Local History - Thanksgiving in Cobleskill, 1915

COBLESKILL - Below continues our view into local history through local press by our student intern Wildert Marte.

COBLESKILL — When I read through the Cobleskill Index from Thanksgiving week in 1915, I was expecting festive headlines and stories about turkey dinners, maybe a cheerful church service or two. But what I found instead was something much more real. The paper wasn’t trying to dress the day up, it was just showing what life looked like that week. Some parts felt joyful, others were heavy, and a lot of it sat somewhere in the middle. What stood out most was how people in Cobleskill marked the holiday while still going through their usual struggles, joys, and routines.

The biggest headline came from Warnerville, where a man named Reuben Rossman had taken his own life just a few days before Thanksgiving. The story was simple but sad. He had lived with his sister, who had passed away the year before, and people close to him believed he had grown lonely since then. On Saturday morning, he shot himself twice, once above the heart, and once near the stomach. He was rushed to Albany Hospital but died not long after arriving. It was a heavy way to open a holiday paper, but it reminded me that not everyone was gathering around the table or feeling thankful. For some people, this time of year brought more pain than comfort. But there were brighter stories too. One was about a small wedding at the home of Mr. and Mrs. A. L. Wright in Central Bridge. Their daughter, Hazel Belle Wright, had just married Harry Saddlemire under an arch of evergreens and white ribbon. She wore a white crepe de chine dress, and after the ceremony, they left for a short honeymoon through Schenectady, Buffalo, and Niagara Falls. Reading about it, I could picture the decorations, the guests crowding into the family home, and the sense of warmth and hope that still existed even during uncertain times. That same week, Jacob and Jane Hillsinger of Carlisle celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary. They were both 71 years old. Jacob played his violin for the guests, and Jane, who the paper said was once known as one of the best dancers around, joined in with a few steps. I liked that detail. It wasn’t about impressing anyone. It was just a couple who had been through decades together still finding joy in small things.

Not everything that week was about celebration. A young girl named Mildred Letts came down with scarlet fever, and her home was placed under quarantine. There was also a runaway carriage accident involving Mrs. Jonas Platner of Seward. She was seriously hurt and taken to Cooperstown Hospital. It made me think about how hard it must have been back then to handle medical emergencies over long distances, no ambulances, and very little control over the outcome. There were also quiet details about normal life guests arriving from Albany and Gloversville for the holiday, a Thanksgiving church service attended by multiple ministers, and schoolchildren getting ready for a Christmas play in a few weeks. These things didn’t jump off the page, but they helped paint a picture of a community that was still doing what it could to come together.

In my research, I also came across President Woodrow Wilson’s national Thanksgiving proclamation for 1915. It wasn’t printed in the Index, but I thought it added useful context. He talked about how, even though war was spreading across Europe, the United States had been blessed with peace and prosperity. He called on Americans to pause and be thankful not just for comfort, but for the chance to stay out of conflict and help others. His words felt calm but serious, like he understood how quickly things could change. Looking back at that issue now, what struck me most wasn’t just what people were doing for Thanksgiving, but that they were finding ways to keep going. Some were celebrating new beginnings, others were carrying sadness, but all of them were holding on to something familiar. That’s what the holiday seemed to mean in Cobleskill in 1915 not escaping life, but facing it together.