The House I Grew Up In

0

The Devenpeck House as it appears today in Google Maps' street view.  There used to be a large porte-cochère on the right side that was severely damaged in an ice and snow storm in the 1960's and had to be removed.

My father, Harold Richard Mead, was a dentist.  As was a common practice in the first half of the 20th century, his offices were in our house.  In fact our neighborhood, commonly called "upper Union Street" in Schenectady, was full of residences in which doctors and dentists maintained their practices.  The house in which I was raised has an interesting history.  And the way in which my parents became the owners is also worth telling.

Our home was built by Lucas Devenpeck at what was then 901 Union Street.  Mr. Devenpeck was a prominent citizen who owned a coal merchandising company.  The home, completed in 1904, was built by the Hanrahan Brothers' construction firm.  I met one of the Hanrahan brothers in the 1950's and he told me that the firm built the Devenpeck house to be a shining example of what their firm could achieve.  It was built of rare, glazed "Roman brick" and was the first private residence in Schenectady to incorporate steel support beams in its construction.  It had five operational fireplaces, each of which was spectacular in its own right.  The one in my parents' bedroom was surrounded by hand painted Dutch Delft tiles.  The fireplace in the entryway (which served as my father's waiting room) was flanked by two sculpted plaster lions' heads.  The woodwork in the house was equally stunning, with beamed ceilings of oak and cherry and matching wainscot, all hand made and finished like fine furniture.

Mr. Devenpeck left the home to Union College when he passed away.  In 1936, the college auctioned the home.  My father's practice was located at 619 Union Street.  My mother was expecting her first child and this house looked like the perfect candidate for locating a dental practice and raising a family.  My parents submitted an offer in the sealed-bid auction.  They were soon notified that their bid was the second highest and that the high bidder was a local physician.  Soon, however, they were told that the high bidder had withdrawn his offer because he had decided to move to Europe.  My parents were thus the highest bidders.

The Schenectady Gazette described the transaction on February 4, 1937: “Dr. Harold R. Mead, dentist, of 619 Union Street, has purchased the Devenpeck property at Unlon and Gillespie streets from the trustees of Union College. The sale was made through the office of E. J. Ryon and Son, local realtors. Dr. Mead and family will move into their new home within the next 10 days. A. H. Ryon is authority for the statement that this is one of the finest built homes in Schenectady. The dwelling was constructed about 33 years ago under particular-specifications and only the finest of materials were used. Dr. Mead will continue his practice of dentistry at his present location, 619 Union Street.”

My father had his practice in our home until he sold the building in 1960. Since that time it has served as a business location, first for a realty company, then as an orthopedic center, and then as a child care consultancy.  Our family was the last to use the building as a private residence.

I have identified the Devenpeck house in the Wikimapia site.

Back to the Past...

The Cars on Display at Guptill's Arena

This weekend deserves to be documented. It all began several months ago when I was notified that the Lincoln Zephyr Owners Club was planning to conduct a meet at Latham, New York.

I have been a member of the LZOC since the early 1970's. For several years, Margo and I were the membership chairmen of the club, and I developed and maintain the club's Web site. On that Web site, among other features, I have for several years included a calendar of events that might interest members of the club. For any major club event I usually create a special Web page describing the details with links to the host hotel, a map of the area near the site of the meet, a link that permits the user to print an application form, and a schedule of activities. So I was not simply being notified that a meet was going to take place in Latham, near Albany, New York. I was also being asked to create the Web page that would publicize it to our club members who use the Internet.

Coincidentally, I was born and raised in Schenectady, New York, so I saw this as an opportunity to not only attend a national meet of the club, but also to visit my old “stomping grounds.” I had lots of frequent flier miles stored up from my recent years' travel, so I talked it over with Mary Ann and decided to go to the meet. She had to stay at home to keep the gift shop open, but she encouraged me to go. It had been several years since I had attended a club event and I also saw it as an opportunity to renew some old and very dear friendships.

I planned to fly to Albany on Friday morning as early as possible so I'd only have to use one day of vacation. I knew that the Concours d ‘Elegance and judging were planned for Friday afternoon. My hope was that I would arrive in time to get a few pictures at that event while the cars were on display. I made it in time. My flights to Atlanta and from Atlanta to Albany both arrived early. I picked up my rental car and dashed up the road to Guptill's Arena, a 1950's-era skating rink in which I skated as a kid.

The front parking lot of Guptill's was the site of the car display. What a perfect setting. And as I expected, I started seeing a lot of familiar faces – John McAdams, one of the founders of the club in 1968, and his lovely wife Ellen; club President Jerry Emery and his wife Roz; past club president Al McWade and his wife Charlotte; Jerry and Mary Richman, Carolyn Henderson (the Chief Judge of the club), Tom Brunner (club Treasurer), and many more.

After we returned to the hotel, the technical seminar proceeded, hosted and presented by Ed Spagnolo, of Color-Ite Refinishing Company of Bethany, Connecticut, a car restoration business of long standing. Ed and his associates probably have more experience with high-quality restorations of Lincoln-Zephyrs (1936-1948) and the early Lincoln Continentals built on the Zephyr Chassis than any other restoration shop. He came equipped with a computer full of PowerPoint show-and-tell presentations of restorations, unique problems and solutions, and great personal stories. The audience really appreciated his sharing of experiences.

Friday evening was concluded with a social hour at our host hotel, the Century House Inn, a delightful buffet dinner, beautifully presented, and our traditional parts auction. Jerry Richman was his usual entertaining and fund-raising self as the auctioneer. Fines were levied for talking, laughing, and other innocent behavior. Ultimately, through the generous contributions of the Lincoln Motor Car Division of the Ford Motor Company and many club supporters, we raised over $2,000 for the club’s treasury.

Saturday morning’s activities opened with a “poker run” in which participants drive to five predetermined locations to gather playing cards. At the end, the best poker hand wins a prize. I was asked to staff one of the locations, so I drove to Schuylerville, New York, to the residence of General Philip Schuyler, a revolutionary war hero. His residence is now maintained by the National Park Service as part of the Saratoga Battlefield National Historical Park. I handed out cards to each of the club members who drove to my location. It was thrilling seeing these wonderful vehicles being driven and enjoyed.

The Philip Schuyler Home, Built in 1777

After the last car had visited my site, I decided to take the guided tour of the Schuyler residence. The park ranger who escorted me through the house, Joe Craig, was exceptionally well informed and the hour flew by. Then I headed back to the hotel where a bus was to take us to a private collection of very early cars that are located in Schenectady, my home town. Traffic was very heavy. I made a couple of wrong turns. By the time I got back to the hotel, the bus had left.

Fortunately, Debbie Schneiderwind, one of the club members hosting the meet, was still at the hotel. She very graciously took me to the location of this incredible automobile collection. Amazingly, as we approached the site, I realized that it was within a block of one of the schools I attended as a kid. Small world!

The Gerald Sichel collection is made up almost entirely of automobiles from 1915 and earlier. As I entered the building, I knew I was in a very special place. To top it off, when I met the curator and caretaker of the collection, it turned out to be Bruce Armer, a fellow whom I had known 50 years ago when we were members of the Automobilists of the Upper Hudson Valley, a local car club. Bruce and I exchanged reminiscences and I had a chance to savor these magnificent cars. Then it was back to the hotel to get ready for the Awards Banquet.

Some Scenes from the Sichel Collection

I had a couple of hours to spare, so I gathered up my cameras and headed back to Schenectady. I stopped to pay my respects at the cemetery where my brother Richard, sister Ann, mother, and maternal grandparents are buried. Then I proceeded to the neighborhood where I grew up. I took some photos of the house I lived in for 18 years, the garage where I worked and pumped gas, and some of the neighboring streets. Then it was back to the banquet.

The club President, Jerry Emery, asked if I could act as the official photographer, so I flitted around taking pictures as the awards were made. I didn’t envy the judges who had to decide on best this and best that since there had been so many gorgeous cars presented at the meet. At the end of the evening, I was shocked to hear my name as the host, Harold Schneiderwind, presented me with a beautiful desk clock in recognition of my service to the club. It was a total surprise, and a very considerate gift.

At the end of the evening, I think everyone agreed that this had been an exceptional weekend. Harold and Debra Schneiderwind did a terrific job of preparing for and hosting the meet. The hotel staff had been superb. The accommodations and food were excellent. We all considered ourselves fortunate to have participated.

Ed & Pam Avedisian's "Best-in-Show" 1940 Lincoln Continental

Memoirs of an Altar Boy

St. John the Evangelist Church was a remarkable building, as I was to learn during my many-year tenure as a congregant, altar boy, and choir member. It was built at the turn of the twentieth century, when Schenectady was a growing industrial hub centered on the American Locomotive Company and the recently-founded General Electric Company’s main plant. The period was one of rapid growth driven by these flourishing industries. A flood of immigrant laborers and skilled artisans, mostly of European origin, supported the growth.

As with most cities of the day, people arriving in the city felt most comfortable with “their own kind.” So it was that Schenectady grew up as a collection of ethnocentric areas – “Goose Hill” was primarily Italian-American, Mont Pleasant become a center of Polish-American culture, and so on. Each ethnic group tried to prove its success by its surroundings. Homes were carefully maintained and yards were neatly groomed. And then there were the churches. In the 1950’s, I recall my Grandmother referring to the city’s churches as the “Polish Church” or the “Italian Church” or the “French Church.” We knew, of course, that she meant St. Adalbert’s or St. Anthony’s or Holy Cross.

Each ethnic group tried to outbuild the next in the lavishness and size of their house of worship. The Catholic Church of St. John the Evangelist was no exception, built on the corner of Nott Terrace and Union Street, across the street from Union College’s Payne Gate (named for John Howard Payne, an 1810 graduate of the college and author of “There’s No Place Like Home”). In 1892, the land was purchased for $18,000.00 after considerable negotiations, since nearby property owners were prejudiced against having a church for a neighbor. It was a prominent and prestigious location indeed. And the magnificent church that survives stands as mute testimony to the success, prominence, and devotion of the Irish-Americans who settled that part of the city.

A view of St. John's from the Street

Excavation was started shortly after the land was acquired but the soil proved unstable. Engineers determined a way to sink friction pilings deep into the sandy soil to form a stable platform for what would be a very large structure. Finally, the church’s cornerstone was laid on July 8th, 1900, after the parish accepted the plans drawn by architect Edward Loth, of Troy, New York, who designed several other impressive churches in the area. The first service was held on St. Valentine’s day, 1904.

The building has a main floor more than 120 feet square, can seat more than 1,700 worshippers, and rises an impressive 220 feet, topped by a 14-foot cross, of gilded galvanized iron. One of the more memorable features of this huge edifice is its red color. It was built using Medina sandstone brought down the Erie Canal by barge from western New York. In contrast, the interior is stark white, from the imposing Carrera marble altar and statuary to the sculpted plaster walls. In the daytime light floods in through tall “greenhouse” windows that are just below the central steeple.

Interior View

The beautiful stained and painted windows were imported from the Royal Bavarian Art Institute in Munich (the architect, Mr. Loth, had studied in Germany and was familiar with sources of fine imported German stained glass). The Hutchings-Votey firm of Boston was chosen to build and install an impressive pipe organ of 51 stops and over 3,000 pipes. It cost $15,000, a handsome sum indeed when it was completed in 1904. An interesting fact about this beautiful electro-pneumatic organ is that it includes the first known use of a reed saxophone stop in a pipe organ. The Irish Catholics of Schenectady had much to be proud of.  A lavish photo album published at the time of the church's dedication may be viewed HERE, courtesy of old friend and fellow altar boy, Michael J. Leding, now of Tampa, FL.
The church had always had an Irish pastor and Monsignor Finn was no exception. He became the pastor in 1945 upon the death of his immediate predecessor, the Right Reverend Monsignor John L. Reilly, who had served the parish since its founding in 1904.

Now that I can see him from the perspective of an adult, I realize that Monsignor Finn was a small man. But when I was a small, newly qualified altar boy he was a giant and intimidating to a nine-year-old. He always seemed grumpy and in a hurry. He was a man of few words.

As a new altar boy, in the winter of 1949, I was assigned to serve the earliest mass – at 6:30 A.M. That was the one that Monsignor John J. Finn said every day (back then, a priest “said the mass;” nowadays, he “celebrates the mass.”). At two minutes before the scheduled start of the service the Monsignor would come flailing into the vestry of the church, sweeping off his red-lined woolen cape as the snowflakes drifted around him. One of us (there were always two altar boys at each morning mass) would catch it as he flung it aside. He would simultaneously kick off his rubber galoshes and begin putting on his vestments, which we altar servers had carefully laid out in a certain order – the alb, amice, cincture, chasuble, and all the rest. With a single motion he would don the vestments, pick up his chalice and paten, and head through the door that led to the altar, with or without us. He was about his business, and just as he emerged on the altar steps we would hear the distant tolling of the Westminster chimes in one of the corner steeples. The Monsignor was always on time.

Looking up at the Central Dome

We altar boys had been trained by Sister James Edward of the Sisters of the Holy Names of Jesus and Mary, an order of nuns founded in Canada in the mid-nineteenth century and dedicated to teaching. We must have tried her patience as she undertook teaching us the Latin responses to portions of the Mass. “The priest says, “Introibo ad altare Dei,” and what is the response?” she would ask. Altogether, we would say, “Ad Deum qui laetificat, juventutem meam.” “And what does that mean?” she would ask. And , again in unison, “I will go unto the altar of God. To God, the joy of my youth.” After what seemed like an eternity, but was in reality only a few weeks of daily training, we had committed the Latin to memory. We were ready to go up on the altar to learn more of the sacred ritual that we were to be part of. We were all aware that the altar was a very special place and that we were among the select few that would be allowed to participate in the Great Sacrifice of the Mass.

This was the pre-Vatican II church. The priest faced away from the congregation while “saying” mass. The altar boys knelt or stood at the foot of the altar most of the time during the mass. And there were carefully choreographed movements that the altar boys had to perform at specific times. They started out with a specific routine for lighting the candles (start on the right side with the candle closest to the tabernacle…) and ended with the proper procession off the altar at the end of the mass. Sister James ran us through our paces repeatedly until we could have served mass blindfolded. Only then were we ready to be officially welcomed to the honored fraternity.

Being an altar boy was considered a privilege reserved for an elite few. Girls could certainly never be allowed to directly participate in the mass. I recall being told that the only time women were allowed on the altar was for cleaning and changing the altar linens, and of course for Sister James to do her training. There were ranks and privileges among the qualified altar boys. In addition to getting the best assignments (the altar servers’ list was posted on the wall in the vestry behind the main altar) the more senior boys got to serve High Mass or even Solemn High Mass on special occasions. Some had titles for their special qualifications. Jimmy Early was the “Master of Ceremonies” at Solemn High Masses for example. And best of all, the most senior boys got to serve funeral masses, where the bereaved survivor often slipped each server a five dollar bill at the end of the mass.

Our parents were very proud when we got to serve our first mass. I recall bringing my cassock and surplice home for my grandmother, who lived with us, to wash and press. I recall that the parish provided the cassocks but my parents had to buy the surplice. We maintained them very carefully. Each altar boy was assigned a tall wooden locker behind the altar in which to store his vestments. When we came in the vestry doors of the church it felt like any other locker room, full of boys and the bustle of changing clothes and sprucing up. We shared the vestry with the members of the boys’ and men’s’ choirs as well so it was often a crowded place before the high mass on Sundays.

To the best of my recollection, only parochial school students ever got to be altar boys. There was a constant undertone of competition between the parochial school system and the public school system, including the high school adjacent to St. John’s. Extremists on the playground would sometimes take the position that if you went to public school, there was no way you could ever go to heaven. It’s no wonder we still use the term parochial to mean “narrow-minded: concerned only with narrow local concerns without any regard for more general or wider issues.”

My brother Bill was 4 years older than me. My sister Ann was 1 year older. They both had preceded me in attending St. John’s school. At the time we went to the school, it was housed in two Victorian homes that stood on the church property. One was almost directly behind the church and had originally faced Eastern Avenue, which formed the rear boundary of the church’s property. This building had once been the residence of the church’s first organist, Bert Curley. I know this because I sang in the boys’ choir and we used some of the original hymnals that had been specially printed for the church in its early years. They had Choirmaster Bert Curley’s name printed inside the front cover. My grandmother told me he had lived in the old residence on Eastern Avenue.

Monsignor Finn died in 1974, 20 years after I had been so terrified at his presence.  He had been replaced a few years earlier by an Administrator whom the Bishop had sent to assist him.  That priest, Father Arnold J. English, succeeded the Monsignor as pastor of St. John's parish.  The Monsignor's obituary really doesn't reflect the enormous impact he had on the Catholic community in Schenectady.

The following appeared on 15 January 1974 in the Schenectady Gazette: At rest on January 11, 1974, Rt. Rev. Msgr. John J. Finn of 1144 Wendell Ave; brother of Miss Ella T. Finn of Schenectady, the late Daniel J. Finn and the late Miss Anna A. Finn; uncle of Mrs. John T. (Mary) Breen of Glens Falls; granduncle of Mrs. Herbert (Mary Ellen) Oliver of Glens Falls, Mrs. Joseph Bak of Troy and J. Timothy Breen of Albany. The Jones Funeral Home (Kivlin-Campbell), 1503 Union St., Schenectady, will be open Sunday after 1 p.m. The body will be taken to St. John the Evangelist Church at 7 p.m. Monday for a Parish Mass at 7:30 p.m. followed by viewing hours until 10 p.m. There will be viewing hours Tuesday morning before a con-celebrated pontifical mass of Christian Burial offered by Most Rev. Edward J. Maginn as principal celebrant. Joining him as con-celebrants will be Rev. M. Kenneth Doyle, also acting as homilist, Msgr. John Fitzgerald, Rev. Thomas Tooher, Rev. Lawrence Ryan, Rev. Edward McManus, Rev. Raymond Swords, S.J., Rev. Joseph Hennessey and Rev. Edward Hickey. In lieu of flowers friends who so desire may make contributions in his memory to the Schenectady Catholic Family Services, 1014 Union St., Schenectady, N.Y. Interment, St. Mary's Cemetery, South Glens Falls, New York.