Honoring my mother this Thanksgiving Day with a special post.
Mom had several scrapbooks with articles where she was mentioned. A stipend was offered to the PITT Bradford (local university) student chosen to write an accounting of what is in those scrapbooks. Here is what she wrote …
One Candle: The Legacy of Giving of Cora Prantner …
By Katelyne Barr
“You can’t light a candle to show others the way
Without feeling the warmth of that bright little ray…”
Author Unknown
________________________________________________________________________________________________
If you’re lucky, once in your life you meet someone who infallibly sees the good in you. If you’re blessed, she takes you under her wing. And if heaven shines down upon you, maybe you find a mentor, a friend, a confidant who loves you for you, who gives selflessly, who never gives up.
Cora Prantner was that God-sent for the people who surrounded her. She was a political activist, a religious leader, a wife, a mother, and a daughter, but most importantly, she was a neighbor to one and all, even if your house didn’t abut her property.
Cora Prantner was born Cora Luciano in 5/19/13 to 12/17/03. She grew up in Buffalo, NY.
During one of the most tumultuous times the world has ever known—World War Two—Cora met and married the man who was to become her lifelong partner, not only in love but in encouragement, support, and activism. Anthony (Tony) Prantner was a WWII veteran. He and Cora were married on the 19th of September, 1945 during a ceremony in her parents home in Batavia, NY. They spent their entire (MOST) married lives in Buffalo, New York, with the exception of two years when they lived in Florida. They missed Buffalo so much that they moved back—Cora and Tony both forever embodied that spirit of “hometown folks.” Tony worked at Millard Fillmore Hospital. Cora was a homemaker. Cora spent the next decades of her life at (409 Dewitt St. Buffalo, NY) fully entrenched in an effort to shape Buffalo through her involvement in politics and personal lives. On October 12, 1970, Cora was ordained to be a minister of the Gospel through the American School of the Bible, Inc. In 1981, after Cora lost a 1980 election, during which she ran for a place in the State Assembly, she and Tony moved to Box 252, Lewis Run, (BIG SHANTY) Pennsylvania. The small community with a population a mere fraction of the size of Buffalo was just the change they thought they needed. In an “exit interview” of sorts, Cora told the local Buffalo paper that she was retiring from the political scene and looking forward to a nice, quiet life in the country. Little did she know that perhaps the most tenacious and influential part of her life was yet to come.
Cora’s time in Bradford was filled with the same fiery passion that she was known for in Buffalo—perhaps even more. She fearlessly advocated for many of the same things that she advocated for in Buffalo. The fact that she didn’t know a lot of people didn’t stop her. Many of Bradford’s local residents today attest to the fact that in her comparatively short time in Bradford, Cora became not only well-known but well-loved. To this day, her political activism, her devotion to spiritual development and religion, and her generous spirit, remain what distinguishes Cora from the rest.
Cora was one of the few that understood the important connection between local, regional, state, and national politics. She lived that principle out by always intertwining local and national issues on the same scale. During her many years of political involvement, Cora corresponded with many presidents, including Ronald Reagan, George Bush, and Bill Clinton. For Regan, in particular, she kept thorough records, including press releases, personal letters to and from the president and his director of correspondence, photos, and other memorable documents. Cora wrote concerning how Reagan’s policies would affect local constituents and never hesitated to give her opinion, advice, and suggestions on how to make national plans more feasible and helpful for the average citizen. The average tax paying citizen was always her concern. For their sake, Cora had no problem taking even the holder of the highest office in the country to task, fairly pointing out strengths and weaknesses along the way. And her dedication and activism did not go unnoticed—Cora was personally invited to the 1985 inauguration of President Ronald Reagan and Vice President George Bush.
At an age when most people are retiring and slowing down, Cora was winding up for a vast political career. Cora became involved in the local Buffalo political scene as a senior citizen speaking out against taxes. She continued to progress and gain notoriety throughout the years in a number of platforms, regarding a number of issues. Cora was deeply involved in many aspects of the city—not just politics, but senior social life, church functions, and even local weather. After pulling through the worst winter that Buffalo had seen in 107 years, Cora, in the spirit of a true, die-hard Buffalonian, was issued a “certificate of survival” for making it through “The Great Blizzard of ’77.” In 7/25/81, Cora was presented with the key to the city.
After moving to the Bradford area in an effort to retire from city life and politics, Cora nonetheless found herself once again in the spotlight with her attendance and outspokenness at school board meetings, tax meetings, letters to the editor, and from the pulpit. Cora almost immediately launched into another political career. The issues that consumed her time and passion while she was in Buffalo became her battle cry in Bradford, too. She rallied supporters and called attention to utility bills, local elections, school board meetings, and the details for taxation. During her years in Bradford, she also advocated for a federal jail (which eventually ended up coming to McKean County) and ran unsuccessfully for the school board.
All of this political activism made Cora popular with local media outlets. In her lifetime, she appeared in 11 newspapers, four magazines, on four TV stations and four radio stations.
Politics wasn’t her only platform, though. After her ordination in 1970, the Revered Cora worked to improve the spiritual condition of her neighbors, as well. After her move to Bradford, Cora was still well-known in the religious community and often invited to speak from the pulpit for special events such as Mother’s Day. Cora offered counseling services for years, and often intertwined her beliefs in God and a high moral calling with her political work.
Countless examples of this can be found in her numerous letters to various newspaper editors. What started out as an outcry against an injustice often turned into a cry to God for mercy upon the oppressed and justice for the oppressors—whether those oppressors were spiritual or material was of no consequence to Cora. The evils of high taxation and unfair utility bills and unbalanced school board budgets were every bit as bad as murder in the eyes of Cora, and she fought against them as if she was fighting against Satan himself. Perhaps one of Cora’s greatest characteristics was that wrong was wrong, even if everyone was doing, and right was right, even if no one was doing it.
When she wasn’t standing toe to toe with the powers that be, Cora spent her days and nights making personal connections with the people around her. Cora fought tirelessly in the political realm because she believed that she had to help people—the same thing motivated her personal life, as well. In an interview once, Cora said, “I hear people’s needs, and I have to do something about it. I just have to help the needy.” And help she did. Cora was known as a good neighbor and a friend to all.
One of the many ways that she would love on people were the spaghetti dinners that she and Tony hosted at their home in Lewis Run. They invited neighbors and Bradford residents from all over to share in their dinner, always extending an invitation to people who would be alone otherwise. Once a week, Tony and Cora would hop in their vehicle and make a trip to the farmer’s market, where they would buy the old and partially spoiled tomatoes. Then they would come home and spend all day cutting out the spoiled parts and making the remainder into homemade spaghetti sauce. They purchased the spoiled tomatoes because that was the only way they could afford to offer the dinner each week. If actions speak louder than words, the lives of the Prantners shouted. The spaghetti dinners they hosted when they were struggling to make ends meet in later years are examples of the ways that they both consistently and sacrificially put the lives of others before themselves.
Even though Cora spent countless hours helping and loving, she never forgot to love on the people who meant the most to her. As I sorted through boxes of Cora’s personal affects, I was impressed with the seemingly unending supply of pictures of her and Tony dancing together—truly their favorite pastime. In one photo in particular, the photographer caught a moment where, mid dance, Cora was gazing up at her husband, adoration streaming out of her eyes. One could never know if Cora would have been able to accomplish what she did without the undying love of her husband, who stood behind her, backed her, protected her, and supported her in everything she did. But still, it’s easy to imagine just what that constant acceptance and championing meant to the woman who was often challenged and attacked in the public realm.
While sifting through hundreds of other photographs, I found a yellowed newspaper clipping—a 1980 photo and a cutline of Cora, completely surrounded by eager-faced children that had their hands stretched out to receive the Halloween candy Cora was passing out from a box. The top of her curly, white head was just barely visible because her small frame was nearly lost in the crowd of hundreds of youth that mobbed her West side Buffalo home during the Halloween party. The Prantners used their Christmas club money to finance the party each year. I never knew Cora, but for me, this picture summed up her life: a determined but compassionate woman who always placed herself right in the thick of it but always for the purpose to give.
But the biggest legacy that Cora Prantner has left behind may be the life of her daughter, Elaine Summerday. The first time I walked into Elaine’s house, I was greeted with a hug and a bowlful of tapioca pudding. She ushered me through her quaint house (the very same house that Cora spent her last years in) and asked me to sit at a light wooden table near a window that was brimming with plants. We talked and laughed for hours as she showed me political propaganda and photographs, newspaper clippings and radio scripts, personal letters and spider plants.
The more we visited and the more I read about the life of Cora, the more I realized that the very same generous and determined spirit that distinguished Cora filled Elaine, as well. I was struck by how overwhelmingly generous and positive this woman was and by the credit that she gave to her parents. Her outlook and love for life was contagious, to put it lightly. I felt not only drawn into the past world of Cora Prantner but into the legacy that Elaine was living out today.
Cora Prantner was unique, vibrant, unforgettable. She stood out as loving and determined in a generation of Americans who were marked by their work ethic. She was guided by the resolve that anyone can make a difference, determined that every action she made would have immediate and long-term consequences.
And she was right. Long after Cora has left this world in pursuit of streets of gold, her legacy is one that lingers on, evident in the kind heart of her daughter, in the political ground that she won, in the chocolaty smiles of neighborhood kids forever sealed in photos in a scrapbook on her daughter’s shelf. Cora is alive through the lives that she’s touched.
Once, after Cora had spoken to a group of students at the University of Pittsburgh at Bradford, Professor Michael Klausner commented that Cora was the kind of person who exemplified the saying that it is better to light one candle than to curse the darkness.
She did just that.
Cora Prantner led a brilliant life of sacrifice and service as a citizen, a mother, a wife, and a child of God that shone for all to see. She felt that it wasn’t a duty to give back – it was an honor. A spirit of courage and determination surrounded her light, and a spirit of love guided her actions. The intensity of that light somehow always reflects back on the people that surround and provides the gleam by which we examine our own lives.
That’s a light that’s contagious. That’s the candle we called Cora Prantner.