This was an unusually noteworthy year in Solvay history. The village's men of the year were police chief Michael E. Casey and the Rev. James E. O'Shea, pastor of St. Cecilia's Church.

Chief Casey was at the center of two unusual criminal cases, occasionally made national news, and, tragically, passed away in September, due to a heart problem undoubtedly aggravated by Casey's heavy, self-assigned work load. Casey's story has its own page. The unusual adventure of Father O'Shea follows in a few paragraphs.

Solvay was home to two political uprisings in 1908, the first one part of a frightening national movement, the other strictly a local reaction by those frustrated by being ruled by the same, small group of men ever since the village was incorporated in 1894. Also, the seeds of prohibition had been planted, and by the end of the year there was a sign of a reform movement aimed at the many saloons that lined Milton Avenue, the village's main street, facing the Solvay Process Company and other factories that made Solvay one of the country's most industrialized communities.

The men who ran the village were Republicans, though some stories referred to them as "the regulars," while opposition was presented by candidates who campaigned under the banner of "Independent." There was, to this point, no Democratic party.

However, the 1908 election would be the last one dominated by Frederick R. Hazard, who not only was the only president (as the office of mayor was called in those days) the village had ever had, but also was president of the Solvay Process Company, without which there would be no village.

In a desperate attempt to get one or two of its candidates elected, the so-called Independent party decided, in 1908, to attempt an interesting strategy: It nominated Hazard for president, hoping his name at the top of their ticket would draw votes for the men running for village trustee and the two other positions to be filled in the election — village treasurer and collector. Other positions, including village clerk and police justice, were filled by appointment, something that would soon change.

Members of the four-person board of trustees — the legislative branch of the village government — each served two-year terms. Interestingly, the president faced election annually.

President Hazard, considered a shoo-in again, did not fall for the opposition ploy:

Once again all of the Republicans were victorious, though for the first time the losers made it interesting, particularly in the race for village treasurer, where John D. Kelly, the Independent candidate, lost to Harry T. Spencer by only 43 votes. This was a sign of things to come.

In December, as the result of a petition signed by just 25 residents, there was a special election to decide the fates of three proposals — to increase the number of village trustees from four to six, to make village clerk an elective position, and to do the same for the office of police justice. All three proposals were passed.

Three months later, in the 1909 village election, the opposition — now calling themselves Democrats — finally broke through. While not yet winning control of the village board, Francis L. Worth upset Frederick Hazard for president and William Ryan became the first elected police justice, defeating Thomas Smith, who had held the job for 12 years.

It was Smith who was the chief target of the uprising. As the village judge, Smith was thought to wield too much power. And with his defeat, as well as the unseating of Hazard, village elections became much livelier and more competitive.

ALMOST FORGOTTEN by the end of the year was the fright being spread at the beginning when what seemed a dangerous political revolution had spread to the village.

The previous year had ended with what was described as "an anarchist meeting" at Pieri Hall on Milton Avenue, attended by many red-necktie wearing Italians who were promised that Emma Goldman, a well-known anarchist activist and writer, would speak in Solvay during the first week of 1908.

Meanwhile, outside, a large group of protesters gathered, and it appeared there would be a riot when the anarchists exited Pieri Hall, but Solvay Police Chief Casey was on the case, assisted by Syracuse police he had requested. Peace was maintained.

That morning, Father James O'Shea, pastor of St. Cecilia's Church, spoke from the pulpit, telling parishioners he would break up the anarchist movement in Solvay if it took the whole police force and the sheriff to do it. And when the new year began, Father O'Shea found himself a target of threats, which led to a newspaper article a few months later. (I have edited the story, but left in a "Godfather"-like remark that, fortunately, was only a rumor.)

I found no article to indicate Emma Goldman actually visited Solvay, which turned out not to be a hotbed of anarchy, but a likely place to make a pitch for the Industrial Workers of the World, a labor union started in 1905 by Eugene V. Debs and others.

It would be many years before Solvay Process workers were unionized, becoming affiliated with bushy-browed labor leader John L. Lewis and his United Mine Workers.

IN THE MEANTIME, workplace accidents, many of them at the vast Solvay Process Company plants and rail yard, continued to be all-too-frequent and often deadly.

Among the badly injured was a man identified as a Pole whose name undoubtedly was misspelled — it appeared in the Syracuse Herald as Cehsmelli — had his head and shoulders badly burned by a caustic solution while he worked in the caustic department early in the morning of April 11.

A valve directly in front of the man accidentally opened, and the liquid shot out. Unlike many others injured in similar accidents over the years, this man survived. The next accident victim wasn't so lucky.

On August 1, a foreman in the caustic department fell into a well of alkali and was seriously burned while making an inspection tour with a visitor from the Solvay Process plant in Detroit. J. William Hughes was walking on a plank over a vat when the plank gave way and dumped into boiling acid. He was immediately pulled out of the vat and given a vinegar bath, then taken to the Good Shepherd Hospital. He survived because the acid in the vat was relatively weak.

However, seven weeks later . . .

Settlement of a lawsuit over a 1906 incident was a sad reminder of something that happened to a man who was working on a day he should have been home celebrating with his family. On January 30, 1908, Jeremiah T. Haley was awarded $8,000 for the loss of sight in one eye when a pipe burst and sprayed his face with acid at the Solvay Process Company. Sight in his other eye was impaired.

Company attorneys protested the verdict, claiming Haley would not have been burned if he'd adhered to rules and worn goggles at the time of the accident.

There was no explanation why the house was raised, but that project must have weakened the basement ceiling.

The following tells of one of the village's saddest and most unusual deaths of the year:

Old-timers may recall the annual invasions of people we referred to as "gypsies." I'm old enough to remember the unexpected knock on the front door, which prompted my mother to order me to check the back door while she tended to whoever was standing on our front porch.

Sure enough, while she was busy answering the front door, someone was trying to sneak into our house through the back door. The following story refers to Brazilian gypsies, but we tended to identify our visitors as Romani gypsies, occasionally Irish travelers. In a moment of weakness, my father let the Irish group pave our driveway. Their version of macadam survived until the first heavy rainfall.

The upshot was the village board met to discuss passing an ordinance making it illegal for any resident to own a bear. The incident may have played a small part in the political uprising in Solvay that occurred late in the year when voters approved a resolution to make A. E. Waterfield's position as village clerk an elective position from now on. Until 1908, the village clerk had been appointed yearly by the board of trustees, and the trustees were four men who had been in office since the village was incorporated. However, Waterfield, running for the first time, was victorious in the 1909 election.

In 1908 the nation's roads were used more by horse-drawn wagons than by automobiles. And while automobiles have drawbacks, they aren't quite as unpredictable as anything being pulled by a creature that has a mind of its own:

In closing, I present my account of a story that appeared in the Syracuse Herald, Friday, October 16, 1908. It seems too silly to be true, considering the people involved, but since all of those people were men . . . well, we all know how reluctant men are to ask directions. In this case, one man eventually did ask directions. Not that it did him any good.

At the heart of the story is Charles Evans Hughes, who later would become chief justice of the United States Supreme Court. Hughes was governor of New York in 1908 when he visited Central New York for a speech in Syracuse at the Alhambra Hotel and an overnight stay as the guest of Frederick R. Hazard, president of the Solvay Process Company and the village of Solvay.

However, before retiring to the Hazard Estate, the governor wanted to accept the invitation of the Delta Upsilon fraternity to attend a banquet. Gov Hughes assumed the banquet was to be held at the fraternity house near the Syracuse University campus. Leading the way, in a separate car, were the governor’s tour guides, Syracuse Chief of Police Martin Cadin, Deputy Chief William O’Brien, and Commissioner of Public Safety Harlow C. Clark.

Trouble was, none of the three local officials had any idea where the fraternity house was located, and during the next 90 minutes or so they subjected the governor and his host, Mr. Hazard, in the car behind them, to something you might see in a screwball comedy.

The lead car drove around the university area for several minutes, the three men looking for a well-lit house that might indicate a banquet was being held. Eventually, a student was spotted walking along the street, and Deputy Chief O’Brien asked if the young man knew the whereabouts of the Delta Upsilon house. The young man nodded, and pointed O’Brien to a house at the corner of Irving Avenue and Marshall Street (which no longer intersect).

The house was well lit and there seemed to be something festive going on inside. But it turned out to be a sorority house, but one of the young women gave O’Brien directions to the Delta Upsilon house, atop hilly Ostrom Avenue, which presented a challenge to the two vehicles.

Finally, Chief Cadin and the two other guides, by now thoroughly embarrassed, located the fraternity house, but it was dark — and empty.

Commissioner Clark knew Ray Cobb, who lived in the area and might be of some help, so he directed the driver where to go. However, Cobb wasn’t home. His wife, about to go to bed, answered the doorbell, and told Clark the empty residence he had just visited was indeed the Delta Upsilon house. She knew there was a banquet that evening, but didn’t know where.

At this point the governor gave up the hunt, and announced he and Mr. Hazard were going to Solvay so he could get a good night’s sleep before his scheduled trip to Binghamton the next day.

The three representative of the city’s department of public safety directed their car to the Yates Hotel, home of a popular Syracuse restaurant and bar. They agreed that a glass of vichy was just what they needed.

Afterward, as they were leaving the Yates, they met some young men in the lobby who looked as though the might be college students.

You guessed the rest — the young men were members of Delta Upsilon and had just attended a banquet at the hotel.