By Jonathan Monfiletto

Marine Corps Sgt. Maj. William Anthony wasn’t born in Yates County, and he isn’t buried here either. It seems the only time he set foot on Yates County soil was for a month-long stint picking grapes in Jerusalem in the fall of 1899; his wife was from Guyanoga, and his son settled in the Dresden area as an adult. Otherwise, Sgt. Anthony had no connections here.

However, the memory of Sgt. Maj. Anthony and the story of his heroic deed continue to live on in Yates County – whether modern-day residents realize it – in the name of a road bearing his surname. Anthony Road, which runs from Route 14 southward into the village of Dresden, honors the man who played the role of a tragic hero in the story of the Spanish American War.

While recent findings suggest the explosion aboard the USS Maine was caused by a spontaneous fire in the coal bunker, in 1898 fingers pointed toward the ship being blown up by a mine set by Spanish forces. What isn’t under dispute is, first, that the incident led directly to the Spanish American War and, second, that it was then-Pvt. Bill Anthony who sounded the alarm to the ship’s commander about the explosion.

According to an article in the Penn Yan Democrat of February 17, 1933, Anthony was acting as orderly to Navy Cpt. Charles Sigsbee, the Maine’s commander, on February 15, 1898. The ship was anchored in the harbor of Havana, Cuba, “and all was peaceful when the deafening, rending blast rocked the vessel,” the newspaper stated, at approximately 9:40 p.m. Eastern time.

According to historian John Creamer, it was an oppressively warm and humid evening. The Maine had been sent to Cuba on a goodwill visit to protect American citizens and interests on the island nation, while tensions between the United States and Spain – which controlled Cuba at the time – reached a boiling point after building up for years. The Maine’s presence was meant to encourage Americans and Cubans and challenge the Spanish.

Creamer described Anthony’s experience that evening this way: “Private Bill took a long stroll on deck to postpone retiring to his steaming hammock below. There was no air conditioning then – in fact, the Maine was the first US Navy vessel to have electric lights. It was just as well for Bill that he dawdled, for at exactly 9:40 p.m. he and a number of others, on board the Maine and elsewhere around the harbor, saw a sheet of orange flame envelop the bow of the battleship. The explosion that followed was so tremendous that an eyewitness on another ship said that the Maine was lifted nearly out of the water by its force. … In the aftermath of the explosion, Private Bill realized that he had to get a message to Captain Sigsbee. He ran to the captain’s cabin in the dark. … The captain, not unaware that something had happened to the ship (he said later that he thought they were being fired upon by nearby Spanish guns), emerged from his cabin just as Private Bill arrived. In the darkness, the two men collided. … Private Bill backed off, apologized, saluted, and spoke the words that would put him into the history books.”

Those words, according to the Democrat, were: “I have the honor, sir, to report the Maine has been blown up and is sinking.” Sigsbee commended Anthony’s action in the captain’s record of the event, as transcribed in the Democrat: “The special feature in the case of this service performed by Private Anthony is that on an occasion when man’s instinct would lead him to seek safety outside the ship, he started into the superstructure and toward the cabin, irrespective of the danger. The action was a noble one and I feel it an honor to call his conduct to the attention of the recommendator that he be made a sergeant.”

Indeed, Anthony was promoted to sergeant and then, rather quickly, to sergeant major. According to Creamer, Anthony – 44 years old at the time – had served in the Marine Corps for 28 years. It is unclear what he did in the military prior to February 1898 – his service predates the Civil War – and why he remained a private for 28 years. Creamer notes promotions came slowly in those days – but apparently rapidly in the face of heroic acts – and there wasn’t much opportunity for a private to distinguish himself.

The disaster aboard the Maine killed 260 of the 328 crew members; indeed, only 16 were left uninjured. Though Anthony was listed among these 16, he received splinters in his face and through his hand when a lifeboat disintegrated in the explosion. He managed to climb into one of the remaining boats and row about the ship – in a hail of shrapnel and exploding ammunition – to look for survivors.

With no ship to serve on, Anthony subsequently was transferred to guard duty at the Brooklyn Navy Yard and given the highest enlisted rank in the Marine Corps. Anthony retired from the Marine Corps shortly after, in June 1898. Entitled to retirement pay after nearly 30 years of military service, Anthony – out of what the Democrat described as “character modesty” and fear “that the application might reflect on his superior officer who had helped him to get his rapid promotion,” Anthony declined the benefit and left the Marine Corps with no job and nothing but his name and reputation as a national hero.

Someone was looking to cash in on Anthony’s 15 minutes of fame, however, and a group of promoters convinced the Marine to take part in a play about the recently concluded Spanish American War, titled “The Red, White, and Blue.” Anthony’s role consisted of his appearing on stage in his Marine Corps uniform and reciting, “Remember the Maine!” to thunderous applause from the audience. However, the production closed quickly, as people were not ready to view a reenactment of a war they had just witnessed.

So, Anthony was once again out of work. In the interim, he got married to Adella Blancet, of Guyanoga, in October 1898. Adella had written to the national hero to seek his autograph; though he had received many such letters, for some reason Adella’s letter stood out and he wrote back to her. They soon wed and then had a son, William Jr., born in July 1898.

Following the grape harvest in the fall of 1899, Anthony left Adella and William Jr. in Guyanoga and traveled back to New York City to try to find work. He wasn’t willing to pull strings with his reputation and mention his struggle, and he lacked marketable skills outside of his military service.

On November 24, 1899, Anthony was sitting on a bench in Central Park when two police officers noticed him acting strangely with agitated behavior but also recognized who he was. Suddenly, Anthony pulled a small glass bottle out of his pocket and swallowed the contents. The officers attempted to help him, but he told them he didn’t want to be saved. Sure enough, Anthony died within an hour from an overdose of cocaine extract.

While the national hero was mourned following his shocking death, his name and reputation were quickly forgotten. Adella stayed in Yates County, and William Jr. grew up there. The son of the national hero married, became a successful farmer and vineyardist, served as Torrey town supervisor, and lived on the road that bears his family name.

In December 1942, the Navy remembered Anthony by launching the USS Anthony, a destroyer named in honor of the hero from the Maine. William Jr.’s daughters – Alice, a freshman at Keuka College, and Frances, a student at Penn Yan Academy – christened the ship bearing their grandfather’s name. In World War II, the destroyer saw action against the Japanese in the Philippines.

Interestingly, while William Jr. is buried in Evergreen Cemetery in Dresden – not too far from where Anthony Road enters the village – Anthony is buried in The Evergreens Cemetery in Brooklyn. Yates County continues to remember this non-resident who became a national hero.

By Jonathan Monfiletto

At one point in history, according to a review of the table of contents of “Memories of the Rural Schools of Yates County, New York” by Jennie L. Hiler, the nine townships that make up Yates County boasted a combined 105 rural schoolhouses, prior to – and even alongside of – the time of central school districts. So, when it comes to writing an 800- to 1,000-word article for a blog post about the rural schools of the county, how does one narrow down the focus in order to tell a good story?

Well, for this article, I am choosing to focus on Barrington District No. 10 – known as the MacDowell District – and Jerusalem District No. 1 – known as the Willett District – because of a couple of recent inquiries we received in the research room regarding information on these two schoolhouses. I referenced one of these inquiries while writing about the existence of the non-existent John Doe Collection of Photographs of Old and Notable Homes of Yates County in a recent post.

In fact, our subject files on Barrington No. 10 include an article from the August 26, 2015 edition of The Chronicle-Express profiling the man who asked us about the John Doe Collection and has been working to restore the schoolhouse. Geoffrey Ballard, at least at the time, is a physical education and health teacher at University Preparatory School in Rochester. A 1999 Dundee Central School graduate, Ballard first had the idea to repair the schoolhouse at the corner of Bath and Bellis Hill roads that summer; his grandmother, Louise Ballard, was among the generations of children who attended the school, and the Ballard family has owned the property on which the schoolhouse – built in 1854 – stands for many years. He planned to begin his project by repainting or replacing the wooden clapboard siding. Later plans included replacing the windows with more authentic-looking ones and renovating the interior as well.

According to a handwritten essay – with no title and no author listed – in our subject files, Barrington No. 10 was formed November 21, 1853 and located on the northwest corner of George Castner’s land on the west side of Bath Road. A chairman, four trustees, and a librarian were chosen for the school, and Castner was paid $15 for the land to be held by the district as long as it was used for a school. A total of $300 was raised to construct the schoolhouse – $268 for the building and $32 for outhouses – along with $16 to buy a stove and pipe, $88 for wood, and $8 for paint and stain. The schoolhouse was open for religious meetings, lectures, debating societies, “or other moral or useful purposes” when not in use for school. In October 1854, a teacher was hired.

A typewritten essay titled “Memoir of Pop and Mom’s Life,” written – according to a handwritten note – on behalf of Anna Louisa Slocum Ballard and Thomas Ray Ballard (Geoffrey Ballard’s grandparents) includes some details about Barrington No. 10. Mrs. Ballard walked to school from her parents’ house and attended school in Barrington from age 5/first grade to age 12/seventh grade, when she and some friends decided they wanted to go to school in Dundee. Her teacher in Barrington was Blanche Hayes, and there were about 15 children in the school at that time. On a tangential but related note, an item on the October 31, 2007 Pages Past feature in The Chronicle-Express mentions that on November 3, 1932 it was reported that Miss Hayes recorded 100 percent attendance at the schoolhouse throughout that October.

Another typewritten essay is titled “Reminiscing with Ralph” (with “Hallenbeck” added to the title in handwriting); the Ballards’ essay mentions Hallenbeck as a classmate who decided to move on to Dundee, and likewise Halleneck mentions Louise Slocum among the classmates who would walk to school together. On the last day of school, according to Hallenbeck, Arthur Bellis would transport the children from Barrington No. 10 in his milk truck to Red Jacket Park for a picnic and field day with children from the other schools in the town. Hallenback said he completed eight grades at Barrington before transferring to Dundee.

Both Ralph Hallenbeck and Louise Slocum are identified in a photograph in Hiler’s book of students attending Barrington No. 10 during the 1931-1932 school year.

Unlike Barrington No. 10 – which is being restored and renovated – Jerusalem No. 1 is no longer standing; it had been located on the corner of Williams Hill and County House Woods roads. According to a handwritten essay by Anna C. Gelder in our subject files (there is also a typewritten version in our subject files), the original Jerusalem No. 1 was a log structure sitting near the woods on land owned by Samuel Cornell. Though the year this structure was built is unknown, it was moved in 1842 and rebuilt on the aforementioned intersection. In 1900, the building was repaired and repainted. Although Gelder’s essay is undated, she states there were only two people at the time – Mr. Jackson Brown and Mrs. Anna Willett – still alive who remember going to school in the old log schoolhouse.

Unfortunately, this is the extent of the information we have on Jerusalem No. 1 in our subject files. An inquiry into this schoolhouse came our way through Facebook from a woman who indicated her grandmother, Elizabeth Tindall, attended school there before moving on to Penn Yan Academy. The woman even sent us a modern-day photo of the schoolhouse from when her grandmother took her to see it before it was torn down. A series of typewritten pages in our subject files details the history of early Jerusalem schools as pulled from Stafford C. Cleveland’s 1873 “History and Directory of Yates County.” Some of the entries mention log schoolhouses, but it is unclear which of these – or whether any of these – refer to Jerusalem No. 1.

We welcome feedback from anyone who has more information on – or knows anyone who attended – these schools or any of the rural schools in the county.