The Golden Football

There are a couple of things you should know before we get started. My mother, Gwen, is an American. She was born in Harlem, New York to an unknown single mother and adopted at age three. My father, Gerry, is an Englishman. They met and married in Montreal in 1945. After the war mom sailed to England to set up home with my dad in London in an old Victorian house. I, along with my brothers and sister, were brought up there and treasured the place. Occasionally, during my childhood, at those large dinners that would happen on special occasions, when family and friends were seated around the oversized oak dining room table, she would regale us with stories of her adopted American family: stories of polar explorers, New York bankers, and millionaires. This was a history hidden deep within the American branch of our ancestral tree, but we paid little attention to these wild tales, possibly because, with my mom’s adoption, they were more than twice removed from our blood line. They were disconnected to not only our family, but also reality. There was nothing physical linking us to this past: no castle, or great wealth, just old photos and a few newspaper cuttings mounted in a scrapbook forgotten in a cupboard.

I left England at nineteen, moved to Canada by myself, but returned to my parents, and to that old house, as often as I was able. Each visit would mark the passing of time. My mother’s memories would slowly fade like jazz in the final grooves on a worn 78 rpm phonograph.

During one visit there was a new addition hanging in the living room, a room that already resembled a museum with all the memorabilia from a well-traveled life. There staring down from the wall was an old, large oil portrait of a sophisticated, gray haired woman. The character in the painting appeared stern, but comfortable, in her new surroundings. She controlled the musty room with a dignified gaze as if she was now the lady of this Victorian house. “Who’s that?” I asked my frail mother. “That’s Dappen,” she told me with rare clarity, “…your great, great grandmother.” Gwen had inherited the portrait from her American mother. “Her second husband was James W. Ellsworth. He owned coalmines and castles …you know…her stepson was Lincoln Ellsworth… the famous polar explorer….I’ve told you this before”

It all sounded amazing, but a bit confusing, and once again I paid little attention. There were other things to think about. My elderly parents single-handedly still looked after themselves and the old house, and I was concerned with all their futures. I returned to Canada, and thought little of Dappen’s portrait and her role in our family. I would soon discover that the children of Dappen and Mr. Ellsworth would leave their mark not only on history and art, but quite literally, on the map of the world.

That December in Toronto, while going through boxes of holiday decorations, I discovered a collection of old Christmas cards. One of the cards was from my deceased American grandmother, whom we called “Ma”. Contained in the holiday greeting was a handwritten letter in my grandmother’s hard-to-decipher, distinctive loopy style. I had completely forgotten about it. It was written just before her death and Ma had committed to paper the family history as she remembered it. Some of it I already knew. But one thing stood out – a reference to “Uncle Billy”. My mother had never mentioned him. He must have been the brother of my great grandfather, Benny, and Dappen’s second son.

I then recalled that carelessly stashed away in a plastic shopping bag at the bottom of my sock drawer was a haphazard collection of old trinkets and cheap jewelry that I had accumulated since I was a boy in London. One of the items was a gold fob used on the end of a pocket watch chain. I vaguely recalled that it had some connection with what I thought was my great grandfather. I found the worn bag and tipped its contents onto the bed, and there was the distinctive item. It was in the shape of an American football. There was an inscription written in faded blue on three sections. On one section of the football it read: Hill ’96. On another: 118 – 52 and as I turned it over I expected to see the name Benjamin Clarke Fincke. But it wasn’t my great grandfather’s name that I saw. The inscription read: William M. Fincke – Captain – Quarterback. This had once belonged to Benny’s brother – my great uncle Billy. Why on earth had I been carrying a memento of an unknown great uncle for over thirty years? How had I got it? Who was he? What was Hill? Maybe it was my grandmother that gave me the football fob to remind me of Billy. I couldn’t be certain, but here it was in my hand, having traveled over a hundred years and anxious to tell its story. This time I wasn’t going to ignore the family history.

I googled William’s name – and bingo! – there were hundreds of hits. There were cross-references with James W. Ellsworth – a highly successful entrepreneur of the Gilded Age – and his son Lincoln Ellsworth. James, besides being a wealthy industrialist, was also a connoisseur of the arts. He had helped establish the Chicago World’s Fair of 1893. He had commissioned one of the first skyscrapers in the windy city. He had been president of The Union National Bank of Chicago. He owned a famous castle in Switzerland, and an even more famous villa in Italy. And there was a reference to New York’s Metropolitan Museum that displayed the family’s gift of Rembrandt’s Portrait of a Man, a painting that is considered priceless today. His son Lincoln was also an overachiever: polar explorer and winner of the US Medal of Honor. He also had a connection to Canada. Lincoln had been part of the surveying team that laid the Canadian Pacific railroad, he helped establish the town of Prince Rupert in British Columbia, and he had been a prospector on Alberta’s Peace River. There were other entries about an area of the Antarctic that Lincoln discovered and named Ellsworth Land. This was getting exciting.

I had uncovered an incredible cast of characters and an epic tale, not just of my family, but also of early twentieth century history. The fact that I was somehow connected, albeit tentatively, to this story of fortunes, adventurers, and politics made the whole thing even more inspiring, and made me want to discover more.

Normally, I ignore vague family connections that are revealed on-line. In this new Internet world it seems everybody is connected. But this discovery empowered me and I paid no attention to Internet decorum. I tracked down via the web somebody in Boston I thought may be a descendant of William’s and sent a “cold call” e-mail. Bull’s eye! I had made contact with Billy’s grandson. The two family branches knew nothing about each other. Why was that? I was forwarded an unpublished manuscript written by Billy’s son Tod Hamlin Fincke. Some of the fascinating anecdotes you are about to read come from this manuscript.

What was even more remarkable was all this history and delight sprung from a simple memento, forgotten for decades just like Billy’s dedication and commitment, eclipsed by his stepbrother’s worthy accomplishments. The charm was possessed of a certain power that had now been released. Originally a gift from mother and step-father to son, it had laid dormant for over a hundred years and it now had suddenly become active. And I could not believe the story that unfolded before me.

James W. Ellsworth was born on Oxctober 13th 1849 in Hudson, Ohio. He made a fortune in the coal mining industry enabling him to indulge in his other great loves – collecting art, books, and coins. His business interests took him to Chicago where he became an influential force in that city. He was one of the senior directors of the Chicago Exposition of 1893, an event that changed that city forever. If you have read Erik Larson’s marvelous book The Devil in the White City you will recognize Mr. Ellsworth’s name and his role in the World’s Fair. He would move on to New York, becoming part of that city’s business and cultural scene, and eventually moving to Italy after he bought the famed 14th century Villa Palmieri (the villa where Boccaccio wrote Decameron), which he decorated with his extensive art and ceramic collection. But he never forgot his roots. The town of Hudson, Ohio (Mr. Ellsworth’s birthplace) and the Western Reserve Academy (his childhood school) owe their survival and growth to his generous benevolence.

He married Eva Frances Butler and they had two children – Clare and Linn (later to become known as Lincoln). Clare married banker, and well-known tennis player, Bernon Prentice. Lincoln would go on to become a famous polar explorer. If you look at a map of the Antarctic you will see Ellsworth Land, an area discovered by Lincoln in 1935 and named in honor of his father who had died ten years earlier. Lincoln is only one of four people to receive two Congressional Gold Medals. He became a hero to a generation between the war years. But during Mr. Ellsworth’s life time it was not Lincoln who was the star of the family; it was his step-son William Mann Fincke.

In 1895, seven years after the death of his first wife, James W. Ellsworth married the widow Julia Clarke Fincke, who was from New York. There were similarities and business connections in their backgrounds. Her father Benjamin Clarke had also been successful in the coal and iron business. Her first husband, William Mann Fincke Snr., who had died of tuberculosis, had been a draftsman in the Roebling Engineering firm that had designed and built the Brooklyn Bridge. Julia’s sister, Anne, was married to Frank Thomson the vice president (later to become president) of the Pennsylvania Railroad – an organization key to Mr. Ellsworth’s coal mining interests. Julia also had two children, although slightly older than Mr. Ellsworth’s, Benjamin and William (known as Bill).

It’s not known where James and Julia first met, but their courtship began at the Chicago World’s Fair. Julia had her own private railway car for the family and Mr. Ellsworth would meet her each morning in his fine carriage and horses and escort her and her sons around the exposition, the gardens, and the objects d’ art that he had helped organize.

They couple were married in New York with only the four children in attendance. Julia provided a calm influence to Mr. Ellsworth who was known for his intense work ethic. Lincoln was enrolled at The Hill School in Pottstown, Pennsylvania where the Fincke boys attended. Benjamin was due to graduate. Bill was not only academically gifted but was also a star athlete – setting school records in the hurdles, and was captain and quarterback of the school football team. Lincoln was the complete opposite. He had trouble with his studies, was known as an imaginative child fascinated by legendary cowboys and frontiersmen like Wyatt Earp and Buffalo Bill, and was not a great athlete although he enjoyed wrestling. (It was years later when Lincoln transformed himself into a strong, singled-minded and brave individual who put his life on the line for adventure just like his childhood cowboy heroes.)

Bill Fincke became a star student and orator at Yale University. He was quarterback and running back for the famed Bulldogs football team. He was selected as an All American in 1900. He was captain of the athletics team (although that was short lived as Bill resigned for unknown reasons, a fact that was noted by The New York Times). Upon his graduation Mr. Ellsworth appointed Bill head of his coal mining business in Cleveland where he set up home for six years with his new wife Helen Hamlin (of the famed Hamlin family from Buffalo). Both Benny and Lincoln had tried working in the mines for Mr. Ellsworth at his “model town” – Ellsworth, Pennsylvania. But after a series of accidents both realized that was not the business for them. Benny moved into banking and investments, and Lincoln headed to Canada where he honed his outdoor and exploration skills working for Canadian Pacific.

By 1907, the business landscape and labor laws were changing. Bill decided to quit the Ellsworth companies and in a complete about face traded in his capitalistic know how for religious training. He enrolled at the Union Theological School in New York. Mr. Ellsworth divested himself of the majority of his mining and railroad interests. He purchased the Villa Palmieri in Italy and that became his and Julia’s new home. But he had also traveled back to Hudson, Ohio, where he had the Evamere estate (named in honor of his first wife) and was shocked to see the town in a complete rundown state. To use a Citizen Kane cinematic image Hudson was his “rosebud” and he was not willing to let it wither and die. He offered the town $100,000 (more than $2.5 million in today’s money) to upgrade the town provided it was “dry” – no alcoholic establishments. After some hesitation the residents finally accepted the gift.

Meanwhile, Bill was emerging as a passionate and influential Christian. Upon his graduation from the school he became pastor of the Greenwich Presbyterian Church in lower Manhattan. His commitment to his beliefs is best illustrated by a story that appeared in The New York Times about the Reverend Fincke who camped out for two weeks to catch and arrest a bigamist that he had unknowingly wed. He was also becoming increasingly involved in the pacifist movement through the religious group The Friends of Reconciliation. Bill’s circle of friends included such influential people as Robert Dunn (political activist), A.J. Muste (Labor leader), and Norman Thomas (Socialist Party leader). At the same time Mr. Ellsworth had revived the fortunes of Western Reserve Academy and appointed Bill as one its directors.

When President Woodrow Wilson announced on April 6th 1917 that the United States had entered the “war to end all wars” it came as no surprise to the Rev. William Fincke and his friends. Even though Wilson had vowed to keep America out of the war during his presidential campaign, it seemed the inevitable was going to happen the more hostilities in Europe dragged on. The big corporations had made huge profits selling arms, ammunition and steel to both sides, the United States had grown healthy on the wealth, but now, as the politicians saw it, it was time to resolve this bloody conflict. But Bill, and other members of The Friends of Reconciliation, wanted no part of war.

This particular Sunday in early April 1917 was going to change his life, and he knew it. He had worked long and hard on his sermon “A Ministry of Reconciliation”. It was a denouncement, as unchristian, of America’s involvement in the war. And, as far as he was concerned, the war effort was to receive no support in his parish while he was still pastor. He wasn’t too sure whether his mother and step-father would be in the congregation that Sunday, but it would have made no difference. He only ever knew of their attendance when there was an overly large bill in the collections pouch, a gift from “the governor”, as Mr. Ellsworth liked to be addressed. The family situation was even more complicated by the fact that Lincoln was in Europe attempting to become a pilot and fight in the war. He also knew, that given his prestigious family background (and that of his wife Helen) that his actions would be reported in the press. And they were.

Bill asked his congregation for a six months leave of absence. But when it was announced that that the Presbyterian Red Cross were going to send a unit to the European front he could see a path that served both his country and his church. Without waiting for an answer to his request he volunteered as a stretcher bearer. When The New York Times printed the story on May 23 1917 that the congregation had rejected Bill’s request of a leave of absence by a vote of 210 to 124 he was already on his way to Europe. There is a family story that his ship was sunk by a German U-boat, but he continued his journey to the front after being rescued.

It was there in Europe, where he rose to the rank of sergeant, that he saw firsthand the thousands upon thousands of men slaughtered in the muddy wastelands of France, and with it the more passionate belief that the economic system and the mindset of those in charge of the system are the cause of war. Bill arrived back in New York in 1918 and immediately committed himself to helping the less fortunate. He helped out at the Labor Temple, a non-sectarian meeting place for those interested in religious and social issues located at the former Fourteenth Street Presbyterian Church at 225 Second Avenue near Union Square. It was a hot bed of radicalism attracting anarchists, socialists, and members of the labor unions. In addition, there were many recent immigrants scrapping together a meager existence to make a life in the new world, yet bringing their politics of the old world. Political extremism wasn’t the only thing Bill encountered. That fall the pandemic known as the Spanish flu devastated the world. Thirty thousand people died in New York alone, and Cleveland was especially hit hard with over 600 deaths per week at the height of the deadly influenza attack. Over fifty million people worldwide lost their lives to the Spanish flu – more than were killed in the Great War. People were wearing face masks in New York. Boy Scouts were handing out leaflets telling people not to spit, and Bill was on the lower east side helping out the needy and the sick, and becoming more committed to his religious/political views.

The post war period of 1919 was even more volatile. In January a general strike occurred in Seattle crippling the city for three weeks. In April numerous mail bombs were sent to dozens of politicians and bankers. Riots occurred during May Day marches, particularly in Cleveland, Bill’s home for six years and the former headquarters of Mr. Ellsworth’s coal mining business. In June, eight large bombs exploded in various cities around America. In September a national steel strike was called and 350,000 workers walked off the job. The media branded them Bolsheviks. Bill travelled to Duquesne, Pennsylvania (only 26 miles north of the “model town” Ellsworth had established) to address the striking workers at a Civil Liberties meeting. He was arrested almost immediately after he started to speak and spent the night in jail. Bill could only have wondered what his mother and “the governor” thought of his actions while they had breakfast on the terraces that overlooked their beautiful gardens at their famous Villa Palmieri outside Florence, Italy. Mr. Ellsworth had been fighting the unions almost his whole adult life, but even in retirement he kept a close contact with business back home and now, throughout the United States, there was the belief that the country was on the brink of a workers’ revolution similar to that in Russia two years previously. Thousands of immigrants were rounded up and many were deported including one of the most well-known radicals Emma Goldman. And Bill and Helen Fincke were at the center of a highly influential group of progressive thinkers and organizers.

As far as Bill was concerned education was the key to solving the big problems. And an education that was available to all young people, not just the privileged, which would not only empower youth, but break the cycle of working in factories and mines while the body and mind were still growing. The next generation had to be schooled in a more constructive method, with an emphasis on equality, workers’ rights, non-violence, and leadership in order to gain social justice. It wasn’t just a matter of changing the curriculum for the children of the workers, but changing the whole world system in order to end war.

The Fincke’s had bought a large estate in Katonah, New York – Brookwood – shortly after he had been ordained into the ministry in 1914. They had used it as their country retreat while Bill worked in Manhattan. Now, in the fall of 1919, Bill, Helen, and their children moved into the impressive colonial home and set up the Brookwood School. The house, with its large ornate and stately columns out front, was big enough to have class rooms and dormitories for the teenagers, who predominantly came from working class families, as well as be a home to the Fincke family. It was an experiment in progressive education. Its promotional pamphlet stated that it was “a laboratory for the testing of real democracy in organization.” Fees varied depending on the student and the family. The Fincke family, and their sympathizers, helped underwrite the cost of running the school.

1920 saw the start of prohibition in the United States and women were now granted the vote. Helen, as politically committed as her husband, ran as comptroller under the Farmer-labor ticket in the New York State elections. She didn’t win, but did pick up almost 30,000 votes. The Fincke’s commitment to their ideals was assured the following year when they gifted, at no charge, their single most lucrative asset – the Brookwood estate – to the Labor movement. The decision was made during a conference at the school March 31 and April 1 1921. The institution was renamed Brookwood Labor College and it was headed up by A.J. Muste. It was America’s first adult residential college dedicated to the labor movement. The Fincke’s lost control of Brookwood, partly by design and maybe partly by persuasion. Bill Fincke had somehow found himself on the outside of his creation, a school that would for many years become the most important socialist educational institute in America. It lasted just sixteen years but during that period it came to be known as “labor’s Harvard”.

Bill’s mother, Julia, died that November at the Villa Palmieri in Italy. James Ellsworth accompanied her body back to New York. They arrived at Ellis Island December 2 1921 on the ship Arabic.

Maybe it was because his mother had now passed, or maybe it was because the commitment to socialist/spiritual ideals grew as the world became more controlled by the capitalist class, whatever the reason Bill and Helen became even more passionate about their vision for the future. And they were willing to dedicate their lives and the wealth to the cause. With their remaining funds they established the Manumit school (Latin for “free from slavery”) in Pawling, New York – “a laborers peace school for young children”.

In 1925, Lincoln Ellsworth, at the age of forty five, and legendary explorer Roald Amundsen, set off in two planes to fly over the North Pole. The expedition, which started in Norway, was bankrolled to the tune of $100,000 by Mr. Ellsworth. The explorers fell short of their mark when Lincoln’s plane had engine trouble. The explorers were stranded on the ice for over three weeks until they all managed to fly to safety in Amundsen’s plane. One of the fascinating things about the whole expedition is that they took a movie camera along with them, even though it must have weighed a significant amount. Years earlier both Scott and Shackleton had taken a movie camera with them on their epic journeys to the antarctic, but that heavy equipment was transported in a ship, not a flimsy aeroplane with limited space. Given Mr. Ellsworth’s passion for art, and his keen entrepreneurial instinct, it may have been one of his prerequisites for financing the expedition.

Despite the fact that the two explorers failed to reach the North Pole they returned to Norway as heroes. But Mr. Ellsworth did not live to see his son finally become that hero. He had died at his Italian villa while Lincoln was lost in the Arctic.

Mr. Ellsworth left $1 million dollars each to Lincoln and Clare. But the bulk of his fortune – $4 million – was left to Western Reserve Academy, which today is considered one of the most prestigious schools in America. Lincoln’s inheritance enabled him to complete his polar adventures. In 1926, along with Roald Amundsen and Italian Umberto Nobile, Lincoln flew over the North Pole in the airship Norge. And during the 1930s he traveled to the Antarctic four times eventually discovering the land that he named in honor of his father.

As for Bill Fincke, who had dedicated his life, his energy, and his wealth to his spiritual calling and his political beliefs, he died of leukemia in 1927. Manumit remained operational though, eventually being led by his eldest son William Mann Fincke. Actors Lee Marvin and Madeline Kahn would later attend the radical school.

History remembers, and quite rightly so, the exploits of Lincoln Ellsworth, but it has forgotten those of his step-brother, William Mann Fincke, whose earlier achievements possibly was the wind against which the famed explorer worked against and allowed him to finally take off and fly to the top of the world.

Mr. Ellsworth hated waste, he was known to save even small pieces of string, and he may not have agreed with the path of either of these two sons, although he would have been extremely proud of Lincoln’s exploits later in life, but he would have to acknowledge that neither wasted their lives. On Mr. Ellsworth’s gravestone in Hudson, Ohio Lincoln inscribed the following words: “His Life Was Like a Star/ And Dwelt Apart”.

I think Bill Fincke would love the fact that the magic of the Golden Football has not been wasted sitting in a drawer. The story has been passed on, and the memento has achieved one final touchdown.