Heart of the Mountain
Through Our Looking Glass
By Patricia Brown Davis

The theme of glass has always been running a ribbon throughout my home town. Even as a kid I was fascinated in looking through glass and the light and color it captured.

Dad, who was a design engineer, used to take me into the Wellsboro Corning Glass Works plant when I was a kid. I delighted in watching the glass bulbs and Christmas ornaments floating like bubbles as they ran like a river throughout the glass factory on conveyor belts—and through our lives. They produced life stories, gave us a connection, and helped build community. I live for these reminiscences—ones that made glass happen. 

According to many Corning Glass Works retirees, it was the premier place to work in either white- or blue-collar jobs. Don Wilcox, “retired” after 36 years as an equipment engineering specialist, said, “Corning’s philosophy was: If you take good care of the employees and their families, you will have loyal laborers, and their children will become your future workers.”

The highlight of the summer for employees and their families was the Annual Family Outing at Eldridge Park in Elmira. We kids all hustled from one ride to another while men from the plant peppered us with tickets, all paid for by Corning. There were games for kids and adults alike at a large pavilion the company reserved for the day. Food and beverages were also provided. There were bingo and other games for adults. I remember Mom lusting after sets of table or bake ware, a Steuben vase, and other expensive items made by Corning and given as prizes. 

This park is surrounded by a small lake on which a huge, formidable-looking dragon-shaped boat was available for a ride. We’d sit still and keep our hands tucked in because we had heard the scary tales of how the lake was bottomless and was even connected to one of the Finger Lakes.

The supervisors had a yearly picnic at Brownie’s Hole on Pine Creek, planned and paid for by plant manager D.J. Carr.  Lobster, clams, and shrimp were the feast for the day to accompany activities like fishing and card games. The different company departments also had their own parties, each department trying to top the other.  And, of course, Christmas was always a prime time for special gatherings.

During World War II, many of the men were drafted into the service, but the plant kept on, with wives and other women taking over the jobs for the duration. Allen “Oddie” Scranton, now age 91 and a retired 40-year mold-coating expert, recounts that “We were working on items for the military, so Corning got me two deferments, but the third time I was called up, I decided to go. It was a miracle I survived the Battle of Normandy. Some of my buddies didn’t. I recovered pieces of them in my helmet for identification.” When the servicemen returned from overseas, they also returned to their jobs. Many of the women did stay on, however, turning temporary wartime work into lifetime careers.  

Those who gave their lives in service to their country were always honored in a ceremony placing a plaque right on the plant grounds. In 1954, after the Korean War, the headlines in our local paper read “CGW Pays Tribute to Employees Who Paid Supreme Sacrifice.” It was followed by “A fitting and impressive Memorial Service for eight men, who died in the service of their country, was held at the War Memorial in the courtyard of the Wellsboro Plant of Corning Glass Works last Friday afternoon.” The men commemorated were John Campbell, Earl Clark, George H. Hatherill, George Maynard, Ellsworth Smith, Richard Smith, Frank Watkins, and George Wilson. The article went on to mention the governmental dignitaries, veteran groups, and plant employees who attended the service.

These stories provide just a hint of the treasures waiting to be uncovered—recollections of employees, their families, and their relationship to Corning Glass. Multiply these brief reminiscences by the weeks and years in the lifetime careers of thousands of workers, and we’d discover a million stories of people who just didn’t go to work each day, but who embraced a way of life. The local plant was that and much more. It was a huge extended family.

So many great stories about a time and a place deeply rooted in the community and spannng many generations remain untold. But it’s getting late. Many of those we loved are gone, many stories already lost.

According to former employees with whom I spoke, at one time the plantemployed over 1,700 people—some say close to 2,000. For a town with a population of 4,000, it was obviously a major factor in our local economy. Some CGW retirees contend that the plant played no small part in keeping our small rural town alive while so many others dried up in the mid-20th century. Many of these stories deserve our attention, and I charge you to answer this call to arms!

ATTENTION FORMER WELLSBORO CORNING GLASS WORKS EMPLOYEES, FAMILIES & FRIENDS
I’m working on a comprehensive history and collection of personal stories—lots of them, and I am seeking information including names, photos, clippings, and memorabilia connected with the Wellsboro plant. I am especially interested in anything by or about the workers, those who for decades were the beating heart of this community. Your job and your story are important to this collective historical documentation. Be a part of saving the dimming memory of our local history. Publishing your stories will create a legacy for our children and generations yet unborn, a living document preserved locally at the historical society and libraries for all to learn from and enjoy.

For questions and further information, contact me at patd@mountainhomemag.com or 570-724-4438. “One for all, and all for one!”

Patricia Brown Davis facilitates memoir-writing workshops and is a professional musician. Contact her at patd@mountainhomemag.com.

Potato Soup in a Helmet
By Allen “Oddie” Scranton

Our veterans tell many stories of how they used their helmets in their wartime struggle for survival. Washing, shaving, and cooking are just some that are mentionable. The other day I heard a humorous anecdote from World War II veteran Allen “Oddie” Scranton. Oddie noted in November 2002 that the Wellsboro Gazette was holding a recipe contest. Trying to come up with an imaginative entry, he recalled a couple of his WWII recipes: “Potato Soup in a Helmet” and “Golden Goose in a Gas Can.” He decided to submit the former for consideration. He received no response, and it wasn’t published. It was obviously not a good fit with the more traditional Thanksgiving fare. However, we offer it to you, good reader, complete and unedited. Move over Terry Miller, our “Cooking Bachelor Style” columnist. You may just have a rival! Oddie, you’re finally in print.

Potato Soup in a Helmet
    
When your Army kitchen can no longer keep up with your fighting advances, they start issuing you “K&C” food rations. They were not the best. Consequently, it forced the foot soldier to cook for himself. This was one of my favorite dishes.

1. One helmet (sometimes used for head protection in bombing and strafing)—not too clean of shaving whiskers or G.I. soap scum. 

2. Clean water from nearby stream or animal watering troughs. Caution: There may be German hand grenades or “potato mashers” as we called them (No relation to soup being made!). Push them aside and obtain about 3 quarts of this fresh water. Look closely around trough, you might find some water chestnuts to add to the soup.

3. Bring water to a boil in the helmet over a makeshift fire surrounded by stones. An exploding stone adds salt to the stock, which is already taking on a nut-brown scum.

4. Add to this a fresh drawn chicken already plucked and skinned, pulled apart or cut in various sizes and shapes. Stock will now take on a reddish appearance but during cooking will revert back to nut-brown color. NOTE: DO NOT remove the scum from the top; this adds flavor to the soup broth.

5. After chicken is about cooked, bones will appear on top. These can be removed or left to float around to let you know the meat is in bottom of helmet.

6. To this add your potatoes or whatever vegetables the farmer has raised. Eggs are very good in this soup. (Be sure not to add eggshells, as too much roughage will spoil the soup!)

7. Let simmer an hour, if possible, or until the enemy gets a good smell of what’s cooking and makes an attack. After all, eating is much more important than fighting.

8. I like to use cow’s milk to top off the soup. This could be added after serving in individual army mugs. I always had a hard time obtaining milk because I couldn’t get my hands on a willing cow. Fortunately, a good comrade could get the cow to release its milk.

9. Finally, there’s enough soup and ingredients to serve three hungry men, if it’s made right. If not, there’s enough for a whole squad of hungry men.     

NOTE: As US soldiers on the front lines who were well supplied by the American people back home, we did not consider ourselves looters. We were scroungers, and the odds and ends we gathered up gave Potato Soup in a Helmet its unique character.  Incidentally, it makes the inside of your helmet very shiny and clean, at least for a while. So Mrs. Campbell Soup, Mrs. Progresso, Mrs. Grass—EAT YOUR HEART OUT!