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History

Middle Country Road. Photo courtesy of MCPL

Written by Middle Country Public Library staff

Middle Country and Horseblock Roads

Driving along Middle Country Road today, it is hard to imagine that only 100 years ago, this busy four- lane highway with its many intersections, signs and streetlights started out as little more than a hard packed dirt road. Go back 100 years more, and you’d only see a narrower, rutted path. We take our nicely maintained, hard-paved roads for granted today, but it wasn’t always such a smooth ride. Today’s network of streets and highways have their origins in simple trails which were used by people and wildlife leading to sources of water and shelter. These paths measured only two to three feet wide in places, but they were sufficient for the needs of the times. Early English settlers began to use these footpaths as they established homesteads on Long Island, widening and improving these paths, using them as cart-ways to allow for easier travel between their farms. The cart-way needed to be wide enough for a livestock-drawn cart to traverse with ease. In those days a cart would be hauled by cattle, ox or horse power.

Those paths were the only way to travel around Long Island until 1703, when the NY General Assembly appointed highway commissioners in King’s County (Brooklyn), Queens County and Suffolk County to direct the building and maintenance of roads “four rods wide.” The early measurement of “a rod,” equals approximately 16.5 feet or 5 meters in today’s terms. These highways were simply packed earth, hardened over time by travelers. It took some time for conditions to improve, and eventually drainage systems were constructed, and logs or planks were laid across some roads to pave them. These log-covered roads were known as “corduroy roads” because of their bumpy surface. Thirty years after the highway commissions laid out the routes, arranged rights-of-way between existing properties and physical construction took place, Long Island boasted three major thoroughfares: North Country Road, parts of which follow today’s Route 25A; Middle Country Road, now known as Route 25 or Jericho Turnpike; and South Country Road, portions of which serve as Montauk Highway. 

An organized system of roads was needed for many reasons as the population grew. Though most homesteads were self-sufficient at that time, people would barter for goods and gather together to socialize. Mail needed to be delivered across the Island, and prior to the establishment of the U.S. Postal Service in 1775, England’s Royal Mail System was utilized. Before reliably passable roads were built, that mail was delivered from Connecticut by boat. It was faster and easier to travel 19 miles by water than 120 miles over land from New York City.

As the farmland was cultivated and enriched over time, it produced more than one family or village could use and farming became a burgeoning industry. Means to transport the surplus produce was required. Farm to Market Road (also called Horseblock Road) filled this need. Farm owners would load their wagons full of fruits and vegetables to ship by rail to New York City. 

The term “horseblock” refers to a block of stone or wood used to help a person climb high enough to mount a horse or to enter a stagecoach with ease. With many homes, farms and taverns located along these miles of roadway, horseblocks were a familiar sight. We call this same Farm to Market Road by its old nickname, Horseblock Road to this day. 

Through the years, several popular taverns and rest stops were located on Horseblock Road. As far back as Revolutionary times, Sam “Horseblock” Smith owned and ran a tavern at the intersection of Horseblock and Middle Country Roads in Centereach. A Smith genealogy relates that on March, 2, 1806 Sam sold the inn and land to Lake Grove resident, Titus Gould. It appears that part of the tavern was dismantled and moved to another location. Generations later, Alfred Elsmann ran Al’s Tavern, at the corner of Horseblock and Granny Roads. It was advertised in the Patchogue Advance of March 7, 1946 as specializing in home cooking and “the best in beer, wines and liquors,” and was a popular destination for local festivities for several decades.

A view of the Seat of the Hon. Selah Strong Esq., St. George’s Manor, Suffolk County, Long Island. NOTE: This is the house built by William “Tangier” Smith. Photo from B. Tyler

By Beverly C. Tyler

She was baptized Martha Tunstall on July 2, 1652, daughter of Henry Tunstall of Putney, Surrey, England. She moved with her family to Tangier, Africa, where she married William Smith. From her marriage on Nov. 26, 1675, until her death in Setauket in 1709 at 57, Martha led a life dedicated to her husband, family, business interests and community. She gave birth to 13 children, buried seven, and journeyed from Tangier back to England, to Ireland for a birth, and finally to America. She raised her family in primitive conditions, assisted her husband in his business dealings, often during his long absences, and became respected as lady of the manor. Widowed at 52, Martha successfully managed her husband’s business interests, including offshore whaling, and became a well-regarded community leader.

Historian Kate Strong as a young girl with her dog on the steps of her home on Strong’s Neck. Photo from B. Tyler

Lady Martha Smith, as referred to in many documents, is not listed in The Encyclopedia of Women’s History in America or Long Island Women: Activists and Innovators, both excellent books on overlooked women. However, she was a woman of wealth and influence on Long Island, especially in Setauket and Mastic, where she and William “Tangier” Smith resided.

Colonel William “Tangier” Smith was born in Feb. 1654. Tangier, a key port, was abandoned and burned by England in 1683. William arrived there at 20 and married Martha a year later. He became mayor on Nov. 11, 1682. The couple returned to England in 1683 and, in 1686, sailed from Ireland to America. They arrived in New York in the fall of 1686 with their two children, 7-year-old Henry and 5-year-old Martha. A third child, Hibernia, had died at sea, the couple’s fifth child to die. Three of their children, Elizabeth, John, and William Jr., died in Tangier. Their second William Jr. and Mary died in London.

In New York City, Martha gave birth to Jeane in Dec. 1687. William bought land in Setauket, “Ye Little Neck,” and the south shore. By 1689, the family had moved permanently to Setauket. Martha gave birth to William that March, followed by Gloryana the next year, then Theodocia, who died at 15 days old. Two years later, their last child, Charles Jeffery, was born.

In Setauket, William and Martha moved from their first house near the Woodhull homestead to the Neck, where they built St. George’s Manor. Martha managed the home while William expanded his land holdings. In Oct. 1693, he received a patent from Gov. Fletcher for land bordered by Carmen’s River and Forge River, between Middle Country Road and the Atlantic Ocean. This, combined with previous purchases, created the Manor of St. George. By 1697, he added land extending to Southampton and Southold. The family spent summers at a second manor house on Smith Point, returning to Setauket for the rest of the year. With the 1693 land acquisition, William and Martha became lord and lady of the manor.

As detailed by Kate Strong, “In 1675 (in Tangier), Colonel William Smith began entries in what is now called The First Pigskin Book. The first entry was his marriage. He then recorded baptisms and some deaths of his many children. Writing only on one side of the page, his wife, Martha, turned the book upside down and wrote in her recipes.”

Strong listed a few recipes, including: “To make pancakes—take the yolks of six eggs, add one white, one pint of cream, half a pint of sack, nutmeg, a little salt, and some sugar. Make the batter of a reasonable thickness, work in some flour, and fry them.” Martha also included medicinal recipes: “For a sore throat—take rue, pound it fine, make a poultice, about an inch thick, and lay it on the throat. It is a sure cure. You may sprinkle it with brandy.”

“She was not too busy to enjoy riding with her husband,” Strong related. “I imagine they had fine horses. Their saddles were covered with velvet, hers a side saddle of course.”

When William died in 1705, their children included Henry, later second lord of the manor, age 26; Mrs. Martha Heathcote, 23; Jeane, 17; William Henry, later to inherit the south shore manor, 15; Gloryana, 14, who later married the Rev. George Muirson; and Charles Jeffery, who died of smallpox in 1715 at 11. Lady Martha now had to raise her family and manage her late husband’s holdings and businesses.

Entries in the Pigskin Book recorded Indian whaling crews and whale oil and bone quantities. As noted by Dr. John Strong, “From 1696 until 1721, the Smiths used the book to track Native Americans working for their whaling company. Lady Martha Smith, for the 1706-07 season, made a net profit of 120 barrels of whale oil from 180 barrels—a sizable profit.”

“Offshore whaling was a fine business in those days, and Madam Martha had her own whaleboat,” Strong wrote. “The crew was mostly Indians. She kept records in a second pigskin book, which was almost lost in the San Francisco fire. A family member had taken it west. During the fire, a gentleman found it in a trunk, examined the contents, and returned the book to its owner.”

As noted in Bellport and Brookhaven (1968), “The Lady Martha was remarkable, managing both the vast estate and whaling business successfully.” Kate Strong observed, “Fifteen Indians, the whaling crew, are listed by name; their wages and the charges against them for shot, powder, rum, coats, britches, etc. She must have had trouble controlling them, as there are complaints, such as, ‘He [Will Bene] got nothing this season, stayed away 10 days to see his Shua. Was a great loss to me.’ But there were cheerful entries too: ‘I thank God, my company killed a yearling whale. Made 27 barrels ogle.’”

Early settlers recognized Martha’s prominence, noting that “at the table, no woman except Madam Martha Smith was to sit.” She died five years after her husband on Sept. 1, 1709, and was buried beside him on a spot overlooking the bay at St. George’s Manor.

Beverly Tyler is Three Village Historical Society historian and author of books available from the Three Village Historical Society, 93 North Country Rd., Setauket.

Pixabay photo

By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief,
Publisher

In some ways, the 2020s appear to be similar to the 1920s. We humans like to look for historical parallels, I think, in hopes of using the past to predict the future, futile as that might be. Call them coincidences between the two centuries, if you will, but let’s look at them and judge if history is repeating itself.

The most obvious is the raging coronavirus pandemic of this century and its resemblance to the Spanish Flu that began in 1918 and lasted into the early 1920s.The flu killed some 50 million people worldwide, with 675,000 being Americans. Covid killed 6.5 million, including 1.1 million in the United States. 

And although no plans existed for coping with a pandemic in 1918, individual cities did implement  school closings, banned public gatherings, issued quarantines and encouraged social isolation. Public health and medical advances have made huge strides, which account for the global change, although the world population has quadrupled in the last 100 years.

We can compare cultural shifts, too. Liberal views toward equality of women and minorities, drug use and sexuality blossomed then, as well as backlashes to these ideas, setting us up for issues that have followed. Marijuana became popular in what was termed “The Jazz Age,” especially among musicians and those in show business. These themes, along with their inherent tensions, are prominently with us today, even if we consider that we have made significant progress in some ways. 

Geographically, more of the population began to live in cities than on farms then, and that holds true for our cities and suburbs now. But the divide today is not so much physical as generational. Social media and video games are the provenance of the young, while older Americans still read, watch TV and film.

The stock market and the financial world are strikingly similar while a century apart. Stocks are roaring today, much as they did in the Roaring Twenties. America’s wealth more than doubled in the decade of the 1920s. But it was a time of immense economic prosperity for upper-class white American men. Most Americans, with minimal wages, only experienced income inequality. It was also a time of the one percent owning a widely disproportionate share of that wealth, some 23.9 percent. 

Sound familiar? And because the wages of the working class were not brought along with that of the wealthy, as consumers, they could not keep up their vital role. Consumers are responsible for as much as 70 percent of the economy. Depression followed. Again, today the top one percent own some 26 percent, and again income inequality is rampant.  

Then there was Prohibition. In 1920, the 18th Amendment banned the making and selling of alcohol. But alcohol didn’t simply go away. It went underground, making petty gangs who transported and sold liquor into powerful forces in the country. Fast forward 100 years and we have drug lords with the same sort of influence over society as a result of similar incredible profits. The legalization of pot is clearly an attempt to learn from the century-old Temperance Movement. The turnaround in policy toward cannabis has provided a big economic boon, as the product has made its way into fiber, food and medicine.

Technology in the 1920s was dramatic and had a profound effect on people’s lives. Fridges, vacuums, telephones, radios, electricity and automobiles changed daily living. Again, major technological innovations, coming along at an exponentially faster pace, are transforming lives today. Consider internet expansion, 5G connectivity, 3D printing and artificial intelligence among most recent debuts. A few people are amassing unprecedented wealth with these marvels. Here we go again with an ever-increasing wealth gap. Plus, both centuries saw workers worried for their job, first with industrialization and now with knowledge. Advancing technology provides miracles and threats. It is also a crucible for social unrest in both centuries.

And then there is transportation. Lindbergh crossed the ocean in 1927. We are on course to fly to Mars in 10 years. Both centuries’ 20s hosted marvels. But the 1920s set the stage for WWII. 

Are we learning from history?

Jesse Owens. Pixabay photo

“It’s not a question of whether you will hurt, or of how much you will hurt; it’s a question of what you will do, and how well you will do it, while pain has her wanton way with you.”    ― Daniel James Brown, The Boys in the Boat: Nine Americans and Their Epic Quest for Gold at the 1936 Berlin Olympics

Gazing over the tens of thousands of foreigners entering the arena that would be the 1936 Berlin Olympic games stood the presence of dictator Adolf Hitler. During the midst of the Great Depression, the tyrannical leader of Nazi Germany promised to rebuild his nation to its former glory.

In 1931, the International Olympic Committee permitted the summer games to be held in Berlin as a peaceful way of putting World War I behind the Europeans. Instead, the world saw the flying of Swastikas signaling the rise of Nazi Germany. The games began on Aug. 1, 1936, with Hitler present to watch his country prove its status as a restored national power.  

A rumored American boycott to oppose the fierce Nazi treatment of its minorities, loomed over, though President Franklin D. Roosevelt granted his country’s athletes to participate in these games. 

Watching the ignition of the Olympic flame, stood Jesse Owens or “Buckeye Bullet”. Owens a famed-athlete, grew up in an Alabama sharecropping family, where much of his childhood was riddled with racism. Despite his adversarial childhood, Owens went on to become a talented track and field athlete at Ohio State University. It soon became a goal of Owen’s to dispel the Nazi “Aryan” propaganda promoting others inability to defeat Hitler’s “Master Race” of athletes.  

Hitler’s much-publicized hatred did not shake the American resolve of Owens and the other African American participants. American runners went on to earn 11 gold medals in track and field; six by Black athletes, with Owens earning four gold medals and two impressive Olympic records. 

Later in the games, a fatigued Owens sought rest, with this, he offered the torch to American teammates, Marty Glickman and Sam Stoller suggesting they could compete in 4×100 race in his stead. Instead, Owens was directed to race and Glickman and Stoller, both of Jewish culture, were barred from participating. Concerns arose that American coaches were fearful of upstaging Hitler by using Jewish-American athletes to gain additional medals. 

An aspect of these games often overlooked is the athlete’s personal contention with the economic and social issues of the Great Depression. The economy was poor in Germany and its regime paid for the training and living expenses of its athletes. Many American athletes looked at sports in a secondary manner as they tried to gain essential items to survive. Americans had to contend with twenty-five percent unemployment and a struggling economy.

On Christmas Day, Hollywood released a heartwarming look at the tribulations of the Great Depression through the production of ‘The Boys in the Boat’, written by Brown and directed by George Clooney. Like ‘Cinderella Man’ and ‘Seabiscuit’, this film delves into the intersection of sports and the Depression. 

Even as the New Deal was established by Roosevelt, American people faced difficulties in finding work and buying food. ‘The Boys in the Boat’ is based on the Washington State Rowing Team’s quest to win the gold medal during the Berlin Olympics.  

This film, set on the outskirts of Seattle, chronicles the harsh extent of the Depression. It focused on Joe Rantz, who was abandoned by his family and forced to care for himself. Actor Callum Turner portrayed an engineering student facing the threat of removal from Washington State for being unable to pay his tuition. With holes in his shoes and making a home in an abandoned car, this student desperately sought a chance to improve his economic situation by trying out for his school’s rowing team. 

Joel Edgerton stars as Coach Al Ulbrickson, an uncompromising figure who demanded athletic and physical excellence. The film takes some artistic liberties depicting the triumphs of the team modifying the succession to highest levels of college and Olympic competition to one year as opposed to the three years presented in Brown’s book.  

As a director Clooney scores in the eyes of film, history, and sports fans. He portrays the determination of the team’s coach in utilizing a junior varsity team that would eventually become the best in the nation and would go on to win a gold medal. 

There are many moments that present Rantz’s competitive side. In the film, Rantz found a father figure in the team’s boat builder, a man who took a special interest in his athletic talents by constructing and maintaining their equipment. The builder provided sustinent advice on handling the complexities of life and listening to authority. This film identifies the American-will to persevere, showcasing a team pitted against highly-respected Ivy League crews. The film shares an outstanding story of American resilience to achieve greatness through the masterful stroke of Clooney’s direction.

Pixabay photo

By Daniel Dunaief

Daniel Dunaief

The reality of aging is that we sometimes wake up feeling like we’ve got less than a full tank of gas, or, for those of you driving electric vehicles, a fully charged battery, with which to maneuver through the day.

Maybe our ankles are sore from the moment we imagined we could still dive across the grass to catch a foul ball. Perhaps, less ambitiously, we twisted our ankle when we took a bad step on a sidewalk as we did something much less heroic, like texting an old friend or playing a mindless video game. Or it hurts because it, like our jobs, our cars, and our homes, inexplicably needs attention.

What’s the antidote to the numerous headwinds that slow us down and make us feel exhausted earlier each day?

The start of a new year can provide that energy and inspiration. We get to write 2024 on our checks, if we’re still writing them, we can imagine a blank canvas on which we can reinvent ourselves, find new friends, get new jobs, travel to new places, live our values and contribute meaningfully to the world.

We can start jotting activities into that new calendar, smiling as we imagine seeing friends we haven’t seen in years or decades or fulfilling long-held desires to shape our lives, our bodies or both into what we’ve always imagined.

On a more immediate scale, we have other ways to boost our energy. We can grab a steaming hot cup of hot chocolate or coffee, loading our nervous system up with caffeine, which can wake us up and help us power through the next few hours.

We can also grab a donut, a cookie, or some other food loaded with sugar, knowing, of course, that we run the risk of emptying that short-energy tank quickly after the sugar rush ends.

I have discovered plenty of places I can go, literally and figuratively, to feel energized and inspired. My list includes:

Our children: Yes, they are draining and can be demanding and needy, but their youth and energy can be restorative. They take us to places we hadn’t been before, give us an opportunity to share books we might have missed in our own education and offer insights about themselves and their world that amaze us. Their different interests and thoughts keep us on our toes, focused and, yes, young, as we try to meet them where they live. As we relate to them, we can also imagine our own lives at that age.

Our pets: Watching a dog chase a ball, its tail or a frisbee, or observing a cat push a ball of string across the floor can be invigorating. If we threw that ball or tossed that string, we become a human partner in their games, giving us a role to play even as they expend considerably more effort in this entertaining exchange.

Nature: Energy surrounds us. Water lapping on the shores of Long Island at any time of year, small leaf buds responding to the cues of spring, and birds calling to each other through the trees can inspire us and help us feel alert, alive and aware of the symphony of life that serenades us and that invites us to participate in the evolving narrative around us.

Science: I have the incredible privilege of speaking with scientists almost every day. Listening to them discuss their work, when they don’t travel down a jargon rabbit hole filled with uncommon acronyms, is inspirational. The insatiable curiosity of scientists at any age  and any stage of their careers makes each discovery a new beginning. Each of their answers raises new questions. Scientists are always on the verge of the next hypothesis, the next great idea and the next adventure. Their energy, dedication and unquenchable thirst for knowledge invites listeners to participate in the next chapter in the evolving knowledge story.

Sunrises: Okay, if you’ve read this column often enough, you know I’m a morning person. I try to be quiet in the morning, for my family and for anyone else who stayed up late into the night. Sunrises, however, bring a welcome introduction to something new and original.

History: reading about or studying history puts our world into perspective. We not only can contrast previous time periods with today, but we also can enjoy and appreciate that we have the opportunity to share in and shape this moment.

J. Robert Oppenheimer, right, and Albert Einstein in a posed photograph at the Institute for Advanced Study. Public domain photo

‘Now I am become death, the destroyer of worlds.’

— J. Robert Oppenheimer

J. Robert Oppenheimer was born in 1904 in New York City. During childhood, he studied minerals, physics, chemistry, Greek, Latin, French and German. After graduating high school as valedictorian, Oppenheimer fell seriously ill with dysentery. His family sent him westward to treat this medical condition in New Mexico, where he loved riding horses in the open terrain.

After graduating from Harvard University in three years with a degree in chemistry, he studied physics at Cambridge University in England. Earning his doctorate and studying with other specialists and Nobel Peace Prize recipients, Oppenheimer built relationships with some of the foremost physicists of the time. While in Germany, he observed widespread antisemitism fostered by Adolph Hitler’s Nazi regime. Many scientists in Germany were Jewish and later fled the Holocaust by immigrating to the United States. There, they used their talents to help defeat the Nazis.

During the Great Depression, Oppenheimer was an ardent critic of Spanish general, Francisco Franco, supporting the Spanish Republican government and opposing the fascists. While never formerly a member, Oppenheimer openly accepted the views of the American Communist Party.  

During that time, the U.S. Federal Bureau of Investigation watched over his activities and those of his friends. He never hid his political beliefs. Oppenheimer was also deeply flawed, a womanizer who had an affair and a child with another man’s wife.

Manhattan Project

Before the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, Oppenheimer conducted extensive scientific research on possible military theories that piqued the government’s interest. Gen. Leslie Groves, an abrasive army officer who led the construction of the Pentagon, was touted for building complex government structures. The son of a Presbyterian Army chaplain, his superiors saw him as a motivated figure who succeeded at resolving challenging problems.  

By 1942, the United States mobilized its citizens to fight, and its scientists to keep pace with the Germans to construct a nuclear bomb. Groves understood that Oppenheimer knew the rival German scientists, as he had worked alongside many of them during the 1930s.  

Groves chose Oppenheimer to lead a group of America’s leading scientists, concentrating most of them at Los Alamos, New Mexico, in what was known as the Manhattan Project. Groves relied heavily upon Oppenheimer to mold these contrasting personalities, further pressured by an impending timetable, and create the most destructive weapon known to man — all before the Germans could do so themselves.

Under a cloud of secrecy, over the next two-and-a-half years, Groves prioritized resources, money and manpower for this endeavor. He spent some $2 billion to create this weapon.

Destroyer of worlds

After the death of President Franklin D. Roosevelt, Secretary of War Henry Stimson briefed President Harry S. Truman on April 24, 1945, about the status of the Manhattan Project.

After the Nazi surrender, Groves put pressure on Oppenheimer to ensure that America could use the weapon against the Japanese. During the Potsdam Conference, where the three leading Allies — the Soviets, the British and the Americans — met to plan the postwar peace, Truman learned of the successful Trinity Test on July 16, 1945.

American military leadership suspected the Japanese would fight to the last soldier. And so, 78 years ago this month, the United States dropped two atomic bombs on the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. At first, Oppenheimer was pleased with his creation, though he later feared a future arms race would precipitate and that nuclear Armageddon could lead to the annihilation of humanity.

Fallout

And as the Cold War began, Americans at home were concerned about the spread of communism. Oppenheimer led the effort to create the atomic bomb, but his communist sympathies were again scrutinized during the Red Scare.

The Soviet Union quickly attained the atomic bomb. These were dangerous times for the United States. 

In 1954, the Department of Energy revoked Oppenheimer’s security clearance due to fears that he could not be trusted with classified information.  

Oppenheimer, a complex historical figure harboring beliefs that often ran contrary to those held by the government and most Americans, helped the Allies win World War II. He symbolized American scientific superiority, though he was a casualty of domestic Cold War stigma.

A scientist who created the worst weapon ever used in warfare, he also sought peaceful measures to ensure that an arms race and nuclear conflict would not recur.

Oppenheimer died on Feb. 18, 1967, at age 62.

Rich Acritelli is a social studies teacher at Rocky Point High School and an adjunct history professor at Suffolk County Community College.

Photo by Capturing Life as it happens from Pixabay

In recent years, much has been said of the state of division in the United States. But as the nation celebrates its 247th birthday, Americans should remember the many struggles they have overcome.

After the fall of Fort Sumter in April 1861, President Abraham Lincoln believed the Confederate South would never peaceably re-enter the Union. The country was engaged in the defining conflict of its history and the deadliest war its citizens had ever fought. 

Yet Lincoln helped the nation carry on, ensuring that Americans would reunite under one flag. In a speech to Congress on July 4, 1861, he asserted the cause of the Union as that of the American Revolution. The Civil War, Lincoln affirmed, would prove to the world the viability of self-rule.

“It is now for [Americans] to demonstrate to the world that those who can fairly carry an election can also suppress a rebellion,” Lincoln said, “that ballots are the rightful and peaceful successors of bullets, and that when ballots have fairly and constitutionally decided there can be no successful appeal back to bullets.”

And the nation endured.

In 1914, President Woodrow Wilson nervously watched as European powers marched toward World War I — the “powder keg” ignited after the heir of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, was assassinated. 

“Nobody outside of America believed when it was uttered that we could make good our independence,” Wilson told a beleaguered nation. “Now nobody anywhere would dare to doubt that we are independent and can maintain our independence.” 

After his re-election in 1916, Wilson declared war against Germany in April 1917 to make the “world safe for democracy.” As it had during the Civil War, the nation again endured.

In early July 1945, the United States was nearing the end of World War II. With Nazi Germany defeated, America was one month away from dropping the atomic bomb against the Japanese. On July 4 of that year, President Harry S. Truman tied the war effort to the cause of American freedom. 

“This year, the men and women of our armed forces, and many civilians as well, are celebrating the anniversary of American independence in other countries throughout the world,” he said. “Citizens of these other lands will understand what we celebrate and why, for freedom is dear to the hearts of all men everywhere.”

The war would end the following month, and the nation endured once more.

President John F. Kennedy presided over the federal government at a volatile moment. After the failed Bay of Pigs invasion in April 1961 and only months away from the Cuban Missile Crisis in October 1962, Kennedy reminded his fellow citizens of the cause of independence on July 4, 1962.

“For that Declaration unleashed not merely a revolution against the British, but a revolution in human affairs,” Kennedy noted. “Its authors were highly conscious of its worldwide implications.”

Despite the tumult of the 1960s, the nation still endured.

Near the end of the Cold War, President Ronald Reagan was determined to ensure American victory over the Soviet Union in this global conflict. With tensions mounting between these two superpowers, Reagan reminded citizens of the resolve of America’s founders.

“Their courage created a nation built on a universal claim to human dignity — on the proposition that every man, woman and child had a right to a future of freedom,” Reagan said in his July 4, 1986 speech, likening the cause of independence to the triumph over communism.

The U.S. won the Cold War, and the nation endured.

Today, as Americans enjoy outdoor barbecues and spend time with loved ones, they should remember that the legacy of independence still flourishes. In the face of brewing tensions abroad, Americans must remember that we have experienced such challenges before and will do so again.

And the nation will endure.

Rich Acritelli is a history teacher at Rocky Point High School and adjunct professor at Suffolk County Community College.

Gordon Wood, professor emeritus of history at Brown University. Photo by Kenneth C. Zirke from Wikimedia Commons

This week marks the 247th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence.

In the nearly two-and-a-half centuries since this formative moment in American history, much has changed, with an uncertainty of the country’s long-term future.

Gordon Wood, professor emeritus of history at Brown University and 1993 Pulitzer Prize recipient for his book, “The Radicalism of the American Revolution,” remains optimistic that America’s future is bright. 

In an exclusive phone interview, he detailed why the American Revolution is relevant today, dismissing apocalyptic predictions. 

Revolutionary relevance

Wood contends that despite prolonged separation from the American Revolution, this cause remains highly relevant today.

“It is the most important event in our history, bar none,” he said. “It not only legally created the United States, but it infused into our culture everything we believe.”

Wood maintains that America is “not a nation in the usual sense of the term.” By this, he means Americans are not bound by any common ancestry. Instead, the United States represents a particular set of ideas to which Americans subscribe.

“Someone once said that to be an American is not to be somebody but to believe in something,” Wood noted. “And what do we believe in? We believe in those things that came out of the Revolution: equality, liberty and so on.”

“There’s no other adhesive to hold us together, so I think we need to emphasize that,” he said.

American stability

Within contemporary national discourse, some have expressed fears that America is a declining democracy. Even the nonprofit think tank Freedom House, which measures the strength of democracy in countries around the world, has scored the United States incrementally lower in recent years.

Wood characterized some recent historical developments as “destabilizing,” though he maintained these concerns are often overblown.

“We’re still the greatest power the world has ever known,” the Brown professor emeritus said. “I think that we’re very stable, and I certainly think we’re at the height of our powers.”

Assessing the current geopolitical landscape, Wood acknowledged China is a rising global power. However, he maintained that America’s long-term outlook remains promising.

“I don’t see any evidence that China is going to replace us,” he said. “I think it would be unfortunate if we got into a war with China over this fear of being displaced, but it’s just not in the cards.”

He added that fears of American decline have been pervasive throughout the nation’s history, with concerns about China just the latest iteration of this long historical pattern.

“We have a lot of apocalyptic thinking that goes on, and that’s not new,” Wood said. “We’ve always done that. There are always people saying that we’re going to fall apart.”

Triumph of the future

Wood suggested Americans have an unusual relationship with their national history. “I don’t think we have ever been a historically minded people compared to other nations,” he said. “I think it was President James Polk [1845-49] who said the United States is the only country in the world that has its history in the future.”

Since the Revolution, Americans have always been a “future-oriented people,” according to Wood. Yet the ideas articulated by the Founding Fathers have been passed down to subsequent generations of Americans, and those values are still practiced today.

Americans “know about ‘life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness,’ and ‘all men are created equal,’” Wood said. “Those are phrases that are very potent and available to most people, but I don’t think there’s much real interest in history as such among Americans.”

But, he added, “I’m not sure that that’s a bad thing. We’re future-oriented. We think the future is going to be better than the present.”

Wood concluded by saying that America’s faith in the future has long attracted new immigrants. Despite the numerous complications throughout its history, America still draws in people from all around the world. 

Wood indicated that this attraction demonstrates how the American Dream lives to this day.

“Immigrants still want to come here because they can get a better life here than they can where they came from,” he said. “It’s an optimistic view.”

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My grandparents on my mother’s side, Guy Carlton and Margaret King, were born in Alna and neighboring Whitefield, Maine, in 1882 and 1887, respectively. They married and moved to Port Jefferson in 1909, where he worked as a carpenter building the original Belle Terre Club. 

My grandmother’s postcard album contains a visual representation of her life history. Many of the postcards are of trips my grandparents took. Others are from friends and relatives and tell stories of travels and daily life. However, the vast majority were holiday cards, sent from Whitefield, Maine, after my grandparents finished building their house on the west side of Port Jefferson Harbor. 

The first decade of the 20th century were peak years for sending and collecting postcards, attractive color cards for the various holidays as well as black and white commercially printed photographs or photos developed and printed on postcard stock. My grandmother, as so many others, saved the postcards in postcard albums that tell stories of absent relatives and friends.

All of the postcards featured here were sent to my grandmother between 1907 and 1911 and addressed to her in Whitefield and then Port Jefferson. One of the 1907 postcards, featuring the Port Jefferson railroad station, was sent to her by her brother Fred King who came to Port Jefferson in 1907 and convinced Guy Carlton to join him in 1909.

Beverly C. Tyler is a Three Village Historical Society historian and author of books available from the society at 93 North Country Road, Setauket. For more information, call 631-751-3730. or visit www.tvhs.org. 

Idle Hour, the mansion and estate of William Kissam Vanderbilt (1849-1920), which became Dowling College in 1968 Vanderbilt Museum Archives photo
Gift is Significant Part of Dowling College’s Special Collection

The Suffolk County Vanderbilt Museum has received the largest donation of archival materials since its inception in 1950. The gift, donated by the Friends of Connetquot River State Park Preserve, includes materials from the former Dowling College and Vanderbilt Historical Society collections, comprising photographs, maps, and written correspondence. The donation marks a significant moment in the broader historical community’s efforts to preserve and promote the heritage of the region.

This donation will aid researchers and historians in forming an understanding of late-nineteenth and early-twentieth century Long Island, and it will greatly augment the kinds of programming that can be offered by the Vanderbilt, Suffolk County’s first museum and public park.

Paul Rubery, Director of Curatorial Affairs at the Vanderbilt Museum, and Janet Soley, President of the Friends of Connetquot, worked alongside New York State and Suffolk County officials to determine the best way to preserve the content of these archives for future generations. They established that, because the VanderbiltMuseum aims to interpret the totality of the Vanderbilt family’s contributions to the development of Long Island, Centerport would be the ideal resting place for the wide-ranging collections.

All items donated by the Friends of Connetquot are now being processed and digitized by staff at the Vanderbilt Museum. These measures put to rest what some once regarded as the uncertain fate and future of a vast collection of historical materials assembled in Oakdale by local historians and academic archivists.

Dowling College Materials

Dowling College was established in 1968 at Idle Hour, the former mansionand 900-acre estate built in 1900 for William Kissam Vanderbilt (1849-1920). Vanderbilt was the father of William K. Vanderbilt II (1878-1944), who created the Eagle’s Nest estate, home of the Suffolk County VanderbiltMuseum.

Dowling College’s paper records were in jeopardy when the school ceased operations in 2016. Nearly a year later, its administrative and collegiate archives were transferred to Adelphi College, the college’s former parent institution. This arrangement spoke to Adelphi’s mission and directly benefited the wide network of Dowling alumni in the region. However, certain items were not covered in the original agreement between Adelphi and RSR Consulting, LLC—the company charged with liquidating assets in the bankruptcy proceedings—and those materials were folded into the listing placed up for bankruptcy auction.

The bankruptcy sale of Dowling’s assets was complicated by false starts and unrealized transactions. After the initial deal with Princeton Educational Center failed to transpire, Mercury International, LLC, acquired the property in 2017 for $26.1 million. During Mercury’s ownership, a representative from that company offered boxed materials in good condition to the Friends of Connetquot. For Mercury, the campus property and outbuildings were the primary concern, not the papers still left in many areas of the campus. Mercury ceased ownership of the property in December 2021, when the Chinese state-owned enterprise China Orient Asset Management purchased a majority stake in their parent company for $42 million.

The items given to the Friends of Connetquot—and now, through their donation, to the Suffolk County Vanderbilt Museum—include the Muriel Vanderbilt, National Dairy, and Peace Haven collections.

Additional Material

Additional sections of the archives donated by Friends of Connetquot were acquired by that organization at auction. The Friends of Connetquot is dedicated to the preservation, conservation, and history of the 3,473-acre State Park Preserve, with the legacy of the South Side Sportsmen’s Club as their primary focus. The Sportsmen’s Club was among the elite social clubs of the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth century, claiming presidents and titans of business among its membership.

Below are brief descriptions of the collections donated to the Suffolk County Vanderbilt Museum by the Friends of Connetquot River State Park Preserve. To increase access to public history and stimulate interest in Long Island’s heritage, the Vanderbilt Museum will make them available online in the coming months.

Muriel Vanderbilt Collection: Muriel Vanderbilt was the daughter of William Kissam Vanderbilt II and Virginia Graham Fair. She was an American socialite and an accomplished breeder of thoroughbred racehorses.

The Muriel Vanderbilt collection contains personal photographs and other materials that she donated to Dowling College in 1970. Some collection highlights include wedding and engagement photographs, in which Muriel wears the bridal veil of Marie Antoinette; extensive documentation of horse stables and rodeos; images of family members; and architectural photography of breathtaking estates.

Above, the stage at Peace Haven, one of the uses of the Idle Hour estate before it became Dowling College. Vanderbilt Museum Archives photo

Peace Haven Cult: The collection associated with the Peace Haven Cult is among the most unique archives on Long Island. In 1937, a group called the Royal Fraternity of Master Metaphysicians purchased William Kissam Vanderbilt’s Idle Hour and renamed it “Peace Haven.” Founded by James Bernard Schafer, a doctor from North Dakota, the Master Metaphysicians integrated behaviorist psychology, Christian spiritualism, and mediative techniques to achieve certain personal goals. The cult caught the attention of the international press during the custody proceedings over “Baby Jean.”

“Baby Jean” was central to the cult’s ambitions. The Master Metaphysicians informally adopted “Baby Jean” from her mother, a local waitress, and placed her at the center of a grand metaphysical experiment. Schafer maintained that he could give the child eternal life with an exclusively plant-based diet and protection from negative stimuli. The Master Metaphysicians returned “Baby Jean” to her birth parents after less than a year, and her mother eventually filed a legal suit against the cult.

National Dairy Collection: After serving as the headquarters for the Royal Fraternity of Master Metaphysicians, the Idle Hour estate was acquired by National Dairy Research Labs. National Dairy, which would eventually become Kraft Foods, purchased the estate’s mansion, carriage house, and twenty-three acres of land in 1947. The collection features photographs of the interior and exterior of the buildings at the time of sale, extensive documentation of the newly created research laboratories, and some press materials.

Bronco Charlie’s Collection: Bronco Charlie’s was a family restaurant located in Oakdale. Its owner, “Bronco” Charlie Miller, was a revered storyteller who claimed that he was the youngest ever rider on the Pony Express. Although many of his stories were undoubtedly fanciful, his tremendous life was chronicled in a range of print media. Highlights from the Bronco Charlie Collection include plates, menus, photographs, and correspondence.

Artists’ Colony Collection: Founded in 1926 on the grounds of the William Kissam Vanderbilt I’s summer estate, the Idle Hour Artists’ Colony was inspired by other prominent cultural communities like Yaddo, McDowell, and the Barbizon. Lucy Thompson, a socialite and the wife of a wealthy oil merchant from Texas, purchased the property and renovated its stables and outbuildings to accommodate a theater, restaurant, and artist studios. Highlights from the Artists’ Colony Collection include a map of the colony, real estate listings from the 1920s, and a watercolor from one of the original artists.