite pastime of famous entertainment and literary figures. Harpo Marx, for example, talked about an extreme form of the game in his autobiography.  Extreme croquet is still with us – a variation distinguished by adventurous conditions of play.

Backyard croquet has maintained a presence in the United States America for over a hundred and forty years, as the ideal complement of garden parties, family gatherings, outdoor fund-raisers, and picnics.  There is a U. S. Croquet Association, and there are several Extreme Croquet groups.

I have not found any references to croquet in Geneva newspapers from the 1860s, but in September of 1868, the Brooklyn Daily Eagle said, ‘People brag of croquet as a successful new amusement—"It brings young people together, you know.”’  Bringing young people together, while frowned on by some, was significant.  Croquet was one of the first outdoor games that men and women played together, and it gave them opportunities to talk together in relative privacy.  The local papers carried several stories and poems about romance among the wickets – some humorous, some serious.  As the Courier put it in April of 1877, “The proprietors of croquet grounds are preparing for the spring and summer . . . and many will be . . . the matches made.”  Matches made, as opposed to matches played, is a reference to courtship.

Croquet, though, had its dark side.  Women were widely assumed to cheat by moving the balls under their skirts.  In 1875, the Geneva Gazette printed a fictional story of a devoted married couple who got into a terrible argument over the game; it ended with the wife telling her husband to shove his mallet down his throat and choke on it.  The Gazette referred in 1899 to croquet’s “devastating effect on the temper, its known tendency to break up happy homes and destroy the friendships of years.         . . . the rules are numerous, and new points are continually coming up, so that interested players often discuss the rules and dispute the interpretation with as much vehemence as baseball players in their quarrels with the umpires.”

As the Daily Times explained it in 1899, “Students of human nature can get a great deal of quiet pleasure out of the game.  The honest and dishonest natures will assert themselves, just as surely as in poker.  The quarrelsome and peaceful dispositions also show themselves.  One cannot always tell on the croquet field whom to marry, but it is not hard to tell whom one should not marry.”

The Oswego Daily Times tells us in 1873 about the Moral Discipline of Croquet.  “[Croquet] is a severe test of Christian principle . . . a rare test of character.  We have played with men whose high position warranted us in expecting the utmost honorableness and fair dealing.  But croquet was too great a strain upon their moral natures – the weakness of their characters revealed itself.  We remember a college president who could not help stopping his ball in the most accidental fashion when it was likely to roll too far.  We know fair ladies who, in a closely-contested game, always happen to dislocate their balls with their dress skirts, who then claim every advantage in replacing them.  What shall we say of such people?  That their honesty of character will not stand croquet – will not stand any of the severe tests to which the emulations of life subject them.”   

Despite the moral pitfalls, people continued to play croquet.  Even in the 1880s, when the game is supposed to have been in temporary eclipse, we find an advertisement in the Geneva Advertiser (May 1887) for Winnie’s China Hall at 204 Exchange Street selling croquet sets.  It was, after all, also “a game for all ages, and an enthusiast of rising eighty may play all day with an amateur of eight.”  (Geneva Gazette August 4, 1899)  The definitive word on the subject came early.  In 1878 the Courier printed an account of a trip from Geneva to the Antrim coal mines in Tioga County - “For a little the Tioga river bears us company, and then we leave it to ascend the long ridge that lies between us and Antrim.  . . .The country grows rougher . . . the buildings are rude and unpainted; yet the inhabitants are not uncivilized.  They play croquet.”

Community Day at Rose Hill

Join us on Saturday, August 10 from 10:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m. for Community Day at Rose Hill Mansion.  Tour guides will be stationed throughout the house and visitors can walk through the house free of charge.  Along with touring the house, visitors can try old-fashioned games, make a craft to take home, or go on a scavenger hunt.  Lemonade and cookies will also be served on the grounds.  In  the Carriage House Gift Shop author Pat Gorthy will be signing copies of her children's book, Peppermint Summer.  Copies of Peppermint Summer will be available for purchase in the Gift Shop.

Community Day is free and open to the public.  Support for the even is provided by the Delavan Foundation.

Honeybees: A Brief Overview and the Bees at Rose Hill

By Alice Askins, Site Manager of Rose Hill Mansion

A bee colony usually contains one queen bee, a fertile female; up to a few thousand drones, or fertile males; and a large population of sterile female worker bees.  The workers are the ones we usually see, and they have varied roles in the hive.  Eventually a worker goes outside the hive and spends the rest of her life as a forager. 

Foragers cooperate to find food and use a pattern of "dancing" to communicate with each other about the direction of a food source and how far it is from the hive.  In 1911 a bee keeper estimated that a quart of honey represented bees flying over 48,000 miles.

Honeybees establish new colonies by swarming. A mated queen and about 60% of the workers leave the hive.  The group clusters temporarily in a nearby location, and sends out 20 - 50 scouts to find suitable nest sites. A scout returning to the cluster promotes a location she found by dancing to tell the other bees about its direction and distance. The more excited she is about her findings the more excitedly she dances. If she can convince other scouts to check out the location she found, they may go to look at the site and join her in promoting it. Several sites may be promoted by different scouts at first, but after several hours (sometimes days,) of persuasion, a favorite location emerges. When all scouts agree on a site the cluster flies to it. Meanwhile in the original colony, the remaining bees have prepared for the change by raising a new queen.

People have managed honeybees for many millennia.  We use them not just for honey, but for commercial pollination of crops and other plants. Their pollination services are worth billions of dollars. That is why Colony Collapse Disorder (CCD) is so alarming. Beekeepers have seen slow declines of stock for many years.  In early 2007, North America experienced abnormally high die-offs (30–70%) of honeybee colonies, an unprecedented decline.   We don’t know why this is happening, but most of the evidence suggests that CCD is caused by a combination of factors rather than a single pathogen or poison.

Inside the back wall of the barn at Rose Hill we have had a colony of honey bees.   We think they were in there for years and may be descendants of the bees dislodged from the Rose Hill porch column in 1966.  Though the bees have not been aggressive, we decided to find them a better place to live.  The trouble was that while most bee keepers will collect bees that are swarming (out in the open looking for a new home) very few will actually open up a wall to take them out.  Fortunately we found a bee keeper who will.

Tammy Fazzi of Dryden is dedicated to the wellbeing of the species.  She will take colonies from barns, silos, and anyplace else she can reach with scaffolding and ladders.  On Wednesday May 8, Tammy and her assistant made the trek up to Rose Hill. 

After removing the first couple of boards with a crowbar, Tammy began to collect the bees in her special vacuum.  They were angrier than most bees she usually encounters.  Although she was wearing protective gear, bees crawled down inside her gloves, then up inside her sleeves, and stung her arms.  Some got up under her veil and stung her neck.  She had to stop and put on duct tape.  She said, incidentally, that when you have been stung many times, it does not hurt as much.  She would know, but it is hard to imagine.

I was hovering well back, taking pictures with a zoom lens.  Some of the bees came after me, and I decamped and hid in the carriage house for a while.  This meant that I missed the moment when Tammy cut a rectangle out of the wall with a sawzall and exposed the honey combs.

She took the combs out of the wall.  Some of them were very old and she discarded them.  Our hive had an unusually high proportion of comb containing drones, so she did not preserve all of that.  There were a lot of queen cups, or cells where queen bees had developed; this indicates that many populations have left the barn over the years to make new hives.  The combs she took were put into frames and the frames were placed into a box that holds them upright.  If a section of comb is turned upside down, the larvae in it will die.

The removal process took about three hours.  The bees settled down after their first fury, and I came back and took some more pictures.  Tammy estimated that there were 55,000 to 60,000 of them, and they totally filled up her bee vac.

The wall will be left opened for a while.  Tammy said that neighborhood bees will come and clean out the remnants of wax and honey, but they will not try to make another hive because the space is open.   She also said any bees that escaped the round-up will find homes in other hives.  It appears, though, that more bees than she anticipated were out and about while she was collecting, so now we are trying to find a beekeeper closer to us to come and take the orphans.  Fingers crossed.

Rose Hill Farm, Sustainable Agriculture, c. 1860

By Anne Dealy, Director of Education and Public Information

In May of 1850 Robert and Margaret Swan took up residence at their new property on Seneca Lake. According to several sources, the farm was not in great shape, but had, as we might say today, potential. Certainly Robert knew this from his time living on the Johnston Farm just next door. Rose Hill Farm was comprised of 350 acres and was purchased by Robert's parents as a wedding gift for the young couple. The previous owners, the VanGiesons and their relative, William Strong (builder of the mansion), had not been farmers and probably leased the land out to tenants who farmed it. As a consequence:

"It was then in the ordinary condition of farms in that section of country, and being a wet, tenacious soil, the crops were, except in very favorable seasons, small. The farm was very indifferently fenced—filled with swales and sunken places, where coarse aquatic grasses and noxious weeds had full possession. Here was a work of no ordinary importance for a young man, just entering upon his career, as a farmer." [New York Agricultural Society Transactions, 1857].

Sale notice for Rose Hill farm, 1847

Likely too busy to keep much account of his doings the first year after his marriage, we have no records of his farming during 1850. He probably spent much of that time repairing fences and deciding what he would plant and where. We have both an account book he kept from 1851 to 1862 and a journal of his activities on the farm for 1851 to 1858. These, combined with family letters and articles about farming in the state farm journals, give us a fair idea of how he worked his farm.

Robert, like his mentor and father-in-law John Johnston, grew wheat as his chief crop. He also grew oats, corn and grass for forage (timothy grass and clover) every year. Some years he mentions barley and buckwheat, but it is unclear if he grew these annually. He had sheep, cattle and pigs on the farm, as well as horses for transportation.

In upstate New York farmers plant wheat in the fall and harvest in early July. Robert must have planted in fall of 1850 because he started harvesting 58 acres of wheat on July 19 and wrote it looked to be a "fare [sic] crop." The next year did not go so well, beginning with dry weather in September when he planted the wheat and a cold spring. These conditions were followed by grasshoppers at harvest time. By July he wrote, "My wheat looks miserable enough. I don't think I will Average 10 Bushels an Acre. I Shall only sow 25 or 30 Acres of wheat this Fall. Drain more, manure more, & have more of my farm in grass, & by this means I will by & by make more grass, & by this means I will by & by make more out of it than having so much in crop."

Genesee Farmer, November 1858

And drain he did. Over the next two years he laid over 60 miles of drain tile on 305 of his acreage. He reported that this cost him $0.30 per rod (16.5 feet) or $96.00 per mile. This brought the total cost of drainage to $5,823. He wrote in his application for the State Farm Premium, "This land reclaimed, is now equal to any land upon the farm, and in the field of 60 acres of wheat raised the present year [1857], about fifteen acres of it was land reclaimed; and the wheat upon that portion was equal to the very best of the field." [NYAS Transactions, 1857]. His wheat yields grew from five bushels an acre in 1852 to 20 bushels per acre in 1857, a year when the wheat midge damaged portions of the crop. By 1862, Rose Hill averaged 40 bushels an acre, just short of the modern American average of 46 bushels for a non-irrigated farm.

He followed Johnston's method of farming: raise sheep and cattle for manure, meat, milk and wool; raise grass, corn, and clover for feed and bedding straw; spread rotted straw and manure on the fields to feed the crops; sell livestock and butter for cash; use cash and credit to drain the land. Johnston and Swan also made sure to rotate crops, leaving wheat fields fallow for portions of the year or growing clover on them to restore the soil's fertility. In many ways, this is what we would today call a sustainable system. Swan grew crops to feed livestock, and the livestock fed the land to grow better crops. According to one article about the farm, every crop grown on it was consumed except wheat, which was the most profitable crop to sell.

 

Ad for Albany tile works in 1858 Cultivator magazine

This method relied on a formula of "Dung, Drainage and Credit." The farmer needed to drain and manure. To do both he needed credit until his farm proved profitable. While John Johnston had to invest his profits in draining his land a little at a time, Robert Swan's access to credit (likely due to his father's connections) meant he could drain his entire farm more quickly and profit more quickly. Even the modern farmer would probably say that with credit, nearly anything in farming is possible.

From Lake to Table (Fish Dinner from Catch to Table)

By Karen Osburn, Archivist

I was very young when I learned not all the food my family ate came from a store.  My maternal grandfather had operated a small farm before I was born and by the time I arrived on the scene he still kept a few chickens around.  I was the type of child who was fascinated by any 4 legged or 2 winged animal and I loved going to visit Grandpa Henry.  I knew eggs came from those chickens not the grocery store. 

Later, I learned corn, tomatoes, lettuce, beans and squash were grown in our garden, along with some other vegetables I distinctly did not enjoy.  I even got to visit a barn full of sheep and later pigs.  I discovered that you should not bother the sow (female pig) and piglets unless you were able to outrun the pig and the rest of the children who helped you tease her.

Still, the best part of my fresh food experience involved fish.  My father and his father were hobby fisherman.  They loved spending the day by the water, any body of water, and casting in a line with the hope that some large (or medium size) denizen of the deep would deem their bait worthy of a taste.  If the bobber dipped below the surface the battle was on!  Since they fished exclusively fresh water the hook could hold any number of surprises; largemouth bass, small mouth bass, muskellunge, pike, pickerel, bullhead, trout, perch, black bass, rock bass, sunfish, carp or even eel.  Every strike was an adventure for a 6 year old. 

As my family was Roman Catholic and I grew up in the days of no meat Fridays, fresh fish was our alternative.  If there was no fish in the refrigerator we were forced to eat the dreaded creamed canned salmon on potatoes or worse…EGGS!  To this day I seldom eat eggs unless I am out at a restaurant for breakfast.  I became a fish connoisseur early knowing that I favored the fish with fewer bones over the ones with many.  Fish lightly floured and sprinkled with salt and pepper then fried in hot butter was a highly prized luxury for me.  Some of my favorite fish were smelt.  Small finger length fish that could quickly cleaned and prepared. 

With all fish, once the catch is on the hook, in a net or in the boat the next step to a fish dinner is cleaning.  This is where I balked.  I had often watched my dad scale and clean various types of fish, but when he wanted me to help, oh no!  Dad’s explanation was pretty clear.  My mom had cut her finger and if I wanted smelt instead of eggs this Friday I had best sit myself down and toughen up.  Sigh, I wanted smelt so I sat and gulped.  My dad, who often couldn’t figure out how to deal with the 3 women in his house, had an inspired moment using this “food preparation event” to teach me about fish anatomy.  Since you catch smelt in the spring around spawning time it was the perfect time to teach me how to tell a male fish from a female based on their insides.  Before I knew it the cleaning was over, fish were ready for Friday dinner, and I learned something!

So what, you ask, does this story have to do with the Finger Lakes or even the Historical Society?  The answer is multi-faceted.  First Seneca Lake is called the “Lake Trout Capital of the World” and each year the Lake Trout Derby is held on Memorial Day weekend.  Second, most of the fishing my father and I did years ago was in the Finger Lakes, mainly Hemlock and Canadice.  However, from time to time we did manage to go to some of the other Finger Lakes like Honeoye, Seneca, Canadaiqua, Otisco, and Conesus.   I loved them all and considerd myself very fortunate to be able to live in this beautiful spot.  Finally, one of the stories concerning Rose Hill involves a muskellunge (often called a “Muskie”), which Robert Swan bought while in Geneva and brought home for their cook to prepare.  A letter about the meal states the fish was very large, the cook served the fish boiled and nobody cared for it very much.

Well, of course they didn’t!  Muskellunge is a game fish that can grow upward of 50 inches and weigh 30 or more pounds.  It has some “y” shaped bones that need to be removed before cooking, unless you want to take a very long time to pick over your meal.  The fact that the fish grows so large means you should clean any visible fat off it to enhance the flavor and discard the pollutants which collect in the fat.  Of course the cook probably looked at the fish and thought “what will I do with this thing?”  Still, I can’t imagine serving it boiled.  I checked the internet for Muskie recipes and found recommendations for pan frying, baking, grilling and poaching, but not boiling.

I had the opportunity to cook a “Muskie” once and lightly floured it then cooked it with a sprinkle of salt and pepper in hot butter.  It was “WONDERFUL” even though I had to watch extremely carefully for bones.

I think it really is sad that so many children today don’t understand where our food originates.  I doubt many of them have been chased by pigs, ridden a tractor with their father to plow the garden or had the chance to learn about the internal organs of fish while sitting by the sink cleaning smelt.  The Swan children of Rose Hill knew who produced their food and how it arrived on the table.  Many times when I give a tour at Rose Hill and mention the muskellunge I hear, “What is that?”  Thanks to my childhood, I can tell our visitors.

Miss Trout

A Site Manager's Day

By Alice Askins, Site Manager of Rose Hill

Rose Hill Attic

I start the day by walking Rose Hill and Johnston House.  Usually I do this two or three times a week.  With a flashlight, I walk through each room, looking at the ceiling for water spots and around the floor for signs of mice.  So far anything suspicious has turned out to be beetle wings, which puzzles me – who’s eating the rest of the bugs?  I keep watching.  From attic to basement I check each room, even the closets.  In each area I listen for anything that sounds different – dripping water, scuffling, or unusually distinct sounds from outdoors that might mean a broken window.  I also sniff the air in case anything smells damp.  (Recently Johnston House smelled a little skunky, which led me to call in our animal control guy Aaron.)  Between the two houses, I go up and down 132 steps.  “It’s good for you,” I tell my left knee.  At Johnston House I usually check the tile museum to make sure all is well there.  This is fraught with suspense, since I never know if I will be able to get the door locked again.  The tile museum has 15 more steps.

Returning from Johnston House, I pull up my monthly report for the board, and send it to Sue (our office manager).  At this point my cat wants to walk on the keyboard.  I pat him, and he settles down.

Then I update my logs for Rose Hill and Johnston House – whenever something happens I have to record it in the logs.  In this case, I report about Aaron’s visit to Johnston House to look for places where animals are coming in.  Since there are several entrance points, he recommends that we not try to trap and exclude any critters until spring.  He is going to write up an estimate.  I email him Kerry’s request that he give us options – the cost of fixing the current mesh and gravel system around the porch, vs. the cost of a new subterranean fence; the cost of a one-way door vs. him trapping the critters and taking them away.

Aaron’s visit to the Rose Hill attic is also recorded.  He’s developing an estimate for sanitizing and deodorizing it.  My goals here are to eliminate odors that might attract more squirrels, and to safeguard human health by removing all the squirrel, raccoon, bat, and bird waste.  I email Kerry and John about moving, protecting, or discarding the items in the attic before Aaron and his helper come in their haz-mat suits.  John sends me a list of the collection materials in the attic; there are also things like old boards and heater covers lying around.  This will take planning.

Recently I started drafting a family tour for Rose Hill, so I look at it again.  I have help with this project - our docent Barb is advising me, and our education expert Anne has had some terrific suggestions.  We’re organizing the tour around a letter that Margaret Swan wrote to her husband Robert, when he was traveling in 1860.  Margaret talks about visitors, church activities, the children, the farm, her father and sister, the maids, one of the farm workers, etc.   It’s a way of getting into the life of the family and the times that is unique to Rose Hill.  Anne also suggested that having kids take on the roles of characters in our story is a good way to involve them in the tour.  So I am thinking about both those ideas and trying to figure out what we should talk about in which rooms, and what characters we might invite our young visitors to play.  I pick a section of the letter and use it to discuss several first-floor rooms.

A big truck pulls into the driveway, and I look out to see what’s up.  It is the fuel oil truck, filling up the tanks for Rose Hill.  It is always good to see them.

We are making a list of the bus tour companies that bring visitors to us – including the companies that used to bring tours, but haven’t for the last few years.  We want to address the decline in bus tour traffic at Rose Hill.  We have records from 2001 through 2006, and 2010 through 2012.   Today I discover some information about 2009, so I go through and find the companies not already on our list (there are six.)  I send an updated list to Anne.  So far, I haven’t found records from 2007 and 2008.  

I get an email from Kerry setting up a meeting about the Rose Hill attic and put it on the calendar.  I email Sue about payroll hours.

A bus tour company calls scheduling tours for June and August.  I send a confirming email and synch up my calendars.

MJ (our shop manager) sends some images she is considering for new postcards.  I email back about which ones I like and why.

I work on this blog post and I email Karen about the Dove family papers for another.

When I go to sleep later, I dream that suddenly it is light until 9:30 PM, so we can see to do things around the grounds in the evening.  I am surprised, but pleased.

Some of the 132 steps