The
following article,
contributed by Anna
Lise Vogel, was written
in 1960 when Mr. Kinch
was 88. There is no
indication, however
of WHERE it was published.
It “looks” like
the New York Times
but it doesn’t “sound” like
the New York Times. |
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Frank
Kinch, of Beaverkill
displays the form
a real old-time wood-splitter
uses. The blur of
his hands is from
motion, not being
out of focus, although
a shutter speed of
400 was used. This
shows how rapidly
the old-timer uses
a double-bitter. –
Photo by Wood. |
Boys,
if you think you’re
a pretty good man (despite
a few years), take a
trip up to Beaverkill
and see an 88-year-old
feller splitting wood – and
he’s
a real man with an
axe. None of these
light single-bitted
axes for him. He uses
a double-bitter and
(judging from the accompanying
picture) it’s
a 3 1/2 or four-pounder
at that.
This
wood-splitter extraordinary
is Frank Kinch, one of
north Sullivan’s best-known old-timers. He still milks the cow when his son isn’t around and takes care of his team of horses. In summer he helps with the haying.
As
remarkable as his wood-splitting
is Mr. Kinch’s mind, which is as sound as a dollar. He well remembers names of former residents and told of the old tannery at Beaverkill when interviewed in early December.
Asked
to what he attributed
his long life, he remarked
simply, “Gosh, I don’t know”. He added that he did not smoke or drink and that he had lived a normal life.
In
light of modern day living,
his life was anything
but normal. For nearly
a half-century he lived
on a 300-acre farm just
inside Sullivan County,
up Berry Brook near Beaverkill.
He
milked 35 cows night and
morning by hand, took
care of 15 head of young
stock and three horses,
and had a few sheep to
look after.
Some
23 years ago he moved
to his present home, which
is the first house toward
the Beaverkill campsite
from the intersection
of the Lew Beach road.
He declares that he has
the hay cut on theplace
so it doesn’t grow up to brush as is so much of the adjacent farmland.
Mr.
Kinch’s wife, the former Nettie Whitcomb, died a few years ago. Living with him are his son, Isaac, and his daughter, Mrs. Mary Cammer, whose late husband, Jason Cammer, was a blacksmith at Livingston Manor for many years.
There
is a second son, Henry,
of Rutherford, N.J. A
daughter, Emma, died 20
years ago.
Mr.
Kinch has six grandchildren,
six great-grandchildren
and five great-great-grandchildren.
He is one of a small proportion
of people who live to
see five generations.
The tannery at Beaverkill, said Mr. Kinch, was near the covered bridge and was owned by Henry Ellsworth and James Murdock. (This was the father, the aged Beaverkill resident recalled. A son by the same name went over on the Delaware in the timber business.).
The
tannery burned when he
was 12 years old [1895]
and from that time the
village that was Beaverkill
fast disappeared, he recalled.
The houses were torn down
one by one. Some of the
Beaverkill residents in
those days recalled by
Mr. Kinch were Jay Davidson,
Sturgis Bulkley, William
Tobey, Alex Butler, Smith
Lennox, Abe Butler, and
the Hardenberghs. None
of these are left.
Mr.
Kinch remembered that
two uncles, Joshua and
Heath P. Kinch, rafted
timber down the Beaverkill
river from the flatland
near the covered bridge
where the campsite is
located.
The
unusual wood-splitter’s constant companion is a spotted dog, something like a coach dog. He’s a friendly pooch and greets everyone cordially.
It was a real pleasure talking to Mr. Kinch in the kitchen of the big farmhouse. The kitchen is as big as many houses and is heated by a good old-fashioned range. He’s a kindly man.
The
wood is sawed with a buzz-saw,
but he does all the splitting
and piling. There’s some 15 cord piled up.
Like
all old-timers, Mr. Kinch
liked the wood well-seasoned,
but one wonders if it
isn’t his love of the the work rather than need for seasoned wood that makes all the piles on the place.
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