Poughkeepsie Rural Cemetery

Paul MacCormac - The $7000 bride and a Fast Car
By Shannon Butler

Some stories are just too crazy that they simply don’t seem true. However, with the case of Paul MacCormac, his entire adult (albeit short) life seemed like it was made to print. He was a man of wealth and odd tastes, who loved fast cars, annoying the police both on and off the road, and not-so-easy women, well, at least one woman. He made some smart financial decisions but was not terribly smart behind the wheel. What you are about to read may sound like fiction, but we assure you, it's all true.

Paul MacCormac was born in Poughkeepsie on May 12, 1877 to very wealthy parents. Mary Dawson, his mother, came from a prominent Quaker family and his father Dr. James MacCormac, had been a successful physician, so much so that the family had a fine house on the road to Hyde Park. Both of his parents died within a few months from each other in 1900 and as their only son, Paul inherited two large fortunes at the age of 23. He quickly sold part of his parent’s property to a local dry goods merchant named Charles Converse and his wife Carrie, and built a fancy barn nearby with “a suite of apartments on the second floor which were furnished with Oriental magnificence.”

He earned a reputation for causing trouble with the local police by setting off explosives late at night, just for the fun of it. His name began appearing in the Poughkeepsie Journal for his eccentricity and his love of fast things, both horses and automobiles. In 1902, it was reported that he had purchased two 13 feet long Boa Constrictors as pets but decided he wanted their skins and cut their heads off! That same year, it became clear that many people in the area were becoming irritated with Paul’s obsession with fast cars and his speeding through the roads around Dutchess County. In 1904 he was arrested for speeding and paid a $75 bail as he claimed that he had just made $17,000 on a cotton deal and could afford it. It is said that some of his friends believed that his fast driving would be the death of him. In 1901 he was referred to as the “Little joker” as he had everyone fooled into believing that he had married a New Haven girl, but he admitted it was just a prank.

Interestingly, Paul had become quite friendly with Mrs. Carrie Converse (the wife of the man who had purchased some of his property), so friendly in fact that he had convinced her to run away with him. He sold whatever property he had left and the two left town. Carrie headed to California in the hopes of establishing herself legally so that she might bring suit for divorce. Meanwhile, Paul met with Mr. Converse to make a deal to purchase his wife. “Converse wanted $10,000 to drop the suit for damages” MacCormac said, “I told him that was too much. We talked for an hour or more and finally decided on the terms. He agreed to accept $7000, of which $2000 was to go to the lawyers.” Paul and Carrie married but she lost the custody of her son and the press had a field day with stories of the “$7000 Wife.”

Sadly for the two lovebirds, their marriage did not last long, and the premonitions of some of Paul’s friends came true. In August of 1907, while speeding on a winding road outside of Norwalk Connecticut, Paul tried to avoid a collision with a carriage driven by two women. He swerved and ran headfirst into a giant oak tree. The accident sent him flying from the automobile fatally wounding him, while his wife was pinned between the tree and the car, killing her instantly. Paul remained unconscious in the hospital for a couple of weeks before finally succumbing to his injuries on September 8th, 1907. He is buried here alongside his parents. So remember that even if you have all of the money in the world, it won’t save you from bad driving. Be safe out there!

References:
The New York Times - Aug 30, 1903
Poughkeepsie Journal/ Eagle News - Dec 10, 1900, May 7, 1901, June 1, 1901, Mar 13, 1902, May 28, 1902, Sept 9, 1907
The Sunday Star - Sept 24, 1905
New York Tribune - Dec 12, 1904

Images:
Photo of Paul and Carrie MacCormac in an old automobile, from the collections of the Local History Room at the Poughkeepsie Public Library.
Newspaper clipping from the Sunday Star, Sept 24, 1905.

Poughkeepsie’s Artist: Thomas Weeks Barrett Jr.
By Shannon Butler

The Poughkeepsie Rural Cemetery is home to some very interesting people, including several artists. Perhaps the most famous of these is our own hometown boy, Thomas Barrett. Not only is he well known here, but his work is in the collections of several museums. Though he never found fame in his own time, much to his dismay, today we consider him one of the reasons why a strong arts community not only exists here but still thrives.
Thomas Weeks Barrett Jr. was born here on September 12, 1902, into a family of means. They lived comfortably at #55 Noxon Street, where they had been for quite some time. His father, Thomas Sr., was a Poughkeepsie native who worked as a banker. First at the Poughkeepsie National Bank, he then served as the treasurer of the Poughkeepsie Trust Company and later became its Vice President in 1941. Tom Sr. was a man who clearly worked to improve his city, something Thomas Jr. would try to do as well, and he served on several committees, including the one that saved the Glebe House on Main Street and the committee that built St. Francis Hospital as well as the Nurses’ Home.
His mother, Katherine Stoughtenburgh, was a member of the old and prominent Dutch family who first settled Hyde Park, the Stoughtenburghs. She was born in Hyde Park but spent much of her young life down in Washington DC where her father served as the Superintendent of the Washington asylum. Which was no doubt a fascinating experience for her growing up. His mother was involved in the local chapter of the D.A.R. and their church. His sister, Elizabeth, also lived in the home on Noxon Street and worked in banking and helped raise money for various organizations and things like the Victory Calendars. She would prove to be an artist as well.
Thomas went to school at Poughkeepsie High School but never graduated. Health problems were said to be the reason for his lack of attendance and his eventual total abandonment of school. Based on his diary entries and letters to friends and family, he does appear to have been sick often with headaches and the flu. He attended the School of the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. There, he studied decorative design under Henry Hunt Clark. On his summer breaks, he would come home to Poughkeepsie and work where he could, including painting signs for the Dutch reformed church in 1920, and in his personal diary he wrote, “I wish they’d hurry up and pay me for those 6 signs I made for the Dutch reformed church 3 weeks ago. Wish I was rich and then I wouldn’t have to worry -Hot dog! If I were rich I’d have some fun. I wouldn’t pinch a dollar so tight that I’d make the eagle scream the way I do now - Hot dog, again!” He had discovered that art was something he could do well and graduated from college in 1926.
After graduation, he moved down to New York City, where he worked as a commercial artist making playing cards for Macy’s. Based on his personal diaries, he painted, drank (despite it being Prohibition), and partied. He soon found his way back to Poughkeepsie just before the stock market crash in 1929. He stayed busy in Poughkeepsie with work in woodcuts, greeting cards, bookplates, and posters. In 1934, he organized the first fine art exhibit in Poughkeepsie at the Luckey-Platt store on Main Street. Another local artist, Lee Miller, who had made a name for herself in the world of fashion and photography, sent some of her works to display as well. The show was a great success and inspired Barrett along with other local artists, to create the Dutchess County Arts Association the following year.
He scribbled down some thoughts about his life in 1932, which read “Painting is my work for two reasons – that it suits my physical temperament, and that it affords me more genuine pleasure than anything else excluding factors of appetite.” He went on to say, “I like to work when I have real reason to – when I am moved to work. I like to eat and drink, I like comradeship, of men and women, I like modern music – Debussy, Gershwin, some jazz orchestras such as Cab Callaway's’. The rhythmic weight of Gershwin and good modern jazz are as satisfying to me as good German food.”
Thomas had this great desire to get Poughkeepsie into the arts movement and to improve the city’s cultural identity. There were times when he seemed to love Poughkeepsie for its potential but hated the leadership for its lack of movement. He scribbled this note on a piece of paper in 1943, “In Poughkeepsie, there is no civil pride. That means respect - and a city is made up of people - in this case people void of self-respect. They are run by a political machine malignant at the core as the people behind it are out for money and to the exclusion of ideals, considerations of future growth, and general humanitarianism. Minor dollar dictators, milking the public - which remains forever docile and without benefit except those promised and in rare instances, grudgingly given, minor dictators slow about sewers, quick about pinball machines.” His paintings are mostly of Poughkeepsie, and in many cases, they depict either a depression era or a wartime vibe.
He also believed that his work would be his early demise, as he wrote in his personal papers. And he wasn’t wrong. After a mixture of overworking himself and the overconsumption of alcohol, he became ill on Tuesday, November 18th, 1947, and was sent to St. Francis Hospital. On Thursday, the 20th, he died from pneumonia; he was 45 years old. He is buried here alongside his family.

Today, on the anniversary of his death, we celebrate the life of John Peter Adriance, one of our permanent residents here at Poughkeepsie Rural Cemetery! Adriance was born in Poughkeepsie in 1825 and attended the Dutchess Academy, located at the time on the site of what is now the Vassar-Warner Home on the corner of South Hamilton and Ho**er Avenue. Afterwards, he attended the Poughkeepsie Collegiate School on College Hill.

After working for various hardware stores he purchased the patents for a mower in 1857, originally made by Aultman and Miller of Canton, Ohio. Mr. Adriance named the mower the “Buckeye” and this is the machine that made Adriance a very wealthy man. In 1863 he teamed up with Isaac Platt and built a factory at the Poughkeepsie waterfront to start their empire of selling mowers and reapers. By the 1870s, Adriance, Platt and Company were shipping mowing machines all over the world.

Adriance, however, eventually succumbed to his heart ailments and died at the age of 66 on June 18th, 1891. Poughkeepsie benefitted from his wealth when his children used some of his fortune to create the Adriance Memorial Library a few years later. He and his wife Mary are here at the top of the hill next to the Smead mausoleum. Stop by and visit!

Here at Poughkeepsie Rural Cemetery, one can find several forms of Cemetery Art. From the beatiful forms of architecture found in our many mausoleums, to the busts of some notable figures, to the various symbols of mourning found on headstones. Come take a walk and see what you might find.

Rufus Anson - Daguerreotypist
By Shannon Butler

Today, we live in the modern age of easy photography. Anyone can whip their smartphone out of their pocket and snap a picture. If it didn’t come out the way they wanted it to, they can snap it again, several times more, even, and then edit it quickly all with their hand held device. We can then send that photo to anyone and share it with the world, all by pressing a button. And if we want copies, we can just print them out. We’ve taken this technology for granted. We don’t know how good we have it until we take a step back into the 19th century when photography was born. The first photographers were known as daguerreotypists, active between 1839 and the 1860s, when newer technologies came into being. The photos they made were direct positive images fixed on a sensitized silver-coated plate in a camera obscura. The daguerreotype was generally described as a “mirror with a memory” as the images were mirror-like in quality. Today, you can find dags (as collectors call them) in antique shops all over the world, but rarely is the name of the daguerreotypist on it, with few exceptions.
As we have mentioned in an earlier article, the cemetery is home to one daguerreotype, which is embedded on a headstone (this is incredibly rare), but we are also the final resting place of a well-known and successful daguerreotypist, Rufus Anson, and his name is definitely all over his work. He was born here in Dutchess County somewhere around 1821, and as a child, he grew up in the village of Stanford. He came to Poughkeepsie on and off during the course of his life, first in the summer of 1847 when he and another local daguerreotypist (and another resident of this cemetery), Samuel L. Walker, set up a gallery to display their images at 294 Main St. near Liberty St. He remained there through the year and in May of 1848, he married a Poughkeepsie girl by the name of Harriet Myers. There is a mention of their wedding in the Poughkeepsie Eagle on May 20th, 1848. They lived in a house owned by Margaret Sherman on Garden Street, not far from Samuel L. Walker’s house. Exactly one year after their wedding, they had their first child, Franklin.
Anson did not remain in Poughkeepsie for long (though he would return). In order to become more successful in his line of work, he made his way down to New York City in 1852. He opened a studio on Broadway at number 633 before eventually establishing a grand art gallery at number 589 Broadway in 1853. An interior of his gallery was showcased in the December 8th, 1860 edition of the New York Illustrated News. The scene depicted a grand hall filled with portraits, molded ceilings, and fancy gas light fixtures for ample lighting. The article that accompanied this image mentioned that Anson had a full staff of assistants “altogether there are twenty-four persons engaged in the establishment, including operators, artists, finishers, burnishers, etc.”
Anson’s gallery was the place to visit when you came to New York, and he claimed it to be one of the largest operations of its kind, capable of producing hundreds of photos a day. He made sure that the world knew his work by placing his name on most of his daguerreotypes, either on the matting or somewhere on the frame. That’s why his work is easy to identify and why he appears to be the best known daguerreotypists in museum collections today. You can find his work in private collections and at places like the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Library of Congress, the George Eastman Museum, and the Art Institute of Chicago. Recently, one of his works sold at auction for a record $46,000.
The building that had housed Anson’s gallery was up for sale by 1866 and by that point, the art of photography had changed. Daguerreotypes were out, and Tintypes, which were much cheaper and easier to make, were in. Anson appears to have ended his career in photography at this point and made his way back to Poughkeepsie briefly to open a new venture, a hotel. An article in the Poughkeepsie Journal in April of 1874 proclaimed that Anson had purchased the old “Nesbitt’s dining establishment” and set it up in the “European plan with Ladies and Gents dining rooms and ice cream parlors.” Sadly this endeavor was short-lived as Anson “finding it difficult to weather the dull times” could not make it work.
His wife Harriet died in 1880 and she is buried here in the plot owned by her parents in Section J, lot 62. Anson would live on until 1886, when he died on March 21st. He is buried in a plot that his sister Elizabeth Anson Wilson owned in Section 2. For some reason, his sister never installed a headstone on his grave. It does seem odd that the man who didn’t want his name to be forgotten in the world of photography doesn’t have a headstone for us to identify his final resting place.

The Honorable Seward Barculo

Sitting on top of a hillside and overlooking the Hudson sits a monument to a man who had faith in his God and in his country’s system of justice. The epitaph inscribed therein gives us a possible glimpse of who he was “In Society an Ornament; In the State, a Judge, fearless, dignified, and incorruptible; In Habit, Simple and Pure. He died young, but mature in usefulness and fame. Adorning Jurisprudence by the clearness of his decisions, and Illustrating Religion by the Strength of his faith!” To this modern writer, that sounds like quite a man, and a character that just doesn’t exist anymore. But who was Seward Barculo anyway? Was he really all of the things that his headstone claims he was?

The pastor of the Dutch Reformed churches in Hopewell and New Hackensack The Reverend George Barculo was overjoyed on September 22nd 1808 when his wife Hannah gave birth to their son, Seward. Though his father thought he would be a farmer, Seward’s uncle Jacobus Swartout couldn’t help but notice that the boy enjoyed reading and learning at an early age, so it was decided that he should receive a proper education. He was sent off to the Academy at Fishkill and then prepped for college before entering Yale in 1828. He studied both at Yale and Rutgers before coming to Poughkeepsie to study law with a local attorney Stephen Cleveland. He was finally admitted to the Bar in 1834, which is also the same year he married Cornelia Tallman. He very quickly discovered a passion for debate and was heard to tell his friends “learn to speak, argue, and debate! Without this you can never make yourself felt.”

Barculo became a partner with Stephen Cleveland and very quickly took over the office at Poughkeepsie and was in high demand with his clients. He became well known for his silent stare in the courtroom, and rising at the appropriate times to deliver well arranged statements with calmness and care. After only serving in the courts for a little over a decade, New York Governor Silas Wright appointed Barculo First Judge of the County Court here in Dutchess. Two years went by before in 1847 when the State’s new constitution went into effect, Barculo was then elected to serve as a Justice of the Supreme Court for the 2nd District. He had also made Poughkeepsie his home with a house near Mansion Square Park.

Perhaps the most infamous case that he proceeded over during this time was in March of 1852, “The People vs. Ann Hoag” in which Mrs. Hoag was put on trial for the poisoning of her husband Nelson Hoag. Barculo, the jury, and hundreds of spectators listened intently as the horrible story of a young woman consumed with greed and lust unfolded before them. Mrs. Hoag had done a rather poor job of covering her tracks in the purchasing of arsenic and then feeding it to her husband in front of his sisters (who she detested as well). She even made the mistake of telling people that her husband would surely die soon (spoiler alert, he did!). Barculo gave a lengthy statement to the jury before sending them off to make their decision

“Gentlemen, you have an important and responsible duty to perform. The crime with which this woman is charged is one of the most diabolical that can enter the human heart. It is one easily perpetrated; it requires neither age, nor strength, nor skill, nor courage. The merest child or feeble woman can by means of poison, destroy a whole family. If this horrible crime has been committed by this prisoner it should be punished. You stand between her and the public, your duty points to both. If she is innocent you must preserve her from the sword of the law which is now suspended over her head. You are not to presume her innocent because she is a woman nor because she has children, nor because of the punishment, but because she is innocent and not proved guilty” She was found guilty and it was Justice Barculo’s job to sentence her to death by hanging. She was the first woman to be executed in the City of Poughkeepsie, right inside the County Courthouse where Barculo had heard her trial. In his six and a half years as a Supreme Court Justice, this case received more attention (for obvious reasons) than any other he had seen.

Besides his love of debate, he was a lover of reading, sailing, and horticulture. He was devoted to his children especially his son Sidney who (strangely enough) followed his father in death just a few months after in September of 1854 when the child was running around the campus of the Dutchess Academy and ran head first into another student. He died several hours later, he was just 13 years old. Justice Barculo had also known good health until the last few months of his life when while traveling abroad, suddenly began to suffer from a horrible case of chronic diarrhea (which if left unchecked,was a very real cause of death in the 19th century). He tried to get back home in time to pass in the peace of his home but died in the residence of his father-in-law in New York City on the 20th of June, 1854. He was only 45. His remains were brought here to Poughkeepsie Rural Cemetery, not far from some other well known judges and lawyers of Poughkeepsie’s past.

References:
Poughkeepsie Journal: Mar 20 1852, Nov 24, 1855, Sept 9, 1854
Brooklyn Eagle: Jun 16, 1854
“The Life and Confessions of Lucy Ann Hoag” 1852 - NYS Archives
Seward Barculo - Ancestry.com - https://www.ancestry.com/genealogy/records/seward-barculo-24-6g4m9k

Cemetery arboretum continues to expand - Mid Hudson News POUGHKEEPSIE – The Poughkeepsie Rural Cemetery is accredited through the ArbNet Arboretum Accreditation Program and The Morton Arboretum for achieving particular standards of professional practices deemed important for arboreta and botanic gardens. The cemetery between Route 9 and the Hudson River...

William Wilson - Poughkeepsie’s Forgotten Poet

Are there any poetry fans out there? Have you heard of the work of William Wilson? It's quite likely that you haven’t, as he published much of his work anonymously. In fact, he was known locally more so for his work as a bookseller than for his verse. So we thought we would take the time to share with you the story of his life and some of the works of William Wilson.

Born in Scotland near the village of Crieff on Christmas Day, 1801, William Wilson was the son of a merchant. Sadly his father died when he was five and his mother was forced to rely on her skills as a spinner to keep her family a float. Wilson didn’t attend school, but his mother taught him to read before the age of six. As a boy, he took on work at a nearby farm before venturing with his mother into Glasco to find more gainful employment. He managed to work his way into the world of writing and publishing by working for Dundee Review. It was during his time in Glasco when he met and married his first wife, Jane McKenzie. They had four children together but sadly she died in 1826, less than seven years after their wedding day.

After a few years of mourning and producing some lovely poetry to honor his beloved wife, he fell in love again and married Jane Sibbald in 1830. By 1833, the couple packed up their lives and came to America where they eventually settled in Poughkeepsie living at #313 Mill Street. Wilson operated a bookstore and Circulating Library at 295 Main Street from the time he arrived in Poughkeepsie until his death on August 25, 1860. He mostly ran the shop on his own with the exception of a few years when he partnered with local publisher Paraclete Potter and later with his own son Archibald.

It would be his son Archibald, along with local historian Benson Lossing, who would eventually publish some of Wilson’s poems 8 years after his passing. Lossing also wrote a small biography about Wilson in which he proclaimed that he was “True, just, and honorable in all his dealings” and was a “warm and active friend of the deserving, and liberal to those in need.” Wilson’s widow died in 1865 and is buried alongside him here, as well as some of their children. Three of his sons served during the Civil War, James became a brevet brigadier general, George died at Fredericksburg in 1863, and Walter Wilson, the youngest, also signed up to serve.

WANING LIFE AND WEARY. - By William Wilson

Waning life and weary,
Fainting heart and limb,
Darkening road and dreary,
Flashing eyes grow dim ;
All betokening nightfall near,
Day is done and rest is dear.
Slowly stealing shadows
Westward lengthening still
O’er the dark brown meadows,
O’er the sunlit hill.

Gleams of golden glory
From the opening sky,
Gild those temples hoary—
Kiss that closing eye :
Now drops the curtain on all wrong—
Throes of sorrow, grief and song.
But saw ye not the dying
Ere life passed away,
Faintly smiled while eying
Yonder setting day :

And, his pale hand signing
Man’s redemption sign—
Cried, with forehead shining,
Father, I am thine !
And so to rest he quietly hath passed,
And sleeps in Christ, the Comforter, at last.