CHAPTER XIX
TWENTIETH CENTURY BEGINNINGS
A man of national reputation made Cooperstown his summer home in 1903, when the Rt. Rev. Dr. Henry C. Potter, seventh Bishop of New York, who had married Mrs. Alfred Corning Clark, took up his residence at Fernleigh. In his administration of the most populous diocese in America, Bishop Potter had gained wide renown as an ecclesiastic; added to which his prominence in civic affairs, and in matters of national importance, together with a public championship of workingmen's rights at which many wealthy churchpeople stood aghast, made him one of the most notable figures in American life. He passed his summers in Cooperstown until his death at Fernleigh in July, 1908, and the near view of his big personality caused him to be as greatly beloved in the village as he was honored in the city. He entered with zest into the interests of the village, gave a new impetus to many of its activities, and made friends in all walks of life.
A. F. Bradley
Bishop Potter
When Bishop Potter came to dwell in Cooperstown, the village had already made up its mind that he was a rather austere and distant man, an official person, the quintessence of ecclesiastical statesmanship,—urbane, but unyielding. He looked the part. Tall, erect, and of splendid figure, his countenance had the aristocratic beauty of a family noted for its handsome men. The noble head and the poutingly compressed lips of a wide mouth gave an impression of power, while a slight droop of the left eyelid, and a thin rim of white around the iris of the eyes, imparted a veiled and filmy coldness to his glance. The personal dignity of the Bishop, his commanding presence, a certain picturesque magnificence, the rich and well-modulated voice, the incisiveness of his manner of speech, with the clear-cut value given to every word and syllable, were characteristics that marked him as a leader of men.
But Cooperstown soon came to realize the lovable traits and real simplicity of its most distinguished resident. He placed many villagers in his debt by personal acts of kindness, and charmed all by his genial friendliness. In any company he was the chief source of entertainment. Although he applied himself intensely to official work during certain hours of every day in the summer, when the hour of relaxation came he laid aside his task. With all his cares, he was never the grim man forcing himself to be gay. His contribution to the pleasure of a company was spontaneous and contagious. Not the least highly developed of his qualities was the Bishop's sense of humor. He was an incomparable raconteur, and many an incident of village life gave him material for a story which, with certain poetic license of embellishment that he sometimes allowed himself, set his hearers in a roar. He was as ready to hear a good story as to tell one, and his ringing laugh was a delight. The Bishop talked much and well. His use of the pause in speaking, with a momentary compression of the lips now and then between clauses, heightened the effect of crispness in his felicitously chosen phrases. He was a good listener if one had anything to say, but he was not averse to presiding in monologue over a number of people, and often did so, for his fund of talk was so rich that others, in his presence, were sometimes slow to offer any contribution of their own. He was most adroit at this sort of entertainment, and had a way of apparently bringing others of the company into the conversation—usually those who seemed rather shy and overawed,—without requiring them to utter so much as a word. In the midst of his talk the Bishop would interject such a remark as, "You will understand me, Mr. So-and-So, when I say"., or "Mrs. Blank, you will be particularly interested to know"., turning earnestly toward the person addressed. Of course Mr. So-and-So and Mrs. Blank brightened up at being singled out by the great man, and beamed with pleasure at having thus contributed to the conversation.