Book Project Update

Patience is not only a virtue during the book publishing process, it's a survival technique. These things take time.

The current version of The Brass Bell is under final consideration through a peer review process at the university press. I have confidence they will like the book as much as everyone else who has read it, and then the contract will be finalized and the editorial and production phase will begin.

I fear it's taking so long that people think I'm making it up, that there is no publisher, and there is no book.

My father died yesterday and I'm sad he didn't live to see the book about his childhood, his school, his grandfather, and his beloved Aunt Marion. I told him before he died it wouldn't be long and the book would be a reality, and he cried. They were tears of happiness.

The writing of a book is more than putting words on paper. Whether it's fiction, non-fiction, or narrative non-fiction, a book is given birth to from the author's soul. It is inspired by something that has touched them deeply, and it is never a solitary process. It takes support from family, from friends and colleagues. Without the help I've been offered by so many, there would be no Brass Bell.

Another Book Update

What's going on with the book project? The Brass Bell made its way through a peer review process at an academic press. The feedback was very positive and there were also a couple of very good suggestions provided. One of those is to include a where-are-they-now section to follow-up on the stars of the book: those who were there back when Marion Parsons was principal of Cherry Road School, when they held together as a community and made it through The Great Depressions and World War II, those who are generous and shared their memories, their stories.


So while I polish up the book one more time I am also requesting follow-up stories from some of the people who contributed significant stories about their past: What happened to them after they left Cherry Road and Westvale? Where are they now?

Once the book is submitted again to face the next round of the process, this version of The Brass Bell will be voted on by the Acquisitions Committee.

I'll keep you posted!

The book draft is complete!

Just a quick post to say the manuscript for The Brass Bell is complete and has been sent off for publication consideration. These things take time, patience, and a bit of a hard shell. What if they say no? Well, on to the next. I don't think I'll be wallpapering my house with rejection letters, but let's face it, these are tough times for any kind of business, including publishing. Nevertheless, I'm one of those who believes that books are as much a part of the human existance as eating and bathing. Life is not complete without books to hold in our hands, without stories to take us to another place and another life so that we might share and engage with humanity. There are so many of us here on the planet it's impossible for our brains to conceive the actual numbers. We are part of a teeming pot of people all like us in one way or another. Understanding how others overcome or transform keeps us sane, takes us out of our own predicament for a while, like heavy weights lifted from a sore back. Stories about the past take us to a place that has become somehow sacred through a feeling called nostalgia.

I remember so many happy times in front of the hearth in my Aunt Marion's living room. Perhaps some of you who knew her, who had the pleasure of visiting while a fire blazed in the stone fireplace will recognize the pen and ink drawing above.

Book almost Finished!

The first draft of The Brass Bell is almost complete! I could not have told the story without the help of those who were there and have been so generous to share their stories.

Every time I read the one about the boys stringing tin cans across the bottom of the stairs on a Saturday morning in hopes of hearing the janitor as he might unwittingly ascend the stairway from the basement, discover all of them in the gym playing basketball, I smile. These "boys" are now in their 80s, but to them, it was just yesterday. When they recount scurrying out the front door and across the lawn, they evoke a Saturday morning nearly 70 years ago, the sounds of their high-tops on the gym floor, the gasps of heavy breathing from running and from terror.

The biggest thrill for Cherry Roaders was the senior class trip. Each alumni I've talked with has recounted the events of that trip as though the train had just left the station, Syracuse fading as their train heads east and then south.

You can almost hear the cows mooing up at the Jeroms farm, the clanking of the milk bottles in Van Jerome's wire basket early in the morning. It's just a dream. Most of the farms are now buried beneath roads and shopping malls. The old tunnel that was part of a complicated system of cables, pulleys, and buckets, rigged to transport limestone from Split Rock to Solvay Process, was closed down a hundred years ago. Stories about running through the tunnel in the dark are embedded in the memories of those who were there. Until the neighbors plugged it up with cement, kids used the tunnel as a short-cut. They played in the abandoned quarry, took a picnic lunch, stayed all day until the street lights came on, their signal to go home.

The book is filled with people from the past. The wonder and the tragedies of their lives come alive on the pages.

There is much to be learned from the successes of Cherry Road School, from the first day Miss Parsons stood on the front step of the old chicken coop in 1926, and then on the front steps of the brand new red brick school in 1927, until the day she retired in 1952.

I'll keep you informed about the progress of the publication of The Brass Bell!








The Split Rock/Solvay Process cable system is pictured above....

Miss Parsons

Like Captured Fireflies

In her classroom our speculations ranged the world.

She aroused us to book waving discussions.

Every morning we came to her carrying new truths, new facts, new ideas

Cupped and sheltered in our hands like captured fireflies.

When she went away a sadness came over us,

She left her signature upon us

The literature of the teacher who writes on children's minds.

I've had many teachers who taught us soon forgotten things,

But only a few like her who created in me a new thing a new attitude, a new hunger.

I suppose that to a large extent I am the unsigned manuscript of that teacher.

What deathless power lies in the hands of such a person.

John Steinbeck

Parent Involvement

The Cherry Leaf

Whether it's an old-fashioned ditto-mastered newsletter mailed to parents or a classroom blog, reaching out to families is one critical element for school success.

The leadership of Cherry Road School have always understood this. One of the first things Marion Parsons did when the new school was finished in 1927 was to establish The Mother's Club.

In 1932, a school newspaper called The Cherry Leaf began publication. Its masthead declared that it was "Published by the Pupils of Cherry Road School--School District No.1, Town of Geddes." Using it as a tool to teach children about running a business and managing funds, ads were sold to support the cost of printing and postage. Student reporters shared news and events. They wrote about fundraising luncheons, the advent of a new scoutmaster; purchase of new sports equipment, glee club, and drama club news. The Cherry Leaf had a staff of 11 student editors by its second edition in December of 1932. Lloyd Mitchell, as student Editor-in-Chief, used the metaphor of the stages of an acorn growing into a mighty oak tree as a comparison to that of "...a boy or girl through their life in school....if they don't start out right they won't end up right."

I've discovered in my extensive research into the history of Cherry Road School, through my many conversations with alumni, that students who attended from 1926 through the 1950s credit much of their success to the start they received at Cherry Road School. It was the strong element of parental involvement that motivated them in years to come. It was the parents' partnership with teachers and administration that kept them on the straight and narrow when they were in school....no room to play one side against the other. The adults were united, but according to the stories that by now have been re-told hundreds of times, they were fair. If a kid suffered a consequence, they knew they had it coming.

Many have told me that because of the strong foundation of parent involvement, this school felt like a family. And the students didn't want to let the family down, so everyone tried their hardest to do their best. Some of the most interesting stories are the pranks that were played by the kids who knew if they were caught, what the outcome would be...one alumni put it this way: "...if I had been caught, there would have been nothing left of me put a dark puddle on the sidewalk." They accepted what was right and what was wrong and had a great time trying to see what they could get away with. Each accepted their punishment when it came. They knew their parents would never defend them against the teachers. Imagine. Teaching in a supportive and supported environment.

On the Home Front, WWII

"But there is one front and one battle where everyone in the United States--every man, woman, and child--is in action, that front is right here at home in our daily lives."
Franklin Delano Roosevelt, 1942

Like school children all over the country, the lives of the students of Cherry Road School were changed after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. On the home front activities included air raid drills and collecting seed pods, piling them up in the gymnasiam. The milkweed pods were used to make parachutes.

Older brothers had gone off to war. Patriotism was a way of life, and children of Cherry Road School were part of a community effort.

I'm looking for stories from anyone who was there during this time. What can you remember about those days that you would be willing to share for the purpose of the book, The Brass Bell?

Please comment on this post or contact me directly at:

schoolhouse2@comcast.net

Time in Perspective

One thing I've learned while researching the history of a small farm community turned suburb, a one-room schoolhouse turned successful district school, is that time passes in less than a blink. People and the times in which they live are larger than life in that moment and then gone from memory just as quickly.

The women in this picture, from left to right, Grace Parsons Cole, Marion Parsons, Martha Parsons, and Julia Jerome, were young girls playing in a cherry orchard and climbing in haylofts. Before they knew what hit them, they were in charge of the future. Now they are part of the past that few who are still living remember.

The Brass Bell will tell the story and provide a marker in time to remind those of us who would take for granted our time on earth that what we do here counts, and that we've only a few minutes to get it done.

Back in Oregon, work has resumed on the book. Thanks to those who contributed to my efforts on this last research trip to Syracuse. This past weekend John and I stumbled upon an old log cabin in the hills outside Portland. On the Oregon Trail, the home is preserved by the local historical society. As I stood by the old hearth, imagining a cold winter day in 1840-something, a deeper understanding of the importance of historical preservation crept into my psyche. I will try to work as hard to finish the book on time as was the volunteer who was digging weeds in the front yard of the old homestead. It wasn't that long ago that a family who crossed thousands of miles in a covered wagon piled log upon log to build the cabin in which the family lived for nearly a century. I will strive to be half as brave as they.

Another Visit to Syracuse

Researching The Brass Bell

Next week, on June 7, I take off from Portland, Oregon, and fly to Syracuse for my final round of research for the book: The Brass Bell. I'll be there from the 7th until the 22nd.

I'll be in the area talking with alumni, with members of the Solvay-Geddes Historical Society, poking through the files at the Onondaga County Historical Society and the Onondaga County Library.

If any CRS alumni, especially those who attended Cherry Road School any time from 1927-1953, are nearby and have a story or any memories to share, I'd love to hear from you while I'm in town.

Most of the research is complete and the book is well on its way to the finish line, at least the first finish line. Making a book is a long and tedious process as those of you who have done it know. Once the first draft is done, there are rewrites, and more rewrites, editors, peer reviews, more editors, production staff, artists, marketing staff, and endless outreach, once the book is actually printed, to let people know that the book is available. Those of us who do it believe that we were born to complete the task. Without that drive, the sane person would give up and get a "real job."

Writing The Brass Bell is a labor of love, love for Westvale, love for my Aunt Marion, and love for the education process.

Marion Parsons affected the lives of thousands of people who now live all over the country. Many still live in Westvale; some have returned to Westvale. They all share one thing in common: love and respect for the diminutive woman who had a giant impact on their lives. The Brass Bell is a tribute to her, the teachers at Cherry Road School who worked diligently beside Miss Parsons, and educators worldwide who struggle to find ways to engage students in a love of learning.

Memorial Day

Honoring Cherry Road School Veterans~

In honor of Memorial Day, and the young men who served over 60 years ago, some of them a mere 17 years-old, anxious to serve, willing to bend the truth to be there. The following men are graduates of Cherry Road School who served in World War II:

Lester Wilbur Marco Terziev
Robert E. Doehner Loyd Mitchell
Arthur Meyers Leland Mitchell
Harry Castleman Fred Baxter
Edward Browning Bradford Sherry
James Stewart John Sherry
John Terziev Irving Avery
William McArdell Sidney Spillett
Raymond McArdell Herbert Hardisty
Robert McArdell Robert Hardisty
Sidney Bannister David P. Cole
Peter W. Cole Van Jerome
Richard Henry William Male
Bradford Vineall Richard Pollard
Edwin Vineall James Male
Francis Powell Robert Klock
Raymond Hackbarth Fay Bailey
Kenneth Bailey John Farnham
Donald Calkins John Pyle
William Brady Alfred Colbourn
Raymond Smith Dan Salisbury
Stanley Smith Robert Coulter
James Robinson Edward Lundy
James Rowe Herbert Curtis
Jack Trowdridge William Patterson
Gordon Peterson Quentin Wells
Morgon Cooper Fermin McKaig
Richard Ryan Franklin Brady
Wendell Horrigan Donald Porter
Robert Horrigan Peter Zavalauskas
Robert Tetrault John Gould
James Sherlock Richard Owen
Ralph Bristol John Hennessdy
Matt Windhausen Harda Haight
Charles Windhausen Kenneth Meyers
Bernard Windhausen Frederick White
Melvin Merrill Eugene Allen
Ralph Amedro Nicholas Krascella
Donald Cole James Murphy
Willaim Harley James Payne
Vernon Roth Richard M. Cone
James Ryan C.E. Sillion
Harold Avery C.W. Hewlett
Carl Bausch Richard Schwartz
Nes Goodwin James P. Furlong
L.Adell Havens James Cosgrove
Frances Terziev Alden Sherry
Mary Gere William H. Stewart, Jr
Margie Bealer Schuler Edwin M. Baylard
Edward W. Sweeney
James C. Connelly
J.D. Hillyer

A plaque with these names once hung in the hallway of Cherry Road School. Since then it hung in the home of Van Jerome and he passed it along to Leland Mitchell who donated the plaque to the Solvay-Geddes Historical Society last fall. The now President of the Historical Society, Susan Millet, copied all these names off the plaque and sent them to me so I could post them on this site.

Many of the veterans listed here are no longer alive. Many of them are and have important stories to tell. Those of us who are interested try to gather as much of the history as we can while it is still available from the people who were there.

Thank-you all.

When Miss Parsons Retired

When Marion Parsons retired as principal of Cherry Road School, it was a huge event for the community. She had become an institution. We have many artifacts in the family collection of Aunt Marion memorabilia of this time. There had been luncheons, dinners, ceremonies, and edicts of a special day in June to be held each year: Marion Parsons Day.

One artifact I have in my possesion is a letter written to Marion by a trustee on the School Board. It is written on letterhead of The Merchants National Bank and Trust Company of Syracuse, and signed by Trust Officer, Kenneth F. Barton. Dated May 7, 1952, the letter reads:

Dear Miss Parsons:

I consider that I personally am very fortunate to have the privilege of advising you that a resolution was unanimously passed at the annual meeting of the School Board held on May 6, 1952, expressing to you the very deep and sincere appreciation of the residents of the district for the long and faithful service which you have rendered to the School and the community and in particular, to the children of the Westvale area.

I am sorry that you were not present at the meeting so that you could have realized from the manner in which this resolution was adopted how very deep the feeling of the people was and in what esteem you are held in the community.

Sincerely,
Kennneth Barton

History of a Suburb

Almost every city in the United States has what became known as "suburbs" during the post-war housing boom of the 1950s. Most of these 'suburbs' were at one time farmland--dairy farms, apple orchards, cattle ranches.

Cherry Road School grew from a one-room schoolhouse in a farm community called Westvale. The area had been settled during the 1800s by several families. Over time, as their children grew up and had families, they stayed close by and built farms of their own. The barn in the picture above was the Jerome Dairy barn. The Jerome family lived and farmed in Westvale. Many of the farms in Westvale were able to survive for a while as the city grew around them. A vivid memory of my 1950s childhood is Van Jerome delivering fresh milk in the morning, glass bottles clanging as he placed them inside the tiny milk door in the kitchen. You could hear him whistling all the way back to his milk truck.

Eventually the Jerome dairyfarm, too, would have to make way for shopping malls, neighborhoods, freeways, more schools....During the second half of the 20th century, a lot of the landmarks and the familiar faces of Westvale disappeared in the name of progress. The Jerome barn came down in the late 1960s to make way for Route 695. The new road cut a swath through fields where cows and horses once grazed lazily, where children delighted to ride on the backs of big wide workhorses, help pitch hay in the barn, watch Ned Jerome hard at work running the dairy started by the family in the 1920s.

Just up the road, prior to the 1920s, my great grandfather,Willis Parsons turned a dirt farm into prime orchards. He began his work in earnest during the 1890s. Eventually his farm would be parceled off to create one of the early neighborhoods of western Syracuse. His foray into real estate came about not because he lost interest in growing prize fruit, but because he could no longer make a living doing so.

In a Syracuse Post Standard article dated 1917, titled: County Fruit Growers will Inspect Orchards, the writer notes that, "...the Onondaga County Farm Bureau will devote most of next Saturday to an inspection trip....The party will assemble at 10 o'clock at the farm of President Willis Parsons on the West Genesee Street road and spend the balance of the afternoon looking over his orchard." The story continues, "The Parson's orchard is a remarkable one of young trees of apples, cherries plums, and other fruits."

What is left of the cherries today is a street called Cherry Road, and a school named Cherry Road School. The most interesting part of the story is what the sons and daughters of the Jeromes and the Parsons and other Wesvales families did to guide their families through an economic crash and a great war.

That tale will be told, in part, in The Brass Bell.

There are many stories about Westvale, Solvay, Geddes, Fairmont, Camillus--small communities clinging to the western boundary of a small American city, just past the New York State Fairgrounds. This one reveals a cherry orchard, a hen house, a school teacher, and a handful of children eager to learn, eager to live up to handed-down farm values, eager to be part of a community.

The Mother's Club

The Importance of Parent Participation

There's been a lot of chatter in the news lately about who is responsible for a child's success in the classroom. There is a movement gaining momentum across the country that places the blame of failing students squarely on the shoulders of classroom teachers.

Part of the success story of Cherry Road School was parent and community involvement. Marion Parsons formed The Mother's Club in 1929. These women played a key role in letting kids know that their family was part of the school and the school was part of the community. They helped raise money every year for the annual 8th grade trip by serving covered dish lunches in the new school cafeteria. The mothers were an important cog in the wheel that made the school go 'round.

My Aunt Wilma Cole recently sent me an article dated February 2, 1935 from the Syracuse Post Standard. The headline reads: Pupils Honor Mothers at Hobby Show. You can tell that the article held a prominent position in the paper, with a multiple column picture featuring my Aunt Helen Cole and Jacqueline Gallagher.

Calling the event one of the school's gala events of the year, it is described in the article as a combination pet show, hobby show, doll show, and exhibit of cooking and sewing, toys, art, and foreign articles. In the picture, my aunt is holding a cake she has made and for which she won a prize. Jacqueline holds a prize-winning doll entered by Jean Stone. Other prizes in the the doll section went to Pollyann Schwartz; Donald Cole and Donald Beagle won prizes in the toy category. Prizes for drawing were awarded to Billy Dwyer and Donald Crawford. (My Aunt Helen is 14 years-old in the picture. She died this year in her late 80s, as did Donald Cole.)

The hobby show was held in the gym/auditorium and was meant to help raise money for the Mother's Club and to honor their participation in the school. One can tell how sincerely the kids were engaged in the event by the long list of students on the organizing committee, boys and girls alike.

If a student was failing or in trouble, it was an issue for everyone and blame for no one in particular. Mostly the children of Cherry Road School worked hard to do well and honor adults who were part of the larger community. They had a sense that these were people who cared. So they honored The Mother's Club every year and did their best in school. (Not that they didn't have fun and try to get away with things once in a while....they did, and those are some of the most heartwarming stories of all.)

This picture of Miss Parsons and some of the early CRS teachers would have been taken around the time of the newspaper article.

Did You Know?

Cherry Road School Grew and Grew

Did you know that Cherry Road School has undergone construction at least eight times? The original building that consisted of two classrooms (rooms 104 and 108) and an office was constructed in 1926. Classes did not begin in this building, however, until at least 1927 when room 103 was completed.

Students met in a refurbished farm building, the Parsons' parlor, and the Parsons' barn while construction was underway. There is some conflicting information about dates. However, I have spoken with at least two of the people who began first grade in the refurbished chicken coop and because of their birthdates, and because this is how they remember it, it would have had to be at least 1927.

In 1928, room 105 was completed, and then in 1930, room 110 and the gym were added on to the growing structure made of fire-proof bricks. Eleven years later, in 1941, a second floor went up and included rooms 202, 204, 206, 210, and a girls' lavatory. Five years later rooms 203, 205 and 209 and a boys lavatory were added.

A few years passed, the school grew in numbers, and in 1949, the cafeteria along with six classrooms were built. This addition included rooms 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, and 116.

Another addition, including a playground and six classrooms, was completed just before my class started kindergarten in 1953. These classrooms were on the second floor: 213, 214, 215, 216, 217, and 218. Of note, this was also the year my Great Aunt Marion, Miss Parsons, retired.

Miss Parsons and a fellow teacher are shown on the front step in the picture above.

Seeking Guest Bloggers!

Would you like to be a Guest Blogger on the Cherry Road School book project blog? Do you have a story to tell about the olden days? About the not-so-olden days? Whether you graduated from Cherry Road School in 1935, 1955, or 1995, please feel welcome to share a story of your days at this unique neighborhood school.

For more information, contact the blog host at:

schoolhouse2@comcast.net (put CRS Blog in the subject line)

Remembering Cherry Road School

Cherry Road School Song

Do you remember the Alma Mater song written by John Garofalo and sung to the tune of America the Beautiful?

Surrounded by the hills and dales
Beneath fair skies of blue
In Westavle, stands our school, that's been
To all of us so true.

We came to thee in infancy
For knowledge, love and truth
We learned in school - "the Golden Rule"
To carry on through youth.

And when in life, we reach our goal
We'll ask the Lord to bless
Our Alma Mater - that to ous
Has brought such happiness.

Oh, Cherry Road, we'll honor thee
As swift years hurry by
Our love for thee - eternally
Is one that shall not die.

Remembering Westvale

The Importance of Community

One of the things that bothers me about so-called school reform measures today is that teachers shoulder so much of the blame. Having listened to the stories of Cherry Road School alumni now for several years, it's clear that what they remember is not how they did on the test, not what they learned in the class, but the magic of the community of which they were part. It was for their membership in this community they tried their hardest in school and on the playing field. What they did they did to please and impress not only their teachers, but also their parents, the Mother's Club, and their peers. I say peers because if one student did not do well, it reflected poorly on all the students. Why? Because they were part of a community whose very framework depended upon the participation of everyone. These are the lessons they learned that helped each and every one succeed in the lives that followed their days at Cherry Road School.

Some of you might recognize the picture above of McArdell's Gas Station, a landmark in Westvale on the corner of West Genesee Street and Maple Road. I used to go there with my dad. He'd meet up with his high school buddies and I'd drink grape and orange sodas from the Ne Hi machine. See the little room up at the top of the building? A guy named Hank lived up there for a while after the war. He may have been Japanese. One day he came and lived at our house, just a few doors up the highway. He never spoke a word to me and I just assumed he didn't speak English. Instead, he'd open his bedroom door a crack and shove a piece of double bubble gum into the palm of my hand and close the door again laughing. I found out later he was a graduate student and spoke very good English.

I'll never forget my days in Westvale and I'm learning from my interviews that this holds true for everyone who has lived in this odd little community with no Main Street. Instead of a Main Street with a soda fountain and a five and dime, Cherry Road School, in many ways, served as the heart of the community. There were other institutions that were part of the Main drag of Westvale, spread out over many blocks and neighborhoods. There was Lundy's Drive-In where they brought bright silver trays to attach to the side of your car window and served the best hamburgers and chocolate shakes on the planet; McArdell's Gas Station was a club house for high school boys in the way these grease joints were. The movie theater was a place to go on Saturdays. The owners sold candy to the kids on the cheap and then hustled upstairs and ran the film. The school was always open on a Saturday, all seasons of the year, for a pick-up game of basketball in the gym or baseball out on the rolling campus of green grass and pine trees. Sledding on the reservoir in wintertime holds a story for everyone. Westvale made an impression so deep on each and every student that none of them ever forgot to live up to the expectations that were a reflection of the surrounding community.

How sad that our national education leaders have now put the burden on the shoulders of individual teachers. A new organization called Students First, the brainchild of the woman who recently, as the the superintendent of schools in Washington, DC, fired 200+ teachers because their students were failing. She proposes closing community schools instead of supporting these communities so they might do better. She suggests that parents should be able to choose schools that are doing a good job, rather than bolstering schools in their own neighborhoods with investments of time and attention.

What do you think?

Primary Source Documents

Letters from Papa

In this picture you see Willis Parsons examining ripe apples in his orchard. The picture would have been taken sometime in the early 1920s, somewhere between Parsons Drive and Maple Road to the east and west, and Genesee Street and Salsibury Road, to the north and south...Perhaps he is in the backyard of the family farmhouse on the corner of West Genesee and Parsons Drive. Of course, in those days, roads like Parsons Drive and the others mentioned here were, for the most part, nothing but dirt farm roads.

This past fall, while I was visiting, my cousin generously gave me original copies of letters written in 1924 and 1925 by Willis to Marion while she was teaching in Omak, Washington. The letters came from my cousin's mother, my Aunt Helen, Willis's granddaughter and Marion's neice. Helen died in October while I was there; these letters were in her effects. Included in the letters was a missive written by Helen to Aunt Martha, Marion's sister, in 1935.

Reading Willis's letters one gets a feel of what life was like on the farm before the farm became a neighborhood and a school. One begins to sense emerging feelings of unease about the viability of the farm as a sustainable business. He talks about picking cherries in the rain and the picking lasting almost a month; they were badly in need of hot weather and if he put some of his crop in cold storage, he might be able to hold on for better prices the following year. He indicates a growing interest in the real estate business. One can almost feel the wheels turning in his mind; perhaps the only salvation he sees is to sell off the farm. He would have to make that sacrifice mean something. He would have to create a community. At this time, he has already begun to plan the new school with Judge Terziev and others in the area who had already bought into the Parsons' acreage.

For a writer of narrative non-fiction, these letters are gold. They help those of us here in the future understand, or at least glimpse, the thinking processes and problems of those in the past who took their stories with them to the grave.

In Helen's letter written in 1935 she talks about a horrific rain storm, about spending the night at Grandma Harkness's with Ruth and Janet Parsons. These are names I hadn't heard since childhood. Genealogy records show Grandma Harkness to be part of the Terry and Parsons family who had donated the original one-room school on Terry Road.

Writing The Brass Bell has been 75% detective work, and 25% writing.

If anyone has any information about Grandma Harkness, Guy Terry Parsons, Sr., Charles Herbert Parsons, or Alice "Allie" Terry, please contact me: schoolhouse2@comcast.net

I still have a ways to go before I am able to untangle the web of the Parsons, Jerome, Schuyler, and Terry families, from whose farms sprung what is today Westvale, and from whose vision gave rise to the Cherry Road School.

Solvay-Geddes Historical Society Hosts CRS Alums

A Meeting of Old Friends

Last October, the Solvay-Geddes Historical Society hosted a panel of Cherry Road School alums, distinguished guests who graduated from Cherry Road School in the 30s, 40s, and 50s, but still remember fondly their days at the little brick school.

If you would like to see a slideshow of pictures from that meeting, please left-click on this link: Photobucket.

One of the amazing elements of the Cherry Road School story is the enthusiasm with which people who exited through its distinctive double doors, some as many as 65 years ago, recall their days there. Many convene regularly to maintain friendships and recall Mother's Club lunches in the cafeteria, senior trips to NYC, or the excitement of being called to Miss Parsons' office. It was these small yet significant experiences and a life lived in a close-knit community that taught them the meaning of mutual respect, integrity, and responsibility, say many of the alums.

These are the same lessons we long for students to learn today. Unfortunately, there is a lack of leadership to ensure a cohesive team of teachers, the support of community, and the kind of parent involvement that existed for Cherry Road School students. I believe it is these elements, rather than fleeting standardized test scores, that will help guarantee present and future success for youngsters who are today distracted by too much media and too few consistent guidelines to be held to on a day-to-day basis.

The book in progress, The Brass Bell, will explore how strong leadership and community involvement successfully guided a small school in a cherry orchard through rough economic and social times. It will examine why the imprint of the experience is still fresh on the minds of alumni who may now be in their seventies and eighties.

Schooling, Past & Future

Terry Road School Students, circa 1917

As followers of this blog know, work is progressing on a book, The Brass Bell. The book will follow the history of Cherry Road School and the life of Miss Marion Parsons, the Parsons Family, and the community of Westvale. Before there was Cherry Road School, students in this tiny farming community (now part of the greater city of Syracuse) attended the Terry Road School. That property and building was donated to Geddes School District 1 by Guy Terry Parsons and was located less than a mile to the west of Cherry Road School. Marion Parsons, her sisters, Grace and Martha, their cousins, the Jeromes, the Terrys, the Schuylers and other families who still reside in Westvale, all attended the Terry Road School until it became too small and too drafty and outdated to serve the needs of the community.

Cherry Road School replaced Terry Road School in 1926. There was a period of time before the new school opened when many community members opened their parlors and their kitchens for classes. School was always at the top of the list of priorities in this community. The book, The Brass Bell, will explore some questions whose answers might inspire and inform educators today who seem lost in the argument about how to make school relevant for students who are failing and floundering in the public school system. Following are some examples of some of those questions.

If you have any thoughts, opinions, or ideas related to these questions, please post a comment. If you would like to be a guest blogger and have your article or story appear here in this blog, please contact me at the email address at the end of this post.

Here are some of the questions explored in The Brass Bell:

1. If the basis of effective schooling must constantly change with changes taking place in economic and social structures around us, how will we ever settle once and for all on effective school reform?

2. How did one small community, surrounded but never engulfed by a city, make use of the best of who they were and what they had to create a school whose original students, and those who attended throughout the years, view their experience at Cherry Road School as the best of their lives?

3. In what ways do the values and the methodologies of the one room school set examples from which schools today might learn and benefit?

4. What can be learned from the life and the successes of one educator who led one school through The Great Depression and World War II?

5. What was it about Cherry Road School that draws grown men and women who’ve lived their lives successfully to keep coming back, coming together, to talk about their days there and in the community of Westvale? People who graduated in the 30s, 40s, and 50s meet regularly to talk about Cherry Road School, Miss Parsons and the other wonderful teachers who helped shape their lives.

Contact me at: schoolhouse2@comcast.net and please put "Cherry Road School project" in the subject line of your email.

Leadership

What Makes a Successful School?

This is a question on the lips of educators, politicians, journalists, and parents today.

The answer is not one word, but one of the key elements of success is Leadership. Without the strong leadership of Miss Marion Parsons, the original Board of Trustees, and every teacher carefully hand-picked by Miss Parsons, Cherry Road School would not have survived, would never have become the pivotal experience in the thousands of lives that have been positively affected by their experiences in this school and by the example set by Miss Parsons, from 1926 through today.

In the picture you see Miss Parsons rowing the boat. She lived her life as a fearless and thoughtful leader. It was her leadership that guided a small school launched in a hen house to the lighthouse it became for all who passed through its memorable brick doors after construction was completed in 1926. Miss Parsons had the gift of leadership. As her long-time secretary, Helen Wright commented, "In the 25 years of her leadership, she never made an enemy."

In the picture above, from left to right: Cousin Bertha, Grace Parsons Cole, Marion Parsons rowing the boat, and Martha Parsons.

'Ten geographers who think the world is flat will tend to reinforce each others errors….Only a sailor can set them straight'. John Ralston Saul, 'Voltaire's Bastards'.

Remembrances

Remembering Marion Parsons

At the recent Panel Discussion sponsored by the Solvay-Geddes Historical Society, we talked about remembrances of Miss Marion Parsons, Cherry Road School, and Westvale. Panel members each shared one special memory about the woman, the school, or the community. Not wanting to take up time with my own story that evening, I'll share it now.

We lived with my Aunt Marion when I was a baby until I was old enough to walk. As memories come into focus about the beginning of my life, I remember her coming home in the afternoon from the school, just two doors away. Always jolly. Always happy to see me, in my version of history. She would sit in her big rocking chair and hold me on her lap. I’d nestle my head into her shoulder, listen to the hum of her hearing aid. We would rock and rock. The creak of the rocking chair kept a constant rhythm and beat to the stories about the olden days, the old clock on the mantle. When I was a little girl, she would say, my father would hitch up the horse and buggie. These stories about the olden days came to be known to the two of us as "stories out of her think." I must have slept. She must have slept, too, during these afternoons in the chair, to the creak of the rocker, lulling us both into a dream-state. I would imagine myself riding with Marion, my grandmother and Aunt Martha in the rumbling buggy down the dirt road, through the potato field and on to the cherry orchard. Men and women would be working throughout the orchard, ladders extended into trees, wagons filled with boxes of fruit.

After we had slumbered and drifted through the olden days, after Marion had rested from her day at school, she would let me ride on her foot—a pretend ride on a horse to Banberry Cross, ride a horse, ride a horse.

I don’t remember her ever being cross with me. Her face always lit up when she came into the room. I would run to her. She would hold me and give me the love I craved from her. Until one day.

Each morning I would watch her put the braces onto her legs and then trudge across the lawn toward the schoolyard. I’d watch until she was out of sight. On this particular day, I must have been old enough to follow her, three or so, because after a while I followed her to the school and found my way to her office.

Expecting her to be thrilled to see me and proud of my resourcefulness, I ran straight into her office and stopped short of her towering desk. A dark cloud I had never seen or imagined descended across her face. Her voice shot across the desk in a tone I had never heard.

“What in heavens name are you doing? How did you get here?” She grabbed my hand, pulled me toward the door, gently, yet firmly, in an unfamiliar gesture. My first and my last scolding from my Aunt. I never crossed her again. Instead, from that day on, I thought things through first when it came to Aunt Marion. She was the one person in the world I didn’t want to let down.

By the time we got back to the house, it was my mother for whom Marion had words. I stood back and listened to the rebuke, terrified. Marion turned to me on her way out the door, bent down, and gave me one of those hugs I’ll never forget, the smell of her talcum powder, the tear in the corner of her eye let me know that she had suffered more from the scolding than I.

Picture: The baby is me, being held by my mother. That's Marion on the right, and my Grandmother, Grace, in the background. Our family was big on Sunday afternoon get-togethers. I believe this was a tradition brought forward from many generations in the past and shared by other Westvale neighbors.

Halloween at Cherry Road School

The First Halloween at Cherry Road School!

Halloween is a few days away. It was my one of my Aunt Marion Parsons' favorite holidays. She loved everything about it.

Here is a picture of the first Cherry Roaders, 1927, "all fixed for Halloween!" The caption is written by Marion Parsons, a doting auntie, teacher and principal. (During the first few years, she served both as teacher and principal.)

That's my father, the baby on the ground; the two children reaching to him are my Uncle David and Aunt Helen who were twins. (They both passed this year.)

The picture was taken in their backyard at 107 Cherry Road.

Miss Parsons

Reflections on Miss Parsons:

After talking to so many alumni and former teachers of Cherry Road School while visiting in New York this month, I came home with core themes, common to everyone who remembers Miss Parsons through their own experiences. These themes include "respect" and "common sense."

One former student who graduated 8th grade at Cherry Road in 1943 put it this way:

An awful lot of common sense--that's how she educated. She didn't have any hard-set rules. Back then, when you were principal, you called the shots. To my knowledge, she always called it right.

Tonight, while rifling through my research artifacts, I came upon the program for Marion's retirement luncheon, put on by the Mother's Club of Cherry Road School. The opening page reads:

With deep affection and gratitude.....The Mother's Club of Cherry Road School joins with the community of Westvale to present this testimonial luncheon in honor of Miss Marion Parsons, who for twenty-six years has been principal of Cherry Road School.

Friend, confidante, and inspiration to countless children, Miss Parsons has served the community in more than a professional way. She is our well loved neighbor and friend.

Keeping constantly abreast of the latest trends in education, she has kept the standards of Cherry Road School high, giving our children fine instruction coupled with a happy school experience.

The founder of the Mother's Club in 1927, she has been its inspiration and staunch supporter throughout its years of service, working with the mothers of our community towards the betterment of our school and closer parent-teacher relationships.

All of Westvale salutes Miss Marion Parsons--a gallant lady. We wish her much success and happiness in her retirement as she has given those whom she has served over the years.
May 24, 1952

Successful Syracuse Visit

Home Again, Home Again...

Hard to believe the long-awaited visit to Syracuse from my perch in Portland has come and gone. It was rush, rush to get there and be ready for the Historical Society presentation. My heart raced all day the day of and then it was over and people were raving about how interesting it was. Indeed, how often do you get to listen to oral histories told as though the pranks and the good times and the paper routes were just last week instead of seventy-some years ago and more? The twinkle in the eye of a man who has long retired from a bank job is the precursor to a good story and a life well-lived and not forgotten. So my research visit was off to a good start.

I stayed in an ancient Victorian farmhouse, once the target for everyone in the Marcellus-Skaneateles area in search of apples in the fall. Now the owners are struggling to restore the house, to find the history destroyed in a fire. That setting staged my visit. I woke up early each morning with a list of appointments and interviews and obligations. Clearly I overbooked my time, but it was worth every exhausting day.

I've returned to the office with hours of conversations to listen to on the digital recorder, copies of ancient pictures and newsletters, memories of times spent with cousins I've learned to appreciate. So much fodder for the story. I found an album I thought I'd lost. My cousin uncovered letters written to Marion Parsons by our Great Grandfather during a time she had gone west, during a time he thought she might not return to Westvale.

Since returning to Portland I've read and re-read the letters and have come to the conclusion that Willis was treading lightly with Marion in these letters. He dare not demand, yet held her interest and involvement with newsy letters, filled with stories of home that must have pulled at her heart and the ties that bind one to home. In a letter dated Sept 13, 1924, Willis Parsons writes: This has been a week of almost continuous rain bad for the State Fair as well as for farming. Sowed six acres of winter wheat yesterday and have five more to sow when the ground gets dry. Got the seed wheat (Junior No. 6) from a Mr Joroleman who lives on the Weedsport-Cato road. This wheat took first prize at the State Fair. When I went to look at it, I took Mother Grace and the babies. Two young couples from Interlaken came to the Fair, and camped at the lower end of the orchard. This was the sixth time they had been here for the Fair and same camp.

(I'm guessing Grandpa made a little extra on the side at Fair time, renting out camping spots in his orchard. "Mother Grace" was Marion's sister, my grandmother, and "the babies" would have been the twins, my Uncle David and Aunt Helen. Helen died just two weeks ago and would have been 89 next month. David died earlier this year and I will miss them both more than I can find words to describe.)