Souvenirs of Yesteryear: Chenango Forks
That picturesque little hamlet down on State Route 12 just over the Broome-Chenango border is Chenango Forks. It is so named because it lies on the confluence (the fork) of the Chenango and Tioughnioga rivers. Mercifully, it is not called Tioughnioga Forks. A few decades ago a tavern there was called the “Last Chance.” I often wondered, last chance for what?
Historically, the confluence was an important switching point for the Indians. They took the Tioughnioga to go to Onondaga and the Chenango to go to Oneida (Souvenirs January 16, 2006). The confluence was the apex of the famous Chenango Triangle, whose northern base was a line between the Tioughnioga River on the west and the Chenango River on the east. The current towns, or parts thereof, of Smithville, Greene, and Oxford were once in the Triangle. The Broome towns of Lisle, Barker, and the aptly named Triangle were also. In 1798, the Triangle was originally split into two parts by a straight line between the practical midpoint of the base and the confluence. This midpoint was the southeastern corner of what was the Military Tract and then became Onondaga County. The western part stayed in what was then Tioga County and the eastern part went to the newly formed Chenango County. This Triangle is one reason why the southern towns of Chenango County are shaped so differently from the northern towns, which were originally the neat, boxy Twenty Towns.
In 1798, the southeast corner of Onondaga County was where the three counties of Broome, Chenango, and Cortland meet today. (I wrote about my adventures finding that marker in a Souvenirs article on November 7, 2005.)
Look at any recent map and you will see that this straight line is bent to the east about 0.6 mile north of the confluence. All of the old maps, 1829, 1839, 1855, 1863, and 1875, show the straight line to be intact and that about a third of Chenango Forks is in Chenango County. James Smith, in his 1880 history, describes Chenango Forks in the chapter on Greene (page 215). The 1904 topographic map (Greene 15 minute quad) shows that the southernmost tip of Chenango County was clipped off and appears in Broome County, Town of Barker. So the border was bent somewhere between 1880 and 1904.
How did the northern third of Chenango Forks end up in Broome County? Why? Actually, it makes more sense to have any settlement, even a hamlet, all in one county. Otherwise, problems develop, such as the droll squabbles in Earlville, a village that is in both Chenango and Madison counties. Because two-thirds of Chenango Forks was already in Broome, it was wise to shove the whole thing over there.
But this transfer apparently was not the result of a rational decision. Nay, it seems to have been done surreptitiously. I do not know anything about the motive and the methods. There is more at stake than just a line on a map. Landowners pay taxes and municipalities collect them.
On or about 1986, Chenango County filed a lawsuit against Broome County to settle the boundary dispute. It was settled on December 12, 2001, when it became a state law (Chapter 537). The boundary stays where it was at the time of the suit, with some fine tuning by an up to date survey. Broome County kept its land grab and paid Chenango County $75,000 for it. Both counties and all other stake holders seemed pleased, or as pleased as was practical in a settlement of a territorial snatch that was perpetrated three generations ago. The purpose of a settlement is to settle an issue, so all is well that settles well. But I still do not know why or how or exactly when the land drifted over to Broome County.
Harry J. Wells, Senior Counsel in the New York State Department of State, reviewed the legal proceedings in an article in the April 1993 issue of a legal journal, “Footnotes”, page 7. In 1798 the New York State Legislature declared that the western boundary of Chenango County was a “direct course” from the southeast corner of Onondaga County to the confluence of the Tioughnioga and Chenango rivers. An 1801 act extended the course to the east bank of the river, but was ambiguous as to which river. An 1813 act clarified the situation by declaring the course to the east bank of the Chenango River.
Over the ensuing two centuries, the channels of both rivers shifted. However, a glance at a topographical map (Chenango Forks 7.5 minute quad) shows that these rivers could not have meandered very far because they are hemmed in by hills. A professional geologist testified in 1990 that he could not determine exactly where the confluence was in 1801 (”Press & Sun-Bulletin” Saturday August 11, 1990, page 1B). Well, regardless of where the confluence was in 1801, it certainly was not where the border is today. A hill 288 feet tall has been steadfastly blocking the way.
One photo shows the current border from where it extrapolates to the east bank of the Chenango River on the north side of the State Route 79 bridge (that disturbing one with the noisy metal grid that sounds as if it is shredding your tires). The boundary line lies to the southwest of Willard Road (formerly Olds Road), which is not visible but is about where that sign is pointing. The other photo shows a view looking north downstream from the confluence. The Tioughnioga River is flowing from the west (left) and the Chenango River is coming down the right. A fishing access parking lot is located about a furlong west of here, by the railroad bridge.
Inhabited areas tend to sprawl out, driven by population increases, so no matter in what jurisdiction a hamlet is placed, if its population increases it will eventually sprawl out to another jurisdiction. In a few years, the entire State Route 12 corridor will be one giant continuous commercial sprawl from Binghamton to Hamilton. Well, there goes the neighborhood. Someday our beloved Route 12 will not only look like the Vestal Parkway, it will probably be an extension of it. Perhaps we are currently approaching our last chance to see that picturesque little hamlet down on State Route 12, before it gets swallowed up by some super mega-mart.
Historically, the confluence was an important switching point for the Indians. They took the Tioughnioga to go to Onondaga and the Chenango to go to Oneida (Souvenirs January 16, 2006). The confluence was the apex of the famous Chenango Triangle, whose northern base was a line between the Tioughnioga River on the west and the Chenango River on the east. The current towns, or parts thereof, of Smithville, Greene, and Oxford were once in the Triangle. The Broome towns of Lisle, Barker, and the aptly named Triangle were also. In 1798, the Triangle was originally split into two parts by a straight line between the practical midpoint of the base and the confluence. This midpoint was the southeastern corner of what was the Military Tract and then became Onondaga County. The western part stayed in what was then Tioga County and the eastern part went to the newly formed Chenango County. This Triangle is one reason why the southern towns of Chenango County are shaped so differently from the northern towns, which were originally the neat, boxy Twenty Towns.
In 1798, the southeast corner of Onondaga County was where the three counties of Broome, Chenango, and Cortland meet today. (I wrote about my adventures finding that marker in a Souvenirs article on November 7, 2005.)
Look at any recent map and you will see that this straight line is bent to the east about 0.6 mile north of the confluence. All of the old maps, 1829, 1839, 1855, 1863, and 1875, show the straight line to be intact and that about a third of Chenango Forks is in Chenango County. James Smith, in his 1880 history, describes Chenango Forks in the chapter on Greene (page 215). The 1904 topographic map (Greene 15 minute quad) shows that the southernmost tip of Chenango County was clipped off and appears in Broome County, Town of Barker. So the border was bent somewhere between 1880 and 1904.
How did the northern third of Chenango Forks end up in Broome County? Why? Actually, it makes more sense to have any settlement, even a hamlet, all in one county. Otherwise, problems develop, such as the droll squabbles in Earlville, a village that is in both Chenango and Madison counties. Because two-thirds of Chenango Forks was already in Broome, it was wise to shove the whole thing over there.
But this transfer apparently was not the result of a rational decision. Nay, it seems to have been done surreptitiously. I do not know anything about the motive and the methods. There is more at stake than just a line on a map. Landowners pay taxes and municipalities collect them.
On or about 1986, Chenango County filed a lawsuit against Broome County to settle the boundary dispute. It was settled on December 12, 2001, when it became a state law (Chapter 537). The boundary stays where it was at the time of the suit, with some fine tuning by an up to date survey. Broome County kept its land grab and paid Chenango County $75,000 for it. Both counties and all other stake holders seemed pleased, or as pleased as was practical in a settlement of a territorial snatch that was perpetrated three generations ago. The purpose of a settlement is to settle an issue, so all is well that settles well. But I still do not know why or how or exactly when the land drifted over to Broome County.
Harry J. Wells, Senior Counsel in the New York State Department of State, reviewed the legal proceedings in an article in the April 1993 issue of a legal journal, “Footnotes”, page 7. In 1798 the New York State Legislature declared that the western boundary of Chenango County was a “direct course” from the southeast corner of Onondaga County to the confluence of the Tioughnioga and Chenango rivers. An 1801 act extended the course to the east bank of the river, but was ambiguous as to which river. An 1813 act clarified the situation by declaring the course to the east bank of the Chenango River.
Over the ensuing two centuries, the channels of both rivers shifted. However, a glance at a topographical map (Chenango Forks 7.5 minute quad) shows that these rivers could not have meandered very far because they are hemmed in by hills. A professional geologist testified in 1990 that he could not determine exactly where the confluence was in 1801 (”Press & Sun-Bulletin” Saturday August 11, 1990, page 1B). Well, regardless of where the confluence was in 1801, it certainly was not where the border is today. A hill 288 feet tall has been steadfastly blocking the way.
One photo shows the current border from where it extrapolates to the east bank of the Chenango River on the north side of the State Route 79 bridge (that disturbing one with the noisy metal grid that sounds as if it is shredding your tires). The boundary line lies to the southwest of Willard Road (formerly Olds Road), which is not visible but is about where that sign is pointing. The other photo shows a view looking north downstream from the confluence. The Tioughnioga River is flowing from the west (left) and the Chenango River is coming down the right. A fishing access parking lot is located about a furlong west of here, by the railroad bridge.
Inhabited areas tend to sprawl out, driven by population increases, so no matter in what jurisdiction a hamlet is placed, if its population increases it will eventually sprawl out to another jurisdiction. In a few years, the entire State Route 12 corridor will be one giant continuous commercial sprawl from Binghamton to Hamilton. Well, there goes the neighborhood. Someday our beloved Route 12 will not only look like the Vestal Parkway, it will probably be an extension of it. Perhaps we are currently approaching our last chance to see that picturesque little hamlet down on State Route 12, before it gets swallowed up by some super mega-mart.
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