SWIM, GRANDPA

Reports of his 'near death'
were greatly exaggerated

Francis J. Snyder was a Syracuse undertaker 100 years ago. Apparently he was a bit of a celebrity, as indicated by the newspaper items that follow. They are included here because they seem to say a lot about newspaper journalism in the early 20th century and because the last – and most interesting – item also concerns Sandy Pond in an amusing, but not surprising way. I'd like to know if the Snyder family ever paid the Pond another visit.

Syracuse Journal, Thursday, June 21, 1906

SNYDER’S DOG IS DEAD
Undertaker Francis J. Snyder’s big St. Bernard dog, Rex, probably the best known dog in the East End, died at noon.

Syracuse Journal, Wednesday, December 13, 1911

Francis Snyder Burned.
Francis J. Snyder, undertaker, had an exciting time late Monday night when his night clothes were burned off at his home, 111 University Ave., while he was preparing for bed. They caught fire from a candle. His hands and face were severely burned.

NOTE: If asked to describe his experience that evening, it's doubtful Snyder would have chosen the word "exciting."

Syracuse Post-Standard, Sunday, July 6, 1919

FRANCIS J. SNYDER NEAR
DEATH IN SANDY POND
Francis J. Snyder of No. 1813 East Fayette street, senior member of the undertaking firm of F. J. & A. E. Snyder, had a narrow escape from drowning yesterday in Sandy Pond, where he and other members of his family had been guests at the Ackerman House for several days. having gone there for the Fourth of July and the weekend.

Mr. Snyder and his grandson, Francis R. Fitzgerald Jr, were standing on the dock when Mr. Snyder was pushed into the water by his grandson, who explained later that he wanted to find out “if grandpa could swim.” The child became frightened when his grandparent splashed into the pond and ran back to the hotel crying for help.

By the time help reached him and he was pulled from the water, Mr. Snyder was nearly exhausted, his conidition being such that the intended return home had to be delayed.

The above headline was misleading, obviously, since it implied Snyder's life hung in the balance even after his mishap. So a day later the newspaper wrote another story about the incident, giving it a humorous touch. My hunch is Snyder was annoyed by both stories. However, his grandson had all the material he needed when he returned to school and was assigned an essay on what he did during his summer vacation. His was probably titled, "How I Almost Killed My Grandpa."

Syracuse Post-Standard, Monday, July 7, 1919

FRANK SNYDER
IS BIT TOUCHY
ABOUT ‘PANTS’

Undertaker Had Experience
With Pair After Escape
from Drowning

WEREN’T QUITE AU FAIT

But Pressers Were Scarce
and – Well, it’s Rather
a Jolly Tale.
Francis J. Snyder, notary public with seal, undertaker and enbalmer, returned from Sandy Pond last night, satisfied that there is a crying need for a repair tailor and suit presser in that section of Oswego County where he and other members of his family spent Fourth of July and the weekend.

Mr. Snyder’s narrow escape from drowning in the pond when his grandson, Francis R. Fitzgerald Jr, pushed him into the water, was chronicled in the Sunday paper, but it was not until he returned from his motor trip last night that the difficulties he encountered and his futile search for an establishment where he could get his trousers pressed was learned.

Dripping and Dazed.
After he had been dragged from the pond by rescuers attracted by the cries of his grandson, Mr. Snyder was given every assistance by other guests of the Ackerman House, where the party was staying. In his dripping clothes he was standing dazed on the hotel veranda when a portly and kindly fellow approached him.

“Brother,” he said, “have you any other clothes? I observe you are in distress.”

“All I’ve got with me I’ve got on,” was the laconic reply of the shivering visitor to Sandy Pond.

“Well, I haven’t much myself,” said the good Samaritan, “but there’s a pair of old fishing pants up in my room you can take. You can put both your legs in one of them and wrap the other leg around you.”

Get Into “Ice Cream.”
Fortunately another member of the Snyder-Fitzgerald party had his Sunday clothes along, and it was into a pair of trousers sometimes called “Ice cream” that Mr. Snyder climbed after borrowing underwear from another member of the party. Nothing fit, but anything was preferable to the clothes he wore when he went into the pond.

When the trousers had been dried, they bore a striking resemblance in contour to those of a doughboy after he had been through the sterilizing plant of a debarkation camp, wrinkled almost beyond recognition.

Then began a search for a tailor to press them. Mr. Snyder drove with the trousers to Lacona, from whence comes the laconic language so descriptive at times, and one of those times being when Mr. Snyder found there wasn’t an establishment in Lacona which “pressed pants.”

Fad Not Yet in Wilds.
From Lacona he drove to Sandy Creek, canvassed all the various places of business there with results no more satisfactory. Pulaski was next tried, but with no success. So far as Mr. Snyder could learn, there was no place in that part of Oswego County where creases were put into leg attire. It is assumed that fad hasn’t reached into the wilds around Sandy Pond.

Between visits to the various villages he had returned to the hotel to report each time his growing disappointment, and the third time when he returned unsuccssful, he was asked solicitously: “Did you get your pants pressed?” he hurled them despairingly at the questioner and replied in the laconic: “There’s the $#*& pants.”

Next morning the housekeeper of the Ackerman approached him somewhat timorously and said: “Mr. Snyder, they all seem to be making fun about your pants. If you’ll let me take them, I’ll go over to the laundry and see what I can do.”

And with a “Thank, you, ma’am,” he handed them over. He came back last night wearing them, but they are three inches shorter than they were when he went to spend the Fouth at Sandy Pond.

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