Thanksgiving in Greenwood

During the 1940s and 1950s, while some were hosting family for a traditional Thanksgiving feast, many in Greenwood were hosting parties of deer hunters.

First, let’s harken back to those somewhat formal gatherings with everyone seated around the dining table. Picture a cloth laden table adorned with a beautiful centerpiece created by a local florist and its candles casting a festive glow. The china has been brought forth from its special place in the hutch that served only as display during the rest of the year. A cloth napkin wrapped in silver graces each place setting. The food; platters, plates and serving dishes brimming with the fruits of the local harvest. And, centerstage, the turkey, carved by the man of the house or maybe snuck away to the kitchen and brought back sliced and ready to serve. Diners in their Sunday best are chatting and sharing life events waiting to partake in the glorious meal before them. After a prayer of grace, crystal glasses of wine clink as the diners give thanks for another abundant year.

Clair Cornell here. While I enjoyed catching up with family at our Thanksgiving feast, the relaxed dinner at my wife’s family’s farm fit me more.

Up on Greenwood Hill, farmers were celebrating Thanksgiving too; sharing their harvest with family and friends.

Evelyn Lounsberry Cornell here. Thanksgiving at the Lounsberry farm included 60 or 70 people for dinner. Two or three turkeys, a ham, 40 or more pies and everyone brought a dish to pass. It had to feed people twice, for dinner and then for supper later. We had a system, first the kids ate; and the women cleared and washed the dishes. Then the men came in from hunting, they got their fill and the women cleared and washed the dishes. Last we ate.

Karen Cornell Mayer here. As I reached my teenage and young adult years, this used to make me angry. I wanted to know why the women had to wait until last to eat.

Yes, that Karen, ever the activist. As I told her, it allowed us to send all the kids outside to play, all the men were back out hunting and we had peace and quiet and could sit down and enjoy our meal together.

Kathy Murray Reynolds here. If it were me, I would have held back my favorite dishes for the women to enjoy. How about you?

All the dishes were washed and the food set aside for supper later. Those that had other family to visit left and we women had a chance to chat until we had to do it all over again.

John Murray here. I wasn’t much of a hunter, so I would settle in with my father-in-law, Albert while they were cleaning up. He would be dosing on the couch and Flora would be pestering him to stoke the stove or something. He would just bide his time, nothing bothered him. Albert never wasted a move. He was methodical.

I can remember days when he was helping me work on our house and I would have worked my butt off all day, running around and be exhausted while it looked like Albert was just puttering along. And, guess what, he always accomplished more than I did in a day. Pure genius, he got more done looking like he was loafing than most of us do working at breakneck speed. When it made sense, he got up and stoked the stove.

Kathy back. In the 60s and 70s, we were one of the families that had another dinner to attend that day. One at the Lounsberry farm and one at the Murray house in town. I would dream about all the food I was going to have to eat the next day and wake up sick to my stomach on Thanksgiving morning.

At the Murray’s, we kids were relegated to the side porch to eat. Do you know how cold it can get on a porch in November? Let’s just say we ate in our coats most of the time.

Joan Murray here. Worse than being cold was the kool-aid. Made with that distasteful town water. It even smelled of sulfur. So glad they got that resolved.

But, as always, enjoyed every bite of the delicious food and the fellowship of family. Sledding, snowball fights, and who knows what else were fun too!

And as these families celebrate, many throughout town were creating what really was one of many abundant dinners served daily during deer season.

The Steuben County area of New York has always been famous for its abundance of deer and hunters came and still come from all over to partake. They had cabins in the surrounding area or took up temporary residence with local families.

John Murray here. Beginning around 4 or 430 in the morning, at the station, we served around 200 breakfasts to hungry hunters getting ready to spend their morning in the woods. For some who would remain out there, we packed a lunch of sandwiches and maybe some cookies or a slice of pie or cake. All us kids chipped in and helped with the preparation and cooking.

The Rod and Gun Club down at the old schoolhouse used to host the Turkey Shoot. The men would stand around smoking their cigars waiting and then when it was their turn, they would shoot at paper targets, offhand, resting shots at different distances and even one with a picture of a deer being pulled by a rope. No automatic rifles, just shotguns with slugs.

Stan Murray Jr here. One year in the mid-50s, they kept the turkeys in our barn. That year we had a heavy snow with huge drifts everywhere. Those 20 or 30 turkeys got loose somehow. White turkeys running all over town through a snowstorm with everyone chasing them. I don’t know how they got loose. Any of you hooligans that lived in town then want to fess up?

John again. They also had chicken raffles. As a young boy, I was pretty lucky and would win 4 or 5 chickens. I put those winnings to work for me. I used to keep a coup out back of our house and raised chickens and sold them.

Sally Murray Coates here. My brother, John, sure was an entrepreneur. He turned every opportunity into a business as a kid.

And, what I remember about Thanksgiving is dinner at Grandma and Grandpa’s farm. They hosted about 8 or 9 hunters from the Ransomville area each year that joined us for dinner not just on Thanksgiving but everyday. Aunt Pauline, Uncle Gordon Pease and their kids as well as my dad’s cousins Margaret and Hubert Foster also came. Us kids were banned from the kitchen as the women were cooking away. I hovered outside the kitchen door, just waiting for the cinnamon twists they would make from the leftover pie crust. And, cranberry sauce, I love cranberry sauce, and this was the one and only time it was served. When the meal ended, even the younger ones jumped in to help with clean up. I was always assigned the duty of wiping dishes, stacks and stacks dishes.

Stan again. Back to the hunting part. To commemorate my 16th birthday, I got a 12-guage as a gift at breakfast which was a big deal. I was finally old enough for deer hunting. Before then it was just squirrels, racoons and rabbits. I got my first deer that year too; not with my gun; but, with a knife. Yes, you heard me correctly. I was out hunting with Roy Bennett up on the road that runs North and South on Jasper Hill near the pump station. Roy was driving and a buck ran into the road. Roy stopped the car, I got out and took off in pursuit. He had already been shot once so I shot at him again and knocked him down. I could hear him panting, so I put one foot on his antlers and one on his back and put him out of his misery with my knife. That next hunting season when I came down for breakfast, there sat a gift like last year, a new hunting knife. All the guys were just a laughin’. “Thought you might need a new weapon for this season.”

Now, I learned to use my foot from a lesson shared through a similar story from my dad.

Yes, son. Stanley Murray here. When I was living up on the farm atop Murray Hill, we were all in the dining room eating lunch when Mom looked out the window and coming over the hill was an 8-point buck. She got pretty excited; so, I grabbed my gun and the three shells that would fit in my other hand. Out the door I went. I took my first shot, he tumbled but was right back up and running toward the Carr farm. Running after him, I took a second shot and missed. With my third, he went down but looked to not want to stay down. So, I ran up and grabbed him by the horns piercing my hands. I finished the job with my knife but was severely injured. Had trouble with my hands after that. After all that, because of the adrenaline pumping while he ran, that meat was plenty tough.

Stan Jr back. And, that is why I knew to use my feet and not my hands.

Stanley Sr again. The fireman and the auxiliary used to host a pancake breakfast one Saturday during deer season too. We would start around 4 or 430 and serve up pancakes, bacon, eggs, sausage, and homemade syrup from the local farms. A big breakfast for the hunters for about 2 and a half dollars.

The citizens of Greenwood had a lot to be thankful for and they shared their abundance with many. If you visited Greenwood during the Thanksgiving holiday, pop back to the historical society Facebook page and leave your story in the comments. We look forward to reading them!