DR. MacDANIELS: Moved and seconded to send Dr. Deming greetings from the meeting. We had hoped that he would be here. He may come yet, unless somebody knows definitely to the contrary. George Slate saw him a while ago and said he hopes to get here.[1]
[1] Dr. Deming was present at the lunch stop on the Wassaic State School grounds during the third day's tour.—Ed.
MR. WEBER: I have just been informed that Dr. Deming will be 89 years old on September first.
DR. MacDANIELS: That's something.
How old is Mr. Corsan?
MR. WEBER: The question arises: How old is Mr. Corsan? The gentleman is here, and he will speak for himself.
Talk by the Oldest Member
MR. CORSAN: I don't know how old I am. I know I was born near Rockport, New York, and my father brought me across the river to Hamilton, Ontario, when I was seven, and according to my aunts and uncles and people who told me, they say I was born June 11, 1857. So here I am kicking around, but I am not blowing how long I will live. I don't know, but I will try my best.
I have joined the Vegetarian Society many years ago, and I am still hanging onto that idea, and I hope that we have a vegetarian banquet some of these times, because nearly all vegetarian associations are very deeply interested in the Northern Nut Growers Association. That's what they all told me at the convention at Lake Geneva last August a year ago. And I just came back from visiting Rodale. I thought I'd see Rodale. He looks a good deal like this gentleman here (indicating Mr. Bernath), our friend here, about the size and appearance of him. But he is of the greatest ancestry in the world. He is Jewish, and he doesn't know exactly how to eat, because he has jowls and dewlaps and he is too fat, but he is a very fine man; beautiful, clear, honest eyes, he has, and I hope to have him consider the planting of nut trees on his place. He has a disgraceful looking place in comparison to mine.
This year my place is just loaded down with nuts, except filberts. Last year I had so many filberts that I have half a ton left over yet. And I want to see people beautify the country. I started off one day with a thought that came to my head. I heard that there were a half a million widows and orphans buried in the Hudson Hill Cemetery. And I thought: Why, those dead people can be working; they can be doing something. Let them feed the roots of the Japanese heartnut. And as a try, I sent them 1100 seeds just as a start. And the Japanese heartnut, a stranger to this country, isn't anywhere near any other nut, and it grows true to form, and a lot of the trees are much hardier up on Lake Ontario. It does not grow well on the north of the lake, but south of the lake it grows enormous crops every year, and the nuts come out whole. But there is a better shaped nut without that kind of groove in the center, and it's the father or the mother—father, probably—of the finest heartnuts in the world, and there is nothing that beats a heartnut for eating. Every time I sell heartnuts to eat I have ruined myself, because they won't eat any other nut. So that shows just exactly what the general public thinks of it. Even Italians. There I have a half a ton of filberts. I bring the heartnuts down to Florida, the Fairchild and my hybrid trees and butternuts and Japanese heartnuts, and I have a package of almonds and another package of brazil nuts, and I let them taste those. They are woody in comparison to our heartnuts and hybrids. They are not anything, they are just like so much wood in comparison.