IT was a few minutes before 6 A.M. one early summer morning in Summit. In the long bedroom over the kitchen, Dennis was just awakening at “the farm.” He slipped out of bed quietly and dressed, hoping not to wake his older brother David. Then, he crept down the kitchen stairs of the old Crapser place and slipped out the kitchen door.

A boy of 10, Dennis made his way down a hill and crossed the small stream that led to the swimming hole on Wharton Hollow Road. Then, out in a sunny field where the dew glistened on sunlit hayfield grasses, he stopped cold in his tracks. Ahead of him in the mist was the figure of an old woman, picking flowers by the road.

Dennis hadn’t expected to see anyone on his walk, and if she saw him, it would ruin the secrecy of his expedition. He strained to see who it was. The silver-haired woman appeared weathered and frail. In an instant he blinked, and she disappeared. He quickened his pace and reached the road, but there was no woman to be found. Jenny had disappeared in the misty morning air. ⁽¹⁾

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Jennie Rowe was a simple woman. Rarely had she left the county in which she lived, and only when she had to did she leave her beloved Wharton Hollow. Her story is a simple story of life in the Schoharie hills in a rapidly changing world; a life not documented, yet doubtless lived by countless others. What I know of Jennie is what I have read in her diaries – few days went by without an entry – and what I have garnered from several interviews of those who knew her. You see, Jennie died just before I met my husband, Denny.

The Coney family came to know and understand Jennie Rowe gradually. They were not aware of her existence until after they purchased the old Miles Crapser farm on Wharton Hollow Road in 1959. Little by little, they became acquainted with the surrounding area and Jennie. Jennie’s life was as different from their life in New Jersey as they could have imagined, but they still became friends.

Jennie was born in Enid in 1889. Enid was a section of Enid Road that stretched between Summit and Jefferson. The exact location of Enid is unclear, but it was probably on the end of that road closer to East Jefferson. Until her death, Jennie would rarely leave the county, except for a trip to Boston quite late in her life. This was taken with a senior citizens’ group and was her dream trip. Jennie’s life was plain, her expectations were basic, and pleasurable moments were simple ones that people today take for granted. But for someone who lived so simply, Jennie was a surprising woman in many ways.

Jennie’s family consisted of her mother and father, Amanda and Augustus Rowe, married June 29th, 1865; her brother Arthur, and sisters Mildred, Lillian and Lizzie. A brother, Winthrop, died when he was a baby.

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Family of Amanda and Augustus Rowe ⁽²⁾
Amanda Rowe, b. 4 Feb. 1843, d. 12 May 1930.
Augustus Rowe, b. 5 July ??, d. 17 May 1917. Married 29 June 1865.

 1. Arthur, b. ??, d. 24 Aug. 1941, m. 11 Jan. 1893 Carrie Himaron, b. 17 Feb. ??, d. 10 Jan. 1940; son Adrian b. 25 Jan.??, d. late 1960s.

2. Jennie, b. 9 Jan. 1889, d. 1 Jan. 1975.

3. Mildred, b. March 9 ??, d. died 6 weeks after her youngest child was born.

4. Lillian, b. 2 July 1872, d. 25 June 1908.

5. Lizzie, b. 20April ??, d. 18 Jan. 1960.

6. Winthrop, d. infancy.

Jennie’s father had scarlet fever when he was young, and this left him with prematurely gray hair. He also had a flowing beard which he was always combing. Sister Mildred died 6 weeks after her youngest child was born. Lillian became a teacher after taking an exam upon graduating from the sixth grade, and never married. Lizzie was Eldeen Weaver’s mother, Eldeen kindly granted me several interviews about Jennie when I was working on this article several years back.

Arthur and his wife Carrie had one child, a son, Adrian. Carrie’s mother was the former Matilda Warren. Her father was Orrin Himaron and she was from Harpersfield. Arthur and Carrie purchased a farm on April 1, 1905 from the Boynton family. This farm was located on the bend on Cross Road, now called Gray’s Cross Road. This farm was apparently 51½ acres, and the house set back off the road. Jennie, along with her mother and father, lived there awhile with Arthur’s family. It was Arthur and his family that lived closest to Jennie, and for that reason she spent more time with them. My husband and I located the foundation and well of Arthur’s farm in October of 1994 with the help of Shirley and Eddie Potter who now live nearby. At that time there was no sign of the house although the foundation was still relatively intact.

After awhile it is believed that Arthur and Carrie purchased the little house on Wharton Hollow Road for Jennie and his parents. The house had been built by Silas Springstead for his mother who had lived there for a while. When Jennie’s father died, Jennie and her mother continued to live in the little house together. Jennie would live there until she died. Her house is still standing, located south and east of Lang’s Cross Road on Wharton Hollow Road.

I do not know a lot about Jennie’s life early on. Friends recalled that as a young woman she worked in a mill doing hand sewing for a while, and also worked in Middleburgh as a secretary of sorts, but eventually her health forced her to quit working. Jennie had perhaps a sixth grade education, but taught herself to do many things from books and otherwise. As many who knew her put it, she was capable of doing many different things. Jennie never married. As her niece recounted, “She used to go with a couple of fellas, but we used to tease her – they were kind of odd you know!” Others say that Jennie’s early love left her for another. This broke her heart and she vowed never to marry. I suppose we will never know the truth.

After moving to the house on Wharton Hollow, Jennie and her parents would visit Arthur, his wife Carrie, and their son Adrian often. When Jennie and her folks visited the farm, all work would stop, as visits were cherished in those days. Also, Arthur would drive down with his horse hitched to a buckboard several times a week to deliver fresh vegetables and other staples off the farm to Jennie and her parents when they were living. He also delivered wood and groceries when it was necessary. Jennie was especially fond of Arthur’s son Adrian. Later in his life when Adrian became ill with cancer, he lived with a neighboring family to be close to her.

I never had the good fortune of meeting Jennie, as she had died before I met Denny. I can tell you, though, what others have told me. Jennie’s living arrangements were very simple during the time that my husband and his family knew her. Though the house was two stories with several rooms, she lived basically in one room. In this room was her bed, a chair, and her wood-fired cook stove for both cooking and heat. A small pantry adjoined this room, where she kept food and a few supplies. The wood shed joined the house at this end and here she stored her wood and also had a refrigerator. She had no running water in the house. Her toilet was a chamber pot and water for drinking and cooking was pumped from the well in front of the house. When the pump was in disrepair, water had to be hauled up by the bucketful.

Often when she would have visitors, Jennie would disappear through a door behind the stove. From another room in the house she would retrieve something that would be of interest to them, or show one of her “treasures” – some article judged too fine for everyday use. Rarely was anyone invited to go upstairs or to go beyond that door. Jennie’s treasures stayed wrapped in tissue paper until such time as she desired to display one, show it off, or enjoy it herself.

Saturday, June 11, 1966 – Cold & breezy. I sent a sympathy card to Mary D’Orzio. John D’Orzio's funeral was today. Pauline Leland & sister, Edith Fancher came toward night & Pauline bought more bottles & cans. Harold & Frances Haslun came & split wood & had coffee & cookies.

Occasionally she would sell a piece of furniture or an old bottle for cash to a friend or acquaintance.

Jennie also sewed beautifully by hand and earned ready cash by making dresses for some of the area’s ladies. My mother-in-law has given me a muslin bed jacket that Jennie made by hand, all hand stitched. Mattie Coons in particular would order dresses of satin or dresses that were to be beaded or embroidered, and Jennie would make them up. Imagine sewing so many beads on by hand! At other times she would crochet baby booties and sell them by the dozen. When her hands began to cramp and arthritis set in, this way of earning cash was no doubt less attractive to her.

Jennie’s diary was her constant companion. When my husband’s family went to the farm, they were supposed to beep the horn when they came in or left so that she could keep tabs on when they arrived or left. Many times she was lonely. "September 16, 1966 – The Coneys went home in the A.M.. They stopped & gave me some milk and took the yarn winder I gave them. No other callers & a little lonesome.”   When people did stop to see her, she loved to visit. "September 5, 1966 – Labor Day. Partly cloudy and cooler. Charlotte Coney ⁽³⁾ came a little while in the P.M. & Roger and Dennis came after her. She came again at night & we looked at dishes & things I used to have & how we visited!”   Her day-to-day existence was mainly what Jennie recorded, as well as the weather and how she felt physically. Rarely did she ever comment on her emotions directly.

Jennie’s handwriting was very important to her, as well as spelling. She would practice writing her name over and over, and if she addressed an envelope that was not up to snuff, in the trash it would go! When she wrote letters she would always have a dictionary at her side.

It was a hardship for Jennie to pump water and chop wood later in her life. Neighbors and friends would stop by nearly every day to help with these chores. Nellie Gordon Crosby, Frances Haslun and Mary and Charles Johnson are named as frequent visitors. As well, Harold Putnam worked doing odd jobs for her for many years. In his youth my husband would chop, chop, and chop more wood for Jennie, trying to fill her woodshed. To all she was grateful for the help and also for the company and news she received. Many times visitors would run errands like depositing her Social Security check, or pick up a prescription for her in Cobleskill.

Sunday, July 10, 1966 – Thunder shower in the morning. Thundered & Sprinkled later – then became sunny & fair. In P.M. toward night, Pauline Leland & Edith Fancher came & took me riding. We went up the cross road, down Crowe Hill & over to Jefferson & around by Summit & I got my check cashed at Fitzgerald’s & got some groceries. Harold Putnam came at night & pumped a pail of water for me. I saw Martha Arbuckle at the store.

If it was not for the kindness of these people, Jennie would have had a much harsher existence. Often they would bring gifts of food, as it was difficult without transportation for her to keep groceries in supply. My mother-in-law liked to bake and often took her baked goods.

October 15, 1966 – Wind, but pleasant. Coney’s came from New Jersey & brought me a beautiful electric blanket, 4 kinds of apples & cookies. I sent with her to Cob. for groceries. She came at night to visit & Roger & Dennis came and split wood. Edna Brewer from Cob. & sister Iva & daughter from Syracuse came here calling (they were born here) & took my picture and the house. Pauline Leland & Edith Fancher came & I went to Jefferson with them. I got sweet potatoes, sausage & cookies at Hewlet’s. Charlotte also brought me chicken breasts. Quite a day!

As she got older, spending the winter at the little house in the hollow became very difficult. The winters were harsh, and the house was poorly insulated and cold. Keeping firewood in supply and running short of food must have been a constant concern in the worst weather when those who were checking on her might have difficulty reaching her. Later in her life, winters were spent “in town” living in with a family that needed her help with light housework such as cooking and cleaning.

Jennie was a wonderful cook and baker. Some dishes that she made that are unfamiliar to me are sour cream pie and boiled cider pie. Both of these country dishes were made over and over again, as she recorded in her diaries. Jennie probably stayed with more people than I am aware of. I do know that she stayed with her niece Eldeen Weaver in Hyndsville, Mary Johnson (the late Mary Hillebrand) in Warnerville, and Nellie Gordon Crosby in Cobleskill. Jennie stayed with Mary and Charles Johnson during the winters of 1963, 1964, and 1965.

Mary’s mother, Ora Phelen, was in failing health and was living with the Johnsons. As Mary taught school during the day, she felt it would be best for her mother to have a companion for company, to help with chores, and to be there in case of illness. Jennie had come to town, probably in October, to see if she could secure a position for the winter, when someone brought her to Mary’s house. An agreement was made, and Jennie had found her new position.

As Mary recalled, Jennie was loved by everyone and provided great company. While she could be at times cranky, these spells did not last long and there was usually a hint of humor. One time Jennie commented to Mary: “I am so lucky to have so many good friends, and I’m just an old woman!”   Another time Jennie asked Mary if there were anything of hers that Mary might like when Jennie got old (she was 81 at the time!). Mary, having been a teacher in an old country schoolhouse, said that the one thing she would cherish would be the old school bell that Jennie kept on the stairs of her home. Mary thought the bell was most likely from the Enid schoolhouse where Jennie went to school. Jennie agreed that Mary should have the bell. When Jennie died, Eldeen and her family went to clear her belongings from her home. When they got there, Jennie’s house had been broken into and the school bell, along with some other antique items, had been stolen. They were never recovered. According to Mary, Jennie was a delightful woman to have come and stay in your home.

Jennie was friends with Mary’s mother, Ora, until Ora’s death and her friendship continued with the Johnsons until she died in 1975.

Always when spring was near, Jennie longed to go home to the hollow. According to Mary, once she heard that the ice was off Summit Lake, she was as good as gone!

Monday, April 18, 1966 – Home again! Mostly cloudy and warm – 56 degrees here. I dished up Chester’s  breakfast but didn’t wash the dishes. I packed up & Harold Putnam brought me & my load home. He fished a stick out of the well, put up my mailbox and went & got eggs & qt. milk for me. I paid him $5.00. Yvonne called back last night & I saw her a moment this morning. She thanked me for all the “good food” & said she would miss me. Stove pipe burned a little & I put it out with baking powder. Couldn’t get any picture on my T.V.

After Ora’s death, Jennie spent the last winters of her life at Nellie Gordon’s. Her chores consisted of cooking, light cleaning and some mending. There was usually a lot of activity there and Jennie seemed to like to visit with the many visitors who came to the house.

Sunday, January 28th, 1968 – Cloudy, rained and froze in the morning. Roads slippery at night. Sixteen people here for dinner. We had ham & potatoes with it, sweet rolls, peas, corn, pickles, olives (ham garnished with spiced apple rings, pineapple rings and maraschino cherries) variety of Jell-o salads & dressings, huckleberry pie ala-mode. Nellie & Chester went to church & went to funeral parlor at night to see Elmer Young. Harold Warmuth showed beautiful slides of Canada.

One winter at Nellie’s, Jennie fell and broke her hip. She was bedridden for some time and Nellie cared for her until she was on her feet again. Jennie and Nellie were great friends, and they enjoyed each other’s company. Once Jennie had recovered, Mary and Charles Johnson, Nellie and Chester (Nellie’s brother), and Roger and Charlotte Coney all took her out to dinner to celebrate and to get her out of the house. I am not sure if Jennie went back to the hollow to stay after breaking her hip.

In May of 1968, Jennie became ill and my mother and father-in-law took her to Dr. Roy Dougall, Jennie’s longtime physician. He decided she should be looked at by a surgeon, and the next morning Roger, Charlotte and Denny took her to the hospital in Cobleskill. She had a femural hernia and was operated on two days later. When it came time for her to leave, she could not go home to the hollow. Instead, Mary Johnson set up a bed in the downstairs part of her house where Jennie stayed. She would not eat much, and Mary, believing her to be undernourished, convinced her to drink Nutriment. This worked wonders and after a while, Jennie was strong enough to return to the hollow.

After this, Mary Johnson looked in on Jennie often. One night while visiting, Jennie said to Mary that she might die in the house and nobody would know it. To remedy this, she had already prepared a sign that read “HELP!” and then had Mary’s phone number on the bottom. Mary agreed that this was a good idea. Some time later, Mary got a phone call from a man who said that he had driven through Wharton Hollow that morning and had seen Jennie’s sign. Mary thanked him and called Dr. Dougall who couldn’t leave his office at the time. Her heart pounding, she drove to Jennie’s and found that she had not felt right in the night, but was feeling a little better now, thank you! Mary stayed with her for the morning and then returned home.

Mary felt that at times Jennie fretted about her safety, although she had never mentioned this. When she arrived at Jennie’s in response to the “HELP!” sign’s call, she saw a section of pipe in Jennie’s unmade bed, that she apparently slept with. A couple of years later Mary was visiting her at Nellie’s. They were the only two at home and heard a racket in the basement. Mary got up and decided to lock the cellar door. She turned around to see Jennie with that same section of pipe in her hand so she said to her, “You’d better not hit me with that pipe, Jennie!” Later Mary told me, “Somehow I believe that she could do some damage with that pipe if she had ever had to!” Jennie celebrated her 90th birthday at Nellie’s. There was a party in her honor and the Johnsons attended along with others.

Most of Jennie’s days were spent quietly in the hollow. She was a keen observer of nature, and taught herself to paint just by looking at pictures and by observation. She inspired Mary Johnson and others to take up painting as well. Jennie many times painted birds or deer. She painted on canvas, bracket fungus and sometimes clamshells. Her paintings were usually nature oriented, and were very realistic. Sometimes she may have copied a picture that she was fond of. According to those who were lucky enough to see Jennie's paintings, she really had the eye of an artist. Her talent even shines through in a couple of rough character sketches I found in one diary. And she did not have expensive materials to work with. Dorothy Garreau, Mary Johnson’s daughter, remembers that Jennie mixed most of her own colors. She thinks it is quite likely that some of Jennie’s paints were colored with natural botanical dyes that she made herself. My husband remembers one time when Jennie was making a color from wild seed she collected in a field. Dorothy remembers Jennie’s paint box as an antique-looking metal biscuit or cookie tin with a handle. And she remembers Jennie’s brushes as having bristles “like an old scrub brush.” But she could still make those brushes sing!

Tuesday, October 18,1966 – Dennis Coney’s birthday. 30’s & 40’s. Mostly cloudy & rained at night. I washed sheets & skirt & hung them up. Received political letter, Medicare ad. & Billy Graham letter. I saw a beautiful sight – three wild geese in the field across the road, where the old orchard was. I opened the woodhouse door & tried to mimic their call & they came a little closer & didn't act afraid. A car went up the road & stopped to watch. Then suddenly they began their migratory dialect & took off. Later a flock of 5 went south, not flying very high.

If you went out into a field and picked a bouquet of wildflowers, Jennie could tell you all their names. Not only did she know the common name, but she had taught herself the Latin names from a book. Jennie had a good knowledge of plant or folk remedies, of which there is no written legacy that I know of. I found in the back of her diary from 1966 – “A slice of onion is said to be the best remedy for a bee sting. Bind it on and leave it to draw out inflammation or poison.”

Jennie loved to pick the wild strawberries that grew in the adjoining fields, and her mother was famous for wild strawberry pie. Jennie possessed a very sharp mind. She had a knack for remembering sayings and phrases. She also had a wealth of weather signs in her head. One winter at Nellie’s, a friend brought her a notebook and she recorded many of the sayings that she knew. Excerpts or a copy of this book would certainly be treasured by anyone who knew her.

My mother-in-law actually met Jennie shortly after they bought the Crapser place. She was out for a walk, and Jennie was picking something by the roadside. They liked each other in an instant and from this point on, the family adopted Jennie as there own whenever they were at the farm. When they left the farm they often stopped to drop off meat, vegetables or some milk for her, rather than take it home to New Jersey. Charlotte visited Jennie often to talk about flowers, dishes, the old days, or to look at Jennie’s treasures. One time Roger went to Japan on business and brought home a pair of chopsticks for Jennie. She couldn’t use them but she treasured them anyway! Many times the boys would pick wild berries on the farm, and the resulting jam or jelly would find itself on Jennie’s table.

Denny was especially fond of Jennie and she of him. They wrote back and forth several times a year even after my in-laws had sold the Crapser farm. He chopped much wood and pumped much water, like all her other visitors. On several occasions he took her his daily catch from the local streams, as she was fond of fish.

The cultural differences between Jennie and Denny made an impression on him, as he was quite young. His home at the time was suburban New Jersey, and here was a lady with no running water in her home, and living so sparsely. However, he and his brother had fully adapted to life at the farm, and Jennie was part of that life. Especially when he was young, he would visit Jennie and was treated to stories about the ghosts, spirits and haunted places throughout the hollow and surrounding countryside. To this day those stories are with him as we travel the hollow and back roads together.

Jennie died on January 1, 1975, just eight days short of her 91st birthday. She died of an abdominal carcinoma. Jennie was buried in the Old School Baptist Church cemetery, sometimes called the East Jefferson Evergreen cemetery. This cemetery is on the corner of Enid Road and Peraglia Road. There is a family plot under the name of Arthur Rowe. The grave is unmarked except for two small markers – “Mother” and “Father.” I was also told that Jennie’s parents were buried here, and I would suspect that Adrian and perhaps Jennie’s sisters are buried here as well.

Jennie certainly had an impact on all those who knew her, and as I can attest, even some who never had the pleasure. We will always remember her fondly as the Lady of Wharton Hollow.

Here are sayings that I found in Jennie’s diaries:  

“Boys flying kites can haul in their white winged birds, But ’tis not so when you’re flying words”

* * *

“When the fire in the grate sputters and goes putt putt putt, it signifies rain; little roaring puffs mean wind, & when the fire sounds like sleigh runners squeaking over frosty snow then, snow can be expected.”

* * *

“Another sign of rain is the leaves blowing upward in the trees.”

* * *

 “A white spider spinning down before your face is good news”

* * *

 “A black cat crossing your path is bad luck; a skunk could also mean bad luck – depending!”  

Jennie also copied this widely distributed verse into a diary:  

The Value of a Smile

It costs nothing but creates much.
It enriches those who receive, without impoverishing those who give.
It happens in a flash, and the memory of it sometimes lasts forever.

None are so rich they can get along without it, and none are so poor but are richer for it’s benefits.

It creates happiness in the home, fosters good will in business, and is the countersign of friends.
It is rest to the weary, daylight to the discouraged, sunshine to the sad, and Nature's best antidote for trouble.
Yet it cannot be bought, begged, borrowed, or stolen, for it is something that is no earthly good to anybody until it is given away!

Wear a smile and have friends, wear a scowl and have wrinkles.

Sources

Diaries of Jennie Rowe, 1966, 1968 and 1972.

Interviews, over several years, with Dennis A. Coney, Mr. & Mrs. Roger Coney, Edward Foote, Dorothy Garreau, the late Mary Johnson Hillebrand, Shirley and Eddie Potter, and the late Eldeen Weaver.

1. The recollection is drawn from the childhood memories of one of the first times the author’s husband, Dennis, saw Jennie.

2. The author pieced together the birth dates from diary entries.

3. Author’s mother-in-law.