Grace Church

[fiona]

Dave; The address given of the family home for the Crouses was 315 Genesee Street. That's on the Hill. I will check it or you can map it if you wish. I find this confluence of events and information simply fascinating! That's what happens when you are a writer and open your self up as a channel, as you well know. The characters, real or imagined, start feeding you all kinds of information. Good sleuthing, Dave!

[dgriffin]

I've deleted my last post about (the new) Annie Sullivan and moved it to the Annie Sullivan thread.
I'll put the Mary B. Wood bio up on the web page tonight:

www.windsweptpress.com/ogh1.htm

[jon hynes]

Oct 15, 2009 21:11:23 GMT -5 fiona said:

Dave; The address given of the family home for the Crouses was 315 Genesee Street. That's on the Hill.

315 Genesee Street corner of Eagle

[Deleted]

My great-great grandparents and the rest of the family since them were members of Grace Church. I remember all the photo's and tin plate photo's ( not sure if I said that right--the photo's were engraved in tin). Having been reputable business men in the early Utica history was interesting listening to my great grandfather telling me about all that when I was a boy.

When my Dad married my Mom in 1940 the Protestant family was now introduced to the Roman Catholic Italian new family. The Protestant family never really liked those of us who were Catholic.Not only that but my Fathers side was all Republicans and Mom's side was Democrat. It was a shame but the Protestant side never really liked the Catholic side. I think we just existed, lol.

Grace Church building is vey beautiful. I always liked the interior. Went to Mass there several times and it was more like a conservative Roman Catholic Mass. I guess it would be because Henry the 8th maintained the Roman ritual as well as the Roman Canon Law. So the Catholic Church did win in one respect, lol

alanquigly is only a pen name. There was a maid in the early family named quigly. Some interesting history about that too, lol

[dave]

AQ, your post reminds me of an essay I wrote a couple of years ago invovling the Rev. and Mrs. Gasek, he being the minister (can't remember the title) at Grace and the last customer on my paper route.

The story is about newsboys and protestants (!) and is here:

www.windsweptpress.com/goodnews.pdf

But to save you the clicks, I'll excerpt the pertinent part here.


From Good News

I remember one particular incident from my childhood that should serve to illustrate the subtle prejudice. I call it, “Religion Matters, Even In A Snow Storm.”

As I trudged up Sunset Avenue carrying a canvas bag with “The Observer Dispatch” emblazoned on the side, I never realized I was marching along in the tradition of those orphan boys 100 years before who eked out a living selling newspapers. I was not an orphan, but the Rev. Mrs. Gasek ... her husband the pastor of Utica’s Grace Episcopal Church ... may have thought so when I came to her door during a blizzard on that wintry evening in 1955, to collect the bill for the week’s newspapers. The storm would turn out to be one of the city’s worst of the decade. Over 5 feet of snow fell in less than 24 hours. Adults would worry and fret, but to me a heavy snow was simply an event that required I lift my feet a little higher to get where I was going through the drifts. At eleven years of age, a big snow was just plain fun, especially when it closed the schools. I thought of myself as a boy of the north, a strapping Son of Utica, born in a blizzard so I was told. But to be honest, this storm was indeed beginning to worry me as I aimed toward home. There were no cars left on the roads, and it looked like folks had given up the frozen battle to huddle around their stoves and radiators. I was totally alone, out in the dark in a blizzard.

The Gaseks were the last customer on my route, and they lived in a comfortable house on the corner of Sunset Ave. and Newell Street, just three blocks from my home. As the wind rattled their window panes and snow piled up on the front porch, climbing its way to the window bottoms, the pastor’s wife answered the ringing door bell and opened her front door to behold young Dave, swaddled in six layers of clothing (none matching) and probably missing one glove, as was often the case in those days. "Forty cents, please," squeaked out from my midget apparition while the snow swirled past me and blasted against the poor woman, poised before me and resembling a windblown Donna Reed.

The Reverend was just arriving home, having had a harrowing drive up Genesee Street from his church. I would not accept the woman’s offer to step inside. After all, they were as Protestant as one (or two) could get, he being the minister of a downtown church, she being the hostess of no doubt over a thousand covered dish suppers. She insisted her husband take me home in his car. He looked a bit rattled but indicated he was game to head back out on the road. I declined that offer also, not wanting to be dropped off in front of my home by a non-Catholic clergyman, even in the middle of a howling storm of biblical proportions. Besides, how would I explain it to my parents? I tried to withdraw from the porch, stepping backward into the eye of the storm. Mrs. Gasek refused to let go of my arm, her feet firmly planted on the threshold as she stood shivering in the doorway. Today I chuckle as the vision of a couple standing in the gaping maw of a Stargate comes to mind, she pleading with him not to go. I could see the snow building up on her black woolen dress.
“You can’t leave,” she shouted into the wind, though barely inches from my face. “You’ll be lost in the storm! We’ll find you in a snow bank tomorrow! Frozen!”

The Reverend Mr. Gasek, perhaps hearing a whisper from the Holy Spirit, was suddenly inspired to ask for my phone number. He called my mother and asked her permission. She was embarrassed, but assented, and I rode home in a wonderfully warm and commodious black Buick. I was so comfortable when we arrived in front of my house, it’s a wonder I wasn’t ready to forsake the faith of my fathers and turn Protestant immediately.

The only mention of the episode that evening was from my Dad. "That was very nice of the Gaseks,” he said. “But the next time it snows so hard, come right home." Yeah, sure, OK Dad.

I suppose it's unnecessary to say the Gaseks were terrifically nice people. But all the same, I remained Catholic a few more years.

The Good News is that my generation of Catholics continued to meet and mix with more people like the Reverend and his family as we transitioned from Catholic schools to public colleges and acquired knowledge of the liberal arts and the wider world. Many of us married so-called non-Catholics and all of us probably count among our friends people from a variety of religions. And today, finally, from different races.

While I may be lighthearted in my memories, I’m not one for belittling my ancestors and their beliefs or traditions, having not lived in their time or faced their unique problems. But I have seen the hopelessness of men and women as everything around them undergoes change … except themselves. If there would be a universal prayer among religions, it should be, “Lord, change me.”

David Griffin copyright 2009

[Clipper]

I attended a couple of weddings at Grace Church over the years, and also have been there for an ecumenical service there once, hosted by Grace Church and participated in by several local churches.

In the 80's I attended a Christmas cantata there that was absolutely beautiful. The architectural features as well as the acoustics make that church a wonderful place for such an event and the organ in that church is nothing short of maginificent.

I noted that the "high Episcopal" service was very similar to a Catholic mass.

I was brought up in a family similarly divided Alan. My paternal grandparents were French Canadian Catholics and my maternal grandparents were Episcopal, who later became Presbyterians. They never really mingled or accepted each other socially.

I am sure we would like to hear the story about the maid named Quigley. Being vaguely familiar with your education level and your range of experiences, I am sure that like myself, your life has been a journey of success as well as failure, and happiness as well as sorrow. With your wit and sense of humor I am sure you could furnish us with some humorous anecdotes. If you feel comfortable, please entertain us with some of your stories. I always look forward to reading you latest posts, and always am left to wonder where you find some of the stuff.

[Deleted]

The good old days.

[Clipper]

Dave, I just noticed you reference to the Gaseks. My mom served as the Executive Director of a NFP called the Overseas Friendship Center for several years. Their mission was to collect clothing, pack it in boxes, and ship it to India and other places to people in need. Reverend Gasek was on the board of directors for that organization, as was Reverend Upthegrove, and Father Willenburg ( later to become Monsignor Willenburg.) The Gaseks were very nice. We were with them on the night of the great Northeast Blackout of 1965. We were all at a dinner at the Diplomat Restaurant in N Utica. I was tasked to drive an old lady home to South Utica that night. I was very eery driving through the city with it all in complete darkness.

[dave]

That would make a great thread. Where were you during the great northeast blackout in '65?
That hasn't been visited in years and only us old folks now remember it, I guess.

[dave]

From the Baltimore Sun:

Rev. Stanley P. Gasek, 85, rector
August 09, 2002|By Frederick N. Rasmussen | Frederick N. Rasmussen,SUN STAFF

"The Rev. Stanley Paul Gasek Sr., a retired pastoral associate at the Episcopal Church of the Redeemer and former rector of Grace Episcopal Church in Utica, N.Y., died of a heart attack Tuesday at Blakehurst Life Care Community in Towson. He was 85."

"Born and raised in Utica, he was the son of Polish Catholic parents who emigrated through Ellis Island and settled in upstate New York."

Interesting that his parents were Catholic.

[dicklaurey]

Dave- Just noticed the Grace Church thread. The building on the corner of Court & Varick St's. was used as a day nursery in the early 40's. It is located right across Varick St. from my Dad's former barber shop.
During WW2, my Mom worked at a defense plant in Ilion, so, I was taken to the nursery during the week days.
I would stand at the fence of the play yard, looking thru it, and hollering across the street for my Dad to come and get me, so I could be with him in his shop.
More often than not, he would come and get me, as his customers would hear me hollering, and say, "Doc, go over and get your kid!"

[dave]

That's a great memory, Dick. There's so much history in old buildings. Too bad many of them are just torn down today.