At the end of June, I took a six-ish hour drive to a part of New York state that you’ve probably never heard of.
For people in NYC, there’s the “upstate” that starts somewhere in the Hudson Valley, there’s the “upstate upstate” of Syracuse and Rochester, and there’s ??? in the rest of New York. I tell most people my dad is from “outside Buffalo,” because even the rare few that actually grew up in Western New York have ever heard of his teeny-tiny hometown. In fact, it’s only getting teenier - as of the 2020 census, the village of Arkport only had a population of 745.
My grandparents had grown up in the nearby “big city” of Hornell (population 8,263). My family gathered from our various corners of the world to meet back in Steuben County for my grandma and grandpa’s combined funeral, where they were both buried back home after a 36 year stint in Southern California.
The weekend was bittersweet for obvious reasons - always nice to see family and reminisce, but never under these particular circumstances.
I wanted to share a little bit about the few things I brought back home from two lives well-lived.
A Little Gold Evening Bag
Most of my grandma’s clothing and accessories had already been given away a few years ago. During the peak years of the pandemic, my grandpa passed and my grandma’s health was ailing, so she decided to sell their house and move in with my uncle. I wasn’t able to make it out to Santa Barbara to salvage more of her collection. Thankfully, my uncle did hold on to a few small items.
A couple hours after arriving to my aunt’s house, she led me upstairs to look through the single plastic bin of what remained. I carefully stacked a 1970’s needlepoint purse (I carried it to the funeral service the next day), a few satin scarves from the 60’s, a red and white gingham apron, and a little gold evening bag.
Later that night back at the creaky farmhouse we were staying at, I snapped the gold bag open to see if anything was inside. The inner pocket held a little plastic comb and a few folded slips of paper.
I unfolded the papers to find very familiar handwriting - my grandma’s, and more surprisingly, my mom’s! It turns out, the last (and maybe only) time my grandma had used the bag was to attend my parent’s Japanese wedding in 1990. My mom had hand written instructions for my grandma to show a taxi driver so they could find their way to the wedding venue, Nogi Kaikan in Asakusa. It also emphasized showing up on time - promptness is very important in Japan.
My grandma (in her signature cursive) had written down my parent’s phone number, and was doing dollar to yen conversions on the back of another slip of hotel stationery.
Two Old Hangers
I guess now is a good time to finally reveal that I’m a fashion industry nepo baby. Juuuuust kidding. All of the family ties I have to garment making and apparel retail were severed long before I was born, most recently the multi-generational Murray Stevens clothing store in Hornell.
My great grandfather Murray Stevens opened his namesake shop in 1920 after relocating to Hornell from the Lower East Side (my current home). He started with Army-Navy surplus before shifting to contemporary menswear. My grandfather took over the business in the 1960’s, keeping the store open for almost 30 more years before it was finally shuttered in the late 80’s.
My dad and his siblings spent a while reminiscing about their memories of the store, mostly giggling about the room above the store where my grandpa hosted poker nights with his friends. Apparently he once caught some teenagers who had snuck up there to hook up, leading my (then teenage) dad and uncle to rename the upstairs room “Bob’s Sex Shop.” According to them, my grandpa never found it particularly funny - they still find it hilarious 50 years later.
My grandparents sold off almost all of the store’s fixtures and displays before moving across the country in 1987. Sadly there’s seemingly little left from Murray Stevens, despite my grandma’s well-known penchant for extreme nostalgia. A handful of the original branded hangers from the store were the very few things that managed to survive all these years, two of which are now in my office alongside my collection of other, less meaningful vintage hangers.
While doing a little more digging on the Murray Stevens store while writing this, I managed to find another hanger on eBay! It somehow made its way to a seller in Palm Beach, Florida, who recently listed it as “rare.” It’s the only one I’ve come across in my years of searching, so I guess they’re not wrong.
A Lifetime of Photos
In all of my childhood memories, my grandma had a camera. My family must have collectively eye-rolled at her a hundred thousand times over the decades, always giving each other a little smirk and nudge before begrudgingly acquiescing to a pose because grandma just had to take another picture. Looking through decades of family memories made me glad she held strong against a lifetime of teasing and half-joking protest.
Sue documented everything for decades long before digital anything, which meant boxes and boxes and boxes and boxes of glossy 4x6 prints. My aunts had spent weeks sorting through everything before we arrived, so there were bags and piles of old photo development envelopes all over the house. They urged us all to take anything we wanted to preserve, so I filled a ziplock with photos to scan and digitize. Still working on the whole scanning and digitizing part of that, so (as I’m sure you’ve noticed) I’m just sharing photos of photos for now.
Today’s piece was a bit of a departure from my usual - I hope you enjoyed learning a little bit about my family history! One of these days I’ll share more about Murray’s parents’ life in lower Manhattan as newly immigrated Jewish garment workers.
This summer feels like it’s flying by, but I have a few really fun pieces coming up in the next few weeks. Keep an eye on your inboxes :)
xo Alex
That was so interesting and sweet, seeing all the photos, and hearing about the Murray Stevens store. The hangers! 💕
Going through something similar as I clear out my mom's house -- she moved to assisted living a year ago, with a house still full of not only her and my late dad's belongings, but things left by the previous generation, as well. *And* it's in a Buffalo suburb, and I'm traveling up monthly from NYC. So your post definitely struck a chord! Not much great vintage clothing, alas, other than some 90s sweaters, but she's been encouraging me to loot her vintage jewelry for awhile and I have!