The Dangerous 4th

Growing up in New York State, I always admired the kids with the fire crackers, bottle rockets and cherry bombs while I had to watch the display with my sparkler. Usually in the summer someone would put on a good display of fireworks even though they had been illegal in New York for many years. I remember the warning of fire crackers with short fuses and the power of a cherry bomb. But our ancestors too had their own history of unsafe practices while celebrating the birthday of our Country.

The Schoharie Republican published the following story on July 13, 1876, the Centennial Anniversary of our Country. Esperance, “This oldest village corporation in the youngest town in the County (actually Richmondville is younger), was awake betimes on the Centennial Day. A day-dawn salute from the loud-voiced brass piece of Hon. Jos. Buckbee, notified the community of the Centennials coming, and awoke along the valley the echoes of ~76! Later in the day, when a salute for each State was being fired, the piece, becoming overheated by the rapidity of the discharges, and in the enthusiasm of the hour its posing not being closely heeded so as to allow the requisite recoil, the piece burst in nearly equal parts, one-half flying over a couple houses, the other, describing a parabola of unascertained dimensions, came down upon and demolished the stoop of the Presbyterian Church, upon which a person was standing who fortunately was not hit, though the crashing of the metal through the plank weakened his knees, and drove blood from his cheeks, whence it scarcely resumed circulation that day.

This unannounced discharge closed the salute, and so the new Sister was not welcomed into the family of the Union, but the escape of all from the hurling metal, made amends for the disappointment consequent upon the inability to complete the days. programme.”

The next account is taken from an articled published in 1903 in the Amsterdam Recorder. “Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Franklin (Ruff) spent most of their time in the vicinity of Burtonville (in the Eaton’s Corners school district) where the old farm is located, and their remains are resting in the county line cemetery which originally came from their father’s farm...Benjamin Franklin (1804-1876) had four children William Alonzo and Sarah by his first wife who died soon after Sarah was born, and Lewis and Albert by his second wife. Early in his married life he (Benjamin Franklin) met with a sad and serious accident. At a Fourth of July celebration while ramming the charge home in an overheated cannon, the powder unexpectedly ignited and blew off both his hands and forearms. ..This terrible maiming of the father had an important bearing on the life of the oldest son William A., chief subject of this sketch. His child hands had early to serve, wherever they could, for a handless father. And so by his 11th year, William A. drove the team accompanied by his father or uncle to Albany with farm products.”

This story was taken from the book Recollections of a Lifetime by Philander Stevens, 1896. Philander grew up in the Gilboa area and related this event in his biography.

“There was no time for play, and but little for rest. On the Fourth of July when we had finished our stint, hoeing a certain patch of corn or potatoes, we could go to the village and see the sports. Always some sort of doings-a grove meeting, and a speech by some young lawyer, or prominent citizen, and cannon firing, gatherings at the tavern or stores, and Revolutionary stories by some old Revolutionary soldiers. The village band-consisting of a bass drum, a small drum, a fife and bugle-would enliven the day, and the young people had a dance in the evening.

On one notable Fourth of July, the one which I remember most distinctly of any, there was a procession led by Col. Pratt, as Marshal, an oration read by Mr. Croswell, firing cannon, and music by the band.

In the procession, all the men and boys of the village and surrounding country fell in line, led by the band, and marched to a grove near the school house, where Mr. Croswell read his oration. I took my position as near as possible, and seem to remember that oration better than any speech I now recall. He commenced his oration in these words.

‘Fellow citizens, friends, and neighbors; Fifty-six years ago to-day our fathers declared themselves free and independent.’ This would fix the date of that celebration July 4th, 1832. On the same day, after the oration, while the cannon was being fired as rapidly as possible, there was a premature discharge and one of the prominent men of the village, a Mr. Woolsey, who was helping load the cannon, had his arm shot off. I was standing quite close to him, and so well remember all the circumstances; the force of the explosion whirled him around like a top before he fell to the ground.

There was of course great excitement. Dr. Benham and Dr. Knapp were soon there, but they were neither of them surgeons; at least, the case was so serious that some one was sent on a fleet horse to Oak Hill, some 15 miles, for Dr. Hamlin. He came in the evening, and amputated his arm at the shoulder, but the poor man died next day, and one of the largest funerals ever held in the village was attended by people far and near. Mr. Paige preached the funeral sermon.”