04/17/01

I’ve been home watching the baby today, keep getting one phone call after another. First it was Swami calling. He’s pissed as all can be that the bottle dig has been stalled out for days. He said he’s worried about Percy learning the awful truth that the dig has been going on without him.

You need to show up at the worksite and get busy like a beaver! I’ve been terribly disappointed by your malingering! Terribly disappointed!

I told him I’d show up tomorrow if he doubled my hourly rate of pay. I expected him to say, no deal, that’s thievery! but instead he said, ok, very well, so be it! But you must show!

Next Cupcake calls. She’s working this sultry bedroom voice with me. Look Joe, I want to apologize for the other day for the way things went down. The situation is: I have nowhere to put the camper right now. I know you said you wanted it moved right away but I just need more time to work something out. I’d just appreciate it if you gave me more time. Money’s been just a little short. If I could pay you rent I would. Maybe you’d let me do something for you.

Like what? What could you do for me?

I can bake. Do you like cupcakes?

Then Percy calls, complains his cricket team is in shambles. Says he’s been on the verge of disbanding it several times due to frustration with Fauntleroy. He said he can’t get along with Fauntleroy as the Captain and thinks he may need me making a firmer commitment to the team in order that I might help keep Fauntleroy in check.

I see how Fauntleroy behaves around you. It’s like he defers to you on everything. If you were at these crazy practices and you knew beforehand what I wanted, you could exert your influence so I could get the team headed in the direction I want. I mean, I’ll do whatever to help you too. You want me to store your guns at my house, I’ll store them at my house. But you have to tell Fauntleroy what to do for me. That’s the deal.

All I could say was I’d think about it.

I don’t know why I brought this up, but before I got off the call I asked Percy about Manuel Gonsalus. He’s one of my Dutch ancestors Percy listed in the research he did of my family genealogy.

Percy said he was amazed I finally read it.

You sure Manuel was really my ancestor? I ask. What’s the chance he was a normal Catholic Spaniard? What if he was really a Spanish Puritan like that one historian described him as?

Percy said he was quite certain Manuel was a Sephardic Jew, just like Luis Gomez was, except Manuel probably didn’t have the kind of political connections that Gomez had to be so overt about his faith. Percy emailed me a section of Smith’s Legends of the Shawangunk pertaining to Manuel’s grandson, Sam Gonsalus--- a colorful character to say the least--- for whom Sam’s Point is named. Sam Gonsalus is probably as controversial in today’s day as Tom Quick due to his legend as an Indian killer. This is what Smith wrote:

The traveler in the region of the Shawangunk has not failed to notice that remarkable feature of the mountain known as Sam's Point. Even when seen at such a distance that the mountain looks like a blue cloud suspended above the earth, this promontory stands out in full relief against the sky. The name has its origin in one of those quaint legends with which the vicinity abounds. The story as handed down by tradition, and still related by the residents of the neighborhood, is as follows:

Samuel Gonsalus was a famous hunter and scout. He was born in the present town of Mamakating; was reared in the midst of the stirring scenes of frontier life and border warfare, in which he afterward took such a conspicuous part; and was at last laid to rest in an unassuming grave in the vicinity where occurred the events which have caused his name to be handed down, with some lustre, in the local annals.

He lived on the west side of the mountain, a locality greatly exposed to Indian outrage, and his whole life was spent in the midst of constant danger. His knowledge of the woods, and his intimate acquaintance with the haunts and habits of his savage neighbors, rendered his services during the French and Indian War of inestimable value. He possessed many sterling qualities, not the least among which was an abiding devotion to the cause of his country. No risk of his life was too imminent, no sacrifice of his personal interest too great, to deter him from the discharge of duty.

When the treacherous Indian neighbors planned a sudden descent on an unsuspecting settlement, “Sam Consawley,” as he was familiarly called, would hear rumors of the intended massacre in the air by some means known only to himself, and his first act would be to carry the people warning of their danger. At other times he would join in the expeditions against bands of hostiles; it was on such occasions that he rendered the most signal service. Though not retaining any official recognition of authority, it was known that his voice and counsel largely controlled the movements of the armed bodies with which he was associated, those in command yielding to his known skill and sagacity. His fame as a hunter and Indian fighter was not confined to the circle of his friends and associates. The savages both feared and hated him. Many a painted warrior had he sent to the happy hunting-grounds; many a time had they lain in wait for him, stimulated both by revenge and by the proffer of a handsome bounty on his scalp; but he was always too wary for even the wily Indian.

In September of 1758 a scalping party of Indians made a descent into the country east of the Shawangunk. The warriors were from the Delaware, and had crossed by the old Indian trail leading through the mountain pass known as “The Traps;” their depredations in the valley having alarmed the people, they were returning by this trail, closely pursued by a large body from the settlements. At the summit of the mountain the party surprised Sam, who was hunting by himself.

As soon as the savages saw him they gave the war-whoop, and started in pursuit. Now was an opportunity, thought they, to satisfy their thirst for revenge. Sam was a man of great physical strength, and a fleet runner. Very few of the savages could outstrip him in an even race. But the Indians were between him and the open country, and the only way left was toward the precipice. He knew all the paths better than did his pursuers, and he had already devised a plan of escape, while his enemies were calculating either on effecting his capture, or on his throwing himself from the precipice to avoid a more horrid death at their hands. He ran directly to the point, and pausing to give a shout of defiance at his pursuers, leaped from a cliff over forty feet in height. As he expected, his fall was broken by a clump of hemlocks, into the thick foliage of which he had directed his jump. He escaped with only a few slight bruises. The Indians came to the cliff, but could see nothing of their enemy; and supposing him to have been mutilated and killed among the rocks, and being themselves too closely pursued to admit of delay in searching for a way down to the foot of the ledge, they resumed their flight, satisfied that they were rid of him. But Sam was not dead, as some of them afterward found to their sorrow. To commemorate this exploit, and also to bestow a recognition of his numerous services, this precipice was named Sam's Point.