Tuesday, June 3, 2008

My Father How Lucky I was to Know Him

My fathers genealogy goes back to England, Mayflower passengers, but most of his ancestors were Palatine Dutch, Lashers,Loucks,Nellis,Wagner,Klock,Saltsman, including the early English, Yates,Lenderson,Bell, to mention a few. Long before I met my father, he was pride and joy of Edwin B. Lord and Anna Lee Lasher Lord, first born and only son Edwin Booth Lord, bn 11 jun 1904. No doubt about the hair line-the widows peak-had been handed down for generations and did not stop with him. In 1907 a sister Lillian Lord was born and in 1912 another sister Catherine Lord, so he had a family to grow up with.

The photo to the left was take about 1914.
Edwin's father was employed at the Baily Knitting Mills in Fort Plain as a boss knitter, this allowed the family a income sufficient
enough to live in a home of there own at 12 Berthood
St. in Nelliston, N.Y.
My mistake was not asking questions while he was
alive, I know he was very close to his mother and
father, he remained that way through out his life.
Very little information about his childhood would
leave me to guess, he stayed out of trouble.

One of his weaknesses was the automobile, from all the photo's I have one would guess he had his license at a early age and traded cars very often.
The chevy is parked on berthood st. I am not sure but think its about
1920. The photo's are marked but no date so
so I assume this is just before he met my mom,
Mary Elizabeth Olyer, she moved into West main st. Nelliston, N.Y. in 1920.
The photo on left is 1921, they were married 6 Oct 1923-no wedding pictures, They ran away and were
married in Albany, N.Y. and went from there to
Delaware , My dad took a job their and was a boss knitter. Stayed there for 2 years, They returned to
Nelliston, N.Y. and with my grandfather Edwin
Lord, they made the house on Berthood St. ,a two family.
On the 2 Dec 1925 I arrived, and life would never be the same for them,
They were both lovers of the out of doors, so camping and out door sports
became a way of life very fast. The first story I can recall about my dad happened in 1931. His father was getting very ill [Tuberculosis's of the lungs], the village had made him Treasure, put him in charge of food for needy. In July of 1931, he was in the local tavern, two of the village would be tough guys, with a little to much alcohol in them,Ivan Deusler, and Paul Loedwick, accusing him of with holding there food allotment, began to push him around,[he probably weighed less than 100 pounds] My dad came in the front door-grabbed Ivan by shirt and backed him out the back door, by the time his buddy Paul got out there, he had no help, Ivan was was rolling
around on the ground in pain, a few quick blows to Paul, and my dad went inside got his father and came home. There was no sleep that night for fear of retaliation in force or legally. Next morning we learned that Ivan had jaw broken in two places and dislocated shoulder, and Paul was nursing a broken wrist and several ribs. The family was gathered around the table, when the door bell rang and standing there was two uniformed officers. Dad opened the door knowing he was in great trouble. The papers they had were appointing him, Constable of town Palatine, to fill out a term recto active to Jan 1st, a badge and a gun. Not at all what he expected, but in small town people are often judged by what there family had done in the past.
Dad was on Democrat ticket in the fall and I guess he must have won.
That is the only aggressive thing that he ever done, that I know of, I
never heard him or my mother argue over anything. He used to drink a bit more than he should but he was always the life of the party. We were very close, He taught me about the woods, fishing, cars, carpentry and life in general. He used to say the years I spent in service were difficult
for him.
After I was discharged from service my dad, mother, wife and I went in business together. For over 25 years under some real stressful conditions we were able to stay together without arguing or violence.
I remember him best in the environment that he loved most, the deep woods-we had camps built in the woods were we would stay for a week at a time. The photo was taken at Spring Cove, near Tupper Lake, N.Y. my dad on the left and Jack Oakly in the fall of 1947. Those were the best days of my life, I like to think we lived them to the fullest, I was lucky to have known him and been able to spend as much time as I did.

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