1831 The Day Robbie Logan Died

Cornelia Brother (L) and Rebecca Brother (R)

Henry Brother, the father of Civil War Marine Charles Brother, rushed out of the house when he got word that Robbie Logan died, leaving seven minor children for a wife that was infirm. This was in Bath, New York in May 1831 and Mr. Brother, a friend of the family and, for a time, guardian.

When he arrived at the Logan house, the oldest was trying to manage, but reported that Logan’s neighbor, who they thought would soon be neighborly, emphatically refused to help. Well, the boy got only part of the situation right. The lady refused to help when Robbie's wife refused the lady, days earlier. Brother knew this from the boys at the Freemason lodge, but kept quiet, as his oath required, although wanting to comfort the boy that they were all better off without her. He picked up the baby, who promptly soiled him.

When he returned for dinner at his own house, wild now with three young children of his own, he promptly walked up the stairs and changed his shirt. Mary Ann, his wife, walked in carrying on about something in the kitchen and carrying, too, darling Rebecca, the newest addition, who waited patiently for her father to get a dry shirt one before, after landing on his hip, she promptly wetted him.

Years later Mr. Brother would tease Rebecca about this day—he remembered it clearly for the suffering of the Logan bunch and the drama in court that followed, arranging their permanent guardians—because she grew up wholly intolerant of mess, clutter, dirt, and low brow sloth, in general. From time to time, the girl needed a reminder of those who work close to the earth, the mills, or the Logans.

Henry was proud, mostly, of the way Cornelia and Rebecca taught the Logan children in both regular and in Sunday school, showing them where to leave their mud and when and how to wash their hands, always with a song or a Bible verse, washing, scrubbing, and even loving the smell and taste of soap when correction for fowl words was needed.

1827 Franklin Academy Opens to Girls

Valentine Brother, the first child of Mary Ann Pratt and Henry Brother, was born in October 1827.

This was the same year that the Franklin Academy in Prattsburgh, founded by Mary Ann’s grandfather and friends, opened its school to girls.

This spark of modernization was a premature light for the next decade, which would welcome into the Brother home at 22 West Morris Street in Bath, New York, a series of girls and bursts of laughter, tears, study, and industry.

They called their first boy “Val” and expected great things of him, even if he was, what they deemed at the time, “a quiet leader,” unlike the girls that followed.

Baby Cornelia was next, born in December 1828.

Years later she would attend the academy and make many friends who loved story and theater.

The Brother boys stuck close to home to help with the mills and the stores and instead went to the Bath Classical School for boys, taught by Mr. Ralph Knickerbocker Finch, a Dartmouth educated teacher. Mr. Finch married the best friend of Mary Ann Pratt and he frequently coached Val on his Latin, Greek, and Shakespeare. It is not clear what elementary school Charles Brother, who later became a Civil War Marine, attended because by the time he was born (1844).

Val preferred business of the mills. He was so attached to accounting and business affairs, in fact, that it concerned his mother, who asked Henry to straighten the boy out.

As he heard this, he rolled over in bed. The head of the household mumbled into his pillow something, but Mary Ann could not make it out. As she reached over to rub into him her opinion more profoundly, and he winced, a child cried out and she left their room.

Upon her exit, Henry Brother opened his eyes and looked at the doorway and followed the flinkering fire-light coming from down the hall.

He listened to his wife comfort the child. His father, Valentine Brother, died at the age of 46 like his father before him.

There would be no reprogramming or softening. Val would keep doing the tour of the mills with him.

Valentine Brother, oldest child of Mary Ann Pratt & Henry Brother

1827 Ira Pratt Gives Instructions

Three months after her wedding to Henry Brother, the mother of Civil War Marine Charles Brother was called back to Bath, New York to attend to her dying father, age 46. This was in 1827 and her brother Ira, Jr., age four, was sent to live with their neighbor and tavern owner, Mrs. Metcalf. The boy threw a fit.

Mary Ann spanked him; telling him he would not catch whatever bug was going through the house. Finally, he allowed Mrs. Metcalf to take his hand and he kicked the door shut to punctuate the matter. This woke Ira Pratt, Sr., who asked for water.

Handing back the cup, he spoke up clearly, which surprised her, making her think it was too serious a matter and too taxing, so she begged him to be still. He waved his hand as if now she was the bug going through the house. She lowered her chin.

“The boy goes to Anna,” he said, referring to his sister, Mrs. Burrage Rice, living in Prattsburgh, childless. “Don’t let him near the tavern.”

“This is just for now, nothing is set firm now, because you’re getting better.”

“No, I’m not. So, you have my clear instructions.”

And with that he fell asleep for good.

Mary Ann arranged for guardians, but it took some time to convince the boy.

When she learned that she was expecting her first child and would inherit the house, she and Henry settled into 22 West Morris Street. Ira was eventually sent to be with the Rices in the country, where he attended the Franklin Academy and later the Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, surprising all with his stamina, but not his drive and determination.

Mary Ann relied heavily on the families of Finch, Dutcher, and Metcalf.

John Metcalf was still the county clerk.

Years later Mrs. Metcalf would write to Civil War Marine Charley Brother during his time at sea, sending him Waverly Magazines, the latest gossip, news of who had a bee in their bonnet or was staying at the tavern, still hopping with guests a few steps from the house on Morris Street.

Prattsburgh, Steuben County, NY 1857 (Library of Congress)

1826 The Practical Shepherd

Wedding at the Fireplace

In September 1826 the parents of Civil War Marine Charles Brother were married at the home of Ira Pratt, located at 22 West Morris Street in Bath, New York.

Mary Ann Pratt was 18 and her groom, Henry, was 25. They said their vows at the fireplace.

Guests included Col. William Howell Bull and Gen. Otto F. Marshall, who later became a state assemblyman. These men were experts with husbandry, the proper feeding of land, the community, their flock, and each other. They also were right with the schedule. Sheep needed regular feeding. Sunday was a day of worship. Days were tight. So were friends. Trust was more of a natural resource than hay, lumber, or wheat.

Before cake, the bride and her maids gathered in her childhood bedroom. They tugged at her corset, commanding her to suck it in, but all she heard was to suck it up, this notion that her groom was partnering with Dudley and that Dudley was clever and an expert at planning for expansion to Buffalo to connect with the Erie Canal. With each tug at her waist her eyes shot to the landmarks outside of her window. The school, the church steeple, the courthouse. The hills. The people she’d miss, the loss of friends, hope, meaning, and air. She shut her eyes.

After cake, Henry joined the men on the porch. Dudley handed him a cigar. Gen. Marshall and Col. Bull were debating honey, its proper ventilation. Then, without taking a breath, they switched to the business of sheep, keeping feed scraps dry and the joy and regiment of salt.

Henry, taking a deep breath, let his mind cracked up about of proper ventilation, in general.

What about the proper care and feeding of his girl, a safe home and carriage, good water, dresses, her craft, servants, and friends and experts close at hand, including those in the assembly, who saw what was coming?

He went back into the house, letting the screen slam, to tell his girl, who wanted to smile and kiss him, but could only get out a cry for help to loosen her back ties.

The Practical Shepherd: A Complete Treatise on the Breeding, Management and Diseases of Sheep

by Henry Stephens Randall, 1863

1825 That Thing about Lafayette

Marquis de Lafayette (Library of Congress)

That thing that Henry Brother said about wanting to avoid girls with buck teeth, that one time he used Mary Ann Pratt to avoid the ugly girls—well he regretted it, years later, as a man. This was because of his beloved sister, Belinda, who was the aunt of Civil War Marine Charles Brother.

Belinda was not an ugly girl at all, but she felt that way and carried herself that way, for she never had suitors and her sisters, both more extroverted and strategic about when they applied rogue or pink.

Belinda was bookish, thinking she might have a chance with the young soldiers if she studied war or military advancements. Perhaps she might find a schoolmaster to marry, and if that approach was a bust, she’d settle for a preacher.

When Henry was 24 years old in 1825, he watched with terrific pride as Belinda was one of the thirteen girls from Geneva’s William Plum school selected to represent the 13 original states when Gen. Lafayette's visited.

The girls arranged flowers in his pathway when he stepped out of his carriage, which arrived on June 8th, pulled by six horses. A signal gun’s firing announced his arrival and nearly a dozen military companies marched to the tree, the light infantry and artillery troops all in full uniform. He admired Seneca Lake and stood there on the shore a long time with his traveling party.

Afterwards Belinda ran up to Henry and jumped in his arms. She didn’t need any rogue or pink at all and he spun her around, caught up in the excitement himself.

She shouted, “All those handsome soldiers! I shall swoon for the rest of the year!”

Years later when her drop-dead gorgeous sister died, quickly followed by her husband, Belinda found at her feet six under drop-dead terrified young children looking up to her and her older sister.

Both ladies set aside all romance and set down to educate and rear these young people, all who became very successful and loyal admirers of their aunts, but especially Belinda, who told wonderful stories of military battles, beautiful horses, and dramatic entrances.

1822 Mary Ann Pratt & Mrs. Metcalf

Ira Pratt-Henry Brother House, 22 Morris Street, Bath, NY (n.d.)

Mary Ann Pratt, now fourteen in 1822, came into womanhood the same week that her mother, Rebecca, gave birth to son Ira Rice. With the help of their slave girl Anna, the two young girls hustled about to care for the baby and deal with its crying because Rebecca was passing out, losing more blood.

In the middle of the night, with blood about her nightgown, Mary Ann reached for the baby, who was whaling, shaking, and red faced, and pulled him close. When she looked to the ceiling for an angel, Mrs. Metcalf came to the door.

“Where is Anna?” Mrs. Metcalf asked, unwrapping her scarf, and rolling up her sleeves. “We have to get the doctor.”

“She went to get you.”

Mrs. Metcalf quickly took the baby and applied him to her own breast and things began to get quiet. Too quiet. Her father in prison, her mother dying, her own blood about her feet, her slave Anna confused and probably waking up the entire Metcalf family and their guests at their tavern, getting boots thrown at her in the dark from the top of the stairs. What is to become of us?

Switching breasts, Mrs. Metcalf asked Mary Ann if she knew what to do about her own body and she nodded, but they both agreed that things would improve only once Anna returned. She always took action before anyone else. When Rebecca died, the Metcalfs managed to keep the house and arrange for her father’s early release, striking a deal to give Anna to the Metcalf’s, keeping her close.

1825 First Contract for Goods

Henry Brother, the father of Civil War Marine Charles Brother, was soon back on the family farm in Geneva, but developing a routine of traveling to Bath, New York, every other Saturday, getting there in time for no serious driving on the Sabbath, and making sure he was in Bath for services at St. Thomas Episcopal Church.

He was not interested in buying or selling, but only in getting to know the men who would become business partners and future customers. He tested the waters for rapids at church socials and strolls in the park. He studied the land and test the flow and pitch of rivers for mill work, too.

The second or third time he slipped in the back of St. Thomas, he overheard Mrs. Metcalf report to Mrs. Howell the sad situation with Ira Pratt, who, at age 39, was called to the courts as an insolvent debtor with an appeal to the public not to send him to prison.

Upon hearing this, Henry looked around for young Mary Ann Pratt, knowing he would not be able to see her for her size, but thought maybe she could not skip church, surly, at a time when the Pratt family needed most of all their friends.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Henry leaned in, “I am a judge of Miss Pratt’s bonnet work from Geneva. Am I understanding that her work has been compromised by this situation?”

The women looked him over. What judge?

“I am buying stock for my store with Mr. Dudley, near Rushville,” Henry continued, “Miss Pratt has been commissioned to provide her millinery. Can you help me find her this morning to determine if our agreement remains intact?”

The ladies, squinting, placed their hands on their scarves and adjusted their closures, but pointed out the pews rented out to the Pratts. While others were standing and visiting, Mary was sitting and swinging her feet.

Henry quickly wrote down his invitation to Mary, an order for five bonnets, their first contract to test her product. He handed it to her, testing her to see if she might choose hope, but it was also a gesture to fill that void of entertainment after his father died and she was all that and more. He must generate his own good news. When she nodded, business-like, he knew he could go on. He left in high spirits, more confident in Bath than ever.

1820 Valentine Brother's Estate

When Henry Brother, the father of Civil War Marine Charley Brother, was about 20, working at this first job away from the farm, his father died.

“Valentine Brother, Esq., 47, member of Assembly-elect from Ontario Co., died in Seneca.”

Henry returned home to arrange things with his brother Charles and his sisters. The church was full of people who were the early settlers and financial backers of the region, including Charles A. Williamson, who were watching him.

Henry entered the Presbyterian Church with his mother, who was firm in her faith and not crying. As the reverend spoke, Henry fixated on the simple white walls, trying not to be overwrought, but all Henry could think about was his age. Valentine died at the same age as his father, Heinrich Bruder. Henry wondered, Was this the script I inherited? What else did I inherit?

He met with the witnesses to his father’s will. Gathered in the room with his siblings, the neighbor read aloud the inventory, listing the animals, outbuildings, acreage, even the china, Henry missed his father, that was the weight of things, yes, he did not know how to hold his reason to settle matters. It was too much. Too much stuff, processing, business, nodding, mindlessly accepting and acknowledging change and responsibility. Perhaps he could find a white wall or open field to fixate on. But it was time to talk and split the estate. In doing so, Henry surprised himself by pulling through. It took him several days to process that he was now, suddenly, a very wealthy person, but not free. He had just a few years, perhaps just 17, to match or exceed the legacy of Valentine Brother, Esquire. So he had better get to it and find Dudley to open the store.

1819 The Steuben County Fair

The Steuben County fair in Bath, New York, was officially adopted as an annual event in 1819, the year Henry Brother started to care about prize offerings and, oddly enough, for fabrics. He had a list of other things to look over, too, if he was going to open the store with Dudley, who was not sticking with the plan to talk to the bankers, but their daughters. Henry did not want the distractions of courting now and utilized 11-year-old Mary Ann Pratt to provide cover from the claws of her older cousins, some with bucked teeth and ruddy complexions.

Library of Congress

Mary Ann was standing behind him in line at the booth where the woman with dogs was selling pies. One of the dogs became agitated and Henry backed up to avoid the slobbery, not realizing a little object of quiet sunshine and delight was behind him. As he picked her up and helped her replace her bonnet, he recognized her as Pratt’s girl from St. Thomas Church. He never cared care two bits about—-but was now speaking of quiet seriously—-the quality and contrasting color of the piping around the draw strings, thankful that Dudley has gone to see the horses and not around to see this.

The stitching was careful and not necessary, he thought, and determined she must have had a lot of time on her hands. How rich was Mr. Pratt, anyway? She surprised him when she said, “I’m going to win a prize someday, just you watch.”

He just looked down at the top of her head.

“You don’t believe me,” she continued “Pay attention, slow-braine, so you mark this day. When we meet again you can have the satisfaction of being wrong or right, take your pick, but I am taking my prize.” Then she ran off, covering her face.

Henry Brother, disoriented, lost his place and, like an idiot he never was before, found his place at the back of the line, and from there started to think of bolts of fabrics, velvets, linen, and silk. All lined up by color in his general store.

1817 Leaving Geneva

Geneva, Ontario County, NY in 1859 from Library of Congress

Geneva, New York was a beautiful place to grow up. When Henry Brother, the father of Civil War Marine Charles Brother, decided to put off Tom Dudley’s offer to go into business in a bigger city, he understood he might miss a golden opportunity to see traffic that brought excitement. But after spending a summer on Sodus Bay and growing up on the Finger Lakes, Henry just could not go off on some amusement. He felt attached, somewhat, knowing that his father mapped out the towns and roads. His own sweat was connected to the dams and bridges now.

So, Henry Brother wanted to bring the excitement to him. Turning 17 in 1817, he took a job as a clerk for the Colt & Bailey store in Geneva and followed construction news for any new roads or buildings, including a contract given to tavern operator Tomas Metcalf and Ira Pratt, both of Bath, New York, to build a dam across the Canisteo River in Steuben County, south of Geneva. This would open a line from Pen Yan down over the Crooked (Keuka) Lake, moving goods.

If he could get there first, then he would attach himself to the movers and shakers, like Metcalf and Pratt, and build some trust.

Traveling down to Bath on the Sabbath, Henry knew that he would have to avoid the dust and wear his best suit, attending the first church that looked to be overflowing. Although he grew up with the Presbyterian Church, he was much relieved to find a crowd entering the Episcopal Church, which was tolerant of Freemasonry and beer. A crooked path, perhaps, to track down Metcalf and Pratt, but it worked and soon enough was enjoying pleasant introductions after the service.

Ira Pratt’s daughter, Mary Ann, was, sadly, too young for Henry to think about but she, too, agreed, that they were at that moment of greeting, attached.