Canal History, Reservoirs, Chengo River & More

The Canal is really an interesting and important part of Eaton’s history.  In reality though...only a small part of it is in Eaton…but that small part was probably the most important part of it, as it is through Eaton that all the water for the main section of the canal flowed to fill it.  

The waters of the Leland Ponds, Woodman Pond, Lebanon Reservoir (once know as Kingsley Brook Reservoir), Hatch’s Lake, Bradley Brook and Eatonbrook Reservoir met there.  Yes even Lebanon Reservoir's runoff makes a turn and runs north to join the canal at that spot near Pecksport.  

If you stop at the bridge on 46 going to Hamilton and look back over the fishing section of the canal just off Wendover Road and glance east you can see where all the waters enter.

When originally surveyed by James Geddes it was decided that near this spot all the manmade reservoirs could be built above it and their waters could flow toward the Erie Canal on one side and south toward Pennsylvania on the other.  Today all the remains to mark the spot is a sign for NYS fishing.

In the earliest days of settlement, it was a special fishing spot for the Native Tribes who set up their summer camps at the flat spot up and down the ponds and near the Chenango.  Joseph Morse lived on that side of the hill before moving to Eaton Village at the turn of the century, his house foundation is at the foot of Hamilton Hill Road on the right... and family letters mention the children playing together.

The other interesting thing about the area was the ingenuity of Josiah Peck and his son Alonzo who dug out an area that would allow more than one canal boat to unload at the same time.  Alonzo who also ran the Chenango Canal Boat Lines, erected a large warehouse at what would become known as Pecksport... to allowed an overflow of goods to be stored from either the northern or southern routes.

Today there is nothing to mark the spot historically as the signs and historic markers one by one have disappeared.  This is a sad actually, as the vanished history was an important part of the canal which bought a number of new towns and new families to our area.. not to forget the coal to heat the homes with in this cold part of New York State..

The canal also served as the supply route to take goods out of the area.  Some of the regions largest businesses laid to the west in Eaton... the famous Morse distillery of Eaton, the factory of Wood, Taber & Morse Steam Engine Works, as well as the mills of West Eaton.

Too much history of our area has been lost to time... but the ponds of Col. Leland still provide a gathering spot for fisherman and vacationers who enjoy the waters charm much like the Native Americans did... since this area was summer quarters for many of them.

Summer, Col. Leland, the Dunbar House and the Leland Pond History!

The week has been hot again and summer is in full swing down here in Eaton... with summer people and boating, kayaking, fishing and reopening summer camps....I had a request to do a piece on Eaton's Leland Ponds and someone is restoring the old Dunbar house which in actuality was the original site of Col. Leland's first home...so as lazy as I am lately about writing, I pulled this from my past writing and put it up for your enjoyment.  If you can please share and help our small rural Southern Madison County area attract new people and in the process help restore awareness to those who have forgotten what a wonderful place they live in.

The heat of this summer has drawn people to small bodies of water to cool off, swim and fish. Since history lurks everywhere some those that have enjoyed fishing at the beautiful Leland Ponds in the Town of Eaton may actually not realize what a special part of history the “ponds” have.

Located equidistant from both Eaton Village and Hamilton, the ponds today are a vibrant part of NYS Fishing areas and are also a very early and important part of the Town of Eaton’s history. A NYS Historic Marker denoting its famous founding family, the family of Joshua Leland, today marks the site but of course, a marker cannot tell the full story.

Born in Massachusetts in 1741, “the Colonel” as he was always referred to, moved to the town of Eaton, then a part of Chenango County and a large tract of land called Hamilton. Leland settled first on English Avenue near today’s Eaton Village, but then moved to the current site of today’s Leland’s Ponds, then called Leland’s Lakes.

The Col. was a Revolutionary War Militia soldier and ventured out with family to find a new home and a fortune. Their removal to Eaton was not without troubles as when the Colonel after clearing land, went back home to get his wife and five children and their wagon got stuck in the mud at the very location they would eventually move to. The Leland’s also arrived so late in the year that they are recorded as spending their first winter in a three side hut with their animals.

An avid astronomer, hotel owner and miller, Leland was a favorite of the many Native Americans who fished the ponds and who regarded the Col. and his wife Waitstil with great esteem. The Leland Family also ran an ashery that made potash and in fact it is how the Col. died. When on a trip to Albany with this much needed commodity, Leland was killed when the barrel of potash they were carry on a wagon rolled off and fell on him as he was ascending a steep hill on the Cherry Valley Turnpike.

Leland is mentioned as Hamilton’s first Supervisor but at that time Eaton was part of Hamilton breaking off in 1795. At that time Leland became and important part of Eaton’s history and he actually owned one seventh of the landmass of Town of Eaton at one time. His heirs continued in their father’s footsteps’ becoming businessmen and the Leland family name is well remembered.

Leland’s Ponds was also the early fisheries of the Oneida Nation, and later was the site of the largest port on the Chenango Canal, Peck’s Port. Today its waters are a vacationers paradise and allow fisherman to revisit the quiet haunts of native fishermen.

For those who like cemeteries, the family cemetery lays 

on Route 12B a short distance from the site of his home. Crow’s Hill, his property that he once gazed at the stars from, is today dotted with wind turbines, proving that Eaton is still a place where “history meets progress!”.

For Pauline...Bullhead fishing...Bob Rollins...and the good times in Eaton..Think Spring!

My good fishing buddy Pauline Brown...miss her!

With all the snow that fell everywhere but here in Eaton. (Thank God) I thought about Spring and how I wished we were coming on to it instead of Winter.  I got and email today from someone from the area and this story popped into my head...so for Harold.

One year my good friend Pauline and I went up to Jack Ass and were frustrated at catch- ing no bullhead; as a matter of fact we had few bites. Pauline had talked to our neighbor Bob Rollins, and he said we should use crabs. Well, this particular night when we didn‟t even get one bite we were camping on the hill where Pauline had a trailer. The next morning over a cup of coffee she ordered me to town to find her daughter Judy in order to get her to get us some crabs (crayfish) to fish with that night.

So I drove back to town and got Judy, telling her of her mother‟s request. I had a pail and asked her if we needed cans or a net to catch the crabs with. Judy laughed at me with that city slicker type of laugh of hers and said, “You just reach down and grab them”. So, reinforced with that information, I followed her across the cow pasture behind the house to the place where she and her friend Cindy used to catch them. There were these “crabs”. I yelled, “You mean crayfish are your crabs?” She looked at me and said, “Yes, why?” “I eat these things, I do not fish with them!”

Judy reached down and tried to grab one, and it bit her. She dropped it and looked at me. After losing a bunch of them that way I took my baseball cap off, and we used that as a scoop! My poor hat! This ball cap was my prize possession since it was bought the day the Liverpool Library became the first library in the United States to bar- code, and it had a barcode on the front for Liverpool! It worked well, but unfortunately the hat never recovered!

That night I took the “crabs” up to Pauline, and we fished. While being novices at fishing with crabs, we did not know we were supposed to break the poor thing‟s legs or it would crawl under a rock. Well, to say the least, we were not successful, and that week I had to go out and buy hooks and sinkers to replace the ones that were under what must have been every rock in the Eatonbrook Reservoir in our casting area!
After some thought on this I wrote the poem “Crabbin‟ .

 

Crabbin ’
(For the bullheads)

On a hot day in May,
Thought of going fishin’ at the end of the day. 
So I asked my neighbor what bait he’d use, 
If he were fishin’ in my shoes.
He said t’wer crabs they would bite best, 
Not knowing crabbin’ would be a test, 

With pail and helper I shuffled along, 
Across the cow pasture and further beyond.
Just as the creek went ‘round the bend,
They were spotted by my crabbin’ friend.

It seems in her youth she had caught them by hand, 
As they scooted backwards across the sand.
But now as adults we found it quite clear, 
‘Twas more than a hand that was needed here. 

So using my ball cap as a net,
Up to the crabs we slowly crept.
Two hours of crabbin’ and soaked to the skin, 
We made it back to my lawn again.


That evening, exhausted, I went to fish, 
Picturing them fried, lying on my dish.
But each time I threw a crab in the lake, 
A quick walk under a rock it would take.

Now with reticence I sit and think,
With not a fish to clean in my sink; 
‘Though they wiggle, and they do squirm, 
There’s nothing’ like fishin’ with a worm. 

A video of Jack Ass...

A trip back to the past..and the memories linger!

Sometimes memories are a bit painful as well as wonderful and this weekend brought those emotions to the forefront for me.

Eaton when I first moved here was such a wonderful place filled with friends and good times.  Oh yes the going was tough since we bought this house before the wrecking ball got it and had to struggle to stay warm in Eaton's seriously cold winters...but the neighbors became family and we had fun.

This weekend I had a wonderful visitor from North Carolina named Jill.  I met Jill when she was just a young girl who came up to Eaton to stay with her grandmother for a few weeks every summer.  Her grandmother was my best friend and fishing buddy...and summers were made up of picnics, swimming in the little pool we had out back, and trips to pick cowslips..berries....and all the things that make country life so wonderful.

So in this dreary weather Jill and I set off to revisit a few of the old haunts....we laughed...and later when she left I cried....not a horrible cry but a painful cry because now all my dear friends and neighbors are dead ...and the street though filled with new young people ...that is still quiet and safe... is missing that wonderful older segment of the population that let you remember Eaton's past.

A past that included a closed atmosphere where everyone worried about everyone else and enjoyed life for its simple pleasures like just walking to the neighbors uninvited for coffee, having lunch on the porch listening to tales of the past....learning what the family and friends were up to....or sitting by the woodstove in winter chatting about the coming springs adventures.  We called ourselves "Back Door Friends"..but we were more like family...and unfortunately they are all dead and the young have moved away.

Well today we have Facebook..and although the new neighbors and I do Facebook with each other....its not the same.....and with the introduction of the internet...it will never be the same again...never I fear!

A trip back was fun!

So a toast to those good times and to those now gone....I still remember...!

Sad that we can only revisit those good times as memories.....and the summers seem to get much shorter as you get older...and the winters much longer!

Thanks for the visit Jill....