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The recollections of Hazel Bancroft Freeman
of Aunt Cass are as follows: "I remember Aunt Cass the best
of any of my grandfather's sisters.
She was the youngest and perhaps the most stubborn.
Her first husband, Henry Brown, died before I was born,
but I remember her marriage to Thomas John Hooper, a crotchety,
old widower who had once been a miner in Michigan.
His two daughters were married.
Aunt Cass' daughter, Carrie, was married, and Uncle John
decided promptly that her two sons, Roy and Ray, were old enough
to be on their own. Sadie,
the older daughter, was a very tiny person with poor health, and
a remarkably agreeable disposition.
Uncle John considered her a welcome addition to the
household.
Aunt Cass was short and wide.
She lived on a strict schedule and ruled her domain with
a rod of iron. Breakfast
was at six, summer and winter; dinner promptly at noon, supper
at five. She loved
company, but everyone in the house conformed to her rules.
If, on a cold, dark winter morning, a guest preferred to
remain in bed for an extra hour before braving the frigid
atmosphere of the upstairs bedroom, she descended the stairs to
find breakfast definitely over, the dishes washed, and no
provision for a snack before noon.
When I was in school at Edwards, I stayed
there occasionally, when the weather was stormy, and I remember
vividly the warmth of Aunt Cass' small kitchen-dining room in
the early morning. A
kerosene lamp partially dispelled the darkness and Aunt Cass'
ample breakfast rewarded us for the heroic effort needed to
dress in zero temperature.
We always had pancakes with butter and maple syrup,
"warmed over potatoes", toast, sausage or ham and
eggs, sweet cucumber pickles, coffee and delicious homemade
fried cakes. Aunt
Cass was an excellent cook and proud that she "set a good
table".
Her housework was always done at 9:30 (with
Sadie's efficient help). (Ruth
Adams, another niece, mentioned that she got up between four and
five and did all the work before daylight, except the dusting,
which she had to wait for daylight to see to do).
Even on Mondays, the laundry was swinging in the wind
before nine o'clock. She
had scant patience with the women who didn't wash on Monday
because of adverse weather conditions.
From 9:30 until 11:00 Aunt Cass and Sadie sat in the tidy
sitting room, Aunt Cass knitting or sewing and Sadie doing
"fancy work", crochet or embroidery or working on the
"biscuit" slumber robe, which consumed hours of time.
Dinner was served promptly at noon and
after the dishes were washed, there was a long, leisurely
afternoon when callers were welcome and there was time for more
needlework. At five
supper was on the table and in the early evening Sadie went to
the post office for the mail, then did necessary errands – to
Jim Shea's for milk and, once a week, to Carrie Pratt's for
yeast. Uncle John
and Aunt Cass played cards for an hour or two.
By nine o'clock the house was dark and quiet. Only extreme emergencies were allowed to interfere with the
family's established routine of living.
I shall always remember a particular
Thanksgiving when Aunt Cora invited Uncle Eb and Aunt Josephine,
Aunt Weltha, and Aunt Cass, the only members of Grandpa's family
who lived near enough, for dinner.
Aunt Cass was afraid of horses and when Uncle Clint
Goodnough drove to town for them in the morning Aunt Cass
refused to go. A strong wind was blowing and she was sure that something
would blow across the road, frighten the horses, and they would
all be injured. Later
Uncle Eb appeared with his slow, steady Old Fan, but Aunt Cass'
mind was made up, so Aunt Weltha stayed with her.
We were still at home that day and late in the forenoon,
when Mother looked from the pantry window and called us to see.
I can see them yet.
Aunt Cass and Aunt Weltha were walking the last of the
three miles. The
wind was still strong and Aunt Weltha's tall, thin frame swayed,
and her skirts twisted around her as she struggled on.
Aunt Cass' solid bulk defied the elements.
She planted one foot ahead of the other with
determination and they arrived at Aunt Cora's in time for
Thanksgiving dinner. She
did decide to accept a ride home in spite of her fears.
She lived for many years after Uncle John's
death. Ray married
and lived in Gouverneur where he worked in the Tribune Press
office until his death. Roy
came home and worked at odd jobs.
He, Sadie, and their mother lived their well-ordered
lives together until a paralytic stroke put an end to Aunt Cass'
executive ability. She
was a kindhearted, dependable person, and solid as a rock.
Like many others, I remember her with affection."
(Ruth Adams, who lived neighbor to Aunt Cass, told that
following the stroke, she lived a few weeks and her bed was
brought down into the living room so it would be easier for
Sadie to take of her.)
In 1977 Cascendana Bancroft Brown Hooper
had just one living descendant, her granddaughter, Anna M.
Brown, in Gouverneur. The
first week of December she wrote her memories of Aunt Cass and
entitled it "Grandma Hooper".
"My earliest memories of my
grandmother recall the picture of a short, stocky lady with
grayish-white hair parted in the middle and pulled back into a
fine braid. This
braid was wound into knot at the back of her head and held in
place by gray tortoise-shell hairpins.
This severe hairstyle concealed a slight wave and soft
curl, which was visible when she took it down at bedtime.
As time passed, the gray changed into a beautiful silvery
white top above a face with fine, though wrinkled, skin.
Grandma Hooper was a decisive,
well-organized individual who believed in following a schedule.
There was a time for all things and certain activities
should be done at certain times.
Because of her tremendous routine, in my childish mind,
she could be very strict, too demanding, and overly expectant in
her concept of how little girls should behave.
At home my playmates included several boys in my
immediate neighborhood. Perhaps
in self-defense, or perhaps from instinct, I had become somewhat
of a tomboy. My
grandmother never did agree with some of my ideas of fun; she
wanted Ray's daughter to be a "little lady".
I do not remember at just what age I began
to spend a week at Edwards during the summer, but I do remember
the afternoons, after the noon repast, when Grandma and Aunt
Sadie daily devoted an hour trying to teach me the ladylike arts
of sewing, knitting, embroidery, etc.
I did learn to embroider, but poor Grandma never
succeeded in making a "lady" out of me, but I have
wished many times that I was as proficient as she and Aunt Sadie
in producing lovely needlecraft articles.
I still have three quilts they made for Mother and Dad as
gifts. Even in 1977
I use on my dining table a linen table scarf Aunt Sadie
embroidered.
I have said earlier that she lived by a
strict schedule; Grandma definitely was the ruler in her
household. At her
home one came to meals on time – or else!
Yet she never disappointed her family or guests who were
treated to delicious and plentiful meals.
Right here I must interject a humorous observation.
I am sure that some of the 1977 medical profession might
frown on the amount of salt she used in her meats and gravies.
Aunt Sadie used to remark that one of Grandma's own
family often said she would salt her food once, then turn her
back and throw in another handful.
At each meal appeared an unusual sauce or sweet such as
homemade currant jelly or gooseberry conserve, the fruits for
which were grown on the hillside by chicken coops.
One unforgettable food from Grandma's
kitchen was those long brown sweet pickles in the crock down
cellar. Many times
I have made a trip down cellar to pull these succulent pieces of
cucumber to a pickle dish for the next meal.
I can honestly say I've never tasted anything like them! Also down cellar was large swinging rack on which the pans of
milk were placed until the cream should rise – in turn to be
used at the table, or in doughnuts, cookies and cakes.
Every morning an hour was set aside for
handwork. The
afternoons were used also for needlecraft, or for going calling
or receiving callers. I
do not recall going too often with Grandma, but I do remember
going to different homes with Aunt Sadie.
Grandma sat in a large, high-backed rocking chair and in
a dim way I picture her feet planted on a curved footstool
covered with tan material with rust-colored designs.
Aunt Sadie, being tiny, sat in a smaller rocking chair.
Sometimes they played games with me and sometimes they
worked while I did something else.
Uncle Roy had whittled some tops and when I was small I
would sit for hours trying to spin the top as well as he.
Frankly, I never succeeded.
While working, Grandma always wore a large
apron over her long skirt and shirtwaist.
When she dressed for company, she discarded the apron, of
course, and wore at her throat a large bloodstone brooch, which
I thought gave her a distinguished look.
In the fall of 1928 Grandma was stricken
with a paralytic stroke and the front parlor became her bedroom.
Mrs. Leon Spicer was hired to care for her. I always
remember the kindness and sympathy of Mrs. Spicer for Grandma.
My father and I had gone to Edwards one Saturday by
train. That
afternoon I was in the room with them when Grandma asked her to
sing Red Wing. The
lady, who was quite large, possessed a rather pleasant voice. I have never forgotten standing by my grandmother's bed while
she sang for her. I
think this was the last time I saw her alive.
Grandma died 19 Dec 1928, at age 77, and is buried in the
old Edwards cemetery (Riverside) at the center of town.
These reminiscences are those of a young
person as she recalls someone who wanted her to be a
"lady". I
hope my grandmother would be pleased to know that her tomboy did
become a reasonable facsimile of her image.
And I must add a postscript, which should honor her.
She was, indeed, - a lady."
Contributed by LaVerne H. Freeman who
gathered and organized the Bancroft material into the Bancroft
genealogy in 1977.
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