Remembering…
by Steve Peraza
Remembering…
by Steve Peraza
As light poured out of the projector, the Canton of old flashed triumphantly before us. We listened closely as Linda Casserly, the town historian, fervently uncovered the storied history of our college town. We preyed on her every word, jotting down the memories as they were resurrected in her lecture. From the gorgeous, wooden edifices of yesteryear to the town's founding fathers and their legacies, our preconceptions of Canton, New York were challenged and remolded. Town #6 of the "Ten Towns" township, patented in 1787 by Alexander Macomb, a wealthy fur trader, had evolved into a "little [community]…built on hard-working, religious ethics" - as Casserly asserted. Canton, which students label mundane, surprised us with its furtive past rich in architectural beauty and community ethics. As we rehashed its history, a new sense of esteem emerged. The town we once labeled "humdrum" had earned the title of "home."
Linda Casserly's temperament hardly fit her petite frame. She was an energetic older woman with youthful wrinkles, dirty-blond hair, and a mother's eyes. Her charismatic nature resonated in her love of history, passionate glares, and self-assured speech. Determination defined her face, and the poignancy of her lesson transcended the dainty meeting room in Canton's Municipal building where we sat. The boring, wood-paneled walls, wooden table, and cushion chairs with wooden armrests betrayed the radiance of Casserly's character. In many ways, the contradiction was a microcosm of Canton's history - one of past glories and present pain.
Canton prospered in the nineteenth century. Named after Canton, China, with whom the U.S. had trade relations at the time, this small town developed an economy through agriculture and the use of mills. Cash crops, like potash, a fertilizer made from burned wood and exported to Canada and Europe, brought in enough revenue to boost the town's aesthetics. Men like Stillman Foote (who erected a sawmill, gristmill - wheat, and marble factory), Nathaniel and Barzillai Hodskins (who erected an iron forge and invented the Jethro Wood Plow), and Henry Van Renssalear (who erected Eagle mills - wheat), were entrepreneurs instrumental to the financial success of Canton. From farming to lumbering to dairy farming, Canton produced the capital needed to advance their society - building churches (e.g. Presbyterian Church), schools (e.g. The Canton Grammar School) and the Canton Town Hall at the heart of the settlement. These safe havens as well as the homely beauty Canton once possessed danced merily in Casserly's twinkling eyes. The slide show helped us all relive the wonders of the past.
More testaments to the town's glory were erected including the American House (1825), a ranch-like hotel with an unattractive veranda suffocating its second floor windows, the Hodskin House (1864), an imperial hotel with a myriad of arched windows, several slanted rooves, and a stateliness that humbled observers, and the Methodist Church of 1819, defined by its sky-piercing steeple and ominous stone facade. These structures, like most, disintegrated with the passage of time. Many of these buildings, such as the Town Hall, fell in flames. When asked why so many old buildings burned down, Casserly explained, "They were made of wood, and you know what they used to wax their floors - oil!" Others succumbed to the forces of urban renewal. Aside from the perils of the cold war and McCarthyism, the 1950's spawned an unprecedented drive toward urbanization. New metropolitan-like landscapes were coveted and ressurected, condemning the nation's small-town beauties. Canton lost the Methodist Church, the American House, and the Canton Grammar School to this prevailing force. The few that remain, like the Presbyterian Church, a formidable structure built with dark blue granite and noted for its piston-like spire protruding out of its roof, are mere tokens of a time filled with promise. Canton's days of glory were short-lived and underachieving.
Remembering the splendor of "Old Canton" proved as painful as it was refreshing. The most telling moment was when one of the students leaned ambivalently on the beige blinds, breaking the dark spell in which we sat admiring. Daylight streamed into the meeting room along with the golden arches and red shading of the neighboring McDonalds. For a moment, we were all transfixed by the contradictions of time. The hardiness of Town #6 weakened upon sight of the multimillion-dollar corporation that now stains the center of town. "Canton used to be so beautiful," Casserly continued, "They say urban renewal - I don't know."
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