Author: Geo Davis

Rosslyn Roundup, June 6
Steven Kellogg and Bill McKibben at Champlain Area Trails event in Essex, NY.

Monday morning media mashup? From Champlain Area Trails (CATS) to Old Adirondack, there are so many local news updates directly related to Rosslyn that I’ve collected the half dozen most relevant links for you. The titles are clickable links to the primary content, so once you’ve read each blurb (in most cases excerpted directly from the article/post/site) you can easily access the full story by clicking the link. Easy! In most cases the Rosslyn connection will be pretty obvious, but one or two might need some additional information. Feel free to ask me for clarification via comments on the bottom of this blog post, Twitter (@rosslynredux) or Facebook. Thanks!

Champlain Area Trails Hosts Author McKibben I spent the loveliest Saturday afternoon of 2011 at the home of acclaimed illustrator and author, Steven Kellogg. Kellogg hosted a lively and family-friendly fundraiser for Champlain Area Trails (“CATS”) at his historic Blockhouse Farm in Essex, New York. 70 degrees in a clear blue sky, a light breeze, and the sweeping grounds organically manicured sloping to an immense vista of Lake Champlain – exactly what you dream of when you think “summer day” in the Adirondacks. The postcard-perfect weather and view seemed to join us in celebrating CATS’ mission to link communities and connect people with nature. The focal point of the festivities was author and educator, Bill McKibben. (LakePlacid.com)

USGS real-time water data for Lake Champlain: 101.87 feet Despite growing superstitions about acknowledging falling water levels on Lake Champlain, I must celebrate the good news. Our majestic lake has finally fallen beneath 102 feet. The last week has been marked by a rapidly dropping water level, and despite threats of a torrential downpour later this week, my optimism is rekindled. I only hope that progress is made quickly enough for local marinas, waterside restaurants and other businesses compromised by Lake Champlain flooding to recover. (USGS)

Essex County asks for emergency reassessments It would take an act of the State Legislature to adjust the tax assessments of people with severe flood damage from recent storms… [according to] Essex County Real Property Tax Service Director Charli Lewis… The committee promptly voted unanimously to ask the State Legislature to give local assessors the power to devalue properties that were walloped by the severe storms of late April and because of continued flooding. (Press Republican)

Lake Champlain marinas assess damage As the water level slowly begins to recede on Lake Champlain, marina owners and managers are beginning to assess the damage. According to Mike Winslow, a staff scientist with the Lake Champlain Committee, at this time of year, the average lake level is 95 feet… “We average approximately one week for the lake to drop 1 foot under ideal weather conditions,” he said. “The flooding has affected marinas, restaurants and any other facilities close to the lake. There’s a severe economic toll that this flooding is causing. That effect has also drastically affected Canadian patronage due to level of the Richlieu (River) as well.” As recently as mid-week, the lake leveled hovered near 103 feet, still well above its all-time record high. (Press Republican)

This Week’s Adirondack Web Highlights On Friday afternoons Adirondack Almanack compiles a collection of the week’s top weblinks. Rosslyn Redux was featured this past Friday as one of ten intriguing Adirondack stories. Check them all out and get a taste of the Adirondack experience!
Willsboro Adirondack furniture maker closes Adirondack chairs may be riding a continuing wave of popularity, but one of the Adirondack Park’s most important furniture makes is closing it’s doors after a four year struggle to maintain its place in the market. Old Adirondack, located in Willsboro will lay off eleven full time employees… “The recession has done its damage and we just couldn’t last out the long hard slog any longer,” Maselli said. (North Country Public Radio)
June 6, 2011
Make Way for Ducklings

Mindful meditation on meandering mallards… (Source: Rosslyn Redux)

As a child, one of my favorite picture books was Make Way for Ducklings, by Robert McCloskey.

Really… Okay, am I giving away too much? Probably. That’s the way of the storyteller!

Make Way for Ducklings cover via Amazon

There was something about those illustrations — simple unselfconscious line drawings halfway between representational sketches and cartoons — that captivated me, that compelled me to try and draw ducklings wandering and swimming. And the tidy little tale about a family of country mallards unfortunately (serendipitously?) hatching and growing up in obviously inhospitable urban Boston.

A quirky story with a dark edge and a lighthearted plot.

So yesterday when Lorri and Carmen — lovely local ladies planting lilies behind Rosslyn’s carriage barn — called to me, I came running with my camera. I had to witness the mother mallard and her entourage of well behaved ducklings, Lorri urged. “Come quickly. They’re almost down to the driveway.”

The duck family (absent father) had appeared suddenly in the meadow near them, and were heading toward the house. I set out to intercept them on the driveway to see if I could shoot a short bit of video before they startled and deviated course.

Sure enough, as I walked up the shaded back driveway I saw the parade bound directly toward me. I turned on the camera and waited, wondering how close they would come before getting nervous and retreating. But this beautiful, proud and totally undaunted momma duck walked right up to me with her parade of ten fuzzy ducklings. Then right past and on toward Lake Champlain. I followed and played crossing guard to make sure that all eleven made it across NYS Route 22, and before long they were all paddling away on the still flooded lake!

That matriarch had promised her brood a swim in the lake, and she was going to deliver on that promise come flood, gawking homeowner or speeding pickup trucks. And deliver she did. My rough video footage, “Ducklings on Parade” only hints at the confidence and determination of the momma mallard.

Cute. Darling. Nostalgic. Right? Wrong! Well, at least partly wrong. Sure, I’m human, and these fuzzy peeps did instantly soften the edges of an otherwise rough week. But cute, darling and nostalgic is only part of the equation. What, there’s more? Oh, yes, there’s more. There’s irony!

You see, over the last year or two I’ve gotten excited about the idea of raising ducks. I did some research, found a catalog, ogled the pictures, read the descriptions, circled my favorites and told me wife. Emergency brake! “What? Raise ducklings so the coyotes and foxes can eat them? Are you crazy?”

Needless to say, she’s not too keen on the idea. There’ve been a couple of heated conversations. I’ve demurred but repressed the desire. At least for now.

So my first thought as these eager swimmers paraded off to Lake Champlain was, my ducklings! Funny how things work out…

June 4, 2011
Postprandial Soak

Postprandial Soak

After dinner Susan opted for a postprandial soak. Quiet. Languid. Sybaritic. Tasha curled up beside the bathtub, sighed and fell asleep. A breeze carried the faint smell of pine trees through the open window. A whippoorwill called in the distance.

“Wouldn’t it be great if we could live here?” Susan said.

“Why couldn’t we?” I asked, vaguely aware that my response might abbreviate the placid mood we were enjoying.

“Really?” Susan sat up abruptly. “I mean, of course we could, but we can’t just leave our friends behind. And the apartment?”

“Our friends would visit. And the apartment? We could figure that out.” We only recently had found and renovated the co-op on East 57th Street, our first joint remodel. Located on the twelfth floor of an understated pre-war with a southern exposure, tons of sunlight, a working fireplace and beautiful hardwood floors, we knew we were incredibly fortunate. The neighbors and staff were friendly, and the neighborhood offered excellent restaurants, grocers, wine shops and even a knowledgeable and well stocked fromagerie.

“We can’t just sell the apartment. I mean we’ve barely lived there. And besides…”

“You want to work in green design, right?” I asked. “Why not get a job in Vermont? They’re all about green over there, aren’t they?”

“How did you know I was thinking about my career?”

“I didn’t know. I guessed.”

“I know I haven’t exactly gotten around to starting my design career yet,” Susan said and went on to remind me that soon – very, very soon — she anticipated a high profile job with a world renowned firm, designing hotels and proving that commercial interior design could be environmentally friendly, healthy and affordable.

“Sounds good,” I said softly, definitively and tried to sink back into dreamy limbo.

Susan was quiet. Tasha ran in her sleep, thumping against the side of the tub.

“I need to spend a few years with a big firm first, for the experience. Then, maybe…”

“I’m just saying, if you’re serious about green design, Vermont might be as good a place as any to start your career. And besides, you’d actually be living a green lifestyle in the Adirondacks, right?”

“But what about you?”

“What about me? I’d be living a green lifestyle in the Adirondacks too. I love it here. I’d be thrilled to live here for a few years.” Peripatetic by nature, I enjoyed relocating every three to four years. Having grown up in the Adirondacks, mostly in the Champlain Valley, I had long yearned to reconnect, not just for vacation or a weekend.

“Really? But what about your career?”

“Which one? Teaching? Writing? Ecommerce? Renovating real estate? Susan, my career is adventure!” I said melodramatically, with a splashy flourish and a roguish grin. “And right now my adventure is the Margaux Project and ShipStore,” referring to two websites I was currently working on. “I can do that anywhere. And, frankly, if we we’re up here I might find more time to write. This’d be the perfect place to finish my novel.”

“And my screen play.”

“And your screen play.”

June 2, 2011
Rosslyn Boathouse: Friends, Flooding and Photos

Stephen Phillips’ field sketch and notes of Rosslyn shoreline and road condition on Friday, May 27, 2011

This afternoon Essex neighbor Stephen Phillips stopped by to help assess the damage to Rosslyn boathouse caused by week after week after week of flooding. Having run a large contracting company for many years, his perspective is valuable and his offer of assistance welcome. In the photo below he’s sitting on the stairway down to Rosslyn boathouse with my bride, waiting for me to don waders and trudge out to the partially submerged boathouse.

Rosslyn Boathouse Flood Update

Susan Bacot-Davis and Stephen Phillips, Rosslyn boathouse stairway

He spent the better part of an hour examining the structure, asking questions and advising us on how to proceed. We took plenty of notes! The good news is that the structure remains sound, and damage so far has been minimal. Unfortunately we identified increasing surface mold, especially prevalent on fir bead board that must have received less oil sealer than neighboring planks. Most boards are okay, but several are covered in green, gray and black fuzzy mold!

Beneath the water level inside and outside, everything is covered in slippery, green algae. We hope that this will be easy enough to remove with a pressure washer once the water retreats. At the very least we’ll need to re-seal and repaint all of the surfaces that have been saturated for the better part of two months. And until the water level falls another 18″ or so, we’ll need to continue monitoring the waterfront from large debris, trees, etc. Constant vigilance and quick log wrangling has saved the structure significant damage so far, but Steve was quick to remind us that even one of the large trees afloat in Lake Champlain combined with wind and wave action could devastate the boathouse. As if we needed the reminder!

George Davis in Rosslyn boathouse on May 16, 2011. (photo credit Kathryn Cramer)

On the bright side, he explained in impressive detail what is happening with the collapsing road. Have I mentioned this previously? Perhaps only on the Rosslyn Redux Facebook Page… That image at the top of this post is a sketch and notes he prepared last Friday when he came by to speak with the New York State DOT engineers who were preparing to stabilize the badly eroding bank. Actually, it turned out that the erosion was far more severe than he could ascertain, completely eliminating most of the embankment and undermining the road. The pavement began to crack in deep fissures running parallel to the lake as the weight of the road cause it to settle and slough.

The remedy involved 250 tons – approximately ten tandem dump truck loads – of riprap dumped over the side of the road to arrest further erosion and stabilize the road. I’ll share some video footage soon which reveals the current status of the waterfront and road including the riprap “armor”. The DOT is continuing to monitor the road to determine whether or not additional stabilization will be necessary.

In the event that the road continues to settle, the next step will be to install a steel sheet pile retaining wall. Steve’s explanation for why this would be advantageous was convincing, but we are hoping against hope that it will not be necessary to mar this historic waterfront with a steel retaining wall.

Steve offered to assist us in deciphering the potentially complex decisions ahead, and suggested that we should consider this an opportunity to permanently address the long term stability and safety of the waterfront. I appreciate his optimistic perspective, and my bride and I have sent out cosmic “Thank you!” vibes all afternoon.

Thanks to Rosslyn Boathouse’s Friends!

[pullquote]You might not even notice that the boathouse is flooded. A trick of the eye, but soon, I hope, the floorboards will be visible once again. [/pullquote]

Thanks also are due another friend and Champlain Valley writer/editor/blogger, Kathryn Cramer (@KathrynC), who has been doing an outstanding job of documenting Lake Champlain’s aquatic antics over the last couple of months. Full stop. Kathryn Cramer has done an outstanding job of documenting Lake Champlain for the last couple of years! That goofy picture of yours truly standing inside the boathouse in the earlier days of the flood was taken during her first visit to our soggy waterfront. She’s been back at least once, and even helped pull some driftwood up from the lake.

Kathryn’s support and understanding in recent weeks has been a big morale booster, and he exhaustive coverage of the 2011 Lake Champlain floods is simply unparalleled. I hope she’ll curate her many photos into an exhibition once we’ve all recovered from the damage. It would make for a fascinating chronicle!

Rosslyn boathouse transcending Lake Champlain floodwaters. (photo credit Jill Piper)

Although most photographs of Lake Champlain flooding in general and of Rosslyn‘s flooded waterfront in particular emphasize the dire and depressing, a spectacular counterpoint was recently shared by Jill Piper, the creative eye and lens behind www.pickapiperpic.com. Her photograph of our boathouse wading up to her knees in Lake Champlain was published on Facebook with the following caption:

…and the sun sets on another day under… fingers and toes crossed for a hot sunny week!!!

Ah, yes, another day under water, but optimism flowed easily after viewing her handsome image. In fact, unless you look closely at the lower left border (or recognize the submerged Old Dock Restaurant, visible in the distance), you might not even notice that the boathouse is flooded. A trick of the eye, but soon, I hope, the floorboards will be visible once again. And then we can set to work with pressure washer and paint brushes to restore her to her former glory. Thank you, Jill, for reminding us to smile, and for reminding us that being underwater (or not) is just a matter of cropping!

Did I mention that Steve Phillips told us all of the electrical system, outlets, fixtures, etc. would need to be opened up and inspected? Sigh…

June 1, 2011
Redacting Rosslyn
Geo Davis Redacting Rosslyn, summer 2011

[Note: This story has been updated.]

I’d like to introduce you to Redacting Rosslyn, the newest theme / navigational thread to join the original three: Wanderlust to Houselust, Archeology of Home, and Rehab Ad Infinitum. (Update: Yet another theme, Houselust to Wonderlust, was added circa 2020.) For the sake of clarity and candor, I should go full disclosure before getting in much deeper. Redacting Rosslyn is actually less of a theme than it is a catch-all. Since that’s a little misleading, I’d better clear matters up from the outset. Let’s start with the idea of redaction…
```
redaction noun
1 The process of editing text for publication.
1.1 The censoring or obscuring of part of a text for legal or security purposes.
1.2 A version of a text, such as a new edition or an abridged version.
Origin Late 18th century: from French rédaction, from late Latin redactio(n-), from redigere ‘bring back’. (Source: Oxford Dictionaries)
```
Early on in the process of transforming our home and lifestyle reboot into a story, I recognized that there wasn’t a nice tidy package for Rosslyn Redux. Or better put, I wasn’t successfully wrangling this adventure into a familiar format. A book, for example. This was my initial thought, but what sort of book. Memoir? How to? Thematically structured nonfiction? Lyric essay? Poems? Scrapbook?!?!

As I mucked around collecting and creating and curating content, I needed a temporarycontainer until I could formulate a plan. The blog was born. But soon it grew sprawling and unwieldy, so met with agents and editors to pick their brains. What’s a storyteller to do when his story is wayward and willfully independent? Their advice: make it a memoir, tighten the timeline (ideally no more than a year), and focus on my relationship with Susan.

I was unconvinced. That formula might well have been sellable, but a 1-year story about my marriage wasn’t really what interested me, and it certainly wasn’t the adventure I’d been exploring on Rosslyn Redux.

So I went rogue. I developed a short, solo performance piece to
1. explore whether or not the stage might be the best vehicle for telling our Rosslyn story,
2. solicit feedback from an audience (different than the blog, I presumed) about what sort of story they thought I should be creating. Maybe they could offer some fresh insight?
On August 3, 2011 I performed Redacting Rosslyn Redux at the Depot Theatre in Westport, and the experience transformed my understanding and hopes for the project. I’ve tackled the takeaways elsewhere, so I’ll try to stay on track here.

Let’s flip back to the idea of redaction for a moment.

Origin and Etymology of redaction

French rédaction, from Late Latin redaction-, redactio

act of reducing, compressing, from Latin redigere to bring back, reduce, from re-, red- re- + agere to lead (Source: Merriam-Webster)

Reducing, compressing, and bringing back are the crux. Although Redacting Rosslyn has evolved into a fourth theme, it’s really more of a meta look at my early decision to DIY this home rehab, my decision to morph the adventure into a storytelling project, and all of the other bizarre ancillary developments that I stumbled into as I became more and more obsessed with how (and why) to tell this story in this peculiar digital age.

It’s worth noting that the flavor profile for Redacting Rosslyn differs decidedly from Wanderlust to Houselust, Archeology of Home, Rehab Ad Infinitum, and Houselust to Wonderlust. I hope that the audience overlaps, but it probably leans more toward indie authors and artists, makers, and the sort of independent (and inevitably stubborn) DIYers who’d rather figure things out for themselves. Think of it as an afterward that so far has evaded completion…
June 1, 2011
The Farm

Rock Harbor Rhubarb (and memories of The Farm!)

We walked down the road from the tennis court and stopped off at my parents’ house, still closed up for the winter. It would be several weeks before my parents arrived in Rock Harbor for the summer, and by then the asparagus would have gone to seed, so we picked enough for dinner and enough extra to bring back to the city for another meal.

I also picked a fistful of rhubarb to sauté with maple syrup for dessert. Susan disliked rhubarb, but I loved the lip puckering tartness. The taste transports me instantly to The Farm.

My parents, living and working in New York City, had purchased an 1840s farmhouse on 85 acres near Greenwich, New York five months after getting married. I was born less than two years later.

Although The Farm served primarily as a weekend getaway for the next five years, it dominates the geography of my earliest childhood. A stream of nostalgia gilded memories flow from this pastoral source: exploring the time-worn barns, absent livestock except for those conjured up by my energetic imagination and the swallows which darted in and out, building nests in the rafters, gliding like darts through dusty sunbeams; vegetable gardening with my mother; tending apple, pear and quince trees with my father; eating fresh rhubarb, strawberries and blackberries; discovering deer and raccoons and snakes and even a snapping turtle.

May 31, 2011
Vintage Adirondack

My bride and I credit the vintage Adirondack lifestyle (and it’s 21st century progeny) for luring us away from Manhattan in 2006 to become North Country full-timers. But what exactly is the Adirondack lifestyle? And has the notion evolved from the time patinated vintage Adirondack stereotypes of yesteryear?

Still image from “Land of My Dreams”. (Source: Amateur Cinema)

Actually it’s not so easily defined, perhaps because there are so many different perspectives on what makes living (or even vacationing) in the Adirondacks desirable. High Peaks, Great Camps, cozy little lodges, Champlain Valley, agriculture, hunting, fly fishing, ice fishing, back country adventures, extreme sports, and the list goes on. Although a portrait of our Adirondack experience will evolve out of these blog posts, I won’t presently attempt to define the vintage Adirondack lifestyle. Though often attempted, any single face of of the Adirondack experience is an abstraction, often even a caricature or a stereotype. The real Adirondack experience is vast, rich and dynamic. It is precisely this richness and diversity which appeals to us. It is precisely this evolving character which inspires us to get involved with the people and organizations that have welcomed us.

Image by virtualDavis via Flickr

The video from which the still above was captured, the first in a series of three, is called Land of My Dreams and it was apparently created by Joseph J. Harley in the late 1940’s. It captures a nostalgic (if extremely dated) caricature of vintage Adirondack living, more precisely the rustic “camp” lifestyle popularized during the mid 1900s.

The story takes place on Bluff Island in the Adirondacks, Saranac Lake, New York. My great grandparents had a house that Joe built himself from scratch. The DEC took the house down after a law was made that people could only camp on certified islands in the lake. Joseph J. Harley was an amateur film maker who made many other movies and won awards for them. (YouTube.com)

Douglas Yu (@tourpro) over at Adirondack Base Camp put me onto this quirky vintage short, but he wasn’t able to share much more about the film or Harley. (Note: unfortunately these videos are now private, and no longer available.)

I couldn’t find much information about the filmographer, but at one point he was President of the American Cinema League.

Many of the artifacts that I’ve collected since purchasing Rosslyn fall into this hazy no-man’s land of vintage Adirondack collectibles (postcards, magazine advertisements, newspaper articles, brochures, videos, etc.) It’s challenging or impossible to determine the background for many of the artifacts, and they occasionally include dated or peculiar elements such as the “black face” character in the the second video. And yet, taken together they provide a context for the quirky tale I have to tell. I’ve decided that this blog is the perfect way to preserve and share these artifacts, characters and stories which don’t find their way into my Rosslyn Redux memoir or the Redacting Rosslyn monologues.

By collecting these artifacts into a “digital museum” I hope to showcase some of the esoteric ingredients of the vintage Adirondack lifestyle (and its contemporaneous offspring) which seduced us, aggravates us, intrigues us, perplexes us and inspires us in this new chapter of our lives.

May 24, 2011
Tasha, Tennis and Wildlife

Tasha Testing the Territory

Tucked into a meadow surrounded by forest, the tennis court was starting to show a quarter century of soggy springs and icy winters. The net drooped, but we decided not to tighten it and risk breaking the rotten netting. Besides the droop better accommodated our rusty tennis skills.

The twelve foot tall fence around the court sagged along the north side. A tree that had fallen across it a few years before had been removed, but the stretched steel mesh retained the memory. Several young maple trees grew along the crumbling margin of the court and protruded inside the fence. Towering maples, oaks and white pines surrounded the court on three sides, lush with new foliage that whispered in the wind. Birds and squirrels chattered in the canopy. Ants paraded across the court’s puckering green surface, and a pair of small butterflies danced in a rising and falling gyre. Tasha sniffed around the perimeter of the court, her obligatory inspection as head ball girl for our sylvan Roland Garros.

We started to volley back and forth, balls collecting quickly on both sides of the net. It felt great to be hitting a tennis ball again, and – like every spring – I vowed to spend more time on the court, perennially optimistic that a solid tennis game was within my reach.

The sound of our rackets making solid contact with the fresh balls encouraged us and prompted Tasha to abandon the grasshopper she had been badgering. She headed out onto Susan’s side of the court and started to lunge at balls, attempting to catch them in her mouth. We tried to be more creative in our placement, trying simultaneously to avoid hitting her and to protect the nice new balls from her slobbery maw.

Soon enough she discovered that she could simply take her pick from the balls that were collecting beside the net, and she plunked down in the middle of the court to enjoy a new chew toy.

“Maybe we should have brought the hopper of old balls, so it wouldn’t matter if she chewed them…”

“Home run!” Susan cheered, sending a ball soaring over the fence into the woods. Excited, Tasha got up and padded over to the fence where she stood, looking for the ball in the woods.

Soon, enough balls had vanished over the fence that we headed out to see how many we could recover.

“Hey, come check out this snake!” I called out to Susan after startling a small garter snake in the tall grass near the woods.

“Tasha, come! Grab her. Don’t let her get close to it!” Susan’s words came like machine gun fire as she sprinted toward me. “It might be poisonous!”

“It’s just a garter snake,” I said. “Tasha’s fine.”

“Are you sure it’s not a rattlesnake? Where is it?” she asked, next to us now, grabbing Tasha by the collar and pulling her backward, away from the grass where the snake had already vanished.

“It’s gone.”

“Gone? Where? Why didn’t you keep your eye on it?” Susan hustled Tasha back toward the tennis court.

“Relax. It was a garter snake, Susan. It’s harmless. Nothing to worry about.”

“How do you know? What if you’re wrong?”

Tasha shags a tennis ball

When I returned from the woods with most of the balls, Susan had our tennis rackets tucked under her arm. Tasha was leashed.

“I’m ready to go,” Susan said.

“Because of the snake?”

“No. I’m just ready. I’ve played enough tennis.”

“Okay.”

Susan asked me to walk ahead, checking for snakes. I laughed, then obliged, walking a few paces with exaggerated caution.

“Stop!” I bellowed, freezing and pointing into the grass ahead. “I think I see one…”

“That’s not funny,” said, repressing a smile.

“Wait, do you hear that rattling noise?”

Susan laughed. Tasha pulled at her leash, excited, ready to help me search for snakes.

“Well, you never know,” Susan said. “Tasha’s a city dog. She might try to attack a rattlesnake.”

“Because that’s what city dogs do?” I laughed.

Tasha, our twelve year old Labrador Retriever, enjoyed bark at wildlife, maybe even an abbreviated mock charge in the case of deer, but she had little interest in tangling with animals, birds or snakes. Frogs intrigued her more, briefly, until she realized they were not toys. A sleepy cluster fly could entertain her for five or ten minutes. But Tasha would leave rattlesnake attacking to younger, more aggressive beasts.

May 20, 2011
Hickory Hill and Rosslyn
The Ross Mansion, Essex, NY

I recently happened on this antique postcard of the Ross Mansion (aka Hickory Hill) which was built by the brother of W.D. Ross, Rosslyn’s original in the early 1820s. Hickory Hill still presides handsomely at the intersection of Elm Street and Church Street. I’m still sorting out the Ross family tree, intricately woven into the history of Essex, New York, and I’ll do my best to paint a clear picture as it emerges. For now, a couple of interesting references include:
- History of the Town of Essex
- Henry H. Ross (Wikipedia)
- Honorable Henry H. Ross (Lancet Portrait Gallery)
- Ross, Henry Howard (Biographical Directory of the Unites States Congress)
Hickory Hill & Rosslyn Link

[pullquote]Hickory Hill’s setting in its own spacious grounds on the ridge which overlooks the village and the lake adds much to its beauty. Rosslyn commands a superb view of the lake and the Green Mountains in Vermont.[/pullquote]

The interesting connection between Rosslyn and Hickory Hill is illuminated in Living Places: Essex Village Historic District.

“Hickory Hill” on Elm Street, and “Rosslyn” on the Lake Shore Road represent the residences of the wealthy merchants and lawyers who dominated Essex in the early days of its prosperity. Two-and-a-half-story brick structures whose design combines Georgian and Federal elements, both “Hickory Hill” and “Rosslyn” were built before 1830. The building of “Hickory Hill” (1822) built by Henry Harmon Ross for his bride, was taken from a five-bay design in Salem, New York. It displays great grace and lightness in its Palladian window, Neo-classic portico, and elegant cornices. Its setting in its own spacious grounds on the ridge which overlooks the village and the lake adds much to its beauty. “Rosslyn”, the William D. Ross house, originally constructed as a three-bay side hall dwelling, was expanded (1835-40) into five bays. Presently restored to its appearance in 1840, it commands a superb view of the lake and the Green Mountains in Vermont.

William Daniel Ross

[pullquote]Rosslyn’s original owner, William Daniel Ross, dealt in lumber, iron and ship-building in Essex.[/pullquote]

Another genealogical reference appears in Ancestry.com:

DANIEL ROSS: born February 23, 1764, Duchess County, NY; son of Daniel Ross (c 1740- c July 22, 1795) and Jerusa Howard; married Elizabeth Gilliland June 1784; one of the original settlers of Essex, NY on lands given to his wife by her father William Gilliland; had five children- Elizabeth, William Daniel, Henry Howard, Edward D., and Sara Jane; divorced Elizabeth c July 1815; Captain of Militia, Justice of the Peace, merchant, first Essex County Judge, and most prominent citizen; died at the home of his son Henry, Hickory Hill, Essex, NY March 10, 1831 at 67.

ELIZABETH GILLILAND ROSS EVERTSON: born 1764 in New York City; first child of William Gilliland (c1734-1796) and Elizabeth Phagan (c1740-1772); married Daniel Ross June 1785; had five children noted above; divorced c July 1815; married John J. Evertson by April 1, 1823; Evertson died by 1829; after Daniel’s death in 1831, she returned to her son Henry’s home, Hickory Hill, Essex, NY and died there August 3, 1847 at 83.

I will continue adding Ross family references, but for now, here is an interesting if somewhat garbled overview of William Daniel Ross from Caroline Halstead Barton Royce as recorded in Bessboro: a history of Westport, Essex Co., N.Y. (Note: corrections are mine and possibly erroneous.)

William Daniel Ross dealt in lumber, iron and ship-building in Essex; his wife was a sister of John Gould, Aid on Gen. Wright’s stafi; and his brother, Henry H. Boss, (afterward Gen. Ross,) was adjutant of the 87th at the battle of Plattsburgh.

If you can point me toward accurate history, genealogy, etc. for the Ross family of Essex, New York, please contact me. I would be much indebted to you. Thank you in advance.
May 19, 2011
Lingering Longer at Rock Harbor

Rock Harbor view of Lake Champlain and Vermont shoreline

Back at Rock Harbor I packed the car while Susan prepared tuna melts. The temperature had warmed to the mid seventies, and a light breeze was blowing off the lake. We ate lunch on the deck, one last indulgence before locking up and heading back to Manhattan.

Perched a hundred feet above the lake, the deck offered a stunning panorama of Lake Champlain’s mid-section, known as the narrows. At just over a mile across, the narrows are the wasp’s waist of the 125 mile long lake that at its broadest spans 14 miles across. Across the field of sparkling topaz Vermont farmland extended to the Green Mountains. The Basin Harbor Club’s whitewashed cottages winked through heavy foliage along the shoreline. Several sailboats glided north. A motorboat buzzed lazily, weaving in and out of the coves along the New York shoreline.

I remembered the summer five years ago when Susan and I first explored these same coves together — waterskiing, drifting, skinny dipping — enjoying a whimsical summer fling before heading back to separate lives and responsibilities on opposite sides of the Atlantic.

“I was thinking,” Susan interrupted my reverie. “I don’t really have to be back in the city until noon tomorrow…”

I smiled. We both knew that she really meant, Do you want to stay another night and drive home tomorrow? Though not habitually subtle, Susan had a tendency to suggest rather than request. So, an offhand, “It’s getting late, we really should feed Tasha,” actually translated into, Can you please feed Tasha dinner? Or, “It would be nice to have a fire in the fireplace,” meant, Would you build a fire?

“Great! Let’s stay.”

“Really?” Susan sounded surprised.

“Sure, it’s a perfect day for tennis.”

My work was portable, so Monday mornings rolled out more or less the same whether we were upstate or downstate. Up early, take Tasha out, feed Tasha, feed myself, fire up my laptop and get to work. In Rock Harbor I could let Tasha out the front door in my bathrobe and then let her back in five or ten minutes later when she barked at the door. In Manhattan, I got dressed, chatted with the doormen, walked Tasha around the block on a leash, chatted with the doormen again and then scarfed down a banana or some cereal at my desk in front of my computer. Breakfast at 430 East 57th Street and Camp Wabetsu might have tasted the same, but the view from the kitchen window in Rock Harbor — this same IMAX movie we were experiencing right now — tipped the scale. Often we were accompanied by a bald eagle sitting in the dead pine tree 25 feet away, waiting to plunge down and grab his own breakfast. Or a fox patrolling for mice. Or a herd of white tail deer browsing saplings and tender spring shoots.

“You won’t be anxious if you can’t work tomorrow morning?”

Translation: You won’t be annoyed if I sleep in and we get a late start? Now we were getting to the crux of it.

“No problem. I’m okay with missing a morning’s work while we drive down in exchange for some tennis this afternoon and another relaxing night here. But let’s make sure we get up early and leave on time, okay? I don’t want to miss a whole day’s work because we got a late start.”

This was a familiar conversation. We always craved more time at Rock Harbor and always found it hard to leave. The Champlain Valley effect. It kicked in each time we drove up, right after passing the last Lake George exit on Route 87. It felt like the first few deep breaths after a good visit to the chiropractor. Maybe it was the clean air or the spectacular views. Or the absence of traffic. Or the anticipation of a slower rhythm.

We agreed to postpone our departure, and I unpacked the car while Susan cleaned up from lunch. A couple of phone calls and a change of clothes later we headed up to the tennis court to burn off the tuna melts and Doritos.

May 18, 2011
Meadowmount and Rosslyn

Rosslyn boathouse photographed from Essex ferry dock (photo credit Steven Rochen)

What a pleasure to discover on Monday morning that the newest friend of the Rosslyn Redux Facebook page was Steven Rochen. Who you might ask? (Though, if you’re a Meadowmount School of Music alum, you probably already know!) Mr. Rochen first crossed my radar back in February of this year when I happened upon an interesting photograph of Rosslyn’s boathouse. The following was originally posted in “Rosslyn Boathouse in August 2005“:

Another Rosslyn boathouse sighting, this time discovered via Google Earth. The photo was taken by czechsteve on Panoramio.com on 2005/08/12 which is approximately one year before my wife and I purchased Rosslyn. The wooden Chris Craft on a mooring between our boathouse and the Essex ferry dock belonged to our neighbor, but he has since replaced it with a sailboat which is visible in more recent photographs.

If you go click through to the original photo and enlarge it, you can see the degree of disrepair that we inherited when we took ownership and began restoring this stately old maritime structure.

I have contacted the photographer to suggest a title because the image is currently untitled.

Update: Today is Wednesday, February 2, 2011 and I’ve just heard from the photographer:

I have added a title to your boathouse picture. Thanks for your input – I have seen that boathouse for many years (I’ve been coming for summers in the Adirondacks since I was a teenage student at the Meadowmount School of Music coming from Texas to study violin.)

Was the boathouse there in 1980? I don’t remember when I first saw it from the ferry crossing but I have always enjoyed seeing it – that is why I took the photo years ago…I can’t wait to see what you have done…

All best wishes! Steven Rochen – a.k.a. czechsteve!

Wonderful response. I’m excited to have made the connection, and I’m hoping that I may one day have the chance to meet Steven Rochen and give him a tour of the boathouse which has intrigued him for decades.

May 17, 2011
Rosslyn for Sale

Rosslyn for sale (photo credit Jason McNulty)

Susan and I were driving back to Rock Harbor after visiting Rosslyn, an early 19th century home in Essex, New York, which our realtor had just shown us for the second time in several months.

It was spring. At least a dozen sailboats speckled Whallons Bay as we wound south along the edge of Lake Champlain. Small white caps, light wind, bluebird skies above. Two fishing boats trawled between the beach and Split Rock where a glimpse of Vermont was visible within the cleft.

We veered away from the lake and up Couchey Hill toward one of the most picturesque views in the Champlain Valley. Hurricane, Giant, Dix and the Jay Range were silhouetted against cloud specked blue skies to the east. An undulating patchwork quilt of hayfields and tree lines stretched to blue green foothills clumped against the Adirondack Mountains.

Half an hour can vanish in a single breath while watching a sunny day expire here. Even at midday the view is an open-ended invitation to linger.

But with minds and mouths racing, we did not even slow down on our way back to Rock Harbor. We were sorting engagements, worrying over deadlines and synchronizing schedules for the week ahead. After a quick lunch, we would drive back to Manhattan. Although the trip could be as quick as five hours, Sunday afternoons were typically slower with increased traffic around Albany and returning weekenders adding to the congestion.

May 16, 2011