By Wildert Marte
GILBOA — The autumn of 1913 brought politics, farms, and everyday concerns to the front pages in Gilboa. With Election Day approaching, the Monitor devoted whole columns to the Republican ticket, introducing candidates from across Schoharie County and urging voters to back “clean politics” over Tammany Hall. George C. Hemstreet of Carlisle was praised as a reliable Assembly nominee, Alonzo Hinds of Seward as a farmer businessman trusted by neighbors, and Edgar Jackson of Gilboa as a lawyer ready to serve as District Attorney. Elias Babcock, running for Superintendent of the Poor, was described as humane and practical, promising kindness in a role often associated with hardship.
But election news was not free of controversy. Superintendent Huse of the county almshouse faced questions about the death of an inmate, George Smith. Reports suggested Huse admitted to kicking the man before he died, though no official explanation was offered. The State Board of Charities conducted an investigation, but its findings were withheld until after the election, sparking frustration. District Attorney Coons was also criticized for failing to qualify properly for office and neglecting indictments, leaving some cases unresolved. The paper pressed for accountability, reflecting a community unwilling to let such matters pass quietly.
Beyond politics, the Monitor pages were filled with rural advice and farm talk. Farmers were warned against overbuying machinery, with one story describing a man who owned nine gasoline engines and still added an expensive tractor proof, the writer said, that “a fellow can have too many engines”. There were notes about feeding hens mangels and beets in winter, using acorns to fatten hogs, and the dangers of driving horses too hard. Strangers stopping at farmhouses were treated with suspicion, a reminder of the era’s caution in isolated areas. The push for better roads appeared throughout the fall of 1913. A widely circulated study from Minneapolis calculated the staggering cost of bad highways to both farmers and merchants, losses that could have been avoided with proper construction. Locally, Gilboa farmers echoed the call, pointing out how poor roads slowed trade and wore out teams. Some even built experimental stretches, mixing sand, mulch, and gravel to create firm tracks praised by automobilists.
Ads and notices gave a window into daily life. Horses, wagons, pigs, and even potatoes were listed for sale, while landowners posted stern warnings against trespassing to gather nuts. A Gilboa merchant advertised fall goods “piled high” on shelves, while Clinton Wyckoff of Gilboa promoted the new Ford Model T, proudly announcing that demand far exceeded supply. Milliners offered hats and feathers in Conesville, and undertakers advertised their services in Gilboa’s growing business district. Not all the news was local. National pieces slipped into the columns, a note on Queen Victoria’s dinner table manners, stories of grouse hunting in Britain and reports of Vermont's marble quarries leading the world in production. These snippets sat beside small-town items like church socials and bank notices, a mix that tied rural readers to both their neighbors and the wider world.
Looking back, Gilboa in October 1913 was a village balancing politics with plowing, campaigns with corn harvests. The Monitor captured that dual life pressing candidates to account for their records while offering tips on silage and poultry feed. In its pages, you see a town working through national arguments about Tammany and Albany while also preparing for winter in the Catskills. It is the blend of urgency and routine that made small papers essential watchdog, bulletin board, and companion for long autumn nights.
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