Abram Van Kleeck (1871 - 1954)

My relative the late Warren S. Van Kleeck remembered the following stories about Abram and his blacksmith shop: I remember many summer days playing in his blacksmith shop on Apple Street. I remember the time the owner of the airport just north of old Rt. 28 entrance to Kingston coming to the shop. He said "I hear that you can make a spring that won't break." Grandpa said "Yes, you got one I can use for a pattern?" He gave Grandpa a sample and sped off in his convertible. Later he came speeding back to pick up his new spring and again sped off in a cloud of dust. About an hour later he was back and said "That was great - my student pilots have been breaking tailskids as fast as my mechanic can install them. We put your spring on a plane and tried every way possible to break it, but it still is OK. Make me six more." One incident in his shop I will always remember: I must have been about five years old at the time. A man brought a big Belgian draft horse to the shop to be shod. Grandpa checked the front shoes and made some measurements. As he was starting to check the rear shoes the man warned him that the horse would sit down if he tried to check his shoes. Grandpa said "He won't sit down on me!" He lifted one leg and placed the hoof in position to check it. The horse started setting down. Grandpa dropped his tools and held up the leg with both hands. Then he proceeded to lift the leg higher and higher until the horse was off balance and fell on the wooden floor of the shop. The horse got up again and Grandpa lifted his back leg again to measure the shoe. This time the horse was very cooperative. The local National Guard brought riding horses to his shop to get new shoes. They usually brought several at a time and would tie some outside while grandpa worked on one inside. This was the only time I was not allowed in the shop. The Army considered the high strung horses too risky to allow a small child near. So the shop doors were closed and I was left outside with the other two horses that were tied under the big tree outside. Grandma was husking corn for dinner and I was given the chore of taking the husks to the garbage pile by the chicken coop. Seeing the horses under the tree, I decided to feed them instead. They really liked the hard ends that were broken off the corncob. I soon had them eating out of my hand. So much for spooky horses!

My grandmother remembers the following story about her father: My Dad, Abram Van Kleeck, was minus his index finger on one hand. It happened when I was very small, as I do not remember the time that it was removed. As I remember, he got an infection in his hand from shoeing a horse and, for a time, there was a possibility of his losing his arm, but we had a very good family doctor named Van Gaasbeck. He had but one arm himself, and realizing what a handicap it would be for a man in my Dad's occupation of blacksmith, to lose one arm, he really fought to save it. He came daily to our house to dress the arm and, as it was very painful, he said that perhaps it would be better to give Dad a good drink of liquor about an hour before he was expected. Dad never drank, and it didn't take much liquor to have an effect on him. One day about an hour before the doctor was to come, my Mother gave Dad his drink, and went on about her work. A few minutes later, my oldest sister, Roxy, thinking Mother had forgotten to give Dad the drink, also came with one for him. Dad insisted he had taken one, but Roxy, knowing how Dad disliked the stuff, thought he was just trying to get out of taking it, and made him drink it. It certainly had an effect on Dad, he was so happy. When the doctor came to dress the hand, Dad insisted that the doctor dance with him. The doctor laughed so hard he cried. Needless to say, he went on his way and came back later in the day to dress the hand. Guess after that, Dad didn't stand a chance of getting a second on his "medicine", as the folks checked with each other before giving it to him.