The Bad ol' Days
Cobbtown (I)
by Dave Thornton
In The Valley of the Owlskill in the 1880s, morality was considered as important as say, the sprinkling cart, a handy device regularly trotted out to settle the dust of the unpaved streets; but was otherwise left stored in the barn.
The moral sense was expected to settle the dust of civil disobedience. It was a "given" that religious leaders and women had the moral sense.
Community leaders were expected to have morals, which they
were to exhibit regularly; otherwise they became EX-community leaders. School teachers without the moral sense were fired. Failed clergy were vilified. Politicians were turned from office.
It was as important to pass down morals to the off-spring as it was grandma's crewel work. There seemed to be no issue that did not yield to the relentless, commonly held standards of justice and right and wrong; that is, The Moral Sense.
OUT OF JOINT
But sometimes, like the nose, denizens of the Owlskill Valley got out of joint. When this happened the local editor of the Old Washington County Post (WCP) turned to satire as a means of helping citizens better understand themselves.
And nowhere could there be found a more revealing contrast than in the communities of Cobbtown and Pumpkin Hook. In Cobbtown and Pumpkin Hook the local saw Old Cambridge with its guard down: An unwashed swarm of amoral, chicken thieves, wife-borrowers, poachers and horse thieves; shiftless and contentious, untroubled by so much as a shred of the moral sense.
The Smart brothers, proprietors of the ancient Washington
County Post weekly newspaper, published in Cambridge NY from 1849-1996, characterized these rural abodes of the poor and ignorant as "sink holes of iniquity." To the good and respectable members of society, they were held up as a warning: "There, but for the Grace of God....'
And although it is doubtful that the reality of Cobbtown ever lived up to the myth, there are old-timers today who remember that you didn't drive a good horse past the Plains of Cobbtown after sundown.
MYTHIC CORRESPONDENCE
Tink Pratt, a mythical correspondent, wrote notes from Cobbtown. They appeared periodically in the columns of the paper. The notes were probably from the talented pen of Robert Law, who, in 1882 would have been fresh out of the Cambridge Washington Academy and ready for the first of his several illustrious careers.
Late in May of that year, Tink reported a large number of visitors "to this popular resort."
Cobbtown in May was particularly popular with tramps who had wintered in the county jail at Salem NY, formerly the Washington county seat. In those days, the Sheriff operated the jail as a concession. He was expected to make money on it.
One of the ways he did was to use the inmates to work his farm. He also billed the county on a "per diem” basis for those he incarcerated. Therefore, he loved to fill up the jail with tramps.
He preferred tramps to felons, for several reasons. Tramps were grateful for the heat and the roof over their heads and could be relied upon not to escape. They could be double and triple bunked or even bedded in the hallways. And they weren't particular about what they ate.
However, they were immune to work. Therefore, the sheriff made sure his collection of felons was filled out by spring “mud time”, for surely his family of tramps would desert him.
Cobbtown was their next stop.
COBBTOWN LIFE
"The Trailing Arbutus is giving fragrance to the swamps nearby," Tink observed.
There was always something exciting going on in Cobbtown to entertain visitors. That May there was trouble in two of the oldest and best known families of the Plains, the LeBarrons and the Coons.
"Wm. LeBarron and his 'accomplished' wife were living in relative harmony until a few weeks ago, when Reuben LeBarron, a cousin of Wm's came to visit from Hoosick Falls," wrote Tink. Like the hamlets of the Owlskill Valley,
Hoosick Falls Village is snug along the eastern line of New York State up near Bennington, Vermont.
"Unfortunately for the tranquility of the Valley, he became deeply infatuated with Wm's wife.
When finally this caught Wm's attention, he borrowed a chew from Henry Coon, a relative by marriage. Not mollified by this, he took his razor and commenced to kill himself. "Mrs. LeBarron threw herself upon his bosom.
Reuben, hopeful of the way things were proceeding, was infuriated by this. Jealousy at the sight of Mrs. L. at her husband's bosom gnawed at Reuben's vitals.
"Finally, in a rage, he fell upon the hapless William, who so soundly beat him that Reuben returned to Hoosick Falls.
"A few days after this, a well known Shushan blacksmith took Mrs. L for a buggy ride. Mr. LeBarron argued against the trip, to no avail. Upon her return, he contented himself with giving his wife a thrashing.
FAMILY TIES
Henry Coon also had a fascinating wife. It was in 1876 that Hen, scion of the famous Coon family, whose name has been associated with Pumpkin Hook since the earliest times, formed a matrimonial alliance with a member of the LeBarron clan of Cobbtown.
"Alas for the frailty of the human heart. The fires of love died on the altar of hymen," wrote Tink.
"His young wife was determined to return to her parents and one Monday she did so, an act that so touched 'Hen' that he was rent with anguish and weeping.
"Later that day, a member of the LeBarron family, upon looking out the window, saw a body swinging from a rope, suspended from the limb of an apple tree in the Simpsons' orchard. It was young Hen." The LeBarrons cut him down.
Luckily, Coon had little experience in suicide. The knot was so awkwardly tied as to do him no harm. He lived to try love again, by joining his inlaws in Cobbtown.
Then Nelson Parish, one of the visiting tramps, became smitten with Mrs. Coon. Hen resented this. He made this known to Parish, who gave him a thrashing.
Observed Tink: "The social waters of Cobbtown are not
allowed to become stagnant."
Tink also reported that Wm. was now out of danger and would not be able to harm himself, as Mrs. LeBarron had dulled his razor trimming her corns.
HERMIT REPORTS
The Hermit of Cobbtown reported in July, 1882. He found Tink sidelined for a while from his correspondence after his wife, who had been out of town, caught him in the arms of
Mrs. Mattison, who operated a “house” down by the toll gate Of the Great Northern Turnpike, at the eastern base of Oak Hill.
The Great Northern Turnpike was a wonder of deep ruts and perpetually slick clay hills that stretched in its day from the City of Troy on the Hudson River all the way up the Owlskill Valley to the great marble and granite guarries of Rutland, Vermont.
The heart-broken wife got Abe Pratt of Pumpkinhook to drive her down to fetch Tink.
Tink had a bulldog toward which he was partial. He wagered the family "carriage" against Perry Coon's shotgun and two cords of swamp maple that his dog could lick Perry's hound.
"The hound ragged the bull pup until the pup looked like it had been through the pulp mill, then Tink welshed on the bet."
The Hermit reported all cottages "at this summer resort" occupied. "The menus of the hotels are quite equal to the past, owing to the raid that depleted Simpson's trout pond, and will improve as soon as the nearby farmers' sweet corn ripens and their turkeys grow large enough to respond to the song,
'Come, birdies, come."
PROPHET SPEAKS
Politics in 19th century America lacked many of the niceties of the 20th. Cobbtown didn't write the book on vote buying and other outlaw practices, which were epidemic, but the denizens could certainly have provided an effective chapter in the training manual.
In late summer, pronouncements of wisdom and politics flowed from the pen of the Prophet of Cobbtown.
"Everyone in Cobbtown is looking toward the coming elections," he observed. ~Jackson (township) has no candidate for county sheriff in 1882, so the denisons are expecting to sell their votes dearly to whomever the parties run.
“Pond Valley (just north of the Owlskill Valley) coffin varnish will command a premium," prophesied the prophet.
“The Cobbtown voter only takes interest in an election where there is some 'principal' at stake. They are talking a dollar a head for votes."
The prophet, being old, could remember hard times, when
votes went begging at 25 cents apiece “and patriotic men would help save their country three times a single election for a bushel of shelled corn.
“His friends are trying to ‘boom' Nate LeBarron for pound master. Ed Rainey is quietly laying the wires for the Cobbtown mayorality. However, a recent imbroglio resulting rom too great familiarity on his part with his grandson's wife, may injure his chances somewhat."
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by Dave Thornton
In The Valley of the Owlskill in the 1880s, morality was considered as important as say, the sprinkling cart, a handy device regularly trotted out to settle the dust of the unpaved streets; but was otherwise left stored in the barn.
The moral sense was expected to settle the dust of civil disobedience. It was a "given" that religious leaders and women had the moral sense.
Community leaders were expected to have morals, which they
were to exhibit regularly; otherwise they became EX-community leaders. School teachers without the moral sense were fired. Failed clergy were vilified. Politicians were turned from office.
It was as important to pass down morals to the off-spring as it was grandma's crewel work. There seemed to be no issue that did not yield to the relentless, commonly held standards of justice and right and wrong; that is, The Moral Sense.
OUT OF JOINT
But sometimes, like the nose, denizens of the Owlskill Valley got out of joint. When this happened the local editor of the Old Washington County Post (WCP) turned to satire as a means of helping citizens better understand themselves.
And nowhere could there be found a more revealing contrast than in the communities of Cobbtown and Pumpkin Hook. In Cobbtown and Pumpkin Hook the local saw Old Cambridge with its guard down: An unwashed swarm of amoral, chicken thieves, wife-borrowers, poachers and horse thieves; shiftless and contentious, untroubled by so much as a shred of the moral sense.
The Smart brothers, proprietors of the ancient Washington
County Post weekly newspaper, published in Cambridge NY from 1849-1996, characterized these rural abodes of the poor and ignorant as "sink holes of iniquity." To the good and respectable members of society, they were held up as a warning: "There, but for the Grace of God....'
And although it is doubtful that the reality of Cobbtown ever lived up to the myth, there are old-timers today who remember that you didn't drive a good horse past the Plains of Cobbtown after sundown.
MYTHIC CORRESPONDENCE
Tink Pratt, a mythical correspondent, wrote notes from Cobbtown. They appeared periodically in the columns of the paper. The notes were probably from the talented pen of Robert Law, who, in 1882 would have been fresh out of the Cambridge Washington Academy and ready for the first of his several illustrious careers.
Late in May of that year, Tink reported a large number of visitors "to this popular resort."
Cobbtown in May was particularly popular with tramps who had wintered in the county jail at Salem NY, formerly the Washington county seat. In those days, the Sheriff operated the jail as a concession. He was expected to make money on it.
One of the ways he did was to use the inmates to work his farm. He also billed the county on a "per diem” basis for those he incarcerated. Therefore, he loved to fill up the jail with tramps.
He preferred tramps to felons, for several reasons. Tramps were grateful for the heat and the roof over their heads and could be relied upon not to escape. They could be double and triple bunked or even bedded in the hallways. And they weren't particular about what they ate.
However, they were immune to work. Therefore, the sheriff made sure his collection of felons was filled out by spring “mud time”, for surely his family of tramps would desert him.
Cobbtown was their next stop.
COBBTOWN LIFE
"The Trailing Arbutus is giving fragrance to the swamps nearby," Tink observed.
There was always something exciting going on in Cobbtown to entertain visitors. That May there was trouble in two of the oldest and best known families of the Plains, the LeBarrons and the Coons.
"Wm. LeBarron and his 'accomplished' wife were living in relative harmony until a few weeks ago, when Reuben LeBarron, a cousin of Wm's came to visit from Hoosick Falls," wrote Tink. Like the hamlets of the Owlskill Valley,
Hoosick Falls Village is snug along the eastern line of New York State up near Bennington, Vermont.
"Unfortunately for the tranquility of the Valley, he became deeply infatuated with Wm's wife.
When finally this caught Wm's attention, he borrowed a chew from Henry Coon, a relative by marriage. Not mollified by this, he took his razor and commenced to kill himself. "Mrs. LeBarron threw herself upon his bosom.
Reuben, hopeful of the way things were proceeding, was infuriated by this. Jealousy at the sight of Mrs. L. at her husband's bosom gnawed at Reuben's vitals.
"Finally, in a rage, he fell upon the hapless William, who so soundly beat him that Reuben returned to Hoosick Falls.
"A few days after this, a well known Shushan blacksmith took Mrs. L for a buggy ride. Mr. LeBarron argued against the trip, to no avail. Upon her return, he contented himself with giving his wife a thrashing.
FAMILY TIES
Henry Coon also had a fascinating wife. It was in 1876 that Hen, scion of the famous Coon family, whose name has been associated with Pumpkin Hook since the earliest times, formed a matrimonial alliance with a member of the LeBarron clan of Cobbtown.
"Alas for the frailty of the human heart. The fires of love died on the altar of hymen," wrote Tink.
"His young wife was determined to return to her parents and one Monday she did so, an act that so touched 'Hen' that he was rent with anguish and weeping.
"Later that day, a member of the LeBarron family, upon looking out the window, saw a body swinging from a rope, suspended from the limb of an apple tree in the Simpsons' orchard. It was young Hen." The LeBarrons cut him down.
Luckily, Coon had little experience in suicide. The knot was so awkwardly tied as to do him no harm. He lived to try love again, by joining his inlaws in Cobbtown.
Then Nelson Parish, one of the visiting tramps, became smitten with Mrs. Coon. Hen resented this. He made this known to Parish, who gave him a thrashing.
Observed Tink: "The social waters of Cobbtown are not
allowed to become stagnant."
Tink also reported that Wm. was now out of danger and would not be able to harm himself, as Mrs. LeBarron had dulled his razor trimming her corns.
HERMIT REPORTS
The Hermit of Cobbtown reported in July, 1882. He found Tink sidelined for a while from his correspondence after his wife, who had been out of town, caught him in the arms of
Mrs. Mattison, who operated a “house” down by the toll gate Of the Great Northern Turnpike, at the eastern base of Oak Hill.
The Great Northern Turnpike was a wonder of deep ruts and perpetually slick clay hills that stretched in its day from the City of Troy on the Hudson River all the way up the Owlskill Valley to the great marble and granite guarries of Rutland, Vermont.
The heart-broken wife got Abe Pratt of Pumpkinhook to drive her down to fetch Tink.
Tink had a bulldog toward which he was partial. He wagered the family "carriage" against Perry Coon's shotgun and two cords of swamp maple that his dog could lick Perry's hound.
"The hound ragged the bull pup until the pup looked like it had been through the pulp mill, then Tink welshed on the bet."
The Hermit reported all cottages "at this summer resort" occupied. "The menus of the hotels are quite equal to the past, owing to the raid that depleted Simpson's trout pond, and will improve as soon as the nearby farmers' sweet corn ripens and their turkeys grow large enough to respond to the song,
'Come, birdies, come."
PROPHET SPEAKS
Politics in 19th century America lacked many of the niceties of the 20th. Cobbtown didn't write the book on vote buying and other outlaw practices, which were epidemic, but the denizens could certainly have provided an effective chapter in the training manual.
In late summer, pronouncements of wisdom and politics flowed from the pen of the Prophet of Cobbtown.
"Everyone in Cobbtown is looking toward the coming elections," he observed. ~Jackson (township) has no candidate for county sheriff in 1882, so the denisons are expecting to sell their votes dearly to whomever the parties run.
“Pond Valley (just north of the Owlskill Valley) coffin varnish will command a premium," prophesied the prophet.
“The Cobbtown voter only takes interest in an election where there is some 'principal' at stake. They are talking a dollar a head for votes."
The prophet, being old, could remember hard times, when
votes went begging at 25 cents apiece “and patriotic men would help save their country three times a single election for a bushel of shelled corn.
“His friends are trying to ‘boom' Nate LeBarron for pound master. Ed Rainey is quietly laying the wires for the Cobbtown mayorality. However, a recent imbroglio resulting rom too great familiarity on his part with his grandson's wife, may injure his chances somewhat."
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