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--- book:westley11 [2011/03/25 08:05] – paulseymour
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 ^ Child (born in Sidney, Delaware, NY): ^^
 | [[westley12|Westley Francis]] ("Skip") | b. 1944 |
+//Note: The following article was written by Paul Carleton Seymour.//
+{{westley01.jpg|}}
+My dear grandfather.  How do I begin to describe this very cool, great
+gentleman?  I'll attempt by starting with a collection of memories gained
+over the 23 years of my life that luckily coincided with his.  First, I have
+to tell you that he was, foremost, a gregarious guy.  Not like his son and
+grandson that followed, who evidently caught more stoic genes from the
+Dann's and Greene's respectively, although I have my moments.  As they would
+say back in those days, he had the "gift of gab".  It's important to note
+that, as you can see by looking at the tree, he was the 6<sup>th</sup> of 7
+children, who were separated by 21 years from youngest to oldest.  That
+boggles my more modern mind.  I can't even imagine that situation, being the
+<sup>st</sup> born of just 2 kids, eleven months apart.
+As I recall, this shaped him in many ways.  He spoke of his siblings more
+like cousins than as brothers and sisters, with the notable exception of his
+younger brother Clayton, to whom he was obviously very close.  I know that
+because he occasionally spoke, with tears swelling in his eyes, of Clayton's
+death at an early age, in a car accident.  He was in a car with a friend,
+and was just 24 years old.  There seemed to be great debate over who was
+driving the car.  The official version was that Clayton had been driving,
+but that both had been ejected from the car in a violent crash, I think,
+against a big old oak tree.  Grandpa refused to believe that Clayton had
+been driving, as he considered him to be an outstanding driver.   Suffice to
+say that Grandpa lost a very loved one at a young age.  Photo of Clayton
+somewhere in Connecticut around 1933.
+{{westley02.jpg|}}{{:book:clayton_baseball_team.jpg|}}
+More memories-Grandpa loved to tell me stories when I was
+a "youngster" as he would call me.  I cherished those moments, and I
+listened intently.  I consider it a blessing that as a young boy I liked
+listening to my elders.  I learned a lot from them.  To continue conveying
+Wes, he told me about his days as a young man.  He didn't lie, which as I've
+learned, seems to be a relatively unique characteristic of the Seymour men.
+He would tell me, with a distant look in his eye, while recalling his youth,
+that he was quite a poker player, and pool player.  I know this is true,
+because like my father, I also loved to shoot some pool, and although I had
+just started playing during Grampa's final days, I was able to win money on
+the table at times.  My Dad was a little bit better than me, and neither one
+of us could hold a candle to the "Old Man".   He told me a story once, that
+while he was in his 20's, a professional billiards player passed through
+Deposit, NY, which evidently was his hangout, to give an exhibition.
+Grandpa, being the hottest cue in town, showed up to see him do his thing.
+After showing his stuff, the pro accepted challenges from the crowd, which
+several guys took him up on, playing the best of 3 games.  Of all the
+challengers, he only lost 1 game, that being to Grandpa.  The pro was so
+impressed with him that he asked him to travel around the country as his
+partner.  This brings visions to mind of Paul Newman in his famous role as
+the "Hustler".  Grandpa was a bit of a hustler himself.   He knew exactly
+how to let you win, just barely, until you had the confidence to bet more
+heavily, at which time, you were dead.   But Grandpa was a home boy.  He was
+never a traveler, like I am.  He said that he thought about it for a moment,
+but had no interest in life on the road.
+{{westley03.jpg|}}
+He also told me that in his younger days, before he met Grandma, that he was
+a car salesman, and he augmented his commissions, playing both pool and
+poker, and did quite well at it.  This must have been in the 30's, during
+the Depression.  But it became a lonely life, and he wanted to settle down,
+and have a family.  So he went to Sidney, where the old Cintilla factory was
+starting to do well.  He took a job on the line, met Grandma Leone Dann, who
+had divorced her 1<sup>st</sup> husband, and had a 10 year old son, Uncle
+Richard D. "Dick" Curtis, and fell in love, and married her.
+{{westley04.jpg|}}Grandma and Uncle Dick Curtis about the time she and
+Grandpa married.
+Evidently, his old habits of drinking whiskey, playing poker, and shooting
+pool were hard to leave behind.   As I knew Grandpa, he was a teetotaler.
+He told me that Grandma had made him an ultimatum.  "Stop drinking, or I'll
+leave you", as he had had a losing night at the poker table, maybe the whole
+paycheck, but I'm just guessing.
+Grandma didn't play around.  As I knew her she never once drove a car.  She
+told me that once Grandpa was criticizing her driving skills, and she pulled
+over to the curb, got out, ordered Gramps out, and jumped in the passenger
+seat, leaving Gramps to do the driving.  She never once drove again.  She
+was serious.  So he never again touched a single drink, and they were
+married for about 40 years thereafter, until death they departed.
+Grandma told me stories about the days of the Great Depression, which like
+all who lived through it, affected them greatly.  She told me stories of
+seeing men on the street who were obviously hungry.  Although she was just
+waitressing in the old Hotel DeCumber in Sidney, and taking in ironing to
+support young Dick, she would invite some of them home for a meal.  That
+impressed me a lot, and I find myself doing similar things for others in my
+lifetime.  Once I invited a German man home for Thanksgiving dinner in Palm
+Coast, Florida, after shooting some pool with him, because although not
+poor, he was lonely.  My 2<sup>nd</sup> wife had lived for 15 years in
+Switzerland, and speaks German, which he loved, and we had a very nice day
+together.
+To her dying days, Grandma never thought anyone had enough food to eat.  She
+was a great cook, and loved to fatten up all of her "boys" --Grandpa, Dad,
+Dick, Dick's 2 sons, Andrew and David, and not least, me.  When we got
+together at Easter and Thanksgiving, my 2 cousins and me, would usually have
+a pancake eating contest.  With Grandma ruling the kitchen with an iron
+hand, while Gramps scurried around following orders and providing crucial
+support, we would easily eat 6-8 buttermilk pancakes, heaped with butter and
+pure, local made maple syrup, //each//.  It was a disgusting display of
+decadence that Grandpa was able to provide with his union job at the
+factory.  He would also, routinely buy me a 16 oz. porterhouse steak, when I
+was about 9 or 10 years old, and cook it for me himself.  I think he was
+trying to show me some of the finer things in life, which he learned as the
+son of a relatively wealthy father.  He would even carve it for me,
+tenderloin first, and tell me I should eat that before it got cold.   The
+traditional Sunday afternoon pot roast, and occasional leg of lamb or
+standing rib roast (prime rib), with mashed potatoes and gravy, and maybe
+creamed peas are also a great memory.  I could go on and on about how they
+both spoiled me miserably, but I think that's a good insight for now.
+Back to my original point, they had survived the times of economic disaster,
+and with their relative comfort, enjoyed making sure that those they loved
+would never have to endure any such thing as long as they were around to say
+something about it.
+{{westley05.jpg|}}Leone Dann Seymour about 1960
+That's not to say they were rich.  Grandma lost her mother when she was
+young, and was raised by her older sisters in Oneonta
+{{westley06.jpg|}}Grandma with her Mom, Elizabeth Humiston Dann, and an
+older sister, Ethel about 1909.  She looked a lot like her Mom.  Growing up
+without her mother was a painful memory for Grandma.  Unfortunately I know
+nothing about the Humistons.  I did a quick search and found that it's an
+old German/English name, so probably Anglo-Saxon.
+{{westley07.jpg|}}Grandma, Leone Dann around 1913
+Grandpa, being the youngest surviving son of a relatively well off family,
+saw nothing of the inheritance when his father died.  He received a gold
+plated pocket knife, on a heavy gold chain, inscribed with the letter C for
+Clinton, from his father, which I still have.  All of the other assets of
+Great Grandpa Clinton went to older siblings.  Ironically, when
+Cannonsville, NY was burned to the ground to make way for the reservoir to
+provide water for NYC, it was Grandpa who moved the graves of his parents
+and brothers to the Sidney cemetery, which I assume wasn't cheap.
+But he had the life that he wanted.  He worked for 30 some years, almost 40,
+I think, with Cintilla, which then became Bendix, as a union guy back when
+union workers did very well for themselves.  During WWII, and then the
+Korean and Vietnam wars, the factory, and therefore Sidney, boomed with fat
+government contracts to make plane and helicopter parts.  Grandpa told me
+that he had been offered management positions, but back in those days, an
+hourly union employee would have been foolish to accept a salaried job,
+making time and a half for overtime and night shifts, and double time for
+Sundays and holidays.  He was lucky, that way.  The unions died about the
+same time that he retired.  Like the old poker player that he was, he played
+well the cards which he was dealt.
+He also loved nature, as did Dad and still do I.  He would take me on Sunday
+drives in the rolling hills of Delaware County on dirt roads, with a pair of
+binoculars, and we would spot birds.  He could also whistle like no one I
+ever met.  Beautifully.  He liked to mimic the birds, and actually could.
+He loved cars, which seems to have come from the Cuyle family, and this was
+definitely passed on to both his son, Skip, and grandson, Paul as well, and
+maybe to you.  He always had a big Chevy, in my time (1960's and 70's)
+Impalas and a Monte Carlo, always with a monster V-8, which he always
+maintained meticulously at Whitaker's Garage.  He told me another story that
+during WWII, he had bought a hot Pontiac, before his Chevy days.  He was the
+king of the road around Sidney in that thing.  After he had had it for a
+while, some Air Force Officer came knocking at the door offering to buy it
+from him.  Grandpa was suspicious about why this guy wanted to buy it so
+badly, and eventually got the story out of him, (remember, you can't
+bullshit a bullshitter) and it turned out that the car was some sort of Air
+Force experimental car shoehorned with an airplane motor.  Grandpa always
+loved a good story, and decided that having such a special car, and the
+story behind it, was worth more than the profit the Gov't was offering, so
+he kept it.  Good for him.
+Lastly, Grandma firmly instilled in me a strong lack of fear of death.  She
+was a remarkably spiritual person.  Both she and Grandpa read the Bible
+//every// night in bed before going to sleep.  It wasn't something sporadic,
+it was a large part of their lives.  They didn't go to church, which they
+viewed as completely unnecessary.  They taught me that the Church was a
+business, more than anything else, and they never found it necessary to
+visit any particular building in order to believe what they were sure was
+true.  Faith shouldn't cost money.  Anyway, I learned from Grandma that
+there definitely is something beyond this terrestrial life that we lead,
+although I'm not sure what it is, I am sure that there is something.  I
+guess like Thomas Jefferson wrote in the Constitution, "a creator".  I
+personally believe that we may be like caterpillars.  Existing in our
+limited 3 dimensional world, with death providing the metamorphosis which
+allows us to experience a 4<sup>th</sup>, and maybe more, dimensions.  Like
+a butterfly, maybe, after living as a grub.
+She taught me this lack of fear through the following.  First, and I say
+this with all seriousness, she was a proven "water witch".  It might have
+gotten her burned at the stake a couple of short centuries earlier.   Recall
+the story of the hermitess in Ridgefield?  As you'll note later, I'm the son
+of an above average intelligent man.  As such, I don't believe anything that
+I can't see, and touch, with my own hands or eyes as the case may be.  One
+day, when I was about 10, after a fair amount of pestering from me, they
+began to tell me some more stories.  One was that Grandma had been hired by
+a local farmer to find water on his land, in order to drill a well.
+Drilling at random on several acres can be quite costly, and he'd heard of
+Grandma's unique gift, and paid her to locate his future well, which she
+did.  Even as a young boy, I was very skeptical.  I was sitting there
+thinking, "yeah, right, show me", which I in fact said.  They exchanged a
+quick glance, and then Grandma started issuing orders.  Gramps, as always,
+complied.  He went out in back of the house, down near the Susquehanna
+River, and with his trusty pocket knife, cut off a Y shaped switch about 3/4
+of an inch thick at the base, and diminishing in width outwards, so
+flexible.  According to her, it had to be from a willow.  We then went into
+the back yard, and she held the 2 sections of the Y shaped branch in each of
+her hands, palms up, at the very ends.
+The thicker part of the branch extended out about a yard.  Remember that I'm
+quite skeptical, but also fascinated.  She then started to slowly walk
+across the back yard, with her arms extended, holding the branch in front of
+her, sticking about 3 feet out.  As she walked, at a certain point, the end
+of the branch, out in front of her, started to bob up and down slightly.
+She said, "here it is" and stepped a foot or two forward.  As she stepped
+forward, the end of the branch, which was not in her hands, bowed markedly
+downwards.  I was very carefully watching her hands, as a true skeptic
+would.  Her hands were as steady as a rock, but the opposite end of the
+switch was moving //a lot// and finally bowed down at almost a 90 degree
+angle.  Trust me when I tell that my jaw dropped.  It was completely
+impossible scientifically.  I was truly shocked, but I'll understand if you
+still remain skeptical.  I would be too, but I saw it with my own eyes.  If
+you happen to believe the story I just told you, it will make it easier to
+believe the stories that follow.
+I found in my Dann research that an ancestor of Leone's was actually tried
+for witchcraft in Connecticut!  Here's the story and the link:
+[[http://www.dannreunion.com/elizabethclauson.htm]]
+<blockquote> "[Clason Memorial of Stamford, Connecticut, in 1654, by William
+B. Lapham, 1892] Elizabeth was tried at Fairfield, Connecticut, in 1692 for
+witchcraft. She was found not guilty. An account of this trial is found in
+the article, "Elizabeth Clawson...Thou deservest to dye" by Ronald Marcus,
+Stamford Historical Society, Inc. Stamford, Connecticut, 1976. The following
+was taken from that article: A large contingency of Elizabeth's friends
+shared the same strong faith in her innocence by subscribing their names to
+an affidavit attesting to her good character. Despite the wide-spread belief
+in the existence of witchcraft and the punishment prescribed for its
+practice, these residents of Stamford stood firm. The testimony to the good
+character of the accused Elizabeth was a valiant act, perhaps something
+unique at that time in Connecticut history. "Oer neighbour Stephen Clason
+haueing desired us whose names are under writen: seing here is such a report
+of his wife raised by sume among us: that we would speak: waht we know
+conserning his said wife and her behauiour among us for so many yeers now
+know al whom it may consern that we doe declare that since we haue known our
+said neighbour goodwife Clason we haue not known her to be of a contentious
+frame nor giuen to use threatning words or to act malisiously towards her
+neighbors but hath bene siuil and orderly towards others in her conuersation
+and not to be a busybody in other mens conserns: giuen under our hands in
+Stanford: 4th June: 1692." (Signed by her neighbors but not by her son-in-
+law, Francis Dann and daughter, Elizabeth Clason Dann.)" </blockquote>
+//Elizabeth Clauson was Francis' mother-in-law.  That's not a joke, by the
+way.  On or about the same day that I found and included this article, I
+also read an article here (Colombia) in an on-line newspaper, in which
+people in this, and other parts of the world, still believe in witches.  A
+woman who reads palms, and communicates with the dead was run out of her
+village and almost killed by an angry mob after 5 women who she had recently
+performed some service for suddenly fell to the ground and started
+convulsing.  They burned down her house after finding a Ouija board, and she
+had to be escorted out by police to avoid being hung.  This is not in the
+'s, but the year 2010!  Unbelievable......//
+I had to think a while before even sharing this, but I decided that since
+it's a fact of my life, I should share it, and if you happen to think I'm
+nuts, then so be it.  Grandma and I had an almost perfect telepathy.  We
+could communicate without talking.  Even from great distances.  It's
+something that I've also had with a few other very close people in my life
+as well, but never so completely.  It's something impossible to describe,
+but I know that it exists, and that we weren't so unusual, and there's a
+certain percentage of the population that knows exactly what I'm talking
+about.  If you've experienced it, then you know what I mean.
+Last, but not least, Grandma had a weak heart.  She suffered multiple heart
+attacks starting when she was about 60, and had 3 or 4 major attacks before
+she died.  She was clinically "dead" 3 times, and had what we call "after
+life experiences".  Again, if I rely on science, which I'm apt to do, I'd be
+on the side of, well, the brain continues to function, and coupled with
+adrenaline, etc, can do some strange things.  But after the willow switch
+incidence, and the fact of the telepathy, I'm more apt to think about some
+other reason.  She had 3 different "deaths", each with a more advanced
+version of the story.  The fact that she was clinically dead is without
+question.  Flat-lined and electronic paddles.  The first was pretty basic.
+She saw a bright light and had a deep desire to reach it, then THUMP, back
+to the real world.  On the 2<sup>nd</sup>, she actually had a conversation
+with a warm voice, about her life.  The last was longer and more elaborate.
+She was on a beautiful crystal lake, and rowing a boat to the other side,
+and she was extremely serene and happy.  When she told me these stories, she
+was very calm, and looked me in the eye, and said, "Paul, you don't have any
+reason to fear death, I don't, it's something wonderful, but of course, in
+your time".  Or something to that effect.  And so, I don't, which is a huge
+advantage in life, ironically enough.  Instead of fearing death, I've always
+been much more afraid of dying with the regrets that go along with an un-
+lived life.
+You should take a look in the appendix at the Dann family tree.
+{{dann_tree.xlsx}}
+It's another pioneer, colonial American family that settled at least two towns in
+New York, and at least another, being the Town of Abington, Luzerne County,
+Pennsylvania.  The first to arrive in America was Francis, who came from
+Barbados, after his father, John Dan was an early English settler from
+Cumberland County, England of that Island around the same time that Richard
+Seymour went to Hartford.  Francis landed in Stamford in the late 1670's,
+about 40 years after it was founded.  The Seymours and Danns, then, were
+neighbors in CT, about 300 years before Wes and Leone married, as Stamford
+is in Fairfield County near Norwalk.  Jonathan Dann was a founder of North
+Norwich, NY in 1794.  One of his sons, who was my GGGG Grandfather Philip
+Dann, then settled Danville, NY in Broome County, which is next to Delaware
+County, in the 1840's. [[http://www.dannreunion.com/danville.htm]]
+Danville, NY I discovered by accident, is where Clara Barton was living when
+she founded the American Red Cross.
+[[http://www.gale.cengage.com/free_resources/whm/bio/barton_c.htm]]  After
+traveling the world, and becoming a famous nurse, why she settled at the
+crossroads of Danville, NY is a mystery to me.  She also brought about the
+US ratification of the Geneva Convention while living there.  I urge you to
+read her biography at the link, she was a very interesting person.
+OK, back to the Seymours.
+I should also note that Gramps was a devout member of the Masonic Lodge.
+One of his dying wishes was that I should have his Masonic ring, which of
+course, I still have.  Regrettably, to date, I haven't explored membership,
+but I still might one day.  If it was that important to him, then I should
+respect his death wish, and maybe become a member, or at least learn more
+about it.
+I think I've painted fairly well what great people Wes and Leone Seymour
+were.  To this day, I cherish the memories, and wish they were still here to
+share life with, and to laugh.  The old house at 41 Bridge Street, Sidney,
+New York, was always a warm, safe haven, both when I was a kid, and later
+when I was a young man, and needed to regroup and find my way.  Keith
+Robinson, my dear old best friend from Bridge Street, where are you?
+Remember the daily baseball game after school at the Willow Street park?
+Those were the good times, weren't they?
+Old postcard of 41 Bridge Street around 1900.  During my childhood the old
+round porch started to rot after a hundred or so tough winters.  The cost in
+the early 1970's to build a round porch was quite a lot more than a plain
+old rectangular one.  It broke all of our hearts, but we got used to it.
+{{westley08.jpg|}}
+That skinny little tree in front, in the far right of this photo taken
+around 1900, was about 4 feet in diameter when we were kids.  We used to
+rake the leaves into a pile and jump into it, which was an old ruse used by
+adults to get kids to do the raking chore.
+Grandma and Grandpa on the porch.  Goodbyes were really, really hard.
+{{westley09.jpg|}}
+Grandma and me on the porch during a trip I made up from Florida on a break
+between semesters in College during 1986.  I used to drive the 280Z up from
+Jacksonville to Sidney, 1080 miles exactly from driveway to driveway.  I
+would usually start out at 5 AM and drive straight through to about 8 PM.
+Of course, not wasting much time, and dodging the state troopers with a
+radar detector.
+{{westley10.jpg|}}
+Here's a photo of the 280Z in front of Great Aunt Carrie's (Dann) house in
+Oneonta, NY- This was a cool old house, which at this time Aunt Carrie,
+about 90 years old but sharp as a tack, had modified in order to rent out
+several rooms on the second and third floors to college students.  Out back
+there was a stable built for about 5 horses instead of a garage, as the
+house was built before the days of cars, and never converted, I guess.
+{{westley11.jpg|}}
+Photo out behind the barn of Grandma and Grandpa's house, going down to the
+Susquehanna River.  Dad (Skip) planted the big horse chestnut tree as a
+small boy.
+{{westley12.jpg|}}
+Gramps was a big fan of the old west, and I used to love to sit up and watch
+an old western movie on TV with him.  Here's a favorite photo of mine taken
+in Ocala, Florida.  After we moved to Florida, and since Grandma and Grandpa
+were retired, they would come down and spend the winter months near us.
+This picture was taken at Six Gun Territory, an Ocala Wild West theme park,
+where we would get off to on many occasions.  There was an imitation little
+town, and there would be a daily gunfight, with stunt men falling off roofs,
+etc.  We must have seen the same show 10 times, but never got tired of it.
+This photo is proudly displayed in my home to this day.
+{{westley13.jpg|}}Mom used to cut my hair.  What can I say....I'm not sure
+which bowl she used for this one......Trust me though, the other kids at
+school didn't have the guts to say anything about it.  Another thing I see
+in this picture, Grandpa liked to always be dressed well.  Here we are, in
+Ocala, Florida at 95 degrees and extremely humid.  I remember many times
+around this time that on the local news it would be reported that Ocala was
+the hottest city in the nation.  And even so he's in a soaked to the skin
+pair of wool trousers, and decent shirt with wing tips on.  Usually, instead
+of a baseball cap, he would be in a dress hat, a la 1940's.   This is a
+trait that definitely wasn't passed on to either Skip or me.  We're the
+jeans and T-shirt variety.
+Another picture of gramps and me playing Jarts or Lawn Darts a few later
+while I was visiting them in Sidney  for the summer where the weather was
+more reasonable, out in back of the barn.  He and I were an unbeatable team
+to the great frustration of the neighbors.  It seemed like Grandpa could
+make a ringer whenever the score got close.  Some of the old hustler in him,
+I guess.  Not long after this photo was taken, the US Government, in its
+infinite wisdom, outlawed Jarts.  Unbelievable.  I'm sure Gramps was tossing
+around in his grave.  I can't even imagine what Capt. Matthew, or Samuel, or
+William would think about the US Government trying to tell them what game
+they could or couldn't play in their own back yard.  In fact, I would have
+liked to have seen the face of the poor bureaucrat who drew the short stick
+and had to go and tell Capt. Matthew, for example, that he'd have to stop
+playing jarts now or he'd be arrested. Hah!  But in the 1970's-80's and
+unbelievably up to today, Americans actually swallow that kind of garbage.
+Amazing......What happened????
+{{westley14.jpg|}}Here we are, breaking the law...somebody call the cops.
+Oh well, I guess we got away with that one.  On to the next generation.