The guy in the center here is Paul Dodd, my great uncle. I wasn’t named after him. I was named after Saint Paul of the Cross, on whose feast day I was born. The guy on his left is my father’s father, my grandfather, Leo Dodd. My dad was named after him. And the fellow on the right is their brother, Gus Dodd.
Leo owned a restaurant on the corner of West Avenue and Thurston Road. It was a speakeasy before it was a bar. Paul played semipro baseball as a catcher for Gilsons. My Dad, Leo Jr. sent me a 1906 newspaper article recapping a game in which Paul hit a home run at Sheehan’s Field, where the twelve corners in Brighton is today. 300 fans were in attendance and Gilsons won. Gus was by all accounts a fun-filled, free spirit. His granddaughter, Judy Farrell, (sort of a cousin of mine) sold my parents’ house a few months back and she told us a few stories.
My dad also found this POLICE COURT entry on Paul Dodd from Rochester’s Democrat & Chronicle:
Paul Dodd. arrested a week ago on a charge of violating section 3 of the city ordinances by shooting craps on the street claimed in police court yesterday that he was not playing a the time, and Judge Ernst let him off with a caution. When the case was first called, last Friday, the judge wished to have it established that the game was one of chance, but no one could be found who would own up to knowledge of it. Yesterday Detective McKelvey took the stand and demonstrated that fortune plays an important part in throwing dice according to the rules of “seven-come-leven.“