The story that hasn’t been told

Scrapbook, by Brooks Tenney
This space should have contained Part 2, Conclusion of Spencer Speedway—A Brief Glance in the Rear View Mirror. We defer that piece until next week to bring you this hitherto untold account of an observance whose origins have been shrouded in mystery. Like Juneteenth, whose beginnings have a link to Wayne County, this observance is also tied to our earliest days.
It’s widely known that Charles Williamson, acting as agent for Sir William Pulteney, played a key role in opening this region to settlers and in promoting early commerce and industry. Then, as now, winters could be harsh and cold; and the arrival of spring, signaled by the equinox, was a time for celebration.
After one particularly nasty winter, Williamson decided to have a get-together at the end of March. He gathered associates at a Troupville tavern to plan an event and to insure that appropriate refreshments would be available. As a gesture of goodwill to Indian neighbors he invited Chief Sodus, a descendant of Squanto, who had been helpful in showing early settlers how to plant zucchini.
Other pioneers whose names we recall today include Rhett Butler, Dr.Sanjay Galen, “Jersey Joe” Wolcott, Mario Palmyra, and “Gypsy Lee” Rose. (Gypsy Lee, the only female participant, was a rough, frontier-woman type, given to coarse ways, and what we might call today, a “potty mouth.”)
It was easy to reach agreement on the desirability of a celebration. Likewise, the plans for refreshments came together quickly, but the meeting hung up in trying to determine an appropriate name for the day. In the late hours of a waning March it became clear that—whatever they concluded—the name would not include the word March, because sand was running out of the hourglass. Their special day would be held in April.
Butler suggested that they might celebrate the arrival of several wagonloads of cordwood. April Fuels Day. Galen, an avid horseman, reported that his mare had just dropped twins, a rare event. He proposed April Foal’s Day. Palmyra, a hunter, argued in favor of honoring the return of geese and ducks to local wetlands. He cast his vote in favor of April Fowl’s Day.
Miss Rose asked if food would be served. It seemed important to her for people to get their fill, to become full. When questioned, all she could do was to repeat the same word; food. April—Food. Fill?. Apparently, she had a tough, hungry winter.
Chief Sodus was confused. He scratched his belly and grunted. “Full”
Williamson, groggy, drew his sword and jammed it into the table—dramatically. “Foil.” It was unclear what he meant.
Wolcott was impatient and told Rose to shut up. Just as he was asked for his suggestion for naming the day, Rose kicked him under the table. “Foul,” he cried in a voice that woke the inattentive, and this response was recorded as his suggestion.
Despite their efforts, these early residents were unable to agree on a reason for the April observance that had already begun as their candle guttered.
That’s why, even today, if you look in an encyclopedia, you won’t find anything concerning the origin of our observances on the first day in April. Foolish as it seems, our forebears couldn’t even agree on a good name. They cancelled the party and ordered another round. And that’s how one April began. Right here.