Huntington History

Only a hand full of buildings survived the Urban renewal initiative that devasted Huntington Station in the 1960s and 70s.  Now with the demise of the former auto repair shop at 1000 New York Avenue, there is one less.  Right next door to the now gone auto repair shop stands a surviror with a long standing conection to Huntington’s African American community.

The story begins in 1906 when Louis M. Brush filed a subdivision map for a large tract of land on the east side of New York Avenue, south of Olive Street.  The subdivision of 337 lots was known as Highland Park.  The subject property, 1006 New York Avenue, comprises lots 31 and 32 of the subdivision.

On August 23, 1909, Brush conveyed the property to Charles W. Fox (Liber 708, page 563).  Less than two weeks later, Fox conveyed the property to Emma Paulding pending payment of a $2,000 loan due in three years at an interest rate of 6%. (Mortgage Liber 346, page 124).  Under the terms of the transaction, Fox was obligated to insure the buildings on the property, indicating that buildings existing in 1909.  Although the 1909 atlas does not show any buildings, an item in The Long-Islander edition of October 2, 1908 indicates that Mr. & Mrs. Jurgensmaier had broken ground on a new residence in Highland Park.  The 1917 atlas identifies the owner of the property to the south of the subject property as Jurgensmaier.  The reference in the mortgage and the development of the adjoining property point to a construction date of about 1909 for the subject premises.

Over the next decade, the property changed hands several time among the children of builder George W. Fox[1].  Charles Fox sold the property to Elizabeth B. Gardiner (The Long-Islander, February 25, 1910, page 5).  She then sold the property to Oscar W. Fox (The Long-Islander, March 24, 1911, page 5), who then transferred it back to her (The Long-Islander, October 18, 1912, page 5).  Finally, she transferred it back to Oscar W. Fox one last time (The Long-Islander, March 17, 1916, page 4).  Interestingly, these transfers were all reported in The Long-Islander, but not found in the County Clerk’s records during a title search.

The property left the family in 1917 when Oscar sold the property to Cecelia Kehoe.  (The Long-Islander, January 26, 1917, page 4).  Apparently, George Fox had given the purchasers a loan to purchase the property and they defaulted on it because notice of foreclosure and sale of the property was printed in The Long-Islander on December 7, 1917, page 9.  However, it appears that the original mortgage from Emma Paulding had never been satisfied.  An action between Emma Paulding and members of the Fox family resulted in a judgment for Paulding in the amount of $2,532.36 on October 11, 1918 and the transfer of ownership of the property to George Fox (Liber 965, page 477).

George Fox then sold the property to Charles H. Ballton on April 19, 1920 (Liber 997, page 366).  The deed refers to a $2,000 mortgage, but the earlier mortgage had been discharged and no record of a mortgage given by Charles Ballton was found in the County Court records.  Charles H. Ballton was the son of the famous Greenlawn entrepreneur and farmer Samuel Ballton, known as the Pickle King.  Charles Ballton owned a moving and trucking company and also engaged in the sale of sand and gravel and refuse removal.  (Advertisement in The Long-Islander, September 11, 1925, page 17).

Less than two years later Ballton conveyed the property to the Crispus Attucks Lodge No. 9055 of the Grand United Order of Odd Fellows (John H. Plummer, George Allen and Charles H. Ballton, trustees) for $3,200 (Liber 1033, page 595).  The Grand United Order of Odd Fellows was a fraternal organization first chartered in this country in 1843 when a lodge in Philadelphia was established with a charter from the Grand Lodge in Manchester, England.  In this country, African American Odd Fellow lodges were generally associated with the Grand United O rder, whereas white lodges were affiliated with the Independent Order.  The Huntington lodge was established in 1913 with 30 members (The Long-Islander, August 22, 1913, page 4).  It was named for the African American who was one of the five people killed in the Boston Massacre in 1770.

According to Richard Robertson, the nephew of Charles Ballton, the building was known as Odd Fellows Hall.  The Odd Fellows met upstairs (the Elks Club met there as well).  Downstairs was an apartment in which Mr. Robertson’s aunt Maude Smith lived.  Maude Smith was the granddaughter of Benjamin Ballton, who was Charles Ballton’s brother.

According to Mr. Robertson, the Odd Fellows was made up of brick masons from the south.  The only young members were a man named Shakespeare and George and Willy King, who owned the biggest black construction company in Huntington.

Maude Smith moved out of the building in the mid-1930s.  After she moved out, two of Benjamin Ballton’s sisters operated a restaurant there, serving what would now be called soul food.  Mr. Robertson said that after the end of the World War II the Odd Fellows started meeting at Rosetta Hall on Church Street, which was behind the firehouse and also owned by Charles Ballton.  Mr. Robertson thought the upstairs of the subject property remained vacant for a long time after the Odd Fellows moved to Rosetta Hall.  This recollection coincides with the sale of the property by the Odd Fellows in January 1945 to Max and Clara Herman for $3,875.  (Liber 2419, page 139).

Max Herman was a kosher butcher, who had a shop two doors down from the subject property.  He was in town by 1924 when he advertised in The Long-Islander (May 23, 1924, page 4) (“If you have chickens for sale, communicate with Max Herman, Butcher”).  According to Adele Kalstein, whose parents operated a grocery store in the same building as Herman’s butcher shop, Herman was an exclusively kosher butcher and attracted customers from a wide area.  Next door to the north was the butcher shop of Samuel Levy, who arrived in town as early as 1917 (The Long-Islander, January 12, 1917, page 6 and April 6, 1917, page 6).  However, Levy sold both kosher and non-kosher meats and, therefore, did not attract as many kosher customers.

Herman apparently owned the subject property as an investment.  It is believed that the storefront has been used as a barbershop since the 1940s.  Mr. Herman died on February 7, 1965 (The New York Times, February 10, 1965, Obituary section).  Later that year, Sam Raskin, as executor of Herman’s estate, sold the property to Brun-Wal Corp. of 780 New York Avenue (Liber 5764, page 1574).  The corporation conveyed the property to James F. Straub in 1970 (Liber 6860, page 301).  The current owner, Rehab Investors, acquired the property in 1979 (Liber 8670, page 7).

ADDENDUM:  Odd Fellows Hall was demolished in the Fall of 2018 as part of Renaissance Downtowns’ Gateway Plaza Project.  See http://renaissancedowntowns.com/projects/huntington-station/

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A typical Long Island three quarter house sits behind two early 1960s high ranches on the east side of West Neck Road about a quarter of a mile north of Huntington village.  The house provides a glimpse into the humble nineteenth century background of one of the leading Long-Islanders of the twentieth century.

Although no early deeds have been located, Joseph Warren Conklin and his wife Rebecca appear to be the original owners of the house.  When one of their daughters died in 1901, her obituary noted that she had lived in the house since her birth in 1850[1].  Her parents married in 1835 and their first child was born in 1836.[2] It is likely the house was built at about the time they married and started a family.

A construction date in the 1830s or 40s is consistent with the physical evidence.  All of the details of the house point directly to the Greek Revival Style in the second quarter of the 19th Century, including: a braced, pegged frame of sawn spruce, no ridge pole, a brick/stone foundation, side hallway, front entrance entablature with glazed sidelights, frieze (“lay on your belly”) windows over 6/6 windows, porch with square columns, a small rectangular chimney set crosswise to the roof ridge and a debased fireplace mantle.

The rear kitchen service wing is unusual for Long Island, where the service wing was usually placed on the side hallway end of the house during the Federal/Greek Revival Period (1790-1850).

Of the Conklin’s eight children, two died in childhood.  The only deed found in the Suffolk County Clerk’s records under Joseph Warren Conklin’s name is for a 14½ acre triangular parcel on the west side of West Neck Road, which he acquired in 1841.[3] Warren Conklin was a farmer, who in addition to his home lot and the parcel on the west side of the road, also owned 10 acres on the east side of Oakwood Road and 20 acres on the east side of Woodbury Road about three quarters of a mile south of Main Street.

Unfortunately, Warren Conklin died in 1854[4] at the age of 45 leaving behind seven children ranging from 1 to 18 years of age.  A mortgage he had taken out in 1841 and secured by the property on the west side of West Neck Road was foreclosed the following year.[5] His widow advertised the lots on Oakwood and Woodbury Roads for sale at auction a year after his death.[6]

It must have been difficult for his widow to raise seven children on her own—one died three years after Warren at age 10 and another died in 1866 at age 22.  Rebecca Conklin borrowed $700 from George Carll of Dix Hills in 1866 at 7% interest secured by the nine-acre homestead.  The following year the mortgage was released in part to allow for the development of houses along what is now known as Mechanics Street.[7] The Long-Islander noted the new development:  “We learn that several of our mechanics have made arrangements to purchase lots on a new street to be opened near the residence of Mrs. Rebecca Conklin on the North Bowery.  The locality to be known as Mechanicsville.”[8] The entire mortgage was cancelled later that year.[9]

In 1871, Rebecca Conklin again mortgaged her homestead, this time giving a mortgage to Mary P. Baldwin to secure a $500 loan for a three-year term at 7% interest.  Rebecca Conklin, who had been a founding member of the Central Presbyterian Church, died in 1880.  At the time of her death, her only personal property was a cow, which was sold for $40 to cover her funeral expenses.  She left debts of $613.56 for doctor’s bills, notes and merchandise from various local stores.[10] Her family sold at auction three building lots from the homestead property as well as five acres of woodland on the ridge between New York Avenue and Oakwood Road south of the village, which may be what was left of the ten acre plot Warren Conklin left.  The sale of these properties yielded $890.  It appears that the 1871 loan from Mary Baldwin—which was secured by a mortgage on the homestead—was still not paid off at the time Rebecca Conklin died.  The property was purchased at auction by Mary, Henrietta and Juliette Conklin for $697.28 a year after their mother died.[11]

The three sisters continued to live in the house for the rest of their lives.  Henrietta, who was sickly her entire life, died in 1901.  Apparently, money was still an issue for the family.  Henrietta’s two sisters placed a notice in The Long-Islander thanking “the many kind friends who so generously assisted in defraying the expenses attending the funeral of our sister.”[12]

As early as 1880, Mary advertised her services as a dressmaker.[13] Juliette also engaged in dressmaking and millinery.  To accommodate their business the room in the northeast corner of the house was enlarged.  They also continued to sell building lots along Mechanic Street.  In 1905, the remaining  property was surveyed and divided into 10 lots including the lot with the family home.

Juliette died in 1914 and Mary died in 1916.  The lot with the house, now about an acre and a half, was sold in 1920 to Paul Williamson.[14] The property had a series of owners until the current owners purchased it in 1979.  In 1961, two lots were created from the front yard of the property; thereby obscuring it from view.

One of the leading figures of twentieth century Long Island—if not the nation—traced his family tree to these humble beginnings.    Rebecca and Warren’s son Alonzo had five children, one of whom was Grace Ethel Conklin.  Grace married George Tyson Grumman.  George and Grace Grumman’s son LeRoy graduated from Huntington High School in 1911, served in World War I and after the war established the aerospace company that bore his family’s name.  The Grumman name became synonymous on Long Island with fighter jets and space exploration.

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In October 1870, Evelyn Ketcham wrote a letter to her brother George to invite him to her upcoming marriage to Sydney Buffett.  Sydney was from an old Huntington family, but had moved to Nebraska a year earlier to seek his fortune.  Their great, great grandson would eventually become the world’s richest man, but that’s another story.  What’s intriguing is Evelyn’s postscript:  “They have changed the name of Dix Hills.  The name is Elwood now.”

The name Dix Hills—originally Dick’s Hills, named for Dick Pechegan—was given to the area on both sides of Jericho Turnpike.  The area north of the Turnpike was known as North or Upper Dix Hills.  On June 7, 1870, a post office was established in North Dix Hills under the name Elwood (the office was discontinued on October 31, 1902).  A notice in the February 10, 1871 edition of The Long-Islander advised that the Postmaster General had ordered the Dix Hills Post Office discontinued and all letters and papers transferred to the Elwood Post Office.

Where the name came from is a mystery.  Anna Singer, writing in The Long-Islander¸ speculated that the name was derived from Elkanah Wood, whose family owned a good deal of land in the area (The Long-Islander, May 23, 1974).  The name Wood cannot be found in the Elwood area on the 1873 atlas and, although there was indeed an Elkanah Wood, he wasn’t born until 1871, a year after the post office was established.

Around the same time that “they” were changing the name of North Dix Hills, the residents of the area we know as East Northport were debating what to call their hamlet.  Unlike the situation in Elwood, the residents were not subject to the dictates of the Postmaster General because they did not yet have their own post office.  Instead the residents of what was then known as Claypitts—for the plentiful deposits of clay to be found there—met in the local schoolhouse to discuss changing their hamlet’s name.  Fourteen names were suggested, but the top contenders were Delmont and Fairview.  The vote was reported in The Long-Islander on January 27, 1870 in verse:

The name “Clay Pitts” we bid adieu

For we have elected the name “Fairview;”

And that by a large majority, too,

Over the names some had in view!

But apparently not all were happy with the new name.  A group of residents put forward the name Genola, which was considered by some to be the efforts of a minority to impose its will on the majority who had openly and fairly voted for Fairview.  That name lives on in the place where the community buries its dead—Genola Rural Cemtery.

Residents’ wishes would soon be subjected to outside influences.  This time, it would be the arrival of the Long Island Rail Road.  The Rail Road terminated at Northport in 1867.  But plans were soon formulated to extend the line to Port Jefferson.  It was decided to follow an easterly route from the Greenlawn station, rather than extend the line from Northport.  When the line opened in 1872, trains stopped at a new station south and slightly east of the Northport station.  Although the station is officially known as the Northport station, the area around it became known, at least unofficially, as East Northport (probably because the more geographically accurate South Northport would be too silly a name).

The post office, however, decided on still another name.  In 1896, it opened the Larkfield Post Office.  The name Larkfield was apparently in honor of the meadowlarks that could be found on the open fields of the area.  According to East Northport, An Incomplete History, in 1909, residents circulated a petition to change the name of the post office to East Northport.  And thus the name became official.

But still there was dissention. In 1952, the East Northport Board of Trade announced an effort to revert to the name Larkfield.  The Board of Trade claimed that mail destined for East Northport often found its way to Eastport or Northport.  Moreover, the growing community should have an identity independent from the village to the north.  The effort was renewed in the 1960s, but the geographically inaccurate name persists.

Another hamlet of Huntington has had the same name for centuries, but how it is spelled and pronounced has changed.  Once known as Whitman’s Hollow, the name Commack comes from the Indian name “winnecomac” meaning “pleasant land.”  Originally the name was spelled Comac and the historic pronunciation rhymes with the word “comic.”  Now most residents pronounce the name Co-mack, with the emphasis on the first syllable.

The change in pronunciation has been attributed by some to the rapid growth of the area in the 1950s and city radio announcers’ unfamiliarity with the traditional pronunciation.  However, the earlier spelling of Comac seems to support the “modern” or outsider’s pronunciation.  Whereas the modern spelling Commack should be pronounced Com-mack with the emphasis on the second syllable—not exactly the same as “comic,” but closer than Co-mac.

But the change of spelling occurred much earlier than the suburb boom of the mid-twentieth century.  In fact, the Commack spelling appears in the Brooklyn Eagle as early as 1868.  In The Long-Islander, Commack appears as early as 1891; and the last time Comac appears is 1894.  Therefore, locally it would seem the change in spelling was made in the 1890s.  And it would seem reasonable to assume that the “modern” pronunciation was being used as early as the 1890s—if not earlier.

It is unclear why the modern pronunciation seems to follow the old spelling of the name and why the change in spelling did not reinforce the traditional pronunciation.

These are but three examples in the Town of Huntington of the sometimes fleeting nature of place names.  We tend to think that places are given names and that those names stick.  But ask the residents of Fairground, Oldfields, Cow Harbor, Horse Neck, Fresh Ponds, and Sweet Hollow about the permanence of place names.

But a community by any other name . . .

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