Cammie Luckey is in the process of digitizing her father’s hoard of documents which he collected over the course of his 50 years of active ministry. I am going to send them out as posts so they will be captured as a long term repository on my blog.
This first entry is a tribute from a long-time freind, Ray Smith. Click on the link below.
There’s No Place Like Home
By Dave Hayes (Grandson of Charles Dayton)
Living the life of a nomadic military family had its ups and downs. Sure, we got to see so much of the country and even sampled some life overseas. But when it came to the holidays, we were more aware than ever of being far from the “North Country” and the family we loved. The other service families were in the same position, so we became a sort of “surrogate family” for each other. Still, we missed seeing grandparents, aunts & uncles and lots of cousins!
Enter Grampa Charles Dayton! No matter where we lived, Grampa, Gramma Jo and Cammie always came to visit us. I remember their visit to Killeen, Texas, accompanied by Rev. Floyd Tyler & his wife, Helen, where they continued south to Mexico and returned with a large bull whip which they enthusiastically demonstrated in the front yard. It’s a wonder no one was hurt! They also visited us in California. We ushered them to the redwoods, the seashore, the town wharf with its stores and restaurants, one of the string of California missions, and many other local sites of interest. And they even came to Italy, where Grampa helped Dad to lead the Easter Sunrise Service on the shores of the Mediterranean Sea. We made a quick trip to Rome to see the Sistine Chapel and several other monuments and sites, and they even got a bonus trip up through Germany to see the windmills and tulips in Holland and the lovely gardens in Belgium. Now that was a whirlwind trip!
For us, these visits were a crucial tie to the family we had left behind! But it was also a reminder that we were loved and cherished and certainly not forgotten. My father’s devotion and patriotic service to his country as well as our family’s sacrifice of a life surrounded by our extended loved ones were honored with each remote stay. Cammie became more than our aunt…she became a friend and a remembrance that, even as kids, Keith and I had roots deep in the hills of upstate New York. Grampa & Gramma Jo brought news from the home front and dived into the local culture and customs wherever we were, fully enjoying themselves in a distant or foreign locale. It tied us together more strongly, and that lasting bond is still unbroken. What a gift it was to greet my grandparents at my house and to know that they were bringing the love and caring of a family we loved so much, there in the Adirondacks!
Thanks, Grampa & Gramma Jo & Cammie for those treasured times!
Remembering Corinth, by Dave Hayes, is a ten-part series about Dave’s remembrances of Corinth in the late ‘50s. Dave, a retired elementary teacher and guidance counselor (36 years), and part time adjunct professor in the Counseling Dept. at nearby West Chester Univ. (24 years-8 after his “first” retirement) lives in Pottstown, PA. He and his wife, Kathleen, had four children, Heather, Jeremy, Emily (d.2008) and Benjamin. He descends from Wilber Sr. as follows: Wilber Sr., Rev. Charles “Chop” Dayton, Isabelle “Izzie” [Dayton] Hayes, David Hayes.
Part 8 – After Church
It wasn’t just “in” church where there are strong memories. I have wonderful recollections of times spent in the parsonage with Grampa, Gramma Jo and Cammie. We would run up and down those stairs and listen to the grownups in the kitchen through the grate in the bathroom upstairs. We would play in the bedrooms and sometimes have sleepovers, too. I loved to spin around in my grandfather’s chair in his study just inside the front door. It somehow felt like a “holy place.” After church, there were often snacks and a time of family fellowship. That was after we got back from helping Grampa take home some of the folks from church. Now THAT was an adventure. We would drop them off at their homes and then Grampa would begin to coast down the hill in neutral to see how far we could go without accelerating. We kids would laugh and encourage the car and even get out to push the extra few feet to see how far we could go. When not coasting, we would be singing a rousing rendition of a hymn or chorus or listening as Grampa told us some outlandish story. It was a magical time and I never wanted it to end! Even after all these years, those after-service trips remain a very special memory. [What got me thinking about those late Sunday evening trips was the picture in the latest Dayton Family Newsletter…the one with the map of Corinth and the corner by the Baptist Church. Grampa was in a hurry one time (surprise!) and he took that corner on two wheels! That moment is indelibly etched into my memory as is that particular corner.]
DFH Volume 1 Issue 16
Remembering Corinth, by Dave Hayes, is a ten-part series about Dave’s remembrances of Corinth in the late ‘50s. Dave, a retired elementary teacher and guidance counselor (36 years), and part time adjunct professor in the Counseling Dept. at nearby West Chester Univ. (24 years-8 after his “first” retirement) lives in Pottstown, PA. He and his wife, Kathleen, had four children, Heather, Jeremy, Emily (d.2008) and Benjamin. He descends from Wilber Sr. as follows: Wilber Sr., Rev. Charles “Chop” Dayton, Isabelle “Izzie” [Dayton] Hayes, David Hayes.
Part 7 – Life Revolved Around the Church
School life and home life and exploring the town were secondary to the time spent in the Corinth Wesleyan Church. Most of my memories that year are associated with time there and with the special people with whom I interacted at church. Grampa would be up front in the pulpit leading the hymns with unmatched gusto or preaching with fervency & deep conviction or encouraging even the youth to give their testimonies during prayer meeting. Gramma Jo would be sitting in the pews hoping Charles would not make a personal reference or she would be leading a women’s meeting or directing Vacation Bible School each summer. I’d be in the back pews with Jimmy & Cammie & Keith trying to keep a low profile but still managing to goof around from time to time. Everyone was SO friendly and welcoming from the beginning and we felt at home here right away. There were folks that my Mom knew from her childhood & teen years, assorted cousins from both sides of her family and all those precious aunts and uncles who were glad to have Izzie around, if only for a season. They were supportive and gracious, knowing how tough it was to have a husband so far away for so long. That church enveloped us and made us “family” the minute we walked through the door. We had Sunday School and church suppers in the recently completed Education Building and played softball in the summer and went ice skating in the winter out behind the church. When it was time for Bible School, we gathered outside, lining up with our class behind our class banner. We followed the American & Christian flags and the Bible into the sanctuary and pledged allegiance to each before singing the theme song for the year. Then it was off to our classes for Bible stories, crafts, snacks and games. Those two weeks were the highlight of my Corinth summer! It wasn’t until years later, when I was directing my own church’s Bible School, that I again copied Gramma Jo’s formula for marches, pledges and opening songs. What a wonderful tradition I learned there.
DFH Volume 1 Issue 14
Remembering Corinth, by Dave Hayes, is a ten-part series about Dave’s remembrances of Corinth in the late ‘50s. Dave, a retired elementary teacher and guidance counselor (36 years), and part time adjunct professor in the Counseling Dept. at nearby West Chester Univ. (24 years-8 after his “first” retirement) lives in Pottstown, PA. He and his wife, Kathleen, had four children, Heather, Jeremy, Emily (d.2008) and Benjamin. He descends from Wilber Sr. as follows: Wilber Sr., Rev. Charles “Chop” Dayton, Isabelle “Izzie” [Dayton] Hayes, David Hayes.
Part 5 – Daily Life in Corinth
We soon settled into a comfortable pattern of daily life in Corinth. We walked up the hill to school each day and Mom went to work in Ballston Spa. Since I was in 4th grade, I was downstairs in the school and then “graduated” to the upstairs when school started the next year, and I was in 5th. Another big deal in 5th grade was that we studied French with lessons on the intercom, as we filled in our workbooks in the classroom. From time to time, I would see and wave at Jimmy in the hallways or at lunch and, perhaps, get a glimpse of Keith & Cammie, both two years behind me. Often I would stop at Aunt Lib’s on the way home from school, and she would give me a snack of cookies & milk while we chatted about school or church or our family. Those were very sweet times with her, and she was a special lady! Another memory involved a field trip our class took to local factories—a cement factory and a Coca Cola bottling factory. It was fun seeing mass production and machines that perform tasks over and over without tiring. I even think I talked my Mom into being a chaperone on that one! One other school memory I have is the time that we had a town-wide air raid drill. We were instructed to leave school, walk home quickly and stay inside for a prescribed amount of time. It was a little eerie walking home from school with very little traffic and no one out and around. Mom decided that we could cut our inside time short, load the car and head north to visit Uncle John and Aunt Dorrie (Dayton) Lamos near Plattsburgh for the weekend. So much for following directions!
DFH Volume 1 Issue 13
Remembering Corinth, by Dave Hayes, is a ten-part series about Dave’s remembrances of Corinth in the late ‘50s. Dave, a retired elementary teacher and guidance counselor (36 years), and part time adjunct professor in the Counseling Dept. at nearby West Chester Univ. (24 years-8 after his “first” retirement) lives in Pottstown, PA. He and his wife, Kathleen, had four children, Heather, Jeremy, Emily (d.2008) and Benjamin. He descends from Wilber Sr. as follows: Wilber Sr., Rev. Charles “Chop” Dayton, Isabelle “Izzie” [Dayton] Hayes, David Hayes
Part 4 – Our Corinth Family
The best thing about living in Corinth in 1959,while dad was on a hardship tour in Greenland, was that we were surrounded by family—grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and lots of new church friends! Grampa was now my pastor (from father to grandfather…now there’s a switch) and Gramma Jo was my pastor’s wife. My Aunt Cammie (really, more like a cousin in terms of age and relationships) was a constant companion and new best friend. Then there was Uncle Paul and Aunt Ruth and their kids—my “new” cousins—who lived across town and Uncle Chip & Aunt Lib, who lived just a few doors up from us on Walnut Street. Not only did we see Cammie & Jimmy and the other cousins on Sundays and weeknight prayer meetings, but we saw them passing in the hallways in school and we played with them as “instant family friends.” Jimmy was a year older than I, so we got to explore and bike and run around the town together. After we moved again, a year later, I didn’t see Jimmy until we were in Houghton College together 8 years later! But our time in Corinth cemented our cousin-friendship! Jimmy & Cammie introduced us to the behind-the-scenes places in Corinth, like the supposed Indian burial ground at the top of the hill from the church. Local legend, according to the Corinth kids, was that Indians were buried underneath the big rocks that were on the hillside. We ran around, jumping from rock to rock, thinking that we were somehow part of ancient history. They also showed us the famous Stewart’s Ice Cream shop, where you could eat the toppings off of your make-your-own sundae and then add more on top. Now that’s a yummy memory! And we learned that the town beach (swimming in the Hudson) was next to the town library and just down the street from the center of town. We loved the small town feel and being surrounded by family—all in all, a great place to be for a year!
DFH Volume 1 Issue 12
Last week I asked you if you remembered this building. I think probably only those born before 1960 would remember it. The tabernacle was rebuilt by the time that most of us attended there, but it was similar enough to the old one that most of us knew what it is. It is the West Chazy Champlain District Tabernacle located in West Chazy, New York. The following description of the campground came from the Sun, Jan. 12, 2008, WEST CHAZY “Since the turn of the last century, the Wesleyan Bible Camp has been a fixture in West Chazy. However, mounting finances and decreasing revenue have put the camp in danger of closing permanently. The camp, which was first established in its current location in 1901, consists of 145 private cottage sites, three dormitories, a tabernacle, dining hall, 16-room motel, maintenance directors residence, and 24 campsites spread over nearly 35 acres off West Church Street.” I’m nearly certain that the campground actually dates to about the 1870’s. Most of you attended there summer after summer but have amnesia when it comes to remembrances which others would enjoy hearing about. Three of you have sent me some of your fond memories. Here are some of the favorites.
Priscilla recalls
Judy Dayton recalls
Jim Dayton recalls
Good, Good memories. Memories that, in a small way, gave me some spiritual roots I have cherished for my lifetime. I wouldn’t trade these memories. I suspect you feel this way too. Why not join in the conversation? After all, they’re our memories too.
Cammie Luckey had a different perspective on Camp Meeting life because her father [my uncle Chop AKA Rev. Charles Dayton] oversaw the Camp Meeting facilities, its conference meetings, the overall administration and much of the physical labor for keeping the camp meeting apparatus functioning properly and dynamically. Chop was “the glue that held the thing together.” He did the job well, and Cammie had an eyewitness view of the “goings on.” Here some of her remembrances:
That West Chazy tabernacle roof was a lot higher and steeper than it appears from the photograph’s perspective.
I was up there on the upper roof, once to shovel off the heavy snow that threatened to bring down the entire structure, and at least once to shutter tight (slide- and wing-bolts) those square roof vents, not visible in this front-on photo, that ran along below the soffit on both sides of that upper roof and were only open during the campmeeting season.
These were just two chores unseen by typical camp-goers. Most campers left West Chazy on Sunday to return to their 9-5 lives in Watervliet or Glens Falls or Springfield or wherever, oblivious to what happened on the WC grounds the rest of the year. Only a few, mostly clergy, for whom 9-5 lifestyles were rare, waited till Monday to pack and leave.
So what may have been the camp season’s most holy moment, an annual sacred rite even if the participants would probably be appalled at that four-letter “r” word, was never experienced except by a relative few. Most people remaining on the grounds late Sunday night, the hour of that sacred rite, were scrambling to pack or were saying sentimental farewells or, if they were of a certain age, trying to catch one last canoodle behind some bush as far away as they could get from the tabernacle.
The rite was not begun until after the final “seeker” arose from the altar bench (originally sort of like a chopped-off saw horse and only eventually a genuine, polished rail) but before the lights went out for another year. Then, a circle was formed. Shoulder-to-shoulder, hand-in-hand, the circle followed the inside perimeter of the tabernacle. The circle stretched across the entire front, between the altar benches and front pew, from side door to side door. It went along both sides to the rear, actually the front, the main-entrance wall as shown in the photograph, where one corner held Rev. Ross’ Bible shop full of enticing biblical toy paraphernalia effective at keeping little kids quiet during long sermons. A personal favorite was the 2×2” flat square on which you slid little squares the size of Chiclets until you formed the verse John 3:16. Today it would be Rubic’s Cube.
Anyway, the circle closed ranks and stood still, waiting at attention. These were the league’s team captains, so to speak. This was end-of-season wrap. A few solemn words were given by “names of note” such as Ray Smith of Watervliet, who regularly delayed his own 9-5 electric utility job for this higher, holy priority. Or he drove home to Watervliet in the wee hours of Monday morning. Sometimes these were words of victory, sometimes triumphant resolve. Often they included knowing phrases of foreboding, experience having taught that the circle would never be exactly the same twice. Who would fall?
After a few shared memories of sad moments and spiritual highlights, someone, such as John Lamos, husband of Dorrie Dayton Lamos, sounded the first note of the two songs traditionally sung. “Will the circle be unbroken, by and by, Lord, by and by?” Everybody knew the answer when it came to the matter of this earthly tabernacle circle; but everyone in this holiness circle also was well aware of other ways to fall. They usually had to deal with a fall or two every year at the “annual conference” that preceded the campmeeting.
The final song was always “God Be With You ‘til We Meet Again.”
These lines sound like something straight from John Boy Walton, a family-values TV icon circa 1970. But I could also reminisce about other “nearby structures,” as Jim referred to in his request for recollections. I recollect the Sunday afternoon I, the conference president’s (aka district superintendent) daughter spent “making out” with Steve in the Special Speaker cottage behind the tabernacle while Steve’s dad stood a few dozen yards away, at the pulpit.
(In those days there were three services daily. Typically only the evening and Sunday services featured the altar-calls that perhaps unfortunately defined the campmeeting experience. The other services were for those who wanted to “go deeper,” for folks such as Ray Smith and various little old ladies, the unappreciated, anonymous spiritual powerhouses.)
“From the person to whom much is given, much will be required.” At the time and for many decades I resented that I was not among those who packed up and pulled out on Sunday to a life far distant from West Chazy. I did not appreciate the feast table at which I was feeding despite myself, reluctantly living fifty-two weeks of the year in the three-century house known as the “President’s Home” (burnt to the ground by a hair dryer) adjacent to the campgrounds. I regret how long it took me to realize the rare, rich and eternal significance of those acappella voices rising to the rafters and roof vents and way beyond.
by Cammie Dayton Luckey, May 2019
DFH Volume 1 Issue 11
Much has already been written in previous publications of this newsletter about the Rev. Charles A. “Chop” Dayton, long-time pastor and administrator in the Wesleyan Methodist Church. However very little has been written about the rest of his family. Charles married Gladys MacDonald Feb 3, 1926, in Corinth. Gladys was born in Schroon Lake. They had daughters Isabel “Izzie” (1926) and Doris “Dorie.” (1930). The young Dayton family moved to Chittenden, Vermont, in 1932, when Charles entered the ministry. Chittenden was a small, out-of-the-mainstream, church where unproven pastors were sent to be tested. He proved himself very quickly. Three years later, he was called to Glens Falls, New York, the largest church in the Champlain Conference. The family also pastored in Watervliet, New York, and Springfield, Massachusetts, before Charles became Champlain Conference President of the Wesleyan Church in 1946. His wife Gladys, a loving partner in his ministry, was never physically very strong and passed away in 1949 at age 43, due to “heart failure”
In 1948, Izzie and Quentin “Kent” Hayes were married in West Chazy, New York. Kent began Marion College in Indiana, where both sons, David and Keith were born. Seminary then took the young family to Wilmore, Kentucky, for three more years. Following his commissioning in1957, it was on to Fort Hood,Texas, as a career officer and chaplain in the U S Army. The Hayes family moved a lot. Among other places, the family spent three wonderful years in Italy in the 1960’s. Kent served a one-year tour in Greenland, while his family stayed behind in Corinth. Dave Hayes speaks to their military adventures in the series “Remembering Corinth” elsewhere in this newsletter. Izzie was graduated from Houghton College before her marriage, did graduate work at several universities and enjoyed three exciting careers: social work, teaching and editorial work on a Chesapeake Bay magazine.
Younger sister Doris “Dorie” was married to John Lamos in 1951. John joined the US Army a./ s a band member for General MacArthur in Post-War Japan. Following his graduation from Marion College in Indiana and his ordination, he served several churches including Springfield, MA, Plattsburgh Turnpike Church and Corinth, NY. Dorie’s career choice was nursing. After earning her R.N. and B.S., she worked for a time in several hospitals. She was probably known best as the mother of five lovely children, four of whom have served, or are still serving, as pastors in the Wesleyan Church.
Charles’ first wife Gladys, a loving partner in her husband’s pastoral work, was never physically strong. She succumbed to heart failure in 1949 at age 43 .
The following year, Charles married Josephine Fisher. Josephine was the sister of Donna Fisher who was Wilber Jr.’s wife. Yes, the Fisher sisters married Dayton brothers. Jo graduated from Asbury College in Wilmore, KY, and taught elementary school before joining the flood of young professional women to our nation’s capital during WWII, to help the war effort. She got her master’s degree at Northern Baptist Seminary in Chicago and taught at Nyack Missionary College. In 1951, Camilla was born to “Chop” and “Jo” during Charles’ time as pastor in Springfield, Massachusetts. A year later, the family moved to Corinth, New York, where Charles pastored the Wesleyan Methodist Church. Charles had come full circle, and he was home again. The family remained in Corinth until 1960, when once again, he was elected to another term as President of the Champlain Conference.
Cammie graduated from Houghton College, where she met her future husband Jack Luckey. Following their marriage, they moved to Washington, D..C.; Jack completed law school and began his career as an attorney at the Library of Congress. Two children were born to that marriage, J.C. and Alexis. After a Peace Corps assignment in Africa, Alexis, the younger daughter, will be married this fall. J.C. has a very rewarding career as a spokesperson for a conglomerate of hospitals in the Tampa, Florida, area. It was those two young sons, Hayden and Joe, that influenced Grandpa and Grandma Luckey, i.e., Jack and Cam, to locate in retirement in nearby Clearwater. Cammie spends large blocks of time in Israel where she is cataloging and writing a book about antiquities at the Jerusalem Library. Jack, despite a heavy-though-delightful commitment of time
to his grandfatherly duties, recently published a book of his spiritual journey. It’s well organized, extremely readable and one tender description of a man’s seeking and finding truth and meaning in life. Despite my short attention span, I didn’t want the book to end. The title: Relationships, The Real Estate of Heaven. The author: John Luckey. Address: 1828 Union Street; Clearwater, FL 33763 Ave. (amazon.com)
DFH Volume 1 Issue 10
by Cammie Luckey
When I lived in the Corinth parsonage, my parents were often away on church business at the time I should arrive home from the little K-1st brick school house on Main St. I was no older than seven, probably six. It was standard procedure on such days for me to go straight after school to the nearby Ralph home (my father’s sister-in-law) to be babysat, and I was always told so in the morning before school. One day I wasn’t told, or I forgot. I went straight home to River Street after school, but home was empty. No one was there. I sat down on those concrete steps by the side door facing Grandpa’s garden and tried to figure out my future. I had no doubt — the Rapture had come and I’d been left behind.
Dayton Family History 