website watertownhistory.org
ebook History of Watertown, Wisconsin
J. W. Wright
Son of Mrs. Silas Wright (Mary A. Van Alstine)
Watertown
Wisconsin Centennial, 1854-1954, booklet
J. W.
Wright, known to Watertown residents as Willie Wright, was born here in 1871
and died in 1952.
During
his boyhood days he spent much time with his grandparents, the Jacob B. Van Alstines, in the Exchange
hotel which they operated. His mother, Mrs.
Silas Wright, was Mary A. Van Alstine (*), an
artist of no small repute.
He graduated
from Watertown High School and in 1892 completed his course at Beloit
College. While there he distinguished
himself as a writer and designer and was chosen to design the frontispiece of
the Beloit College annual. He also lettered and illustrated Sidney Lanier's
long poem, "The Symphony." After graduation he became a journalist,
author and poet. He worked on papers at Denver, Colo., and at Pasadena, Calif.
"The Post" a paper in Pasadena reviewed his poems saying in their tribute to
him: "Mr. Wright has the soul of a poet and a poet's subtlety and grace of
expression. He is a Wisconsin product they say but he is really a genius
product for no state can claim a genius.
It just happens to be born there."
In
addition to a vast amount of journalism he found time to write, "The Long Ago," and a book of poems
called "The Old World." His books were in his own words "Tales
from the Hills and Valleys of Life."
The
"Long Ago" is about Van Alstine's Exchange, the hotel operated by his grandfather.
In this he is said to be a writer of mellow verse.
In
1898 J. W. Wright composed a poem for his mother. In 1924 he found it pasted on the back of an
old photograph of her. The title of it was "If I Were a Millionaire." The last verse contains much of his
philosophy of life.
Would we be more to
each other
If troubles were swept away?
Would the sun in the west glow softer
Then now, at the close of day?
Life is but a mighty heart throb,
And the love that makes life fair
Would be no greater and truer dear
If I were a millionaire.
- J. W. Wright
______________________________________________________
A
CHRISTMAS MEMORY OF OLD WATERTOWN
by
W. F. Jannke III
I was asked by the editor of this august
publication to write something for the final issue of the year. I thought and thought about it and finally
decided that the best thing I could produce is this little
Excerpt from a little book entitled “The Long Ago,” written by J. William
Wright and published in 1921.
J. William Wright was a grandson of pioneer
hotel keeper Jacob B. Van Alstine, who kept the
Exchange Hotel once located on the corner of Main and First Streets.
This building was moved to its present
location, the corner of South First and Milwaukee streets, in 1892.
Mr. Wright was the son of Mary A. Van Alstine, a noted artist, and Silas Wright. He graduated from Watertown High School in
1888 and began a career as a minor poet and short story writer. Like his mother before him, he wound up in
California and died there in the 1950s.
As the holidays are soon to be upon us, I
thought this sweet little story might bring a nostalgic smile to anyone who
reads it. Enjoy!
CHRISTMAS
We always used grandmother’s stocking—because
it was the biggest on in the family, much larger than mother’s, and somehow it
seemed able to stretch more than hers. There was so much room in the foot,
too—a chance for all sorts of packages.
There was a carpet-covered couch against the
flowered wall in one corner of the parlor.
Between the foot of it and the chimney, was the door into our
bedroom. I always hung my stocking at
the side of the door nearest the couch, on the theory, well-defined in my mind
with each recurring Christmas, that if by any chance Santa Claus brought me
more than he could get into the stocking, he could pile the overflow on the
couch. And he always did!
Grandmother Van Alstine, c.
1880
Mary and Willie Wright, about the time of this story
Exchange Hotel, northeast
corner Main and North First streets.
Bank of Watertown on left.
It may seem strange that a lad who seldom
heard even the third getting-up call in the morning should have awakened without
any calling once a year—or that his red night-gowned figure should have leaped
from the depths of his feather bed—or that he should have crept breathless and
fearful to the door where the stocking hung.
Notwithstanding the ripe experience of years
past, when each Christmas found the generous stocking stuffed with good things,
there was always the chance that Santa Claus might have forgotten, this year—or
that he might have miscalculated his supply and not have enough to go ‘round—or
that he had not been correctly been informed as to just what you wanted—or that
some accident might have befallen his reindeer and-sleigh to detain him until
the grey dawn of Christmas morning stopped his work and sent him scurrying back
to his toy kingdom to await another Yule-tide.
And so, in the fearful silence and darkness of
that early hour, with stilled breath and heart beating so loudly you thought it
would awaken everyone in the house, you softly opened the door—poked your arm
through—felt around where the stocking ought to be, but with a great sinking in
your heart when you didn’t find it the first time—and finally your chubby fist
clutched the misshapen, lumpy, bulging fabric that proclaimed a generous Santa
Claus.
Yes, it was there!
That was enough for the moment. A hurried climb back into the warm bed—and
then interminable years of waiting until your attuned ear caught the first
sounds of grandmother dressing in her nearby bedroom, and the first gleam of
winter daylight permitted you to see the wondrous stocking and the array of
packages on the sofa. It was beyond
human strength to refrain from just one look.
But alas! The sight of a dapple-grey
rocking horse with silken mane and flowing tail was too much, and the next
moment you were in the room with your arms around his arched neck, while peals
of unrestrained joy brought the whole family to the scene.
Then it was that mother gathered you into her
lap, wrapped her skirt about your bare legs, and held your trembling form tight
in her arms until you promised to get dressed if they would open just one
package---the big one on the end of the sofa.
After that there was always “just one more, other, please!” And by that time the base burner was warming
up and you were on the floor in the middle of the discarded wrapping paper,
uncovering each wondrous package down to the very last—the very, very last—in
the very toe of the stocking—the big round one that
you were sure was a real league ball but which proved to be nothing but an
orange!
There is a new high-power motor in my
garage. It came to me
yesterday—Christmas. It is very
beautiful, and it cost a great deal of money, a very great deal. If we were in the Little Old Town it would take us all out to Aunt Em’s
farm in ten minutes. (It always took her
an hour to drive in with the old spotted white mare.)
I am quite happy to have this wonderful new
horse of today, and there is some warmth inside of me as I walk around it in
the garage while Henry, its keeper, flicks with his chamois every last vestige
of dust from its shiny sides.
And yet . . . how gladly would I give it up if
only I could have been in my feather bed last night—if I could have awakened at
day break and crept softly, red-flannelled and barefooted, to the parlor
door—if I could have groped for grandmother’s stocking and felt its lumpy shape
respond to my eager touch—and if I could have known the thrill; of that
dapple-grey rocking horse when I flung my arms around its neck and buried my
face in its silken mane!
_______________________________________________________________________________
(*) Mary Van Alstine Bartow. Died
04 03 1924
Paintings by Mary A. Wright:
Mrs.
Mary van Alstine Bartow, widow of the later Judge
Bartow, died last week Monday at Pasadena, California. Deceased was born in Watertown, and resided here
until her marriage to Silas F. Wright of Chicago, now a resident of New
York. Mr. and Mrs. Wright separated and
for a number of years Mrs. Wright and her son made their home in Watertown with
her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Jacob Bell Van Alstine, who
conducted a hotel on the site of where the Merchants National Bank and Mrs. Clara Weis
millinery store now are. Later she
married Judge Bartow and they went west to reside, living in Nebraska, then
Colorado, and on the death of Judge Bartow, Mrs. Bartow and her son, J. W.
Wright located in Pasadena, California, where her son now resides. Mrs. Bartow is quite well remembered by all
the older residents, including the editor of The Gazette. She was one of
Watertown’s most prominent belles in the early 70’s and a lady of culture and
refinement. All of her old friends here
heard of her death with much sorrow.
http://www.askart.com/AskART/artists/bulletin.aspx?searchtype=DISCUSS&artist=127700
Mary Van Alstine: Watertown Centennial 1854-1954
Mary Van Alstine, a local artist, was the
daughter of Jacob B. Van Alstine who operated the
local hotel called the Exchange in the early 1840's to 1880's. In her own words her life was one of
change. In the late 1860's she
maintained a studio on Main St. two doors north of First St., and also at the Exchange.She studied art locally and later in life went to
Chicago for this purpose. She married
Silas Wright in 1870 and on April 12,1889 married Judge Alfred Bartow of Chandron, Nebraska.
Later they both went to Pasadena and other cities in California to
live. A hand-painted plate dated 1872
(is) at the Octagon House museum, (and too) a bas-relief entitled "My Lady
Fair." In 1892 Mary A.Wright exhibited at the
Palette Club in Chicago. Her entries
were two ... (watercolors) called:"A Nebraska
Landscape," and "Close of Day".
Two others in oil were:"The Roadway"
and "Sunset". In 1893 at the
World's Columbian Exposition she was presented with a testimonial from the
Illinois Woman's Exposition Board (for her efforts which)contributed
greatly to the success of the exposition.
(page 60)
History of Watertown, Wisconsin