My First Day of Kindergarten

By Frederick Walton

The other day, while taking a writing course, my assignment was to write about my first day of Kindergarten. I only had 15 minutes to think back 60 years and pull some memories from the cobwebs of my mind.

Ricky Walton, Circa October 1963

The bright orange school bus stirred up a cloud of crispy brown, yellow and red leaves as it made its way through the early morning sunshine toward the waiting school children. The kids, of  all ages, were dressed in squeaky new shoes and brand new, stiffly starched plaid shirts and fitted trousers with sharp creases. A week ago these same kids were playing army in dirty jeans or laying on the ground wearing nothing but shorts, their bare feet dangling from crossed legs. Bare shirtless backs itchy from the grass and sunburned faces shaded by brown arms as they gazed at the white fluffy clouds floating overhead in the humid afternoon sky.

Today, September 4, 1963, there was a breath of chilled air on the morning breeze as a puff of wind blew a colorful cascade of leaves swirling. The telephone pole across the street sported a new poster of a serious looking man in glasses running for local office. It covered the tattered remains of the summer carnivals and markets advertised in the preceding months.  

As the children noisily queued to get on the bus they realized that summer vacation was over and the grand adventure of school was just beginning. I was one of those kids and today was my first day of kindergarten. For the last several years I wondered where the big kids all disappeared to after a busy summer of bike riding, games of tag and swimming parties. Now I was finally joining them. I was about to find out exactly what school was.

The bus pulled into a circular driveway, parking behind a line of idling buses already there, disgorging their cargos of excited children. The door swung open with a swoosh in a way I had never seen before. It was totally unlike the doors on dad’s station wagon. The kids all stood in unison and crowded into the bus aisle sweeping me along as we exited. The smell of brand new clothing and freshly washed hair filled my nose. They seemed to know what to do, so I followed along. We entered the large modern building through multiple glass doors that stretched across the front. This was another novelty for me since most buildings I had been to only had a single door. Even our church only had a pair of doors and was nearly as large. Once we entered, the kids scrambled in all directions, splitting up and streaming away to who knew where, leaving me panicked for a moment. It was almost like the beginning of the familiar game of hide and seek, and I was IT! 

Some nice ladies started gathering us wide-eyed strays. I had never seen them before, but somehow they knew my name and herded us into a little group. There was another boy from my neighborhood named Brad. We were friends, but every other frightened little face was new to me. Among the group were a bunch of girls. Yuck! Why did they have to show up to ruin our adventure?

Miss Teacher introduced herself and led us down the hall to our classroom. There was a tall wooden door, with a window in it! Another novelty. All the doors in our house were solid wood. Next to the door was a large window, but it didn’t look into the class. It was a show case, covered in colored paper, with the word WELCOME spelled out in colorful letters. Of course I could’t read yet, so the word was meaningless, but the large construction paper tree sprouting multicolor leaves was pretty amazing. There was nothing like that at our house, but all the classroom had one outside each door. Later we would beg to be picked to help Miss Teacher decorate the window with whatever we were learning. 

We entered the brightly lit class room. The front wall was covered by a large Blackboard. Imagine that, a wall that was meant to be drawn on. How novel. Adjacent to it was an entire wall of windows that looked out on a large playing field. Oddly there were no curtains on the windows. As time passed we would stare out those windows wishing we were outside instead of trapped in school.

This classroom was unlike any room I had ever visited. There were no couches, chairs or  a television like most living rooms had, although there was a piano in one corner. There were no beds or dressers like a normal bedroom, although there seemed to be a stack of tiny mattresses in another corner. Later we would each get one to lay down on during nap time. 

There was a large desk for Miss teacher in the front of the room and rows of little desks arrayed in front of her desk. She motioned toward them and told us to take a seat. I choose one close to Brad and as far away from the girls as I could get. Once we settled into our seats the teacher introduced herself and welcomed us. She went through some of the rules and then settled into her own chair to call the roll. She called the name of each child, who was to respond with “here”.

The names sounded funny to my ear, like: Michael Christopher, Barbara Ann, James Michael, or Harold William. Later they were simply Mikey, Barb, Jimmy and Billy.

Rick's Kindergarden Class
Rick is on the teachers Right. Miss Teacher looks like she already has a big headache

The teacher called out Bradley Paul and I was surprised when my friend Brad said “here”. Bradley? Paul? Then a little while later she called out Frederick Erwin. It took me a moment to realize that she meant me, Ricky. Frederick Erwin was my formal name, but no one called me that, I was Rick, my Dad was Fred, so was my grandfather.  I suddenly realized how confusing it must have been with all those Freds in one family. No wonder they called me Ricky. 

“Frederick Erwin” the teacher said again, cutting through my momentary daze. “Here”, I weakly replied, as the nearby children giggled. “But my name is actually Rick” I explained to more giggles. The teacher looked annoyed and made a note in her book. All the strange faces were staring at me as I squirmed in my seat. 

I don’t remember much else from that first day, but a few moments stick in my mind even sixty years later. At some point we had to give the teacher the shiny nickel our mother had given us and we each got a small carton of milk. She taught us how to fold back the cardboard corners to create a spout, just like the big carton at home in the refrigerator. The one we weren’t allowed to touch! We put a straw in it and drank the whole carton. I didn’t have to share it with my brothers. Everyone had their own.

I remember gathering around the piano and singing songs. I remember the teacher pulling down the shades so the room became dark as we laid on our little mattresses to take a nap. The weird thing was there was no pillow and no blanket. They sure did things differently at this house!

In the back of the room was a closed door. The teacher called it a “restroom” and asked us if anyone needed help going to the restroom. More confusion. I had no idea what a restroom was. During the day some of the kids raised their hands asking to use the restroom. They slipped through the door closing it behind them. When they exited I could hear a toilet flushing and the teacher asked each kid if they washed their hands. It suddenly dawned on me that a restroom was a bathroom. I started to wonder what it was like and found myself raising my hand. I opened the door, switched on the light and closed the door behind me. I was right, it was a bathroom, except there was no bathtub, just a toilet and a sink. weird. I turned around, curiosity satisfied and opened the door. Every face turned my way and the teacher said don’t forget to flush and wash your hands. I stood there dumbfounded for a second. Should I try to tell her I was just looking? Turning as red as the autumn leaves, I turned around and flushed then ran my hands under the faucet, before returning to my seat as the other children giggled.

I was beginning to get tired of being the center of attention when a bell rang and it was time to leave. The teacher stood at the door as we exited, smiling and saying goodby to each of us by our name. “Goodbye Michael”. “Goodby Barbara”. “Goodbye Frederick”.

I got on the bus, glad that school was over and ready to get out of these pinching shoes and stiff clothes. The afternoon was  warm and summer seemed like it was back. I longed to get into my shorts and go play in my sandbox. I wondered what my brothers had been doing all day. I had a lot to tell them now that I was a big kid.

Mom and the other ladies from the neighborhood stood in a gaggle chatting as the bus pulled up and we got off. She wanted to hear all about my first day as we walked home. I told her about the school, riding on the bus, the funny bus door, the huge crowd of kids, my very own desk and my very own carton of milk. I explained that next time she needed a carton of milk opened I knew how to do it now. I asked her why the teacher called me Frederick, even after I told her my name is Rick. I told her about the classroom, writing on the black wall, windows with no curtains covered by shades that rolled up and down. The beds had no blankets or pillows and the bathroom had no bathtub. What a strange place. I was glad that I went and saw what it was like. Now I knew where the big kids went after the summer and it was no longer a mystery.

Mom smiled as I went on and on excitedly talking about my day.

“What will you learn tomorrow?” asked mom as we turned into our driveway. 

“Tomorrow”? “You mean I have to go back”? 

This day was exhausting enough. It was going to be a very long time until next summer!

 

Finding The Bell Cottage in Walden, N.Y.

 A Timeline and Research document by Frederick Walton, December 27, 2019

My Dad, Frederick S. Walton shared a number of family stories with me before he passed. This is one of them:

Frederick S. Walton (1930-2021), was the son of Frederick Walton (1908-1980) and Gertrude Eleanor Bell (1911- 1989). As a child he spent much time with his Bell grandparents.

In recent years, my cousin, Eric Bell, and I have discussed the the existence and unknown location of a cottage in or near Walden, N.Y. that Edgar Stanley Bell, Jr. (1873-1958), once owned and used as a country retreat. Eric and I are both great grand-sons of Edgar Stanley Bell, Jr. Vague family stories passed down through the generations have made us aware, and curious about this property. The following is an attempt to build  time line and use historical documentation to uncover this lost family story.

Bell Cottage in the countryside of "Waldon" (Walden, N. Y., near Newburgh)

Some oral family history

My Dad, Fred Walton, recalled visiting this cottage with his grandfather, Edgar Stanley Bell, Jr., as a child in the 1940’s and was able to tell me the following from memory. I have added some corroborating details in italics.

“Grandpa Bell had bought a farm in Walden, N.Y. where he planned to retire. This would have been in the 1940s”  

The Daily News, Tarrytown, N.Y. Reported on March 31, 1942 that “Edgar Stanley Bell, Chief Operator at the Tarrytown Lakes Pumping Stations will retire this year after 19 years at the station. Mr. Bell will be seventy years old on April 1” … “Bell…Plans to live on a farm he purchased near Newburgh.”

“Grandma and Grandpa Bell lived at the Tarrytown lakes above Eastview where Grandpa and his son James were the Water engineers for the Tarrytown reservoir.”

Eastview and Tarrytown Lakes

The Reservoir was located in a valley in the hills above Tarrytown and had become the hub of social activity for the large Bell clan even though most of the the children had families of their own by this time. Sunday dinner was a time when the family gathered together with the grandchildren to catch up on the previous weeks activities and keep the family communication intact. Being centrally located meant that family members would drop by and Grandma could entertain and stay involved. She loved this aspect and wasn’t happy about the prospect of being isolated in far off rural Walden.

Dad recalled that besides her family, Grandma Bell prized her modern television with it’s tiny screen and loved to watch the Milton Berle comedy hour and wrestling.  

“She would sit on the edge of her chair, swinging her fists and yelling at the T. V. “Hit ‘em!” whenever a wrestling match was on.“

The Walden farm was several hours away on the other side of the Hudson river and would not be convenient for the family, who lived clustered around Tarrytown, White Plains, Ardsley and Elmsford to drop by and visit without a special trip. 

The farm was located outside the rural village of Walden (population in 1940 was 4,262 Vs. Tarrytown 6,874). Unlike the Urban areas surrounding Tarrytown, Walden was very rural. The winding Wallkill river cut the village in two and flowed through the surrounding farmlands and orchards.

Stanley Bell planned to have a cottage built on this farm. It was to sit atop a hill with excellent views of the countryside. Down the hill from the cottage was another working farm. 

“Grandpa would send me down the hill with a pail to get fresh milk from the farmer for our breakfast.” 

Other than a few nearby farms their were no neighbors nearby, The perfect location for a country retreat, but not at all attractive to Grandma Bell. She had no interest in the property and no interest in moving!

Grandpa Bell had always worked with his hands and was very skilled at repairing and crafting things. 

My Mom recalled that Grandpa Bell made her a wicker Bassinet when she was expecting me. 

“He had the bottom on and off a million times to make sure it was perfect for his new great-grandson.” 

After I was born, he used to worry about me and gave my novice mother all kinds of advise to make sure she was taking proper care of his great grandson. 

 

But  long before the bassinet, Grandpa built a wagon, that he called his camp wagon and would take it up to the Walden farm. It was the size of a farmers hay wagon and had rubber tires for highway travel. The top had a canvas cover that looked like an old fashioned Conestoga prairie wagon.   

Edgar Stanley Bell in his home made "Camp Wagon"

Looking closely at the photo (above) of the wagon we can see the license plate 

says 1941 which is a year before his retirement in 1942 .

"Grandpa had bent metal poles to support the canvas which made it like a covered wagon. Inside were cots for sleeping and camping utensils for cooking and eating. He would tow the wagon to walden behind his car and spend the weekend in solitude. "

Freddie and Tommie are seen in this 1939 photo (right), probably taken at the Tarrytown lakes. 

They look more like gangsters than the soldiers they loved to play at the Walden Farm.

“That is unless he took us with him. Me (Fred Walton (1930-2021)) and my cousin Tommie  (Thomas J. Gallagan (1929-2006)) loved to ride in the wagon with Grandpa when he went camping in Walden. Sometimes it was just a quick trip up and back in a day, but other times he would take the wagon and we would camp out while the cottage was being built.  Grandpa would work on his cottage while us boys played soldiers in the endless woods and fields surrounding the farm. We were always up there in Walden.”

The Lakes in Eastview

Tommie and Freddie, would sometimes walk from their home in White plains, through the town of Greenburg countryside up to the Tarrytown lakes to visit their grandparents, a distance of 8 to 10 miles. Freddie's mother’s friend Sig (Genevieve Stearns) of Eastview lived halfway and was the usual stop for refreshments. 

 

This was merely part of the adventure. When they got to the lakes they would go into the woods with their BB guns and play soldier, darting from tree to tree shooting imaginary Nazi’s, that is until the Rockefeller security men spotted them and chased the off the property. The Rockefeller estate was located behind the Bell House at the Lakes. 

 Sometimes Grandpa Bell, or one of his sons  would take the boys on walks through the woods to a pump house on top of a hill to test the water. 

"One day Grandpa Bell’s son, Uncle  George was leading us: Me (Freddie); my little brother Ed (Edgar Walton (1932-2017) ); and my cousin Tommie. Suddenly a huge black snaked reared up and charged the group, scattering us boys in every direction. "

 “That snake was huge, and scared the heck out of us” Dad recalled with a shiver, almost three quarters of a century later.  

George R. Bell, saw worse things than black snakes while serving in the Navy

Uncle George stamped his foot and scared the snake off and then doubled over laughing at the unexpected turn of events.

 Although Grandpa Bell owned a car, he didn’t know how to drive and depended on his daughter Effie (1916-2018) to act as his chauffeur.

Fred recalled:  “She drove Grandpa all over in those days.”

Effie, Marion & Audrey Bell, circa 1939

After Edgar Stanley Bell retired, in 1942, he moved out of the Lakes house and bought a house in Ardsley. His Son James took over as the water supervisor and lived in the Lake House with his family. Stanley’s daughter Gertrude and her family moved in to the new Ardsley house with them and lived in half the house. This is where my dad, Fred Walton went to  high school in the late 1940’s, graduating from Ardsley in 1948. 

It soon became clear that Grandma Bell was not leaving Tarrytown. Not only did she dislike the Walden cottage and its isolation, she wanted nothing to do with the rickety camp wagon her husband took with him when he went “camping”.  It was during this time that son Watson lost his job with Otis Elevator and moved his family, Including Bob and Billy, to the unused cottage in Walden, eventually selling it and moving back to Dobbs Ferry.

Watson, Marion, and Edgar Stanley Bell at their family country cottage in Walden, NY

Lavinia Bell, She's not moving to the country!

 The  Ardsley house was destroyed and the village was greatly changed by the construction of the New York State Thruway in the 1950s, which resulted in both the loss of the Ardsley railroad station and much of the downtown business district.

Route of NYS Thruway through Ardsley

 “The construction of the Thruway, completed  in 1955 and the Ashford Avenue Bridge, which connects the village to the highways, resulted in the virtual destruction of the old Ardsley.” according to village historian Mr. Arone.''Approximately 40 buildings and structures were demolished or were moved to new locations,’"

 Once the Thruway authority evicted the Bells from Ardsley, Stanley bought a house from his sister Effie, at 148 Depyster Street in North Tarrytown. They moved in to the upstairs apartment. Daughter Gertrude and her family lived downstairs, except for Freddie, who had a bedroom upstairs. A tenant named Bob lived in the basement apartment. He was a great gardener. He would go fishing and bury his catch under a tomato plant resulting in the most magnificent tomatoes you ever saw. 

Edgar Stanley and sister Effie circa 1940s

According to his death certificate, Edgar Stanley Bell, spent the last two weeks of his life in the Tarrytown Hall nursing home in Elmsford, a long way from Walden.

Edgar Stanley Bell died in 1958 in Tarrytown. Sadly, his Walden Cottage dream was unfulfilled.

Timeline

pre 1942  Edgar Stanley Bell purchases property in Walden for upcoming retirement. (possibly as early as the mid 1930's)

1942   Edgar Stanley Bell turned 70 on April 1, 1942. plans to retire in June 1942 and live on a farm he purchased near Newburgh according to a March 31, 1942 Tarrytown Daily New Newspaper Article. 

His 1958 Obit states he retired 16 years ago…1958-16=1942

1942   Edgar Stanley Bell Purchases house in Ardsley after his retirement

1948 Fred Walton, living in the Ardsley house, graduates High School.

1952 Lavinia’s Sept 2, 1955 Obituary reported that she was a resident of Ardsley  for 10 years later residing in North Tarrytown, where she died. If they moved to Ardsley in 1942, then 10 years later would have been 1952 when they were evicted by the NYS Thruway construction. This is when they bought the 148 Depeyster Street house from Stanley’s sister Effie.

1955 Lavinia R. Bell Died at 148 Depeyster Street, North Tarrytown , N. Y.  on September 2, 1955.

Dec. 15, 1955 Ribbon cutting ceremony or opening of Tappan Zee Bridge and New York State Thruway through Ardsley. 

1958 Edgar Stanley Bell Died Sept 21, 1958.

The passing of Fred Walton

 (c) 2021 by Frederick E. Walton, Walton Family Historian

It is my sad duty to report the passing of my father, Frederick Stanley Walton (1930-2021).

Frederick Stanley Walton (1930-2021)

Dad had been ill the last couple of years having been diagnosed with lymphoma and prostate cancer. The cancer had spread to his liver. I hesitate to say "suffering" because every time I talked to him our conversation started out the same.

 "Hi Dad, it's Rick, How ya doing?"

"I'm GREAT, Rick, how are you"

He was always "GREAT!", even though I know there were times he was not. Some times it was revealed, through much probing, or a hint from a sibling, that he had fallen, or wasn't really feeling well or had just  come back from the hospital!

"oh ...that..." he would say. "Yeah, I tripped and fell, ... it was no big deal...but now my whole side is black and blue!"

Dad, always had a positive attitude and never burdened his children with his pain. I can't imagine he didn't suffer more than he let on throughout his cancer treatment, but he had faith in his doctors and faith in God and somehow patiently suffered in silence.

Dad wasn't always patient...He was a crewcut conservative raising a bunch of long haired hippie sons in the late 60's and early 70's.... But that's a story for another time.

Fred and his sons at Lake Ontario in 1964. He still sported his crewcut a decade later. 

Somehow among the pressures of managing his career, raising a family, caring for aging in-laws and trying to keep everything afloat during the turmoil and inflation of the 70's he found peace in the Lord. He wasn't a bible thumping, in your face, giant cross on his chest, "born-again and you should be too" type of Christian. He developed a personal relationship, one any of us could have and all of us should have, with his Lord and Savior. Each morning his alarm went off early and he would come around and make sure we were getting ready for school, then he spent the next hour in a quiet, meditative, personal devotion, reading his bible, praying and who knows what else. It was his time...and we knew not to disturb him.  

We had always gone to church but after this he started taking on a bigger role, becoming first a student, then an Elder, a teacher, a leader. 

Dad's personality changed then too. Not in a phony way,  he wasn't trying to impress anyone, but he genuinely found inner peace and was able to deal with people on a different level. If you ever met him, you'd know what I mean. He lived by biblical principles, but he wasn't an umpire, getting out the "rulebook" to tell you chapter and verse what you are doing wrong.   

MATTHEW 7:1  "Judge not, that ye be not judged."

Dad, lived his life, in an unavoidably sinful world, but he took responsibility for his actions and by setting a good example was able to influence those around him in a positive way. That's not to say he was perfect! (just ask Mom!) None of us are, but he was humble enough to acknowledge and learn from mistakes making him stronger and stronger as time went on.

I could go on, but the point is he was very fortunate to discover a path to the Lord that led to a level of inner peace throughout his life resulting in a positive influence on everyone he met.

Dad found himself in the hospital more frequently recently. He had great praise for the nurses and doctors giving him care, but was always glad to get back home. This latest episode in the hospital left him weak and tired. He came home in an ambulance and was rolled in on a gurney. He was too weak to get out of bed and my sisters stepped up to the challenge of making him comfortable in his final days. Those of us too distant to visit spent time with him on the phone or Face Time.  

 "Hi Dad, it's Rick, How Ya doing?"

"I'm tired"

Sadly, We knew the end was near. We shed some tears and said goodbye, each in our own way.

In the end he was surrounded by his daughters and Mom. My brother, the Reverend Greg Walton and his wife Edith, had called to pray with Dad. As the prayer ended, Dad quietly said "Amen" and took his final breath. 

He was at peace.

 What a lovely way to go, from a loving family to a loving Lord. He is home.

Obituary of Frederick Stanley Walton

Frederick S. Walton, 90, passed away on Thursday, March 25, 2021 at his home in Maybrook, N. Y. succumbing to cancer. He was born on April 6, 1930 in Tarrytown, New York to Frederick and Gertrude (Bell) Walton.

Dad's Parents

 

Fred grew up in Elmsford, Ardsley and White Plains. He graduated from Ardsley High School in 1948. Fred was a skilled trumpet player and basketball player in High school and later became an avid Golfer. 

After high school, he began a multifaceted career in banking spanning 47 years, starting as a bank teller at Scarborough National Bank. From there he began a 35 year career with the Household Finance Corporation managing several branches. Retiring from HFC in 1984 he was recruited to build a loan department for the Ellenville Savings Bank, which later merged with Pawling Savings Bank, where he retired as Vice President of Loans in 1995.

1 June 1957- Jeanne Packhiser and Frederick S. Walton

 

Fred married Jeanne Packhiser on June 1, 1957 in Middletown N. Y. They were happily married for 63 years. They raised five children.  In the mid to late 1970’s, Fred was a member of the Middletown Lions Club; and served as Vice President of the Orange County Cooperative Extension Association; and Chairman of the Orange County 4-H Executive Committee.  He has been a member of Trinity Lutheran Church in Walden for nearly half a century serving as an elder, teacher and leader for many years. He loved Jesus and served in many volunteer capacities. He was a leader in Evangelism Explosion and a small groups leader for over 40 years. He also served the Atlantic District of the Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod as a member of the LCEF board.  In his retirement Fred was an active volunteer with Good Samaritan in Walden and in recent years acted as a caregiver for his spouse.

Fred Walton Chairman of the Orange County 4-H Executive Committee

 Fred was happiest when he was spending time with his family. He also enjoyed serving Jesus, leading worship on occasion, and helping people with his expertise in financial matters. Fred had a great sense of humor, was humble, patient and a man of prayer. 

Fred surrounded by some of his Children and grandchildren
Circa 2001

Fred was preceded in death by his parents, Fred and Trudy Walton and his only brother Edgar Walton. He is survived by his spouse Jeanne Walton of Maybrook; his children: Mr. Frederick (Ruthann) Walton of Ocean Isle Beach, N. C.; Mrs. Desiree Lonsway (Phil) of Houston, Tx.; Rev. Dr. Gregory Walton (Edith) of Orlando, Fla.; Mrs. Melissa Ochs (Michael) of Wallkill, N. Y.; and Mrs. Stacey Concors (Bruce) of Walden N. Y. He was also a proud grandfather of 5 grandchildren, Alex, Tim, Parker, Erika and Chloe and 5 great-grandchildren.

A memorial service will be held at a future date.

 

In lieu of flowers the family requests memorial donations be made to Good Samaritan, Walden, NY. 

Condolences may be left on Gridley-Horan Funeral Home’s online guest book at https://gridleyhoran.com/tribute/all-services/index.html.

Introducing Mary Walton Starling

 (C) 2021 By Frederick E. Walton Walton Family Historian

I recently received a package of photographs and information from a cousin, Rod La Croix, who I have become acquainted with only last year. His grandmother and my great-grandfather were siblings, so our family trees have parallel branches that join at the level of John and Eliza Walton, my great-great grandparents. This blog is about one of the stories that we have uncovered through this shared information.

George Walton (1864-1910), my great-grandfather, the son of John and Eliza Walton had eleven siblings. Many of them immigrated to America, including an older sister name Mary, known as "Polly" to some of her English family. Mary Walton (1859-1936) was recently married to John Starling (1863-1920) when they immigrated to America around 1885/6.  

Mary Walton Starling
(1859-1936)

There must have been somewhat of a close familial relationship between siblings George and Mary, especially since they were both foreigners living in a foreign land. They lived near each other in New Jersey when they first arrived, and then later both moved to adjoining towns in Westchester, N. Y. Where they settled down and raised families. 

We have uncovered her basic facts: when Mary was born (18 February 1859); Married (1885); and Died (20 Dec. 1936). The U.S. Federal Census tells us where she lived and who her children were. The documents Rod sent me included his grandmother's obituary, so I will start my introduction to Mary, at the end of her life.

Mary's obituary fills in some of her biography, but not all the details are exactly "correct". Attached is the transcription of her obituary and some footnotes to make clarifications of correction where known. Future blogs will try to fill in some of the the blanks surrounding Mary's Life.

Mary Walton Starling Obituary
Courtesy of grandson Rod La Croix

Obituary (newspaper source undocumented, probably an Ossining paper)

Transcribed by Frederick E. Walton

MRS. MARY WALTON STARLING

Mrs. Mary Walton Starling, seventy-six, died in the Ossining hospital at 8:40 o'clock yesterday morning [20 Dec. 1936] after an illness or four days. A heart attack was the cause of death.

The deceased was born in Manchester England¹ and came to the United states about 55 years ago², settling in Morristown, New Jersey.

Home of Maurice and Constance Starling La Croix
where Mary Walton Starling lived during her final years (1926-1936)
Photo (of his boyhood home) Courtesy of Rod La Croix

 About 30³ years ago she came to Ossining and has resided here and in Scarsborough since. At the time of her death she resided with her daughter, Mrs. Constance Lacroix, 1 Stephen place, Ossining.

John Starling Headstone at Sleepy Hollow Cemetery
Courtesy of grandson Rod La Croix

She was the window of John starling who died about 16 years ago⁴. They were married 51 years ago⁵.

Burial record in St. Mary's Register
St. Mary's Episcopal Church, Scarsbourough, N. Y.
 

Surviving are four daughters, Mrs. Gertrude Chatten of Hawthorne, Miss Sissil Starling of Valhalla, Mrs. Alice Lewis of Briarcliff Manor and Mrs. Constance La Croix of Ossining; one son, George Starling of Ossining⁶, and a brother, Charles Walton⁷.

Starling headstone in Sleepy Hollow Cemetery
Courtesy of grandson Rod La Croix

Funeral services will be held from the late residence at 2 o'clock Wednesday afternoon. The Reverend Charles W. Baldwin, rector of Saint Mary's Church, Scarsborough will officiate. Interment will be in Sleepy Hollow cemetery, Tarrytown, New York.

Notes:

1. Mary Walton was born on 18 February 1859 in Appleby-Magna, Leicestershire, England to John Walton (1830- 1890), Coachman, and Eliza (Bonsell) (1830-1893) Walton. Her early years were spent in Appleby and Cheddleton. Her parents and some of her siblings moved to Manchester in the late 1800’s where she likely corresponded with them, perhaps giving her American family the impression that this is where she was from.

   

   1859 Birth Certificate for Mary Walton 
   from the Walton Archive 
   courtesy of Gayle Walton Judd

   
   
2. 55 years ago would be 1881 and is probably too early. I have made a study of U. S. Federal and State Census records from 1900-1930  (1890 is, of course, unavailable).The date of immigration is documented as 1885, 1886, 1887 and 1890 with 1885 the most consistent. There is a record for a Mary and John Starling arriving in NY on 17 April 1886, but this has not been verified as being totally correct.
3. “About 30 years ago” is 1906. They are living in Ossining as early as 1 June 1905 when the 1905 New York State census was enumerated.
4. John Henry Starling was buried 9 July 1920 (Death date not recorded) That is 16 years earlier.
5. Married in Prestwich, Lancashire, England in 4Q1885, 51 years ago. 
6. Her children in birth order are:
1. Gertrude M. Starling (1886-1959) married Hugh Thurgil Chatten (1884-1955)
2. Sissil Starling (1889-1970) (Never Married)
3. Rueben W. Starling (1890-1891)
4. Alice Louise Starling (1893-1965) married John William Louch Lewis (Jack) (1886-1938) second marriage to Frank Raymond Smith.
5. Margaret Starling (1895-1895)
6. Constance Wilhelmina Starling (1896-1967) Married Maurice Fernand Joseph Lacroix (1889-1977)
7. George Starling (1897-1969) Never Married
8. Both the 1900 and 1910 census have a question to declare number of Children Born and Number of Children surviving to which she answered: 8 and 5.  In later Census records they have 5 Children
7. Mary Walton was the 4th Daughter and 4th child. She had 12 Siblings, of which Charles Walton (1874-1954) was the youngest and 12th child. He was living in the Bronx when Mary Died. Her brother John Joseph  Walton ( 1862-1936) of Washington, D. C. predeceased her by 6 months. Her sister Rosalia Alberta Walton (1870-1937) of Manchester, English (twice Married- Williams/Taylor) outlived her by almost 6 months. Her other siblings were deceased by the time she died. Her Brother George Walton (1864-1910) is also buried in Sleepy Hollow Cemetery.

Finding the Mazzille's

 (C) 2021 by Frederick E Walton, Walton Family Historian.

Researching and documenting family history has been my hobby since the early 1990's. It can be very frustrating when hours or days of researching doesn't turn up the item you were looking for and very rewarding when it does. New information is constantly being made available on-line, replacing the tedious and expensive process of traveling to distant cities to search through dusty volumes or scratchy microfilms manually looking for information. This was the norm when I started and is still an option for many documents not currently on-line. I have personally traveled to distant cities and foreign countries chasing down clues, but my job is made much easier with the tools on my computer. Today I can sit in the comfort of my home and find a lot of information my predecessors had no hope of uncovering. Here is a recent example:

Recently, while cleaning up my records.  I “found” an unpublished article I wrote in 2017.  I polished it up a little and added it to the family blog. It is amazing that It took me at least three days to polish up a completed work, but I wanted to make a few minor additions, which included some additional research. One task was adding a picture I took back in 2010 when Dad and I took a trip down memory lane in Tarrytown and the surrounding area. Dad could still navigated his way around 70 years later like he had been living there his whole life! We found and I took a picture of the apartment building he lived in as a child and he told me the place had been a tavern on the ground floor called Mazelli's (dad pronounced it Ma-Zell-ease). I have spent literally YEARS unsuccessfully trying to find the “Mazelli’s” in Census records, city directories and the document…until yesterday. 

2010 view of Dad's childhood apartment in Elmsford

Using the old 2010 photo and Google maps in street view, I "cruised" down route 9A through Elmsford  just like when I drove down it with dad a decade ago. Suddenly, the dilapidated building appeared in front of me, looking the worse for wear, but still standing, and judging by the cars, still being used in 2021. In fact a Zillow report suggested the property was worth $1.3 million! (I would suggest it would cost nearly the much to clean it up and make it safe!)

2021 Google Street view of Apartment house  in Elmsford

Now I had a street address to work with: 172 Sawmill River road.  What was the address in 1940? Clearly the roads and highways criss-crossing what was once a sleepy rural village had overtaken it by 2021 completely changing its shape and character.

Google map of Elmsford, New York

I looked up the 1940 Census Enumeration District maps for Elmsford and the town of Greenburgh and tried to compare the road network to a modern Google view, which was not easy. There where lots of changes. But I managed to find some long established neighborhoods in the vicinity that hadn’t been changed and was able to pinpoint the property, a large building at a crossroads…a good place for a tavern.

1940 Census Enumeration Districts- Elmsford

Unfortunately the tavern was just on the other side on the thick black line marking the edge of the enumeration district, so back to searching maps for the unlabeled district that encompassed it. I finally found a "flag lot" map amongst twenty maps in a folder labeled "other" maps of rural Westchester that filled in the areas between the villages and towns including this one. The Tavern was located in Enumeration district 60-77. 

1940 Enumeration district map for "Other" districts

I now had a solid chance to find the property owners, who I expected to be the Mazelli’s. Over the years, I had entered their name using every variation I could think of, and never found a match. Now I would find them by searching for their tavern, street by street. I finally found them on Page 25A, Line 17-20: Nicholas “Mazzille” and family. Somehow I had managed to miss that particular spelling. (And even that was mis-transcribed as "Maholas Mazzille") The address in 1940 was 170 Sawmill river road, and it was a tavern and, at the time, four families called it their home.

excerpt from 1940 US Census

In 1940 the Walton’s had  already moved to 27 Harding Avenue in White plains, but their address in 1935 is simply identified as “Elmsford”. 

After years of searching I had finally found what I was looking for! If not for that drive down memory lane in 2010, there would be no record of the Walton’s living at this building. 

A Nazi in the Attic

(c) 2017, 2021 Frederick E. Walton, Walton Family Historian 

Fred Walton (Circa mid 1930s)

The sleepy seven year old threw back the covers and swung his bare feet on the cold wooden floor. He carefully tip-toed through the inky darkness of his room and reached for his bedroom door knob, heading to the bathroom down the hall. Silently turning the knob, an eerie screech pealed from the squeaky hinges spoiling his attempt to be quiet in the sleeping household. He stepped into the hallway and noticed a bright square of light at his feet where darkness should have prevailed. Looking up he saw a hatch in the ceiling he had never noticed before. A strange man's head and shoulders leaned out of the hatch, urgently pulling an old ladder up into the bright light. Finishing his chore, the man momentarily turned his head, his dark eyes meeting the awestruck little boy, penetrating to his soul. With a muffled thud the panel slide into place leaving the hall in pitch darkness, the head and ladder already a distant memory. It only took  second for the lads feet to unglue themselves from the floor and scurry to his fathers nearby room, where he burst in shouting. His father was startled awake and asked his young son what was wrong. The excited explanation spilled out of the child's mouth as he pulled his sleepy father toward the door. Pointing to the hatch while repeating the events of just a moment ago. It sounded like a bad dream, which his father assured him it was. He sleepily shuffled his son back to bed and did likewise, quickly falling back to sleep, but in the room across the hall the little boy stirred under the covers. His wide, freighted eyes betrayed what he knew to be true. Strange men where hiding in the attic.

The little boy is my Dad, Fred Walton, who told me this story last time I visited with him. The Boy’s father, Fred Walton (1908-1980) had moved his young family to this multi-family house in Elmsford, off the Tarrytown Road, only a short time before because his son was going to start elementary school and Elmsford was rated as a better school. This house was near the school, but he was  already questioning its suitability, not because of the location, but more because of a growing unease with the owners.

Elmsford Public School on Hillside Ave where my Dad started his education

The Waltons had moved from Benedict Avenue in the Glenvillle  area, southeast of Tarrytown, just down the road, to this house on French Avenue off the Tarrytown- White Plains road  (current RT 119) in Elmsford, New York.

The house was two stories. The owners were a German family who lived on the first floor. Hitler's aggressive actions in Germany were enough to raise suspicions against Germans living in America, but this family was especially suspect. In the late 1920's, when the wife was expecting, long before the Walton's moved in, she returned to her homeland to give birth and remained there for many years bringing her baby up in Germany. 

This was a Germany experiencing radical changes as Hitler rose to power. This was a Germany indoctrinating the ideas of Hitler’s Nazism into the youth. This was a Germany that she called home. When she returned to New York, both her and her son had long been exposed to the idea of Arian supremacy, and brought it back to America with them.

The German family rented the second floor to tenants. This was where my dad and his family lived. My dad attended first grade while they lived in the German house. He remembered the owners son, who was about his same age. "Fritz" came back from Germany with an attitude and a uniform. 

Dad's playmate- "Fritz"

“He thought he was better than all of us” my Dad recalled. 

“He was a little bully and tried pushing me around, but I wasn’t having any of it from him.” 

Dad stood up to him and, like all bullies he sought easier targets. 

“He had a Hitler youth brown shirt, uniform, the whole works that he brought back from Germany.” Dad recalled “and the mother was nasty too.” 

By the time Dad saw the men in the attic, his parents were already uncomfortable living in this house and had started looking for other lodgings. It wasn’t long after that they moved to another apartment house nearby on Saw Mill River road in Elmsford. 

Contemporary view of Mazzille's Tavern and Apartments on Saw Mill River Road

Who were the men in the attic? Where they the product of a young boys over-active imagination? Movies, comic books and newspapers of the era were full of ideas about Nazi spies infiltrating our country to weaken and prevent us from entering the war. They were known as the fifth column, enemy spies living amongst us with a mission to undermine America from within. Germany resented our part in bringing about their defeat in World War one and had an axe to grind, so it was not too far fetched.   

I asked him if Pop, my grandfather, did anything about it? 

“Yeah, we moved to a new house!” dad said with a smile.

Fred Walton and his boys Fred and Edgar circa 1939

Apparently no G-men were contacted and no gun play resulted. Too bad. It would have been neat to learn my dad captured a Nazi Spy ring when he was a first grader!

Dad. can't explain what he saw and  insists that he saw exactly what he described that night. I have to believe him. What other explanation could there be? They were possibly just illegal immigrants hiding out, but they could have been spies!

I have spent many hours searching for information about the German family and their house to see if there was ever a raid, but nothing comes up in period newspapers. Those Nazi’s must have been darn good spies or maybe they were trying to scare away the tenants so they could raise the rent.