A Dedicated Lover Willing To Confront a Mob and Gunfire: A North Pelham Valentine Story

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The crack of a pistol followed by shouts in the darkness made the young man's blood run cold.  He sprinted into the blackness of the North Pelham night, not certain who was shooting at him or why.

What a way to end what, until that moment, had been an enchanted evening.  Ernest Schmidt, a happy young German immigrant, spent the evening with his beautiful sweetheart.  She was a belle of North Pelham.  The pair was in love.

Ernest was floating on clouds as his sweetheart closed the door behind him as he departed late that autumn evening in 1902.  Actually, it was early October 20 because it was just after midnight.

We can imagine Ernest Schmidt tarrying near the porch of his sweetheart's home.  Perhaps he leaned against a veranda column.  Maybe he stood outside and gazed at his lover's home until the last light in the home blinked out.  One thing we know more than 110 years later, young Ernest Schmidt tarried "too long" at his sweetheart's gate.

The dedicated men in blue of the North Pelham Police Department were patrolling the village.  One of them observed Ernest Schmidt and shouted something at the lovestruck young fellow.  Startled, Schmidt ran.

The police officer shouted at the young man to stop, then drew his pistol.  As Ernest stumbled and fled into the darkness, the officer leveled his gun and fired four shots at the terrified young man.

The shots, of course, woke the entire village as well as many in the adjacent settlement of Mount Vernon.  Nearly a score of men pulled on their clothes and ran outside to form an impromptu posse.  As North Pelham police and the rambunctious posse pursued the young man, the police of Mount Vernon joined the search.  

Ernest Schmidt stumbled and ran for his life in the darkness.  How could this have happened?  What would they do to him if they caught him?  Would he ever see his sweetheart again?  Schmidt ran for nearly a mile in the darkness.

Word had spread like wildfire that local police and a posse were chasing a burglar.  Schmidt was terrified -- more a hunted animal than a young lover.

The police and posse searched the darkness.  Soon they heard what seemed like moans.  They came upon a ditch.  Lying in that ditch was the young man moaning as though he had been wounded.

The police and posse dragged the young man out of the ditch.  They discovered he was not shot.  Rather, "he was more scared than hurt."  

The words tumbled out of Schmidt's mouth as he told his story.  North Pelham police dragged the young man back to his sweetheart's house.  There the young belle explained the circumstances and confirmed her lover's story.

North Pelham police released the love-struck young man.  As he stumbled away to return to his home, the police shouted something at him.  They shouted he should never "run away from policemen again."

*          *          *          *          *

"A LOVER MISTAKEN FOR A BURGLAR.
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Tarried Too Long at His Sweetheart's Gate and Then a Mob Followed Him.

NORTH PELHAM, N. Y., October 20. -- (Special.) -- Because Ernest Schmidt, an inoffensive German, tarried at his sweetheart's door until early to-day, he was fired on four times by a policeman, who mistook him for a burglar.

Schmidt was chased a mile by the policeman and a posse of villagers, who found him, exhausted, lying in a ditch and moaning as though he had been wounded.  Luckily, he was more scared than hurt.  Schmidt's visit to his friend aroused both police departments of North Pelham and Mount Vernon, and also caused a score of two villages to join in the supposed burglar hunt.

Schmidt was taken up to his sweetheart's house, where the young woman came to the door to identify the prisoner and explained the circumstances.  Schmidt was allowed to go with a warning not to start to run away from policemen again."

Source:  A LOVER MISTAKEN FOR A BURGLAR -- Tarried Too Long at His Sweetheart's Gate and Then a Mob Followed Him, Richmond Dispatch [Richmond, VA], Oct. 21, 1902, p. 7, col. 1 (Note:  Paid subscription required to access via this link).

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A Magical Valentine's Day in Pelham Manor in 1895

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Tomorrow is Saint Valentine's Day, also known as Valentine's Day or the Feast of Saint Valentine.  Although the day originally began as a liturgical celebration of one, or perhaps more, early Christian saints named Valentinus, the day has evolved to one associated with love and romance.  Valentine's Day or similar festival dates are celebrated in countries throughout the world.  

Saint Valentine's Day in 1895 was a particularly memorable one for two young people who met on that date in the home of a local resident.  The story of their meeting, their brief long-distance courtship, and their marriage brings warmth to the heart and is a perfect story to help weave a popular holiday into the history of the Town of Pelham.  

In 1895, a bashful 35-year-old confirmed bachelor named George Gaston lived in Indianapolis, Indiana.  In his early youth, Gaston was involved in an electrical business managed by Thomas Alva Edison and Edison's then-close friend, Ezra Torrence Gilliland of Pelham Manor.  Fate, however, led Gaston to Indianapolis where he served as the Secretary and Treasurer of the Indianapolis Transfer Company.

In February, 1895, Gaston's business on behalf of the Indianapolis Transfer Company called him to New York City.  While he was there, Ezra T. Gililland invited him to visit the Gililland home in Pelham Manor.  Gaston put off the invitation until the day before his scheduled return to Indianapolis.  On the appointed day, February 14, 1895, he traveled to the Gililland home where he planned to visit for a few hours.  Instead, he stayed there for two weeks.

Upon his arrival, Gaston met a "charming" English girl who was boarding with the Gilliland family.  The girl, named Miss Ethel Mary Bishop, had been born in Shanghai, the daughter of an English consul serving there.  One published account claimed that at the end of his two-week visit, George Gaston was "done for," but he was far too bashful to propose to the charming English girl.

Gaston returned to Indianapolis, but could not get the charming Miss Bishop out of his mind.  He received letters from his sisters who also visited the Gilliland home.  One was filled with stories of how Miss Bishop danced the night away at a local party and about how "all the men had simply gone daft about" her.  

Whether the power of Valentine's Day still cast its spell over George Gaston or the Green Monster of jealousy reared its ugly head, we will never know.  While reading his sister's letter, however, young George Gaston became a little less bashful.  What did he do next?  A lengthy article in the Boston Sunday Post published in December 1, 1895 tells us exactly what he did next.  Today's Valentine's posting to the Historic Pelham Blog transcribes the Boston Sunday Post article in its entirety immediately below followed by a citation to its source.

"HELLO, CENTRAL!
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Give Me Pelham Manor, Please, I'm in a Hurry.
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CALL CAME FROM INDIANAPOLIS.
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Bashful George Gaston Did Not Have Courage Enough to Ask Ethel Face to Face -- Proposed by Long Distance Telephone.
-----

NEW YORK, Nov. 30. -- That romance in life has not yet been extinguished is made evident by the marriage of Miss Ethel Mary Bishop, only daughter of the Hon. James Draper Bishop of London, and George B. Gaston of Indianapolis.

They were married last Tuesday night at the residence of Ezra T. Gilliland at Pelhamm Manor.  

Mr. Gaston is the son of a retired physician, and is the secretary and treasurer of the Indianapolis Transfer Company.  For several years he was associated in this city in the electrical business with Thomas A. Edison and Mr. Gilliland.  All of Mr. Gaston's friends had it settled in their own minds that he would die a bachelor.  His business frequently called him to New York.  While in town he spent much of this time with Mr. Gilliland.

One day last February Gaston arrived in New York on one of his business trips.  His two sisters had been visiting Mr. and Mrs. Gilliland for several weeks, and in their letters home they had frequently mentioned Miss Ethel Bishop, a very charming English girl, who was making her home at the Gillilands'.  From those letters Gaston had learned that Miss Bishop had been born in Shanghai, while her father was serving the English government there as consul.

He heard so much about Miss Bishop that, when he reached New York and Mr. Gilliland extended to him the usual invitation to visit Pelham Manor, the Indianapolis man said emphatically, 'Not much!'

Finally, on St. Valentine's Day, the day before he was to return home, Gaston consented to go out to Pelham Manor for a few hours, just to see his sisters.  He went and stayed two weeks.  He was done for, but he could not bring himself to the point of a proposal.

He returned to Indianapolis.  One morning while he was sitting in his office, a letter came from one of his sisters.  It was largely filled with a description of a german she had danced a few nights before, and told how all the men had simply gone daft about Miss Bishop.  Gaston rushed to his telephone, looked up the number of Gilliland's house telephone in the long-distance telephone book, and asked to be connected.  Pretty soon he heard a feminine voice at the other end of the line call, 'Hello!'

THE WAY HE PROPOSED.

'Hello!  Who is that?' answered Gaston.  'Who?  Oh!  Miss Bishop?  Well, this is Mr. Gaston, Miss Bishop.  Where am I?  In Indianapolis.  Yes, in Indianapolis.  I thought I'd call you up to  -- to ask how my sisters are.  You'll call me one of them and let her speak for herself?  Oh never mind.  I said, 'never mind.'  N-e-v-e-r never.  No, not mine; mind -- m-i-n-d.  Hello!  How are you?  Just going to the city?  Theatre party tonight?  Oh, not going in till the 4 o'clock train?  Wish I were going with you.  I said I wish I were going with you.  I don't know whether my sisters would like to have me or not.  I just wanted to go with you.  Don't be foolish?  Hello!  What did you say?  Hello!  Hello!  Say,. central!  Don't cut me off!  Im not through talking yet.  Gone at the other end?  Well, ring up again.

As Mr. Gaston said last night, he was bound to say something then or die in the attempt.  After waiting some time, he got the Gilliland house again, and began talking with Miss Bishop.

'I beat about the bush for a long time,' he said, 'and then I came out with the question.  She evidently could not understand me, for this was the answer I got:

'Come a little nearer, Mr. Gaston.  I can't hear you.'

'Then I moved about one inch nearer to her in that 800 miles,' he declares, 'and asked the question over again.  This time it was perfectly understood.  I was told that I might not be sure of myself, that I had better wait for a while, and some more things like that.  I said I had lived to be 35 years old, and I guessed I knew my own mind.  Finally I was told that she would give me an answer when she called me up in two weeks.'

That was on Feb. 28.  Two weeks after that Miss Bishop was in Brooklyn one day and stepped into the office of Mr. Gilliland.  She called up Mr. Gaston.

'Hello!  Is that you, Mr. Gaston?  This is Miss Bishop.  Knew the voice did you?  Your memory for sound is excellent.  I wonder if it is as good for other things.  One other thing.  What's that?  Oh, my answer?  Was I to give you an answer about anything?  Hello!  What's that?  I know very well I was?  Yes, I guess I do.  Two weeks have seemed like two years?  You say that very nicely -- over the telephone.  Well, are you sure you knew what you were talking about?  Positive?  And you don't think you'll regret it some time?  Sure?  Well, then, if you want yes, here it is.  What's that?  Hello!  What did you say?  Oh!  Well, you can't have that over the telephone.  You must come for that yourself.  Good-by, George.'

It wasn't long before he came for what he couldn't get over the telephone, and the arrangements for the wedding were made.  Mr. and Mrs. Gaston are now at the Imperial, but this evening they will leave for Indianapolis, their future home."

Source:  HELLO, CENTRAL!  Give Me Pelham Manor, Please, I'm in a Hurry, Boston Sunday Post, Dec. 1, 1895, p. 5, col. 4 (subscription required to access link).

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An Interesting Pelham Love Story: Youngsters Married in 1901, But Kept Marriage Secret For Nearly a Year

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Two youngsters who lived in Pelham Heights in 1901 fell in love. The parents of Chester S. Walz and Lulu Schwartz reportedly objected to marriage by the couple. On September 21, 1901, they quietly married anyway and kept their marriage secret for nearly one year. Once the marriage became known, the New-York Tribune published an article about the couple. The text of that article appears below.

"KEPT MARRIAGE SECRET A YEAR.

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YOUTHFUL PELHAM COUPLE WEDDED IN SPITE OF PARENTS' OBJECTIONS--BRIDEGROOM SON OF EX-SECRETARY OF ICE TRUST.

Friends of Chester S. Walz, of Pelham Heights, and Miss Lulu Schwartz, of North Pelham, were treated to a surprise when it became known that they had been quietly married on September 21 last, and had succeeded in keeping it a secret ever since. This was the culmination of a pretty little romance which commenced two years ago, when Ms. Schwartz and Mr. Walz first met at a dance.

The bride is nineteen, while the bridegroom is one year her senior. C. A. Walz, president of the Hotel Keepers' Protective Association, is the father of the bridegroom, who is also secretary and treasurer of the same association, with offices at No. 7 East Forty-second-st. The father was the first secretary of the ice trust, and is at present making a tour of the United States with his wife. The bride's father, Edward A. Schwartz, is a drummer.

Both Mr. and Mrs. Walz are members of the Pelham Heights Tennis Club and Pelham Golf Club, and considered experts at the games. For some time they have been noticed a great deal in each other's company on the tennis court and golf links, but the older members of the club thought it was a case of youthful love, and would never amount to much. None of them suspected that for nearly a year they had been man and wife. It is said that mr. and Mrs. Walz, sr., were opposed to the match, but, despite this, the young couple went to New-York on September 21 and had the knot tied. They decided to keep the match a secret until the bridegroom reached his majority, but the news finally leaked out, and Mr. Walz decided to publish the announcement of his marriage, which appeared in the local papers yesterday."

Source: Kept Marriage Secret a Year, New-York Tribune, Aug. 23, 1902, p. 5, col. 4.

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True Love: Man Risks Being Shot To Visit His Sweetheart

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On this Valentine's Day, it seems appropriate to reproduce a rather curious story about a lover who risked life and limb by visiting his sweetheart in North Pelham on the evening of October 19, 1902. The poor man, who did not speak English, left his lover's home late in the evening and encountered what he thought was a ruffian. He ran, only to be chased by the man he had encountered -- a North Pelham policeman who shot at him. The newspaper story below described the encounter.

"SHOT AT FOR RUNNING.

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NORTH PELHAM POLICEMAN MISTAKES A LATE RETURNING LOVER FOR A BURGLAR.

Ernest Schmid's protracted visit with his sweetheart on Sunday night, in North Pelham, came near costing him his life. After the couple had parted and Schmid had started for his home, in Mount Vernon, he encountered Policeman Smith in the dark, and, supposing he was some ruffian, started to run. The policeman, who mistook Schmid for a burglar, gave chase and commanded him to halt. Schmid was too scared, so the policeman fired four times at him, but luckily the bullets did not take effect. After a chase for over a mile, in which a score of villagers participated, Schmid was found moaning in a ditch. At first it was thought that the supposed burglar had been shot, but examination showed that he was suffering from exhaustion.

As he could not speak English, he was unable to explain why he had started to run. Schmid was taken up to his sweetheart's house, where the family was aroused, and the young woman had to come to the door in her night robe to identify the prisoner and explain the circumstances. After a satisfactory explanation Schmid was allowed to go with a warning not to start running again."

Source: Shot At For Running, New-York Tribune, Oct. 21, 1902, p. 14, col. 3.

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