Hope the weather wasn’t too bad for everybody back east—I hesitate to tell you how beautiful it’s been here.

A package of family photos arrived from my third cousin once removed Jonne Le Mieux-Meyerson, who lives in northern California. Included were several shots of the Annie docked in Poughkeepsie, probably @1905. She looks more like a modern tugboat than when she was the Susie; an upper deck and lifeboat were added—the lifeboat probably at the Coast Guard’s insistence. There were also pictures of her crew—all four of them. Two fellows were obviously the engineer and his mate, another fellow must have been the steward (and all-around deckhand).

Then there was a photo of a man Jonne identified as Walter Selkirk Wolfe (a nephew of Andrew Wolfe), standing on the poop deck. Sitting next to him was a fellow Jonne couldn’t identify. He was dressed in a uniform with a cap—a pilot’s uniform, and in other photos he’s standing in the pilothouse. Since the Annie had only two pilots we know of, and he is not Andrew Wolfe, I must conclude that he is my great-great grandfather, William Winne Wolfe. I thought he was lost forever.

My thanks to you, Jonne, and thanks also to my sister Susan, Uncle Frank and my brother Tom for all their help in preserving the photos.

My latest find in the NYC Municipal Archives is the death certificate of my third great grandma Ann Whalen. Her parents were Martin Whalen and Mary (whose maiden name is yet to be discovered), both of Ireland. Ann was born in 1840 and grew up in Ireland during the Great Potato Famine. She came to America at the start of the Civil War (1860). She passed away on 1 Mar 1890 at 2305 Eighth Avenue (@135th Street) in Harlem, her cause of death illegible. I wasn’t entirely certain I’d found the correct family when I wrote about them last, but St. Raymond’s Cemetery records show them interred with the Skinners, and that Kieran Sullivan was indeed 13 years older than she. And all the facts still fit the Harlem locale.

In this issue two articles show ancestors of my great-great grandma Louisa Applebee on different sides of New Netherland/York in the 1600s. First, an article by my fifth cousin and guest genealogist Tom Applebee about our English ancestor (and his namesake) Thomas Applebe, and second, an article about one of our more colorful Dutch ancestors, Jacob Janse Schermerhorn. And you’ll also find an official Southern New York Wolfe Family chart, a chart my Aunt Pat originally drew up several years ago. Thanks for the nudge, Aunt Pat. Look where it got us!

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On 10 May 1651, Thomas Applebe was busy renting a cow and her calf.

John Tilton, the town clerk at Gravesend, a small English village in the colony of New Netherland (not far from Coney Island), finished writing out the lease and handed the pen to Thomas, who made his mark and then handed it to his "tenant," William Musgrove. Musgrove would keep Applebe’s cow and calf for three years, and Applebe would get "25 tubs of marketable butter yearly," and "alsoe to give halfe ye increase ye said cowe and of ye calfe which is now delivered."

Most of the Applebys in England were Border Country folk. If Thomas grew up in Northumberland or near the town of Appleby in England, he would have known border warfare as a way of life between the Scots across the River Tweed and his own Anglo-Saxon-Danish English. Over the centuries a code of border warfare developed. A man owed his neighbor support above all other loyalties. If the neighbor came asking him to chase after raiders who had stolen the neighbor’s wife or cow or whatever he was obliged to go immediately. When King James of Scotland became King James I of England there was, suddenly, a United Kingdom. It brought an uneasy peace, but old habits died hard, and border raids continued.

By 1640 generals such as Oliver Cromwell were taking a hard look at such clan warfare. They began shipping recalcitrants to Ireland and America. It’s quite possible Thomas Applebe was one of these. But the first we know of him is the leasing of that cow and her calf. He was about 21 years old.

His cow rental settled, Thomas promptly disappeared from sight. Whatever he did with his three or more years away from the milk bucket is unknown. My hunch is that he was a sailor. He was back in Gravesend by 8 Mar 1657, the day that he purchased there half of a house and farm lot from Walter Wall. Thomas was joined by Edward Griffen who bought the other half of the house and lot on 17 Jun.

Gravesend was a good place for free spirits. It was headed, socially (and one might say spiritually) by Lady Deborah Moody, a cousin of Oliver Cromwell by marriage, who had left England for the welcoming shores of Massachusetts, only to be tried for heresy by the good folks of Salem, Massachusetts. One of the churchmen involved in these matters wrote of her to Governor Winthrop, "Shee is a dangerous woman . . ."

In 1642 the dangerous woman fled Massachusetts, chartered a ship with her friends and followers and sailed down the coast. Finding no welcome in Rhode Island or Connecticut, she went on to the only place that would have her: New Amsterdam, where Director-General Kieft offered asylum. He showed her a choice parcel of unclaimed land and suggested a bipartisan name: Gravesend ("the Count’s Beach"). Both England and Holland have places by that name. She then purchased the land from the Nyacks (members of the Canarsie tribe).

The official patent for the settlement did not arrive from the West India Company until 1645. It included "freedom of worship without magisterial or ministerial interference." The settlers were able to negotiate the details of their local government with the Governor General to include both New England-style town meetings and New Amsterdam-style town officers.

Lady Deborah designed the layout of the new settlement; 16 acres divided into 4 equal parts, surrounded by a palisade fence of 9-10 foot sections of tree trunks planted close together about three feet into the earth. Outside the fence there were 40 sections, one for each patentee, and one for common use. They endured at least three attacks by hostile Indians. We don’t know if Thomas Applebe was present at any of them.

In time Gravesend became the freest, most cosmopolitan settlement in North America. Thomas Applebe returned to Gravesend just in time to welcome the first Quaker missionaries to North America—people who had been living on the edge for a long time; mistrustful of authority, fired with inner light, absolutely convinced of their mission to reform. Like Lady Deborah, they were not welcome in New England, or for that matter Virginia. Gravesend was a peaceful harbor for them. Reformed Dutch Pieter Stuyvesant certainly didn’t want them in New Amsterdam proper—although the neighboring Flushing settlement signed a remonstrance in favor of the them. By 1750 this tiny religious movement had become the third largest European religion in the English colonies.

Two years later, after the death of Lady Moody, Thomas Applebe and Edward Griffen sold their property to Charles Morgan. Why was Thomas selling out? He had found a group of Englishmen who were organizing the purchase and settlement of an island on the north shore of Long Island Sound. Siwoney women had farmed the island for generations. One year they didn’t. They had lost too many of their people to the white man’s diseases, and their sagamores were willing to trade. So a purchase was negotiated, and about a dozen English families settled on Manussing Island [see inset, "The Planters of Rye."].

True to his border traditions of helping his neighbors, Thomas was not only a member of the Rye Trayning Band, but also a member of the Connecticut Militia (the border between New York and Connecticut being a flexible matter). In later years when he no longer lived in Rye he still responded to militia calls (in 1675 and 1690). He considered himself a Connecticut man—as did most of the citizens of Rye—despite the claims of the New York courts.

Even though he had been exposed to Quaker beliefs in Gravesend, it’s not certain if Thomas was a Quaker himself—but he must have attended meetings that were held in Rye. I had an ancestral foot on each side of the aisle in those home meetings in early Rye. My third great grandmother, Elizabeth Horton, was a descendant of Jane Budd Horton.

By 1673 Thomas’s name appeared on a list of inhabitants of the Town of Hempstead, directly across the sound in Kings County on Long Island. A Quaker woman named Elizabeth Osborne may not have been the reason Thomas went to Hempstead, but she was the reason he stayed. She was the older daughter of William Osborne, a widower whose acres in Mad Nan’s Neck (now Great Neck) held considerable cattle. The banns for their marriage were read in several places on 6 Jul 1672. They married in her father’s house 7 Jan 1673.

Where they lived following the wedding is uncertain: Hempstead or Rye? Her father remarried to the widow Alice Holmes and had a son by her named Samuel. After William’s death Alice married again and took her son Samuel to Gravesend and then to New Jersey. William Osborne’s will left two houses to his daughter Elizabeth.

Thomas and Elizabeth began their life together right on the fault line between the established religious order of Reformed Protestantism and the radical Quakers. Reformed Protestant churches in England and the colonies emerged from the English Civil War secure in their established positions. Their greatest threat was no longer the Catholic Church of Rome, but the radical Quakers. The challenge the Quakers posed—and the way chose to impose it—was not gentle. They set about to reform the already reformed.

I was astonished to find that my eighth great-grandmother, Elizabeth Osborne-Appleby, a Quaker, was committed [arrested] for disturbing the Court in 1675.

At New Town, Long Island the former pastor had either retired or died. In his absence regular services were not held. Quaker meetings took up the slack. When the Rev. Mr. Leverich arrived, he found that the heretical Quakers were taking over. Governor Nicoll established an Overseer’s Court to make the rounds. Samuel Moore, son of the former pastor, was appointed constable. They lost no time.

Samuel Scudder, a Quaker, was bound over by order of Sessions for entering the New Town Church and interrupting its services. When the court convened Elizabeth stood up and spoke out. Mary Case was brought forward and a witness said he heard her say to the minister, "Come down and thou whited Wall, thou feedest thy self and starvest thy flock, and as he thinks Seducer!"

Both Samuel Scudder and Mary Case were fined and held in prison. Elizabeth Osborne-Appleby was released "to bee of the good Behavior." She was possibly pregnant at the time—she and Thomas’s son Joseph was born that year. He is their only child that we know of so far.

That was the same year—1675—that 50 years of peace in New England between the white settlers and native Americans finally collapsed, and King Philip’s war broke out in Massachusetts, Rhode Island and Maine. The Connecticut militia responded, among them Thomas Applebe. It was a savage and costly war with heavy casualties on both sides. Towards the end the Canadian French (and their allies the Abnakis from Maine) were raiding and burning settlements on the English northwestern frontiers, something that would go on for nearly 100 years.

The new settlement at Woodbury, Connecticut had been formed by a division within an established congregation at Stratford. The old congregation had divided into two—each with its own minister. They shared the meeting house at different hours. Cohabitation gave way to spin-off. The Rev. Zechariah Walker took his flock upriver, lost their way, and settled at Woodbury. King Philip’s war made them reconsider their position. Most went back to Stratford, leaving half-finished buildings. After the war the Rev. Walker petitioned the Court for temporary tax relief. It was granted.

Thomas Applebe learned of all this from Benjamin Galpin, son of his old friend Philip Galpin of Rye. With peace breaking out, Thomas bought one of those abandoned plantations ("2 acres of homelot, 3 Apr 1685, and 3 acres additional, 2 Jun 1685") and began settling. From the list of his effects I gather that he was a weaver when he was not sailing or farming or off fighting Indians. An inventory of his possessions taken after his death suggests that his buildings were not yet completed, which goes along with the report that there was literally no money in the early settlement.

France and England went to war (again) in 1689. The northern English settlements began to worry that the French would send Indian raiders against them. The deposing of James II in England had caused confusion on the New York political scene as to who was in charge, so New York sat on its hands, but Connecticut raised its militia—offering 25 shillings a month. The 60 year old recruit couldn’t resist such easy money. It probably didn’t take Thomas Applebe and Benjamin Galpin long to convince each other to go just one more time.

87 men of the Connecticut militia were sent to Albany, with 25 of them forwarded to Schenectady, a small village of about 150 people. On the freezing winter night of 8 Feb 1690 nobody in Schenectady believed anything could be abroad in such weather. Their only sentries were a pair of snowmen. A force of 210 Christianized Huron warriors, soldiers and coureur-de-bois (fur traders and frontiersmen), led by Captain Jacques Le Moyne de Ste. Hélène, filed silently into the town and fell upon the villagers and militia. When it was over, the Canadians melted away into the snowy shadows with 27 prisoners, leaving behind a burning town strewn with about sixty dead. The Mohawks (allies of the English) sent off 100 warriors in pursuit of the raiders. They took some prisoners, but for the most part the Canadians got away.^,

It is possible that Thomas Applebe was there and received his fatal wounds during that raid, or at some less remembered skirmish. The official report was filed on 10 Mar 1690. It says that he was killed at Albany in the command of Captain Johnson. Other reports say he died at Greenbush across the Hudson River from Albany. All we know for certain is that he died of his wounds, in the cold grip of an Albany winter, hundreds of miles from home, defending his distant Dutch neighbors. True to his border country roots? Maybe. But he gambled his life for 25 shillings a month, and lost.

His estate did not have money to pay his creditors, so inventory was made and goods sold to meet his obligations. The balance of his estate remained at Woodbury until two of his grandsons arranged its release.

We do not know what happened to Elizabeth. Their son Joseph was reported a single man of 18 years living in Mamaroneck in 1693, southwest of Rye.

Old Thomas had a fascinating life. Have you ever walked, or driven, or flown over The Big Apple and wondered what it was like when it was still on the tree?

We were there. Vicariously.

One of the hazards of colonial Dutch research is that the path is strewn with genealogies written in the halcyon days of the turn of the century, when Victorians put pen to paper and produced reams of purple prose in praise of their Dutch progenitors. You would think those Dutch pioneers were as straitlaced as their New England Puritan neighbors, dashing off to church when they weren’t plowing fields and wringing pots of gold from the very sweat of their brows. Honest, broad minded, frugal, industrious, thrifty, upstanding—these are just some of the time-honored adjectives used to describe those Dutch giants who tamed the wilderness and made the New World safe for the teeming multitudes who followed.

Right.

Actually, the temperament of European settlers has been virtually unchanged since they first got to Manhattan: rude, litigious, hard-drinking people trying to make a buck have occupied the island since Pieter Minuit bought it for wampum and blankets. Just like New York today—if you wanted to get ahead you had to play rough, and if that meant cutting some legal corners . . .

The Schermerhorn family hailed from a village of that name on the northeast cape of what was Schermer Eiland (Island), on a clear, bright lake in the province of Friesland, about 30 miles north of Amsterdam. If a family crest is decorated with an animal, it’s an animal with qualities the family wishes to be associated with—lions for bravery, griffins for fierceness, etc. The Schermerhorn family crest is decorated with a mole. Tradition has it that people from their village were known for their stubbornness in getting to the bottom of things.

Nobody knows much about the people of Schermerhorn before 1699, because that's when sixty-three houses and the parsonage went up in flames. The parsonage, of course, was where the village archives were kept, so those records are gone forever. We do know that in 1634 Schermerhorn was a prosperous place with 1,500 inhabitants, a brand-spanking-new church, and twenty-five captains of large coasting vessels who plied their trade all over Europe.

We also know a fellow named Jacob Janse ("son of Jan") was born in Schermerhorn in 1622. He probably spent his childhood there in the village until he reached his teens (although he likely visited Amsterdam). At age 14 it was time for him to learn a trade, and Jacob evidently became a carpenter's apprentice under the tutelage of a Norwegian named Albert Andriesz (Bradt). It must have been very exciting for the boy, because it is believed that on 8 Oct 1636 he sailed with Hier Bradt for New Netherland on the good ship Het Wapen van Rensselaerswyck (to help build a mill in Rensselaerswyck for Bradt’s client, Patroon van Rensselaer).

As I've explained before, patroonships were a plan by Amsterdam merchants to increase the population of New Netherland. They allowed any person to take up stretches of land 16 miles long, facing a navigable river. If this person could, within four years, form a colony of at least 50 people over 18 years old, he would be "patroon," or lord of the manor, with feudal rights. Several of these patroonships were awarded but only one succeeded, and it belonged to Jacob's patroon, Kilaen van Rensselaer, a wealthy diamond merchant who never even set foot in the New World. Rensselaer’s goal was not to tame a new land. His goal was to make money. His manor, Rensselaerswyck, covered about 1,000 square miles (most of Albany and Rensselaer Counties, and some of Columbia County).

It was here that Jacob Janse went to work as a carpenter on 2 Apr 1637 for four years at 40 florins a year. He must have done a good job (building houses and barns), because he was awarded a 32 florin bonus on 1 May 1640 for "faithful service to the Patroon." In 1643 he was 21 years old and that meant his apprenticeship was up. Having amassed some amount of capital, he went into the most profitable business for an ambitious young Dutchman in that time and place—the fur trade. 1643 was a good time to start a business in New Netherland—the Dutch were gaining the upper hand in a costly war with the Algonquin tribes, but the colony was in chaos. Jacob had the money and mobility to take advantage of the situation.

Beaver and otter pelts were in great demand in Europe for trimming clothes and making hats. Native Americans would sell pelts to the Dutch for wampum, blankets, cooking utensils . . . but then, encouraged by white traders, Indians got a taste of both whiskey and muskets, and soon wanted more. Smuggling had destroyed the West India Company’s fur monopoly by 1639, so the Dutch traders were competing with all comers (including the encroaching English)—so if you wanted to do business with the Indians, you had a choice: trade with arms and liquor, or lose your supply of pelts. Trinkets and cooking pots were not going to cut it anymore.

In 1648 a business partner of Schermerhorn’s (Jacob Ryntgens, who lived in New Amsterdam) secretly purchased firearms from employees of the West India Company and delivered them to Jacob Janse in Albany; he in turn sold them to the Indians. A straightforward business deal (except that it was a felony). Granted, the law was honored more in the breach than the observance, but the Director-General of the colony at that time was Pieter Stuyvesant, a peg-legged, strait-laced, temperamental man who had Ryntgens and Schermerhorn arrested on 29 May 1648. Although it was a fair cop, Schermerhorn was merely a scapegoat—all the traders sold guns to the Indians, and Stuyvesant, who had arrived in the colony the year before, wanted to make an example of them (perhaps, it’s been said, because they were cutting in on his own illegal arms trade). On 9 Jul 1648, Schermerhorn and Ryntgens were sentenced to banishment with the confiscation of all their property and goods, but on 1 Aug 1648 the sentence of banishment was lifted by the "Nine Men" and other influential colonists (who thought the sentence too harsh). Stuyvesant was furious, but there was nothing he could do. And it didn't end there: this and other actions served as grounds for the "Mighty Lords States General of the United Netherlands" to reprimand Stuyvesant the following year. So Jacob had the last laugh.

Bankrupt (but not banished), Schermerhorn lost no time plunging back into business. Neither his or Ryntgens's reputations suffered from their jail time. Ryntgens went on to become one of the Deputies and Directors of the West India Company at Amsterdam and Jacob Janse, ex-convict, evidently rehabilitated himself pretty quickly; in 1649 he is mentioned as an "importer" having "somewhat considerable" property. His reputation must have been fairly restored by 20 Feb 1650, because that is when he got married to Jannetie Segerse van Voorhoudt (van Egmont).

As you might guess by the length of his bride’s name, Jacob was "marrying up." The Egmont family was prominent in Holland in the eleventh century, and traced their descent from pagan kings. They had a chateau on the North Sea, about three miles west of Alkmaar, and from 1423 to 1558, they were at the height of their power. The family was divided into several branches and had in it nine knights of the Golden Fleece—serious Dutch nobility. Now although Jannetie's father Cornelis Segertse van Egmont belonged to the Egmont family (and the town of Egmont is 10 miles west of Schermerhorn), his particular family hailed from Voorhout, a small village near Leyden, 20 miles southwest of Amsterdam. We’re not certain of Cornelis’s exact descent from the van Egmont line.

Jannetie Egmont was born in Holland in 1633. Her father Cornelis had also made a contract with Patroon van Rensselaer (25 Aug 1643). He sailed for America in Sep 1643 on the Rensselaerwyck (when he was about 44 years old) with his wife, Brechje Jacobsen (45 years old) and 6 children: Cornelis, 22; Claes, 20; Seger, 14; Lysbeth, 16; Jannetie, 10, and Neeltie, 8. He became a farmer in Rensselaerwyck, (when nearly everybody else was busy trading fur), leasing two farms on Castle Island, near Albany (today it’s called Westerlo Island).

As was traditional, Jacob most likely had to obtain both Cornelis’s and Brechje’s permission to marry Jannetie. Although Cornelis was tight-fisted, Jannetie probably brought a not-too-shabby dowry to her marriage. Weddings usually took place in the home of the bride’s parents. Jacob had to pay the dominie (minister) a fee. Following the wedding was a party, of course, which was sometimes known to last several days in various forms. An English drink called posset (which was made of sack, eggs and milk) was often served along with all the other goodies. Jacob was 28 (a little old for marrying in those days) and Jannetie was 20.

Jacob got along well with his new father-in-law, although Cornelis was one mean, ornery cuss. In Oct 1648 he was obliged to retract derogatory comments about Andries de Vos, as well as remarks he had made to the effect that Jan Barentsen Wemp was "a rascal, a thief and the greatest liar in the colony." The next summer court records show him in a fight with a former employee, and the year after that, slashing a man in the face with a glass. In Jan 1650 (a month before Jacob married his daughter), both Cornelis and Jacob were charged in with assaulting Rensselaerwyck director Brant van Slichtenhorst.

Cornelis refused to pay his rent year after year even though he was leasing the most valuable property in Rensselaerwyck (it was called Welysburgh) and was doing quite well—with 13 horses and 22 cows. The rent was 1,210 florins (the next most valuable property in the colony rented for only 810 florins) and in Mar 1652 van Slichtenhorst went (armed with a court order) to collect—either cash or grain. Cornelis nailed the door to the grain loft shut and could not be reached. Cornelis slowed down around 1659, when he transferred his farm to his son Seger, who had just married. It is not known exactly when Cornelis died, but it was sometime prior to November 1683.

His temper lived on, fatally, in his sons. They took up his two favorite hobbies: drinking and brawling. Cornelis, Jr. was charged with fighting in 1649 and 1650 with three men, and with pulling his knife on Christoffel Davids. On 31 Aug 1658 Claes was in Hendrick Jochimsen’s tavern when he began arguing with a soldier named Daniel Nonvou. They got into a clinch, rolling around on the floor. Nonvou managed to draw his rapier, but it was taken away by a bystander. Claes tried to get another punch in, but Nonvou drew a small knife and landed it in Claes’s chest. On 23 Jun 1662 Seger got into a tavern fight with Andries Constapel. Seger whacked Constapel with a pool cue. Constapel pulled a knife, stabbed Seger below the short ribs, and then returned the favor in spades, dealing Claes five blows to the head with the pool cue. Ouch. The next day Andries went to Seger’s bedside, and they forgave each other, and Seger died that night.

Despite his brawling in-laws, things got better and better for Jacob, and as he got older he became downright respectable. In addition to fostering his fur business (and in spite of having a short temper like his father-in-law) he got into local politics, serving as magistrate (justice of the peace) at Fort Orange for many years. There were only three magistrates and the office was one of the most important in the Colony. In 1676 he is mentioned as constable (or schout) of Albany and he kept the books for the Albany Reformed Dutch Church. He also used the legal system for his own ends. New Netherlanders were a litigious group of people, and Jacob was no exception—suing people for slander, trespassing, late payment, etc.

He made two trips back to Holland that we know of, and he probably crossed the Atlantic a few times. The first trip was made in 1654, when he acted as attorney for some of his Albany friends. He visited Holland again in 1668 (after the English conquest) and then, with a party of other New Netherlanders, loaded the ship King Charles with "Goods and Cargoes fitted for their country." But there was a hitch: the year before the English king had proclaimed that only one ship per year could sail to the colony, so Jacob and company had to petition for permission to sail. Fortunately, his Majesty favored them, and off they went.

Jacob also wound up owning a lot of property. We don't know much about his holdings prior to 1648 (when his first fortune was confiscated), but after that he received patents for land in Beverwyck (Albany), and he acquired land in New York City, Schodack and Schenectady. Jacob and Jannetie went to live in Schenectady—probably not long after Schenectady’s settlement in 1662. They were residing there in 1673, because Jannetie appeared to testify in the local court. Their son Reyer was a freeholder in Schenectady before 1684. When Jacob Janse made his will in 1688 Schenectady was his given residence.

After Jacob’s death (probably in 1688), Jannetie received 56,882 guilders from his estate (about $23,000—a fortune in that time and place). This included all the real estate and money that was still in Holland. After Jannetie’s death in 1700, the estate was equally divided among the nine children; Reyer, Simon, Cornelis, Lucas, Helena, Jacob Jacobse, Machtelt, Jannetje and Neeltje.

The Schermerhorns became a numerous family who had a habit of breeding closely. As I mentioned in previous issues, Dutch colonial families were rather clannish, and tended to marry cousins rather than Yankees. We have the distinction (or embarrassment) of being descended from Jacob and Jannetie along three lines: my great-great-grandparents Louise Applebee and Winne Wolfe were distant cousins, both descended from Schermerhorns, and Winne’s third great-grandparents Reyer Schermerhorn and Geertie Ten Eyck were first cousins (the number of suitable marriage partners on the frontier was low).

The Schermerhorn name is sprinkled about in New York. There’s a Schermerhorn street in downtown Brooklyn. The next time you’re in a "Subway" sandwich shop, take a look at the subway map on their wallpaper and you’ll find Hoyt-Schermerhorn station in Brooklyn. The station (home to the Subway Museum) is very quiet, oversized for the little traffic it gets, so the NYC Film Commission rents it out to filmmakers. More recent filmmakers have been more careful about switching the signs on the platform to accurately reflect the location of a scene, but in films from the 60s and 70s you can often see the "Hoyt-Schermerhorn" signs.

Barbara Burgoyne-Wolfe
BAnneW@aol.com

Anne Connelly-Lemieux
swan522@aol.com

Dr. Maggie Dietz-Meyer
meyer@ithaca.edu

Bruce Goodman
BEGOODMAN@delphi.com

John Hulse
Quills@aol.com

Charles Le Mieux, Jr.
twang22@netcom.com

Charles Le Mieux, Sr.
Aglovale@aol.com

Robert & Barbara Pitcher
XMRS46A@prodigy.com

Lorine Schulze
lschulze@bconnex.net

Charles Blake Selkirk
chfr81a@prodigy.com

Jim Selkirk
JSelkirk@aol.com

Susan Sternkopf-Wolfe
Chimega@aol.com

Brenda Whelply
BrenWhel@aol.com

Frank Wolfe
wolfe@host.warwick.net

Ginny Wolfe-Guy
Willexa@aol.com

Isabel Wolfe-Frischman
TheFrisch@aol.com

Keri Wolfe
Vocal459@aol.com

Kristin Wolfe
Thea101@aol.com

Laura Guyol Wolfe
Laura.Wolfe@Hitchcock.ORG

Pat Starr-Wolfe
PattiWolfe@aol.com

Tom Wolfe (my brother)
TWOLFE@ix.netcom.com

Tommy Wolfe (my 1st Cousin)
Thomas.Wolfe@internetMCI.com

Thomas Wolfe (my 2nd Cousin)
tomwolfe@fairmont.batnet.com

My mother Barbara called to say that her mother Dorothy died at the Laurelwood Nursing Home, not Lawnwood as I had written. She also mentioned that although Mom liked daiquiris, her favorite cocktail was a Jack Rose, and that on Thanksgiving she especially liked Brandy Alexanders.

Wolfsbane regrets the error, and thanks Mom for the clarification.

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