Why sooo many artifacts? Well, what started out as urban flight (Goodbye, Manhattan!) and Adirondack Coast escapism (Hello, Essex!) soon morphed into an all-consuming avocation: resuscitating Rosslyn (an endless, painstaking historic rehabilitation I’ve dubbed “rehab ad infinitum“). A bit like amateur archeologists poking through ancient midden heaps, we’ve tried to decipher the relevance and context of rotting lineament bottles, wallpaper shards, yellowing postcards, vintage photographs, and all manner of miscellaneous relics/esoterica. Our burgeoning collection of Rosslyn, Essex, Lake Champlain, and Adirondack artifacts comprises a veritable “digital museum” of curated collectibles all directly or indirectly related to the historic William Daniel Ross home in Essex, New York.
Steamboat Landing at Westport, NY circa 1907 (Source: vintage postcard)
Perhaps some of my North Country readers recognize this sylvan scene along the Adirondack shore of Lake Champlain?
It is the site of present day Westport Marina in Westport, NY. Seen here in an earlier incarnation as a steamboat landing circa 1907, there are several notable differences with more contemporary photographs of this same waterfront.
Most notable is the veritable absence of buildings. A few are visible, mostly in the distance, but it seems that turn-of-the-century Westport (aka Bessboro) was a much more treed village — at least along the lakeshore — than it is today.
Another absence is the Westport Yacht Club. Standing south of the Westport Marina and separated by present day Ballard Park, this historic yachting landmark (rebuilt in the 1980s after it was destroyed by fire) has been home to several top-tier restaurants in recent decades. A clue might be hidden in the bottom/foreground of this photographs. Notice the crumbling crib dock? I suspect that the Westport Yacht Club may have been constructed on a previous pier (one used for mercantile shipping, perhaps?) and that the photographer may have set up his tripod amid the rocks and logs to capture this evocative image. What do you think?
Hyde Gate, Essex, NY (Illustration by Kate Boesser for All My Houses, by Sally Lesh)
One of the unanticipated joys of living at Rosslyn (aka Hyde Gate) has been discovering the property’s legacy. Prior to purchasing our home, neither my bride nor I had ever stopped to consider the impact that these four buildings clustered along the shore of Lake Champlain might have had on others before us.
One recent reminder was the first chapter of All My Houses in which octogenarian Sally Lesh chronicles her itinerant life story by way of the many homes in which she has resided. Published in 2005, Lesh’s memoir is available online and — if luck’s on your side — at your neighborhood bookstore where the aroma of fresh brewed coffee, the sedative shuffling of pages and the muffled whispering of customers might transport you to wintry Essex, New York by way of Boston, Massachusetts.
Hyde Gate, Essex, New York
Lesh opens the memoir with her birth on Janurary 19, 1921 in Boston, but the title of her first chapter and the origin of the journey she intends to chronicle is Hyde Gate, Essex, New York. This quirky collection of reminiscences is not altogether unlike a literary charm bracelet. Though, it is a bit longer than a bracelet… Is there such a thing as a charm necklace? In any case, the back cover blurb promises plenty of shiny if slightly tarnished charm.
Meet Sally Lesh, mother of eight, (descendant from Royalty), traveler from New England to bush Alaska, Inn keeper, cow milker, weaver, ferry steward, farmer, wife to a doctor, and author of Lunch at Toad River. Read her down-to-earth life story spanning 84 years full of ingenuity, humor, independence, and a love of life as it unfolds. (All My Houses a Memoir)
The first charm on Lesh’s necklace is Hyde Gate, Rosslyn by a different name. Though her memory falters when describing the home’s fabrication, the illustration and subsequent description make it abundantly clear that our journeys have overlapped not in time but in place.
My parents, Sarah “Sally” Carter Townsend and Ingersoll Day Townsend were living in Essex, New York, on the shore of Lake Champlain. The property was known as Hyde Gate, and it extended from the water’s edge well back into the meadows and woods. The house was nicely proportioned wood frame building. A veranda ran across the front and around the two sides, giving a gracious and welcoming aspect. The house exterior was painted yellow with white trim, except for the big front door. That was dark green. A long flight of wide steps led up to the veranda and the main entrance…
I never found out what those nine servants did in that large house. I know about Nana, and there must have been a laundress to handle the piles of sheets, towels, tablecloths, napkins, baby clothing, and Bobby’s little cotton outfits. I’m sure there was a cook, because Mother couldn’t even boil water. There had to have been a yard man or gardener, for everything that came to the table was grown in our garden. And there must have been at least two maids to clean. Mother wouldn’t have known what a dust mop was, let alone how to use it. That makes five. What on earth did three more do?
Directly across the road, ice was cut every winter from the frozen lake surface. All these years later, I can picture the huge square hole full of dark water where the big blocks of ice had been cut by men using long saws. Each block was then hauled out. I have no idea how the block of ice was carried up the steep rocky bank and across the road, up the sloping driveway past the house, past the big barn that houses the carriage and the car, and finally to the icehouse, where it was buried in sawdust. We had iceboxes then, no refrigerators. The ice was broken into square chunks that fit neatly into the tin-lined top compartment of the icebox. I do clearly recall picking tiny bits of sawdust out of my summertime lemonade throughout my childhood. (All My Houses a Memoir, by Sally Lesh)
A year later, Lesh explains in the second chapter, Hyde Gate was sold. It had been owned by her grandmother, Louisa Johnson Townsend, who also owned the Stone House in Essex (where Sally’s family moved next) as well as a seasonal camp on Lake Champlain and “a large old house in Oyster Bay on Long Island, next to Theodore Roosevelt’s home, and a place with a banana tree in New Orleans”. A well healed granny by the sound of it!
Sticks or Bricks? Hyde Gate Remembered…
It’s worth noting that the house was constructed out of brick (with stone foundations) and not wood. But this detail — like the soft math when recollecting the number and function of servants — matters little and reveals the patina-ing power of time’s passage. The other notable difference between Hyde Gate as Lesh describes it and Rosslyn as she stands today is that the veranda has been removed, revealing an older — and most likely original — stone stairway and entrance. The owner from whom we purchased the property undertook this alteration in a nod to historic authenticity. He too felt obliged to leave his imprint on the front facade of the house and erected a Greek Revival columned entrance roof which incorporates subtle Georgian detailing which I’ll share in a subsequent post.
Hyde Gate Gardens-to-Table
This weekend I will transplant tomatoes, eggplants, pepper plants and artichokes into our own garden which accounts for much of the what graces our dining table during the summer and fall each year. Rhubarb and asparagus have been coming in for weeks, and the strawberry patch is currently covered in blossoms. Fruit trees, bushes, brambles and vines add to the Rosslyn harvest, and an attractive herb garden close to the kitchen fortifies our recipes and intoxicates our nostrils whenever it rains or the wind blows out of the south. Almost a century after Sally Lesh’s brief sojourn at Hyde Gate, a gastronomic connection to the land endures. But the icehouse has long since surrendered its critical warm weather role, and the apiculture which occupied her father (he sold five tons of honey per year) has vanished.
With luck we’ll returning to beekeeping some day in the future, if for no other reason than to improve the pollination in our small orchard. And honey, fresh out of the comb? Divine. I’m adding it to the wish list. Right after ducklings…
Acknowledgments
Although it would have been wonderful indeed to stumble upon this memoir quite by accident only to discover my home on the first page, I feel equally fortunate to have been guided by my Essex neighbor Tilly Close who showed me the book last summer. She knew the author and suggested that I dip into the property’s legacy from a fresh perspective. Thank you, Mesdames Lesh and Close.
Vintage boathouse postcard? Or not? (Source: Geo Davis)
Is this a vintage postcard or a recent photograph taken from the ferry dock in Essex, New York?
If you guessed that the image is contemporary, you’re right. It was taken on 29 May 2017. Born a moody, slightly fuzzy phone shot but reborn a tango dancing, filter-upon-filter-upon-filtered vintage postcard wannabe. Or something…
A pair of exciting — and slightly mysterious — artifacts have been disinterred from Rosslyn’s carriage barn today. Just when the re-flooded basement (second time in two weeks) starts to discourage me, I am reminded of Rosslyn’s benevolence.
A post shared by G.G. Davis, Jr. (@virtualdavis) on
These beautiful, hand carved stones had been buried 2 feet underground and were serving as ad hoc footers for upright supports in the carriage barn stalls.
What are they? Gutter downspout troughs, perhaps?
Jacob contemplating mysterious stone artifacts discovered while renovating Rosslyn carriage barn stalls.
What’s clear is that they are works of art. And heavy as lead. Massive hunks of local limestone with almost perfectly round “bowls” leading into rounded run-out troughs. I imagine rain gutters dumping water into these, directing the flow away from the foundation. Perhaps it’s just my wishful thinking? It’s been so soggy. Rain for the better part of the last month…
Next year I may skip the vegetable garden and plant rice.
And unless a smarter suggestion comes in from one of you about the likely application of these stone troughs, I’m thinking I’ll use them as gutter stones. But first we need to install gutters!
Canonball Forms?
The two men who disinterred the carved stone blocks while renovating Rosslyn’s carriage barn (Doug Decker and Jacob Sawitsky) suspected that they might be two halves of a form used for casting. But what? They are remarkably similar for hand carved artifacts, but I can’t discern a likely product that would have been cast with this form.
“A canon ball,” one suggested hopefully.
Possibly, though the fill tube is enormous and would have required lots of finish work once the casting cooled.
Stone Gutters?
My gut tells me that these hefty artifacts were originally part of a stone gutter system.
I’ve searched for evidence and initially turned up little (except for some antique metal gutters for sale on eBay that don’t really support my hypothesis.) And just when I began to acknowledge that I might be chasing a fantasy, I stumbled across the following excerpt and image which appear to be consistent with my speculation.
Stone Gutters: Scattered about in no particular location that could pinpoint where these sections of masonry were originally installed, are pieces of sandstone with a hollowed out semi-circular trough running the length of the piece, roughly three feet long each. Five have been unearthed todate. These heavy pieces of masonry are very old and as far I can tell are stone gutters which would have sat at the head of the external walls to carry rainwater from the sloping slate roofs. I have produced a series of sketches which illustrtate how the stone was sited in the wall. (Parlington Hall)
Sections of Old Stone Gutters at Parlington Hall, UK
I’m not to ready to close the book on this mystery, so I’m reaching out to you for thoughts. Any and all insights would be welcome and appreciated!
Update: Stone Splash Blocks
It turns out that my hunch was correct. These appear to be stone splash blocks, part of an old stone gutter system. In the photograph ahead, which showcases the sections used for conveyance of water from one point to another, you can imagine the stone splash blocks that we found located at the drop spot as a sort of collection pool that in turns directs the water into the stone gutter system. Eureka! (Check out “Stone Splash Blocks” for the autumn 2022 solution to the mystery.)
Rosslyn Boathouse, by Essex artist and cartoonist, Sid Couchey.
On a gray November afternoon back in 2010, Ruth and Sid Couchey rang my doorbell to present this playful rendering of Rosslyn’s boathouse. We sat in the living room and talked and laughed until the dreary afternoon yielded to technicolor levity.
Sid Couchey’s Legacy of Laughter
[pullquote]With a perennial twinkle in his eye and a clever image or anecdote at the ready, Couchey’s presence was perennially and enthusiastically welcome in Essex.[/pullquote]
For all who had the good fortune of knowing long time Essex resident Sid Couchey, his sense of humor and generosity of spirit rivaled his fame as the illustrator behind Harvey Comics characters Richie Rich, Little Lotta and Little Dot.
“He was always willing to pull your leg,” said Bruce Klink of Willsboro. (Press-Republican)
With a perennial twinkle in his eye and a clever image or anecdote at the ready, Couchey’s presence was perennially and enthusiastically welcome in Essex. Though he passed away on Sunday, March 11, 2012 his legacy will endure in our small town on Lake Champlain where he chose to spend most of his adult life.
One of the North Country’s most influential and beloved artists passed away last month. Sid Couchey was a cartoonist and illustrator who… drew for decades for Harvey Comics, helping to bring life to iconic characters like Richie Rich and… Champy,” the friendly sea monster that supposedly haunts Lake Champlain. (NCPR News)
Sid Couchey’s painting of Rosslyn boathouse.
Sid Couchey’s Essex Legacy
Champy, the Lake Champlain monster, is one of many details of his own personal life that Couchey wove into his comics. Images of the Essex ferry are also common, and in 1959 or 1960 he even proposed to Ruth in a Little Lotta comic! Once his days with Harvey Comics came to an end, he “enjoyed a long second career as a local and regional cartoonist” chronicling the lighthearted sides of life in Essex and the Adirondacks.
Many of the brochures, pamphlets and books about Essex and the Champlain Valley that I have collected since purchasing Rosslyn are illustrated by him. It would seem that we’re overdue in anointing Sid Couchey the Cartoonist Laureate of Essex. Perhaps a proposal to the Essex Town Board? Certainly accolades are well warranted.
The man’s imagination and creativity tended to inspire others, to open their own doors of fancy wide. That, combined with his sheer goodness, his kind heart and generous nature, was a powerful potion. (Press-Republican)
[pullquote]He was always looking to get as much fun out of everything that he could.[/pullquote]
My bride and I were deeply honored to receive Sid Couchey’s painting of Rosslyn’s boathouse, but a year and a half later another pleasure is added. I can’t help but wondering about the red-suited fellow gesticulating at the end of the pier.
Couchey was known to insert himself in his cartoons and artwork, and it seems plausible that the man may indeed be the cartoonist, having a chat with Champy. Or sharing a joke? Or is my suspicion born of Couchey’s opening pitch at the Montreal Expos – Cleveland Indians game on June 21, 2002?
Although Sid was king when it came to surprising folks, [Calvin] Castine got the better of him one time — arranging for him to toss out the first pitch at a Montreal Expos game when Cleveland was in town… That first pitch became a production, as Sid cleaned his cleats, checked the catcher’s signs with binoculars… “He spent three or four minutes at it,” Castine laughed at the memory. “He was always looking to get as much fun out of everything that he could.” (Press-Republican)
Sid Couchey’s appetite for fun, laughter and goodness will endure in Essex and beyond. And no doubt among Lake Champlain’s watery inhabitants as well once Champy shares the joke he’s just been told…
Care to join me for a singalong? Today I’d like to share with you the sheet music cover image for the song, “On Lake Champlain Song”, by Alfred Bryan and Albert Gumble. I’ve added this song to my hyperlocal music wishlist along with “Essex-on-Champlain“, a hymn composed by George Webster.
Lithograph cover for sheet music of “On Lake Champlain” song by Alfred Bryan and Albert Gumble.
Call it sentimentality. Or nostalgia. Or burning curiosity. (After all, I may well be spiritually and nominally descended from Curious George.) Whatever you call it, it’s unlikely you’ve overlooked my wandering wonder. Inquisitiveness may have proved troublesome for some fabled feline (although I’m not 100% confident in this oft parroted truism about curiosity and the cat), but I’m no cat, and my wandering wonder has invested my half century with no end of good adventures.
I hope that Alfred Bryan and Albert Gumble’s “On Lake Champlain” will not prove to be an exception. After all, music (a ballad, I suspect) celebrating our magnificent Lake Champlain? Perfect!
I was fortunate enough to stumble across this sheet music, but I’ve now misplaced it. I vaguely suspect I lent it out in the hopes of soliciting a performance or a recording. But that may be my overly optimistic imagination stepping in to assist m memory. No doubt I’ll reconnect with this artifact anon, and perhaps then I’ll have more luck transforming sheet music into audible music.
In the mean time, I’d like to see if someone out there might be able to boost this wishlist item a bit. Let’s learn this song! Here’s a little more information to [hopefully] catalyze some sort of progress toward a listenable and eventually singalong-able version on “On Lake Champlain” by Alfred Bryan and Albert Gumble.
Instrumentation: voice; piano City of Publication: New York Illustrator: L.P.N. DCMI Type: Still Image Is Part Of: 1910-1920 Publisher: Jerome H. Remick
(Source: Duke Libraries)
What else do we know? It looks like “On Lake Champlain” was composed in 1916, Albert Gumble lived from 1881 to 1946, and previous collaborations with Alfred Bryan included:
1908
“Are You Sincere?”
“When I Marry You”
“Can’t You See?”
1910
“I’m Afraid of You”
“I Won’t Be Back ‘Till August”
“Get a Girl to Love You”
“Winter”
1911
“You’ll Do the Same Thing Over Again”
1912
“Somebody Else Will if You Don’t”
“When I Waltz with You”
“When You’re Married”
1913
“I’m Goin’ to Stay Right Here in Town”
“Think of Me When I Am Near”
“Flow Along River Tennessee (To the Home of the Girl I Love)”
“You’re Never Too Old to Love” (Note: w/William Jerome)
So for now I’ll pause this post in the hope that the vintage color lithograph for Alfred Bryan and Albert Gumble’s sheet music will miraculously move us closer to an audible version of “On Lake Champlain”. If fortune smiles upon us, I’ll update this post.
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:
[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]
“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.
Rosslyn’s boathouse was flooded and severely damaged in 1983. (Source: Dianne Lansing)
You may have noticed that my blog posts are sporadic. Sometimes a post almost writes itself, exploding into the blogosphere as if channeled from the universe itself. Other times lengthy lapses betray my distracted dithering. Today’s soggy sentiments fall into the latter category.
Nevertheless, it’s a shame that more than two years have come and gone since Essex neighbor and friend Dianne Lansing sent me that sorrowful photograph of our boathouse succumbing to Lake Champlain‘s bullying. Shame on me!
Here are a few excerpts from my exchange with Dianne during the 2015 winter/spring.
Dianne Lansing: All those mallards are hoping you will turn on your bubbler as the ice is closing in on them and they really don’t want to leave. I was surprised to find them in my yard under the oak tree eating acorns a couple of afternoons. Never knew that could be part of their diet…
Geo Davis: What a wonderful (and horrifying) photograph of Rosslyn’s boathouse! Thank you for digging it up and passing it along. Did you take the photograph? Do you recollect the back story? Normal spring flooding? Is this what prompted George McNutly’s mid-1980s boathouse rebuild (when LCT’s crane barge, Miss Piggy) assisted?
Dianne Lansing: Glad you liked the photo… I don’t know if I took the photo or David [Dianne’s husband, David Lansing] did. Probably me but I don’t remember any of it. Don’t recall seeing the boat house in such disrepair. I’m pretty sure, however, that it was ‘normal’ spring flooding as I don’t recall any other event that would have caused the roof to collapse. I’m glad you have restored it to its former glory…
Geo Davis: Thank you! A wonderful gift and ominous warning to always act as responsible stewards of that quirky little building. I’ll credit both of you, and we’ll let posterity sort it out.
While it pains me to see Rosslyn boathouse underwater (and collapsing!), it’s a reminder that we’ve made some headway over the last eleven years. There’s never any guarantee, and I’m well aware that flooding could bring the pretty boathouse to her knees once again. But I’m optimistic. After all, it beats worrying!
Thanks again, Dianne, for this bittersweet illustration of Rosslyn boathouse’s wet-dry-wet-dry heritage. Fingers crossed that we won’t repeat history any time soon.
I have an original oil painting done by Sid couchey in the mid to late 1950’s. It is off old stump bridge in whallons bay. Sid gifted the painting to my grandfather when my grandfather was the lay minister at the church innessex NY. I would love more information and / or to sell it to someone from the area who would appreciate it fully. I reside in Burlington , Vt. (Source: Heidi Labate, July 29, 2016)
I was thrilled to receive the following snapshots from Ms. LaBate who blogs about food and cooking (and offers a “freezer meal” service) at BeetsCookingVT.com.
Oil painting of Old Stump Bridge in Whallons Bay by Sid Couchey (Source: Heidi Labate)
Oil painting of Old Stump Bridge in Whallons Bay by Sid Couchey (Source: Heidi Labate)
Oil painting of Old Stump Bridge in Whallons Bay by Sid Couchey (Source: Heidi Labate)
Unfortunately I don’t have any light to shed on the painting, although my respect for Sid Couchey is no secret. It has been suggested that Sid Couchey not only created the Old Stump Bridge painting above, but he may also have helped his grandfather build it (Essex on Lake Champlain). I hope to learn more about this.
My knowledge of Old Stump Bridge is similarly skinny. The following image is from a vintage “souvenir mailer” in my growing personal collection of Essex artifacts.
“The wonderful old stump bridge just south of Essex at Whallons Bay added rustic charm to the area around 1920. The elaborate cedar-root bridge would today be associated with the fashionable Adirondack style.” (Google Books)
Thanks, Heidi LaBate, for the photographs of Sid Couchey’s painting of Old Stump Bridge. I’ll update this page if/when I learn anything else.
Florence Sherwood, Phil Keuhlen, and Chuck Sherwood at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
One of the great joys in owning Rosslyn these last 15 years (hard to believe it’s been a decade and a half since we purchased our Essex home from Elizabeth and George McNulty!) has been discovering the memorabilia of those who’ve come before us. So many Rosslyn memories, stories, and artifacts. Today I’d like to introduce you to the Keuhlen family who vacationed at the Sherwood Inn in August 1951.
Almost three years ago I was contacted by Phillip Keuhlen via the Rosslyn Redux page on Facebook. The impetus for his outreach was contextualizing photographs from a family vacation in Essex many decades ago. I was immeasurably grateful for the opportunity to peer into Rosslyn’s past when the property was operated as the Sherwood Inn. As happens remarkably often in this quirky existence, Phil and I uncovered a handful of additional life overlaps, the sharing of which has evolved into a penpal friendship of sorts.
I asked Phil recently to remind me how we had initially connected.
As for how we came to be in correspondence, it started with a group of photos sent to me from my Mom’s estate, and thinking I might provide some context for my children if they were ever of interest to them.
The breadcrumbs lined up thus:
Internet search on “Sherwood Inn”… much too broad… you would be surprised at the number!
From there to a link to your Rosslyn Redux website
Finally to initial contact via messenger after following link to your FB page…
Digital breadcrumbs for a fortuitous connection across an historic and geographic divide. Oh, brave new world!
Tantalizing Time Capsules
What is it about time capsules, especially serendipitous time capsules? Is it the wink of familiarity across decades, despite initial dissimilarities? Is there just something intrinsically compelling about time-hazed mirrors and patinated backstories? Something irresistibly intriguing about glimpsing earlier iterations of our realities?
I can’t answer these questions, but I suspect that there’s something universal in the fascination I experience when permitted to time travel backward into Rosslyn’s history. My earnest hunch, squinting eyes, and furrowed brow – perhaps the subtle conceits of an amateur sleuth – and my fluttering pulse are familiar and welcome as I study the black and white images shared by a man who lives on the other side of the country, a man I’ve never actually met in person, a man who has generously shared a nostalgic cache of personal artifacts that just happen to illuminate Rosslyn’s blurry past, a sneak peek into an earlier chapter of the property we’ve been revitalizing for years.
In that first photograph above Phil Keuhlen as a youngster is flanked by his proud parents. They’re kneeling in front of a porch that adorned Rosslyn’s East facade for many years. At first the brick home as we know it today isn’t recognizable to me. And then it is. A flash of familiarity. The entrance door sidelights with those delicate, curved mullions are unmistakable.
Florence Sherwood, Phil Keuhlen, and Chuck Sherwood at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
They are better visible in the photograph above as well, however the center transom light (over the door) appears to have been altered at some point.
Adding to my good fortune, Phil has filled in details that his family photographs leave out.
Here are the Sherwood Inn photos I promised… All were taken in August 1951. We lived in Bloomfield, NJ at the time. The little guy in the photos is me at 2 weeks shy of my 2nd birthday. Wish I could offer more background, but both of my folks have passed and the first of my siblings had not joined us yet, so there is no one else left to ask. My only recollection of that vacation is a vague memory of falling backwards and getting briefly stuck between a bench and a bulkhead on a ferry trip across Lake Champlain! Look closely at the one whose file title includes “Note Sign” and you will see a sign for Sherwood Inn in the background. It says there were cabins available… not sure if that is news to you. There is also one that is very blurry… that I included because it shows that there used to be an extension well beyond your boathouse. The names of Florence & Chuck Sherwood, staff member Jean and guest/daughter(?) Judy are all retrieved from my Mom’s contemporaneous inscriptions on the back of the photos.
There’s plenty to muse and chuckle over in Phil’s message, but two threads especially strike me.
Let’s start with Phil’s mother’s “contemporaneous inscriptions on the back of the photos”. The photographs are opulent time capsules in and of themselves. They instantly offer a potent visual connection across the decades, an accessible and inviting bridge between now and then. The presence of Phil, his parents, and several others in the photographs contributes to the allure. These are not mere architectural artifacts. They are intimate snapshots of love and laughter and memories-in-the-making in the very same yard, beach, buildings where we love and laugh and make memories seventy years later. There’s a relevance and resonance that functions like a time machine, embracing two disconnected slivers of time so that they overlap for a moment.
And that is just a reaction to the time tarnished images. The inscriptions that Phil refers to remind me of the messages memorialized on the back sides of vintage postcards I collect.
Although I remain somewhat conflicted whether or not it’s appropriate to share the messages from vintage and antique postcards, I tend toward a quasi-archeological justification (unless the content is obviously sensitive or inappropriate). (Source: Sherwood Inn Landing on Lake Champlain – Rosslyn Redux)
From time to time these words illuminate the image. Time capsules in and of themselves, these quickly scrawled artifacts can enrich and amplify the value of the photographs. This is certainly the case with the notes recorded by Phil’s mother.
I’m especially intrigued to see mention of Florence and Chuck Sherwood. Although I’ve been fortunate in amassing many artifacts from the days that Rosslyn served as the Sherwood Inn, I’m thin on information about this couple. And the staff member smiling in the photos below, who is she? Might she be identifiable? Is she perhaps still a member of our Essex community?
Phil Keuhlen with Jean (staff) at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
Jean, Sherwood Inn staff, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
And Phil’s young companion, Judy, will she remain a mystery? Or perhaps a dash of crowd research will help us to identify her as well.
Phil Keuhlen and Judy at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
Phil Keuhlen and Judy at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
What gratitude I feel to Phil (and to Phil’s mother) for recording and sharing these moments. And yet, I can’t help but repeat thoughts from an earlier post about a vintage photograph.
This faded photograph kindles nostalgia and wonder, revealing a glimpse into the history of Rosslyn… while dangling further mysteries to compell me deeper into the narrative of our home. Kindred sleuths are welcome! (Source: Rosslyn Boathouse, circa 1907 – Rosslyn Redux)
Phil Keuhlen at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
As for the second thread I’d like to revisit, Phil mentions the Sherwood Inn sign in the photograph above.
It says there were cabins available… not sure if that is news to you.
While the presence of cabins or cottages at the Sherwood Inn is known to us, this is a reminder that we’ve never managed to locate any record (photograph, title, etc.) that precisely captures the locations or looks of these cabins. I’d like to. I’m hoping that somebody may have snapped a photograph once upon a time.
Rosslyn Boathouse
As I’ve mentioned time and again since I began sharing this story over a decade ago, it was Rosslyn’s boathouse with which I was initially smitten. It’s my first and enduring passion when it comes to this property. So, needless to say, Phil’s mother’s photographs of the boathouse are especially captivating for me.
Keuhlen Family at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
Although salvaging and rehabilitating this architectural folly was an epic project, it’s immensely satisfying to see that there are so few differences between today’s pier, dock house, and gangway (to shore) and their earlier iteration in the photograph. Preserving this +/-125 year old Essex monument is a perennial challenge. Engineering and construction location hurdles for “a boathouse that was one ice flow away from a watery grave” were not insignificant. And then there was the ahistoric flooding. Not the 1983 flood which took place more than two decades prior to our ownership. The 2011 flood, on the other hand, visited weeks upon weeks of high water upon us immediately after we had completed the boathouse’s lengthy renovation.
The second Keuhlen family photo of Rosslyn’s boathouse was taken when the photographer turned slightly more eastward, away from the beach and toward Vermont.
There is also one that is very blurry… that I included because it shows that there used to be an extension well beyond your boathouse.
Phil’s note touches on one of the notable differences with Rosslyn’s 21st century boathouse. Although a portion of the cantilevered section at the end of the boathouse remains, the extensive pier that continued eastward through the 1990s is no longer extant. Ruins of the old stone and timber crib dock remain however, and they’re visible at low water (usually August to September or October). An ice flow approximately a decade prior to our purchase effectively erased what at one time more than doubled the pier’s extension into Lake Champlain. A studious eye can spy the original pier (and the coal bunker built atop it) in these posts: “Kestrel 1892 Steam Yacht in Essex” and “Rosslyn Boathouse, circa 1907“.
Phil Keuhlen at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
Toward a Poetics of Place
I mentioned at the opening to this post that Phil and I have discovered several uncanny life coincidences. While some (i.e. New Mexico parallels) aren’t germane in this blog post, others are. It turns out that Phil and my wife, Susan, grew up — albeit a generation apart — within walking distance from one another. And his family was similarly drawn to old home rehabilitation.
Funny how small the world can be, huh? My folks restored an old Victorian house in Glen Ridge, the little town between Montclair & Bloomfield… When they took possession, there was a (leaky) slate roof, a well in the attached shed, a coal fired boiler, an earthen floor in the basement, some remnants of lead piping and gas lighting. I learned a lot watching and helping with that rolling renovation… largely an early lesson in blowing cost and schedule. I used to joke with my parents that I would have been a genius if I hadn’t ingested all the dust from sanding and scraping lead based paint in that house as a youngster! […] My folks lived in that old home from 1954 until they moved to Colorado in 1970, and subsequent owners have been generous in allowing my family occasional walks down memory lane there. It sounds like Rosslyn has the same attraction of fond associations for many in Essex. I explored your site some more and found the link to the article in OHJ. Your restoration is simply stunning.
I want to close by telling you how much I have enjoyed your blog. I lived in Saratoga Springs in ’72-’73 and enjoyed exploring up your way every chance I got (ok… when not casting on the Battenkill or Ausable). You write evocatively about a special part of this beautiful country and the history that is integral to a sense of place and community.
I too want to close by telling Phil Keuhlen how much I have enjoyed these photographs and our communications, conversations sometimes rooted in a shared experience of the Sherwood Inn / Rosslyn and other times meandering far afield. It has brought me immense satisfaction journeying into this 1951 time capsule through the memories and artifacts of a stranger-turned-friend. And I am humbled once again with the proof that a sense of place and community is the heart and soul of Rosslyn Redux. I have approached this topic tangentially for years, wondering and wandering toward a better understanding of what defines our Rosslyn experience; what bound us so passionately to this property from our first encounter; and what after all are home, home-ness, homing?
In the early days of this blog I suspected our inside-out rehabilitation story might offer something useful — even practical — to others pursuing similar adventures. Perhaps this is still sometimes the case. But I’ve mostly migrated from prescriptive to curious. Wonder has long since eclipsed practical. Still coalescing is what I’ve come to see as a poetics of place.
With that somewhat nebulous prognostication, I close this pre-Thanksgiving post with heartfelt appreciation to Phil and his late mother. Your gift of memory and family artifacts are now woven inextricably into the Rosslyn narrative. Given the overalled youngster’s self assurance in this final photograph below, it seems almost inevitable that his grown up self would reach across the country and across the years to reconnect with a place that endures in memory. A place that endures as our home. An auspicious connection for sure! Thank you.
Father and son, Al Keuhlen (r) and Phil Keuhlen (l), at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
Mrs. Ross (detail from Hickory Hill photograph above)
Real photo postcard of the Ross Mansion in Essex, New York, on beautiful Lake Champlain – copyright 1907 by B. Benton Barker of Burlington, Vermont – faded card but details are still discernible such as Mrs. Ross sitting in her window (it is well known in the town history that that window was her favorite sitting spot and some say she still can be seen sitting there) – corners are lightly bumped and rubbed with a minor double crease at the bottom right corner – divided back is unused – rare barker card is comes in a rigid plastic display holder. (Catherine DeWolff)
Mrs. Ross’s lingering spirit was news to me. Looks like time for a little investigative work! It would be good indeed to collect a firsthand account from one who’s witnessed Mrs. Ross occupying her favorite window seat a century and change after this photograph was taken.
Hickory Hill with Tilly Close
This past summer I was fortunate to meet Tilly Close for a tour of Hickory Hill which was built by her great grandfather, Henry Howard Ross. H.H. Ross (as local historians usually remember him) was William Daniel Ross’s brother. W.D. Ross (clearly historians and archivists had a vested interest in typographical efficiency) built Rosslyn in 1822, at the same time that his brother was building Hickory Hill.
[pullquote]The family was lacking in imagination when naming their children. There were three Henry Howard Ross men, creating much confusion.[/pullquote]
Although Mrs. Close shared plenty of anecdotes about Hickory Hill, there was no mention of ghosts.
From what I can ascertain, both Daniel Ross and his bride Elizabeth Gilliland Ross Evertson died at Hickory Hill, but the latter passed away on August 3, 1847, well shy of B. Benton Barker’s 1907 photograph. Perhaps Mrs. Close can shed some light on the window sitting phantom. Her crisp sense of humor and encyclopedic recollection (including extensive genealogical research) have proven to be the single best guide in sorting out Ross family history. When I asked her to verify that Hickory Hill’s builder, H.H. Ross, had been her great grandfather she responded promptly as follows:
The family was lacking in imagination when naming their children. There were three Henry Howard Ross men, creating much confusion. H.H. Ross who built Hickory Hill was the son of Daniel Ross (who was married to Gilliland’s daughter Elizabeth). Henry’s brother, William D. Ross… built your home. His son, H.H. Ross was born 10/23/1827 – 6/15/1908. He married Mary Julia Nichols. Hickory Hill Henry Ross had 8 children. His son James Blanchard Ross who built the Camalier’s house, had a son named H.H. Ross, who married Anna Noble, and died early 1857-1882. (Tilly Close)
In a subsequent communication Mrs. Close explained further:
My Great Grandparents, Henry and Susannah had 8 biological children, plus one adopted girl, whose mother was Susannah’s sister, and had died. One of their sons is named William Daniel Ross II, born 10/5/1830 and died as a soldier in the Civil War, in Washington, DC 10/25/1861. I have his portrait by Horace Bundy. Rosslyn, which I think was called Hyde Gate at one point, was built by my Gr. Grandfather’s brother, W.D. Ross… (Tilly Close)
An abundance of H.H. Rosses, a pair or W.D. Rosses and a fetching ghost by the name of Mrs. Ross. All the ingredients for a thriller!
Haunting Hickory Hill & Rosslyn
[pullquote]It strikes me as unlikely that almost two centuries would fail to produce a ghost or two.[/pullquote]
I’m still hunting for evidence of a ghostly Mrs. Ross haunting the halls (or windows)of Hickory Hill. And what about Rosslyn’s spiritual dimension? My bride claims psychic faculties and denies the presence of ghosts in our home. But it strikes me as unlikely that almost two centuries would fail to produce a ghost or two.
During Rosslyn’s renovation, several contractors mentioned signs of a ghost on the third floor. For my part, I can not confirm any lingering spirits, but maybe the prolonged renovation process sent them scampering for more congenial circumstances. The endless whine of saws and the thwump-thwump of hammers may have driven Rosslyn’s ghosts up to Hickory Hill! But I’ll continue to poke around, and I promise to share any spooky discoveries.
From Hickory Hill to Homeport
A recent eBay find took me even further afield than Hickory Hill. In fact, it’s not really a Rosslyn artifact at all. I include it here because it pertains to another house which indirectly influence my compunction to purchase and renovate Rosslyn. Although my earliest childhood memories derive from The Farm, I spent far longer living in a subsequent home in Wadhams, New York.
Homeport in Wadhams, New York
By way of an eBay seller in Bonita Springs, Florida I was able to acquire a history of Wadhams entitled In the Beginning… Wadhams 1820-1970 which was compiled and published by Ethel L. Kozma.
[pullquote]The elegant home enchanted my parents, and they undertook a renovation very nearly as ambitious as our own. I grew up in the midst of it, obviously distorting my understanding of a “fixer upper” and my notion of a prudent investment.[/pullquote]
Nestled amid Wadhams history, genealogy and photographs, this image of the home where I lived during my elementary school years immediately triggered a flood of memories. Although I was too young to actually participate, my parents renovated this “once stately mansion” (cribbed from the original real estate listing) despite many decades of neglect and dilapidation. The left side of the porch in the image above had long since been removed, but the elegant home enchanted my parents. They undertook a renovation very nearly as ambitious as our own. And I grew up in the midst of it, obviously distorting my understanding of a “fixer upper” and my notion of a prudent investment.
Haunting Homeport
Although I don’t recall any ghosts haunting our home in Wadhams, I did have an imaginary friend (two actually, if you count my imaginary friend’s imaginary friend) with whom I adventured and conspired. Those were enchanted years that might have proven even more so if I’d known the house’s history:
“Homeport” was the summer home of the late Albion V. Wadhams, a younger son of William Luman Wadhams, and a grandson of the General. Albion was graduated from U.S. Naval Academy, Annapolis, Md. 1868. His cruise took him to China, an encounter with the Koreans; and later an instructor at the Naval Academy. He retired June 30, 1907 with the rank of Commodore after 43 years service. Mr. and Mrs. A.V. Wadhams had come to “Homeport” about 1896, which become the home of Mrs. Frances T. Ladd in Sept. 1926. This home was originally built by Levi H. Cross as indicated on the 1876 map. (In the Beginning… Wadhams 1820-1970)
I do vaguely recall that our home had belonged to one of the founding families of the town, but the abstraction of that was too much for my jittery mind. But the Navy? Commodore Albion Wadhams? Who knew history held such invitations to daydream?
Homeport in Wadhams, NY: summer home of Albion V. Wadhams.
This wonderful old house a short drive from Rosslyn was my home during the late 1970s and early 1980s. It was a wreck when my parents purchased it and a handsome home when they sold it. Today it is the home of Matt Foley, owner/operator of River Rat Glass & Electric.
[pullquote]That room with the balconies was my bedroom for a few years…[/pullquote]Growing up at — and helping renovate — Homeport has become a familiar and well worn touchstone for my rehabilitation of Rosslyn. I can’t help experiencing a twinge of nostalgia when I come across artifacts that invite me to ponder back in time. The old postcard below appears to be the same image that was included in the booklet, In the Beginning… Wadhams 1820-1970, that I excerpted in a previous post (Hickory Hill and Homeport), but this is version is far more clear.
That two story porch on the left of the photograph no longer existed when we owned the home, and I alway wondered what may have been on that end of the house. I imagine that the view from that upper deck of the Boquet River flowing below must have been an inviting end-of-day ritual for a few of the homes residents over the year. That room with the balconies was my bedroom for a few years, and I can easily imagine the pleasure of strolling out onto that deck in the morning. In the evening. At night…
