I was just shy of 9 years old. I remember standing in the middle of the Mill River on opening day in 1977, clad in "waders", a flannel shirt, hat, and thick socks. It was cold and clear and I waited for the sun to make its way above the budding trees on this third Saturday in April. Other anglers lined the banks and filled the river ahead of us. My grandfather stood beside me carefully eyeing his wristwatch waiting for 6:00 a.m. sharp...the exact moment trout season officially opens. I held my spinning rod at the ready, eagerly looking up at him waiting for the "nod", knowing it was close to the time. At about 5:58, I heard the faint "kablook" upriver of a garden worm and hook prematurely entering the water and the
nearly inaudible curse words uttered by my grandfather. I made out something about the fishing warden should "pinch" the 120 second violator of the time. Finally, it was time. I tossed my tethered bait just as the guy up river held a curved pole above his shoulders...more slightly inaudible curse words made their way to my ears. I clicked over my bail and immediately hooked a brookie, maybe it was a brown. My grandfather coached me on bringing the trout to his net where he efficiently took the hook out and placed it in his creel. We caught four that morning. My three to his one, although the last two I netted where on his pole which he oddly and coincidentally had me hold onto in order to 'fix' my reel. Good timing I guess.
It is well known among the Ryans that being on time is a cause of great importance among the male family members. Just ask any Ryan women about the annoying and repetitive inquiries of "are you ready yet", and what does "doing my face" actually mean. I thought perhaps we might be genetically predisposed to some type of chronologically affected chromosome, but after thoughtful consideration and months of researching ancestry documents it became clear. There's a reason, and it's not just Ryan men.
From about 1880 until the early 1900s, dozens of Ryans and their cousins made their way to the Naugatuck Valley to reap the benefits of the post industrial revolution. My family populated the areas of Waterbury up to Torrington, CT. The bulk of them worked for the Seth Thomas Clock Co. I'm starting to see the catalyst our time obsession.
The impact Seth Thomas had in the area formerly known as Plymouth Hollow, CT was profound. At its peak, the company employed over 600 men, 150 women and about 73 children. The work days were ten hours long. Skilled workers received $3.00 an hour while unskilled workers received half that. The skilled workers received the 2019 equivalent of about $43, 000, not a bad salary at all. Seth Thomas
was a skilled business man, ahead of his time in many respects. Born and raised in Wolcott, the 14 year old Seth apprenticed with a local clock maker. After a few years he was able to purchase over 40 acres of land in Wolcott. Eli Terry hired Seth and began making clocks and eventually sold the company to him. The very successful company was run intelligently and due to some good diversified financial decisions, able to survive the economic crisis of 1837. He was so well respected, the people of Plymouth Hollow petitioned and renamed the town Thomaston. The town officially took the name after its incorporation in 1875.
Four generations of my family worked in a factory or a clock factory, living, breathing and dying by the very clocks, watches and machines they helped create. It's in our very fabric. Time for the next story.
( A correction to the first blog entry. My father correctly pointed out that the Statue of Liberty was not completed in 1880 when the Ryans entered the harbor. Good catch)
Comments
Post a Comment