Since this column made its debut on Feb. 1, 1998, we have revisited the lives of Northern New York pioneers and war heroes, recalled rags-to-riches stories, recognized a few north country "characters," delved into a couple of mysteries, touched on some local sports and on the downside, reminded our readers of some tragedies that shocked the generations that preceded us.

Today, as we bring you the 100th edition of Times Gone By, we turn the calendar back to another tragically sad day.

Six white child-size coffins flanking a gray steel casket rested in line at the front of crowded Clayton Methodist Church.

A husband, having lost all but one child in what was likely the most tragic house fire in Jefferson County history, collapsed minutes before the pastor, the Rev. Henry W. Bridge, could complete his sad duty of the day Feb. 13, 1949.

"To get the best out of trouble is one of life's important needs, as it is the means of life's important victories," the minister said as he tried to offer some rationalization to what had occurred two days earlier. "Rest assured that trouble is as universal as human nature. It is no respecter of persons; it knocks at the door of the rich as well as the poor."

In this case, it had struck cruelly at the poor.

Clifford M. Conant, 39, and his daughter Susan, 13, had survived. Lost in the house that went up "like a match box," as District Attorney Milton A. Wiltse put it, were the wife and mother, Mildred Richmond Conant, 29, and seven children: Clifford M. Jr., 11; Stanley A., 10; 8-year-old twins, Larry A. and Louise M.; Robert W., 5; Frederick W., 4, and Nancy Ann, 1.

Mildred Richmond, daughter of Gertrude Thompson, Dexter, was a child bride — 14 or 15 — when on Nov. 10, 1934, she married Clifford Conant. A son of Alby and Mary Conant, he worked at Dexter Sulphite, Pulp & Paper Co.

Following a honeymoon in Rochester, the couple established a home at Limerick. Their firstborn, Susan, with flaming red hair like her dad, came into the world in 1936.

The young family lived on Wellesley Island for a couple of years, then moved, perhaps in 1938, to the Clayton area. The family, meanwhile, was starting to grow.

Clifford Jr. was born Nov. 8, 1937, in Clayton, and Stanley was the next arrival, on Jan. 6, 1939, at Limerick.

In these years when the nation was struggling to emerge from the Great Depression, Mr. Conant was similarly struggling to support a family. In summer, he worked on tour boats, while in the off-season, he split time between trapping and jobs as a laborer, most with the tour boat — the Denny Boat Line and at G.W. Mercier Inc.

He found a home at Denny's Cottages, a development of up to 40 summer homes that tour boat operator Albert P. Denny had been gradually expanding on Bartlett Point Road since about 1920. The Conant home, according to a Watertown Daily Times account in 1949, was the former campground store, a single-story, three-room structure.

The Conants moved the building around 1941 to the Cape Vincent Road — Route 12E — about two miles outside Clayton, the Times reported.

While the family continued to grow, their home did not. The twins, Larry and Louise, were born Dec. 15, 1940, in Clayton. Robert was delivered in July 1943 in Watertown, as was Frederick on Oct. 25, 1944.

Mildred gave birth to their third daughter, Nancy, on Oct. 5, 1947, in Clayton.

This family of 10 was crammed into a tiny, three-room, wood-frame dwelling. Most of the children slept in a double-decker bunk, others on cots that could be folded away during the day. Their parents slept in the same room.

Only Susan was afforded privacy. The living room sofa was hers.

They were "dirt poor," recalled Clayton historian Norman H. Wagner, who knew of the family but did not know them personally. Like all children who were bused into the village to attend school, the Conant children were referred to by village youths as "country kids," he said.

The older six attended Clayton Central School, and every school day they boarded the bus that stopped in front of their home.

That routine ended on Feb. 11, 1949.

The winter of 1948-49 was being "one of the freakiest in two generations," the Times reported on Jan. 28. The mercury was riding a roller coaster, with temperatures varying greatly not only from day to day, but occasionally on the same day. The range on Jan. 27 was from 45 degrees down to 17.

February opened with some snow, and on Feb. 7, several schools were closed, including Clayton. Temperatures dipped to minus 10, while strong winds were blocking roads with snowdrifts. On Feb. 9, the temperature rose to 47, and two days later, that ill-fated day, temperatures were back down to between 5 and 9 degrees below zero.

To heat his small home, Clifford Conant was utilizing a two-heater oil stove, which he had positioned in the living room. Susan was sleeping about three feet from it.

Shortly before 5 a.m., she was awakened by a peculiar sputtering noise and then saw the oil stove flare up.

"Fire was coming out of the stove," she said later in the day. "I called Mommy and Daddy to come out of the bedroom."

Hearing his daughter's screams, Mr. Conant roused his wife, then ran to the living room. He instructed Susan to go to the kitchen and remain there, District Attorney Wiltse reported after conducting an inquest.

Mr. Conant grabbed a rug that he put over the flaring oil stove to smother the flames, hoping he would be able to pick up the stove and carry it outdoors through the kitchen. Meanwhile, he told Mrs. Conant to return to the bedroom to evacuate the children.

He instructed Susan to open the kitchen door in readiness for his exit with the stove.

The rug caught fire, however. Then came a sudden explosion. The flaring oil stove emitted gases that presumably ignited to create a flash fire, Mr. Wiltse said.

Mr. Conant aborted his attempt and shouted for Susan to escape by the door she had just opened. She complied.

Following the explosion, the living room and the kitchen rapidly became enveloped in flames. Mr. Conant rushed to the bedroom, but he was turned back by the flames and dense smoke. He shouted to his wife, but got no answer.

Authorities believed Mrs. Conant became trapped in the room, was overcome by smoke and collapsed before getting a chance to save any of the children.

Retreating to the outdoors, Mr. Conant and Susan ran to the bedroom window.

"Daddy broke the glass (with his fist) but there was too much fire," the 13-year-old said later that day.

His efforts went further than that, according to the Wiltse report:

"In his hysteria, (he) frantically tried to pull clapboards from the outside wall, apparently trying to rip an opening around the window through which he could enter the bedroom. By then the bedroom was a raging inferno."

Mr. Conant's hand and arm were bleeding profusely. Mr. Conant and Susan — he in his underwear and she in night clothing — ran barefoot in the snow to his car. He drove a short distance, blasting his horn as he pulled up to the home of Andrew E. and Eleonora Johnson, a couple in their early 60s.

Awakened by the car's horn, Mrs. Johnson looked out and saw a raging fire. She immediately picked up her phone and reached the village telephone company's operator to report the blaze.

The operator activated a five-tone fire siren, which alerted members of the volunteer fire department that a blaze was reported outside the village. Firefighters had to call the operator to determine the location.

About 25 firefighters, with a pumper and a tank truck, were on the scene in 10 to 15 minutes. They had no chance to make any rescues. The Conant home was a mass of flames, the roof having collapsed.

They found Clifford Conant, wrapped in a quilt, seated on the porch of the Johnson house helplessly staring blankly at his burning house. And he couldn't answer questions.

Richard Phillips, son of village fire chief Leo Phillips, drove Mr. Conant and Susan, in shock and hysterical, to the home of his parents at 519 Alexandria St. in Clayton. A doctor was summoned to the residence to attend to the father and daughter.

As the day wore on, Clifford huddled close to his daughter, tearfully mumbling "she is all I have left," the Times reported.

Back at the blaze scene, intense heat in the smoldering ruins prevented firefighters and police from beginning a search until about 11 a.m. Then, within an hour, the eight bodies were located, all within a 10-foot area in the debris of what had been the bedroom.

They were removed to the Cummings Funeral Home in Clayton.

About 100 people stood in a drizzling rain outside the Clayton Methodist Church on Sunday, Feb. 13, 1949. That was because with 300 inside — many had come an hour early for the 1:30 p.m. mass funeral — there was no more room.

Three hearses carried the caskets, one containing the remains of Mildred and her youngest, Nancy Ann.

"The tragedy which occasions our presence here this afternoon is one which could crush any spirit," the Rev. Mr. Bridge said as he prayed that Clifford and Susan "face the stark realities thrust upon them and ... plan their future course."

Mr. Conant passed out for about five minutes. He was revived, but was carried to a car in the funeral cortège. Gertrude Thompson, who had traveled from Split Rock in Onondaga County, was also assisted from the church after she collapsed at her daughter's casket.

Susan cried bitterly as she was leaving the church, but regained her composure before reaching St. Lawrence Cemetery, where interment was in one large grave. At the conclusion of the committal service, Mr. Conant again collapsed.

Community support for the father and daughter had, meanwhile, been spontaneous, with donations of food, clothing and cash. The Clayton branch of the Jefferson County chapter of the American Red Cross, chaired by Agnes M. Marshall, provided new clothing for Susan and her father. The village's Protestant churches joined in conducting a fund drive, which by late March grew to about $1,900. About $700 was given to Clifford for his immediate needs, with the balance placed in a trust fund for Susan, administered by the First National Exchange Bank of Clayton.

Alby Conant, who for many years piloted large steam-driven tour boats on the St. Lawrence, became owner of the Denny Boat Line. He employed his son Clifford as one of his tour boat pilots. Clifford eventually operated his own pleasure craft, the Gloria V.

His winters were spent working at Frink's Sno-Plow.

Clifford in 1952 married Eva Diabau of Clayton. The couple, who had five children, moved to Florida four years later, settling in Arcadia. He died at age 69 on Dec. 6, 1979.

Susan is divorced and remarried, and lives in Cortland.

The site of the Conant family tragedy, on the south side of the highway, about 700 feet west of County Route 4, has remained vacant since that day.

We learned of this family's sad fate through unrelated research conducted by Julia Gosier, town of Lyme historian. Assistance was provided by town of Clayton historian Norman H. Wagner, Linda Schleher, executive director of the Thousand Islands Museum, Timothy J. Abel, director of the Jefferson County Historical Society, Times chief librarian Lisa Carr and Gordon D. Cerow Jr., Clayton.