Inch By Inch

A couple weeks ago, I wrote a  blog about Fulton’s Department of Public Works, whose employees plow our city streets.  I wanted to mention in the column the amount of snow we’ve had so far this season and I knew just who to call to get that information: John Florek. John is the Superintendent of our city’s Waterworks Department, located on Old Route 57, at the southern edge of Fulton. That’s where John keeps our daily precipitation measurements, and as he supplied me with the numbers I needed, I realized that, as the person who maintains records of our city’s snowfall, John Florek is one of Fulton’s historians.

John has put in 42 years at the Waterworks Department, which makes him Fulton’s longest-serving employee. When he was hired to be that department’s assistant supervisor, back in 1976, Sam Vescio was the department head, and just a year before John joined his staff, Sam had started recording precipitation information. One of the first things John learned on the job was how to take those measurements.

“You might wonder why a Waterworks Department would be responsible for measuring precipitation,” John mentioned as he explained his career to me. “There’s a direct correlation between the amount of rainfall and snowfall a city gets and their source of drinking water. In Fulton, we have ten wells, a few on our city property and most of the others at Great Bear Recreation Area. We keep track of the amount of water that seeps into the ground after rain and snowfalls so we have an idea how full our wells are.”

John assured me that our city seldom, if ever, has to worry about sufficient water to serve the entire city of Fulton, as well as parts of Volney and Granby townships. I didn’t think having enough water would ever be a problem for Fulton, based on the amount of snowfall we get. Which got me to my first question for John: Exactly how do he and his staff come up with those numbers?

“Each day’s measurement is taken at 7:00 am,” John explained. That sounded reasonable to me, thinking that performing a task five mornings a week shouldn’t be a problem. Then John clarified what he meant by each day: “Not Monday through Friday; I mean 365 days a year.” John plans his staff’s schedule so that, on weekends or holidays, someone comes in to take care of Waterworks business and record precipitation numbers. So on Christmas morning, when most of the city is opening presents, someone is at the Waterworks Department taking measurements.

Those numbers are sent to the National Weather Service (NWS), which provided the Waterworks Department with a sophisticated machine to help keep track of the daily rain and snowfall. John explained the two ways snow is measured: “First, the machine has a stainless steel precipitation pipe that collects rain or snow for each 7 am to 7am 24-hour period. To get our measurement, we take the pipe off the machine, bring it inside and let it come to room temperature so the snow melts. We also measure the amount of snow that accumulates on the ground. To do that, we use a snow board, a painted piece of wood that sits on flat ground. If it’s snowing pretty heavy, we’ll check that board several times a day, taking a measurement, and then wiping the board off to start again. That’s how we get our snowfall numbers.”

John also shared the challenges of accurately measuring in an area known for lake-effect snow: “More often than not, when snow falls in Fulton, there’s some wind carrying it in. It’s hard to take a measurement if snow gets blown off the board.” To compensate for that, John and his staff have devised a method to get a close estimate of actual snowfall. “We do this by going to several spots around our property – near buildings or trees where wind has driven the snow – and take measurements. We look at those numbers and figure out an average.”  Another problem John contends with is the different types of snow we get in Fulton.  “Sometimes snow is so light people will clear their driveways with a broom or leave blower. Other times, it’s heavier, Nor’easter storm-type snow.”

Light as a feather or densely-packed, John uses a special ruler to get his numbers. Not the typical measuring sticks we learned to use in school, with inches marked off in quarters, eights and sixteenths. If we take a close look at how snowfall amounts are listed during weather reports, John pointed out, we’ll see that they are recorded in tenths of an inch, just like his ruler.

I asked John is he could share a few numbers from this season, but before he started quoting figures, he wanted to make sure I understood that a snowfall season total is not the same as an annual total, which runs from January to December. “We keep records for the season,” John explained, “which typically covers November through May.” John was quick to point out, though, that Fulton has had measurable snowfall during October for nine of the 42 seasons he’s been keeping records. That means that here in Fulton we can have eight months of potential snowfall. I guess people aren’t kidding when they say our city has two seasons: winter and everything else.

John wanted me to know that the date of my call, February 8, was a pretty special day in terms of snowfall totals. So far this season, John has measured 122.6 inches of snow. When he checked on the average snowfall up to February 8 for the previous 42 seasons, that number was also 122.6 inches! So, if you’re like me and think we’ve had a pretty snowy winter, I turns out that it’s just been…average. But John had one other number that might make you feel better about our 2017-18 snow season: The most amount of snow ever accumulated in Fulton by February 8 took place back in 2004, when we’d endured 232.0 inches. That’s got to make your sore back feel a little better about this winter. 

Lots of people measure snow, like this unidentified SUNY Oswego meteorology student, but few have been doing so as long as John Florek, Fulton's Waterworks Department Supervisor.

Lots of people measure snow, like this unidentified SUNY Oswego meteorology student, but few have been doing so as long as John Florek, Fulton's Waterworks Department Supervisor.

Have You Ever Wanted to Drive a Snowplow?

Have You Ever Wanted to Drive a Snowplow?

We’re having ourselves a snowy winter in Fulton. The season is barely half over and we’ve already measured more than 110 inches of the white stuff. That’s a lot of shoveling and snow blowing, and our sore backs are proof of it. It’s also a lot of snow to clear from the over fifty miles of streets in our city.

Plowing Fulton’s streets is the job of the men and women who work for Fulton’s Department of Public Works. I’ve always been curious what it’s like to sit atop one of those mammoth plows, which seem to effortlessly push aside several feet of snow during our area’s infamous lake-effect storms. Thanks to the Fulton Library’s Memoir Project, I got to learn what snowplowing is really like.

No, I didn’t actually climb into a city snowplow, but one of our Memoir Project contributors did: Jo Ann Butler. Jo Ann, an accomplished writer and author of several books, not only has a way with words, but she’s also willing to go the extra mile to get her story, and in 2015, she proved just how willing she was.

That year’s Memoir Project’s theme focused on the community services that help protect and care for our city. We were looking for firefighters, police officers, elected officials and other community servants to tell their stories of supporting Fulton. While we were brainstorming ideas for the theme, I was in the middle of writing a book about The Blizzard of ’66 and snow was on my mind. During the process of researching the blizzard, I’d talked with several Oswego County snowplow drivers who shared stories of what it was like to be at the wheel during that record-breaking storm. I thought it would be great to get a Fulton snowplow driver to tell us their story of what it’s like to plow for a city that averages 175 inches of snow a year. (That’s over fourteen feet!) I mentioned my idea to Jo Ann, who, without hesitation, agreed to pursue it.

Shortly after that, Jo Ann and Betty Mauté, who was then the Library’s director, approached the city of Fulton with our request. Jo Ann was put in contact with C. J. Smith, of the city’s DPW, to ask if she could learn about snowplowing. Soon she found herself in the wingman’s seat of a plow, riding along with city employee Chris Manford. Here’s how Jo Ann described that experience:

“The plow handlers I met are tough, hardy guys, who test their bodies, steel blades, and massive force against snow and ice on a daily basis. The driver uses his leviathan [the dictionary defines leviathan as “a thing that is very large or powerful”] like a Bumper Car From Hell to clear intersections or widen streets. It’s a rough ride under the best of conditions. If the blade catches a curb, manhole, or break in the pavement, 46,000 pounds of plow stops cold. Absorbing each shock takes a terrific toll on both trucks and crewmen, including sheared blade mounts, concussions and broken bones.”

Jo Ann got her snowplowing lesson just like any new DPW worker, by serving as a wingman. Lesson number one was figuring how to get up into the plow’s cab. “The wing blade tucks up against the passenger door, so the driver drops the wing to let you climb aboard,” Jo Ann explained. “It comes down in front of you like King Kong’s straight razor. You can duck under the blade or step on top, and up into the cab. Either way, the seat is more than head-high to me.”

As wingman, Jo Ann got a good taste of what plow drivers experienced: “Dials, toggles, and buttons sprawl the width of the dashboard, and Chris Manford shows me the tricks of operating the biggest vehicle I’ve ever been in. In front, the one-way blade scrapes a swath of snow 15’ wide from the pavement. The wing blade is deployed to shove as much snow as possible over the curb line, leaving room for more blizzards to come. Because the driver can’t see the passenger side, the wingman’s vital job is to maneuver his blade around parked cars and other obstacles.”

Though most of us have never sat on the top of a snowplow, we’ve all watched one go down our street or road, and Jo Ann also wrote about the frustration we sometimes feel as it sweeps by our house: “Believe it or not, plow drivers really aren’t out to crush mail boxes, but many suffer that fate anyway, thrust askew as the snow compacts. Both driver and wingman keep their eyes on pedestrians and people clearing their driveways. A few cranks throw their shovels at plows. Some refuse to move their blowers, hoping the driver will circumvent them. The plow driver is careful as can be, but a few snowblowers have been completely buried. Regretful, but the show must go on because the snow will go on. The streets must be cleared, and nobody does it better than Fulton’s DPW.”

And nobody steps up to the challenge of writing a memoir better than Jo Ann Butler. Over the five years the library has been collecting stories for the Memoir Project, Jo Ann has contributed four times, and in each of her stories you will find expressive writing and passion for her topic. Her dedication to getting the memories just right is as impressive as the cleared Fulton streets after a big storm – only made possible by our city’s plow drivers.

Jo Ann Butler, author and Fulton Library's Memoir Project team member, getting ready to take her ride on a snowplow.

Jo Ann Butler, author and Fulton Library's Memoir Project team member, getting ready to take her ride on a snowplow.

A Hefty Serving of Memories

About a year ago, the Fulton Library decided on its next Memoir Project theme: The Dizzy Block. The Memoir Project’s goal is to help people collect their memories about an important part of Fulton’s history and The Dizzy Block sure fits that bill. Anyone who grew up in our city in the ‘40s, 50’s or ‘60s surely has memories of the many stores clustered in downtown Fulton. I was a frequent visitor to downtown, but I wasn’t looking to buy clothes or school supplies. I went there for my favorite afterschool snack, and I found it at the Green & White Diner.

Set on South First Street, just off the east end on the Oneida Street Bridge, the Green & White Diner was my go-to place when I was in junior high and high school. Thirty-five cents would buy me an order of French fries, ruining my dinner more nights than not, but I didn’t care. Those fries were heaped on a platter and tasted so good after a long day of school.

With a memory as tasty as that, I was hoping we could include stories about the diner in this year’s Memoir Project. I hit the jackpot when I got to talk with Andy Butler, who ran the Green & White between the late-1950s and the early 1970s. Last summer, I met with Andy and his daughter Kelly. Andy was 93 and his short-term memory wasn’t what it used to be, but his recollections of 50+ years ago were excellent. We started talking about how the diner looked. I remember it resembling a trailer, but Andy clarified its appearance.

“That diner was purchased in Rochester, New York, by a guy named Richard Baker,” Andy explained. “Richard was in Rochester on business and he happened to walk by a used car lot, where he saw several old train dining cars for sale. Richard thought one of those would make a good small restaurant in his hometown of Fulton.”

Andy explained that Mr. Baker had the dining car shipped by train, He remembers seeing it being unloaded at a train station at the foot of Broadway, “and then they moved it with horses to the where we all remember it being.”

Andy’s daughter Kelly was a young child when her dad first ran the diner and she remembers the vibrant green and white colors that gave it its name. “The diner was white, with green lettering at the top, and it had several entrances, which were green. When you walked in, there were all those green padded stools. I had a favorite spot to sit, at the end of the row of seats where the water fountain was. Dad always asked me what I wanted and I’d always say ‘Toast’ and he’d make me a giant stack. The other great memory I have of Dad’s cooking was that he toasted the buns for hamburgers. They were crispy and tasted so good.”

Andy had learned he liked cooking when he was younger. His mom worked at Nestlé, so he learned how to prepare meals to help feed the family. While he served in the Navy, Andy became a baker, which got him a job in Syracuse at Ma Tuttle’s Bakery after his discharge. At Ma’s, he learned how to make pies and cakes and many of us remember those yummy desserts at the Green & White Diner.

The diner was already in operation (It was first known as Augie’s Diner) when Andy decided to lease it, continuing with its already established hours. “We were open from 5 am until late at night,” he explained, “so people could get all three meals there.”  Andy had some interesting stories to tell me about his regular customers. “There was a guy named Norman who always wore a large overcoat with big pockets. He’d order his meal, eat some of it and then leave. Before he left, he’d stuff the rest of his meal in those big pockets and eat it on his way home.”

Andy employed several people and one worker I remembered seeing while eating my fries was a tall man who walked with a limp. “That was Louie Caldwell,” Andy confirmed. “He worked many years for me as a handyman mopping floors, cleaning and washing dishes.” Andy also employed several waitresses. “There was Barbara Southworth, Shelba Green and Marie Phelps. Nina Welch was one of our cooks and she also made a lot of our pies.”

Andy ran the diner until Urban Renewal changed our downtown Fulton. The diner was torn down, like many of the other structures on the Dizzy Block, and Andy took his cooking talents to the Holiday Inn in Syracuse, where he worked until he retired.

Though the Green & White is only a memory for most of us, Kelly recently received something that keeps her dad’s diner in today’s world.  Not long ago, her friend, Linda Thomas-Caster, met Kelly for lunch and surprised her with a gift. “It was a Green & White Diner coffee cup,” Kelly explained. “Linda had found it at an estate sale, and now, I have my coffee in it every morning.”

Today, if you stand in the city parking lot adjacent to the Lock Restaurant, with the Oswego River to your back and the lower bridge to your left, you are standing where the Green & White Diner once served our city. Andy reminded me how close the diner was to the river. “Our big window had quite a riverside view. I remember how kids would gather on the diner’s steps and lean over the railing to look at the locks below.”

Sometimes when I walk through that parking lot, I’ll think of the diner, the smell of fresh food cooking when I walked in its door, and how lucky I was to have a friendly place in my hometown to visit after school. Thanks to Andy Butler, I now have other Green & White Diner memories to go with my heaping plate of French fries.

The Green & White Diner, one of my favorite restaurants in my hometown of Fulton's Dizzy Block.

The Green & White Diner, one of my favorite restaurants in my hometown of Fulton's Dizzy Block.