Autumn Landscape, October 27, 2015 (Photo: Geo Davis)
TGIF… time to put another log on the fire, pour yourself something refreshing, and unwind for a moment together. Busy-ness and a continuous cascade of commitments can gradually hypnotize us during the weekly hurly-burly, so let’s take a few minutes to exhale and redirect our attention at this dramatic time of year. Transformation all around us. Breathtaking beauty all around us. I invite you to round out your week by contemplating the autumn landscape.
As another week of icehouse rehab draws to a close, I’m shifted gears a little. I’ll post an update soon, however there’ve been several compelling-but-competing intrigues to pursue. Yesterday’s post about rehoming the “truckling” in exchange for an inspiring reuse/recycling story has elicited several compelling possibilities. (Hoping to make a decision soon, and I’ll share the winning story!) I’ve also been crowdsourcing (albeit quite limitedly among friends and family) perspectives on what makes a house a home. Can’t wait to share the riches tomorrow! For now, with this pair of jolly Jack-in-the-box updates about to spring out into the open, I’m recalibrating and refocusing on autumn landscape.
Autumn Streamscape
As wildlife crisscross
these riparian byways
scents, tracks, graffiti.
— Geo Davis
This haiku takes as its seed the layered narrative along Library Brook which meanders the western margin of Rosslyn’s back forests and fields. So much wildlife trafficking this vital corridor, and all of them communicating, carrying on a distributed dialogue, and creating artistic artifacts.
I spent some time flail mowing near a small portion of this riparian region last summer, eliminating some invasive that have clogged the stream, and encouraging native flora to thrive, ensuring a healthy habitat for our wild neighbors. I thought that I had taken photographs of a mesmerizingly beautiful glade thick with stream-side wildflowers, but I’m unable to find them. Perhaps these images were meant to remain wild, earned quietly on foot, cross country skies, snowshoes.
These contemplative places abound at Rosslyn. And my haiku doesn’t offer a sufficient snapshot. Perhaps I’ll be able to update this page with another poem that offers the scents and sounds of this this wild autumn landscape. For now I’d like to offer you a potent portrait by a Vietnamese poet, Hồ Xuân Hương (1772–1822), that hints at the intoxication I’m alluding to. If “the banana leaves” are overlooked, her poem feels as if it might be leaning against a stump beside burbling Library Brook.
Autumn Landscape
Drop by drop rain slaps the banana leaves.
Praise whoever sketched this desolate scene:
the lush, dark canopies of the gnarled trees,
the long river, sliding smooth and white.
I lift my wine flask, drunk with rivers and hills.
My backpack, breathing moonlight, sags with poems.
Look, and love everyone.
Whoever sees this landscape is stunned.
— Hồ Xuân Hương (Source: Narrative Magazine)
Let us all breathe some moonlight tonight, and let us all let go the of the week just lived and look at the autumn landscape, allow it to stun us, to remind us how to love. Everyone.
Rosslyn Dock House & Crystal Spring Farm, aka Hayward House (Photo via Todd Goff)
A couple of weeks ago I received an email from friend and Essex neighbor, Todd Goff with a download link to that spectacular photograph above portraying an early 1900s panorama of the Essex waterfront. Actually, the image above has been shrunk down from a 9″ wide original and web optimized to accelerate load time (and avoid breaking the internet!) The photo requires squinting to blaze through the blur, but I’ll include a couple of blown up details below to help you zoom in. I’m working with Photoshop to optimize a higher definition version of this unique northward glance from Begg’s Point across was once known as Blood’s Bay. In addition to the rare capture of Rosslyn’s dock house / boathouse and Crystal Spring Farm (aka Hayward House) — BOTH visible with virtually everything else obscured by trees — the close up offers a remarkably clear view of the dock house gangway and outer pier access.
Blood’s Bay Waterfront
Todd consistently unearths remarkable vintage and historic images of Essex. Any time a message arrives from him my heart skips a beat in anticipation of what new find he might be passing along. This unique Essex waterfront view that he sent to me and to Willie Wilcox, owner-restorer of Crystal Spring Farm, raised the bar considerably!
Here’s the gist from Todd’s January 23 and 28 messages.
I came across this 3×9” print today. Shows what was on the Rosslyn Redux image from a different angle and the Hayward House. It is actually a 400mb file with great details… It was in a box of things from Mom related to Essex. No details other than it appears like silver and black on the print vs black and white. Must be some kind of printing technique. I noticed the “arch bridge” railing frame to your dock was similar to one image you posted recently. I had not seen that detail before. Both show some monolithic black block near sandy point or Cross’. I have no idea what that was. It was neat to see the view of Willy’s/Hayward’s too. — Todd Goff
Thank. You. Todd. This is on your best finds yet!
Rosslyn Dock House
Here’s the image of the dock house with an “arch bridge” railing frame that Todd’s referring to. (Note that this building has been referred to as both a dock house and a boathouse, but the current images appear to emphasize its construction atop a pier projecting out into the lake, so for the sake of clarity I will use the term “dock house” exclusively in this post.)
Dock House with Coal Bin on Pier (Antique Postcard)
The section between the two piers (the western pier with dock house and the eastern pier with coal bin) are conjoined by what does indeed resemble a bridge or suspended gangway. Although it’s worth noting that the truss construction actually differs slightly in the two historic photographs. In the sepia image I published on January 19, 2023 in my “Historic Rehabilitation” post the not insignificant span between the two piers is supported with symmetrical bracing akin to inverted truss-like brackets or corbels. In Todd’s photograph the span appears to be supported with a more conventional “bowstring” truss, supplemented with a pair of vertical pilings underneath the bridge / gangway.
The closeup below better illustrates what I’m describing.
Rosslyn Dock House (Photo via Todd Goff)
In Todd’s photo it also appear that the gangway from shore to the dock house is suspended rather than the solid structure we inherited. Each new twist and turn makes me wonder, makes me dig deeper into our mushrooming collection of historic images. Slowly building a “time machine”… 😉
And ruminating on the pros and cons of how best to support the span in the outer gangway (especially given the challenges posed by winter ice and spring ice flows when the water lever is far higher), I found myself looking back at Old Stump bridge to see what sort of structural accommodations were used in that construction. And, as I drift from the suspended bridge in front of the dock house, I also note that Rosslyn’s bathhouse is very much visible just north of the dock house. Do you remember that?
Crystal Spring Farm
I share Todd’s intrigue with the open southerly view from Hayward House (aka Crystal Spring Farm) since that view is dramatically different today. In addition to the built environment changing, reforestation throughout this area of Essex has dramatically altered many of the historic images from the late 1800s and early 1900s. Here is a close up detail of Crystal Spring Farm.
Crystal Spring Farm, aka Hayward House (Photo via Todd Goff)
It’s notable what a handsome facade the property’s southern elevation affords, now concealed from the public viewshed. The perfectly cropped view of St. Joseph’s Church (see feature on Essex community blog) also stands in stark contrast to our contemporary waterfront, as does the notable block at right in this blowup. It appears to be a large bunker of some sort. I share Todd’s curiosity. Perhaps sharing this image will enable us to crowdsource this mystery?
1942 recording of “In Old Champlain” by Mills Brothers (Decca Records, 78rpm)
It’s time for another fun, local-ish song (or so I hope to discover) that just might celebrate the greatest of lakes, our one and only Lake Champlain. From the scarce little I’ve been able to learn about “In Old Champlain” (released in 1942 by Decca Records, performed by Mills Brothers, and music/lyrics by Cliff Friend and Charlie Tobias) it more likely pertains to a small town located near Rouses Point, New York.
Of course, I’m not even 100% certain that it relates to either, but I’m hoping that maybe, just maybe somebody out there — you, perhaps? — might able to help solve this mystery.
That’s right, today I’m sharing this crackly old audio recording (and an intriguing video montage based on the recording) with my perennial optimism that crowdsourcing this so far dead-ended research might illuminate it’s geographic/cartographic mooring. And I’m also hoping that lyrics — somewhat difficult to make out in this timeworn 78 — might manifest from the magical interwebs as well.
Audio of “In Old Champlain”
Enough with the details. “Can we skip to the good part?” No, not that good part. The poppy-scratchy but still pretty groovy 78 recording of “In Old Champlain” by Mills Brothers. Here. It. Is.
Hope you enjoyed that. And hope even more that you (or somebody within your rhizomic reach) can demystify the where this song is celebrating. Which Champlain are the Mills Brothers singing about?
Video Montage of “In Old Champlain”
I stumbled across this likely answer to my question. Champlain, New York is about a 45-50 minute drive north of us, close to the Canadian border. This video montage offers a pretty convince visual argument that the song is about this town located on the western shore of Lake Champlain. But, is the creator correct? Or merely inspired by the song’s title and lyrics?
If you enjoyed the song, spread the word. If you thought it stinks, spread the word. 😉 And maybe somebody will be able to help out. Thanks.
Have you ever heard of Camp Cherokee for Boys in Willsboro? If so, I’d love to learn more. So far the details are pretty thin…
Campfire, Camp Cherokee for Boys, Willsboro, NY (postcard, front)
As we roll into the final days of 2022, I’ve been attempting to streamline my end-of-year projects. And while the prospect of simply deleting lingering items on the perennial punch list is tempting, I’m instead shuffling priorities against the incoming year’s timeline. Yes, some oldies have sat long enough that they’ve moldered into irrelevance. Delete! Others, like today’s artifact (an antique postcard for an extinct summer camp), were probably somewhat superfluous since day one (this draftling — an especially brief stub awaiting development — originated on May 18, 2017!), but they continue to intrigue me. Not ready to delete yet. And so I bring to you an unabashedly abbreviated post showcasing a postcard from Camp Cherokee for Boys. Once upon a time this small summer camp existed on Willsboro Point, possibly not too far from Camp-of-the-Pines. Today neither lakeside retreat endures, but I’m hoping that sharing this vintage postcard just might gin up a little more information.
Crowdsource Kindling
With an eye to kindling this fledgling crowdsource initiative into existence, I’ll share what little I’ve been able to ascertain thus far.
According the A Handbook of Summer Camps: An Annual Survey, Volume 3 which was published in 1926 by Porter Sargent, Camp Cherokee for Boys was located “at Willsborough Point” which may simply mean somewhere on Willsboro Point, but also might suggest that it was actually located a the tip of the peninsula?
This introductory blurb vaguely locates three summer camps located within the vicinity.
Willsborough is north of Essex. Camp Pok-O-Moonshine is on Long Pond near the foot of Peak Pok-O-Moonshine. Camp Pocahontas is on the shore of Lake Champlain, two miles east of the village. At Willsborough Point is Camp Cherokee. (p. 388, A Handbook of Summer Camps: An Annual Survey, Volume 3)
Scrolling down a little further to the bottom of page 388 and the top of 389 we can read the following blurb about Camp Cherokee for Boys.
Here’s a more legible swipe at the blurry image above.
CAMP CHEROKEE, P. O. Willsborough, N. Y. Alt 110 ft. Harold K. Van Buren, 508 National Bldg., Cleveland, Ohio. For boys 8-14 Enr. 30 Staff 10 Est. Fee $300.
Cherokee limits its enrollment to thirty boys. Mr. Van Buren is director of Educational Research, National School Club, Cleveland, Ohio, and with him is associated the Rev. Henry S. Whitehead. Ph.D., an Episcopal clergyman who is also a short story writer. Although the camp is conducted under Episcopal auspices, the enrollment is not limited to boys of that faith. A varied program of athletics, aquatics, woodcraft and dramatics is provided. Much attention is paid to trips to the well known Adirondack peaks, as well as a sight seeing trip to Montreal. Tutoring may also be provided without extra charge. (p. 388-9, A Handbook of Summer Camps: An Annual Survey, Volume 3)
The affiliation between Van Buren and the Cleveland based educational research institution is curiosity inspiring. Hoping to learn a bit more about that, and, of course, about the Messieurs Van Buren and Whitehead. The latter appears in a 1926 publication from the Alumni Council of Columbia University, although the relevant clipping is too small and to be readily legible.
If your eyes are as strained as mine by attempting to decipher that blurry blob of timeworn text, here’s a more legible transcription.
Whitehead spends his summers at Lake Champlain. There he is associated with Mr. H. K. Van Buren who is director and proprietor of Camp Cherokee for Boys at Willsboro and together they have worked out constructive new theories on boys’ camps with satisfactory results. (p. 398, Columbia Alumni News, Alumni Council of Columbia University, 1926)
There’s a bit of curiosity bait in there as well. For example, why would two contemporaneous publications refer to the same town but spell the name differently. One is tempted to assume that the older spelling, Willsborough, was at some point replaced by the newer spelling, Willsboro. Perhaps this was the period of transition? I wonder. And then there’s the rather clinical reference to the two men developing “constructive new theories on boys’ camps with satisfactory results.” I suppose that better-than-satisfactory results might have better assured the longevity of this no longer extant summer camp. Of course, administering an enterprise of this sort with fewer than three dozen clients seems like another ill conceived component. It would be challenging to mathematically ensure viability for this business model for long. But maybe this too is a question of age/time and transition. It’s clear that once upon a time small camps and schools managed to thrive with far smaller populations than they do today. At least for a while…
In closing, I’m soliciting any/all knowledge of the former Willsboro Point summer camp known as Camp Cherokee for Boys. Thanks in advance!
Campfire, Camp Cherokee for Boys, Willsboro, NY (postcard, back)
Back in 2013, I wrote a series of posts on Rev. George Orlia Webster for the Essex on Lake Champlain community blog. I had become interested in this former Essex resident, pastor of the Federated Church in Essex, and prolific composer of liturgical music because of his hymn, “Essex-on-Champlain.”
Today I’ve collected (with the able assistance of Katie Shepard) and lightly curated my earlier posts into a single feature on George O. Webster’s life and career in the enduring hope that it may encourage a new performance (or even a recording!) of “Essex-on-Champlain.”
Reverend George Orlia Webster (Photo credit: Thomas Palmer)
Reverend George Orlia Webster
If the name Reverend George Orlia Webster sounds familiar to you, it’s likely because you’ve heard (or read) the hymn “Essex-on-Champlain” which he wrote in 1929. Or because you’ve read the commemorative plaque at the Essex Community Church (aka the Federated Church) in Essex, NY.
Son of a Baptist minister, Webster attended school at Saxon’s River Academy. His first pastorate after ordination was in St. Johnsbury, Vermont. Of his over 50 years of service as a minister, over 30 were spent in non-denominational settings, often in combined churches with Methodist, Presbyterian, and Baptist members. In later years, Webster was pastor of the Federated Church at Essex, New York, where there is a plaque in his memory. (Hymnary.org)
Reverend George Orlia Webster
In 2013 I received word from two great grandchildren of Rev. George Orlia Webster (1866-1942), Jane Palmer Baker of South Padre Island, Texas and her brother, Thomas Palmer of Galion, Ohio. In addition to a handsome photo of her great grandfather, Ms. Baker shared the brief biography above and the following details which will prove especially helpful to genealogists.
George Orlia Webster (1866-1942) Born: April 25, 1866, Fort Ann, New York. Died: October 1, 1942, Essex, New York. Buried: Bolton Landing, New York.
(Source: Jane Palmer Baker)
Essex resident Norma Goff responded to Ms. Baker’s Facebook post with a poignant personal connection to Rev. George Orlia Webster.
“I have heard much about your great Grandfather, George Webster. I am quite sure he married my parents here in Essex in 1935, and know he was a beloved pastor in this town. I think he is also responsible for writing many hymns, among them, one about Essex!” (Source: Norma Goff)
Undoubtedly many other past and present Essex residents and visitors remember George Orlia Webster as well, and I invite you to share your memories and stories so that we can share them with the community.
POETIC DESTINY
Turning to Webster’s creative legacy, “Essex-on-Champlain” is likely the most famous of his hymns among Essex, NY residents and seasonal habitues, but it represents a mere fraction of this prolific man’s creative output over the years.
Back in 2013, Thomas Palmer shared a wealth of information on his great grandfather, George O. Webster, including the following.
George was born in 1866 to Joseph B. and Francis Webster, his father being a minister himself as well as a Civil War veteran. When George was young, the family had a visit from a lady known as “Aunt Lucy,” who “read” the bumps on heads (“phrenology”). She proclaimed that young George had a “poetic” bump, and sure enough, he went on to author several hundred published hymns, cantatas, musicals, and other works.” (Source: Thomas Palmer)
Apparently Aunt Lucy was on to something. George O. Webster became a prolific author of hymns. Included at the end of this post is a list of 229 hymns that George O. Webster is known to have composed. “Essex-on-Champlain” does not appear on the list, an indication that there may be other hymns likewise overlooked.
I also have scrapbook of his correspondence with well-known hymn writers he knew and/or collaborated with, such as Charles H. Gabriel (who wrote hymns such as “His Eye is on the Sparrow,” “Will the Circle be Unbroken,” etc.) and many others.
Great Grandpa’s best-known hymn is probably “I Need Jesus,” although there are many more that were well-known in their day. That hymn is almost always played or sung at family funerals and important events – it was played at my own wedding. (Source: Thomas Palmer)
Palmer augmented George O. Webster’s biography and provided a manuscript from a newspaper article written by Billy Burger for “The Adirondacker” column in The Record-Post, Au Sable Forks, NY, on Thursday, October 2, 1941. The following excerpts helps illustrate why George O. Webster was considered “one of the most amazing Adirondack personalities” by Record-Post columnist, Billy Burger.
Essex Community Church (aka Federated Church) c. 1930s/40s
A family story relays that Rev. Joseph Webster baptized George as a young man by carving a hole in an icy river in the middle of winter. George received his education at Saxon’s River Academy in Vermont (which is still in operation and known as Vermont Academy). Shortly after graduation, he was ordained as a minister, and his first pastorate was of a Baptist church in Saint Johnsbury, Vermont.
Rev. Webster spent the remainder of his life as a minister and farmer, and had pastorates in Warrensburg, Utica, and Franfort, New York. His last post was as pastor of the Federated Church in Essex, which I believed he considered the culmination of his career as a minister. I know he lived there for many, many years. He lived there with his last wife, Winifred (my own great grandmother had passed away at the age of 26, just a month after my grandmother was born). His two youngest daughters were there a lot as well, Marilla and Agnes.
I know for certain that he had a deep love for the Adirondacks in general and Essex in particular. (Source: Thomas Palmer)
THE SKY PILOT’S PULPIT
The Record-Post columnist Billy Burger profiled George O. Webster in “Sky Pilot” on October 2, 1941, amplifying the portrait offered by Palmer.
After his mother’s death, which occurred soon after Aunt Lucy’s visit, Mr. Webster went to a charge in Vermont and George ran wild. But not for long. Presently a famous lecturer and humorist, “Bob” Burdette, preached a couple of summers in the North River church. He got a grip on George, and this resulted in George’s conversion… George now turned definitely to the Baptist ministry, in which he has served almost fifty years. Significantly enough, although he says he can never be anything but, a Baptist at heart, thirty of the fifty years have been spent in undenominational work. His Federated church at Essex contains Methodist, Baptist and Presbyterian groups and he is also Methodist minister at Whallonsburg.
Because of ill health of the present Mrs. Webster, he was forced to spend twelve years on a farm near Glens Falls. But the old farm just couldn’t keep George out of the pulpit. Before he realized what he was doing he was conducting, with Mrs. Webster’s help, four services a Sunday. The farm chores sandwiched in between. (Billy Burger, “Sky Pilot,” The Adirondacker. The Record-Post, Au Sable Forks, N. Y., October 2, 1941)
As pastor, farmer and hymn composer, George O. Webster appears to have been a veritable renaissance man.
Essex-on-Champlain, by Rev. George O. Webster
ESSEX-ON-CHAMPLAIN, BY GEORGE O. WEBSTER
I’ve wished time and again that there will one day be an opportunity for an “Essex-on-Champlain” sing-a-long, but so far the hymn’s music exists only in my imagination.
If you have not had the opportunity to sing, hear or even read Rev. George O. Webster’s “Essex-on-Champlain” we’ve transcribed the hymn’s lyrics for you below. Although I was made aware that a recording of the hymn was made at one point (and that some of our readers have even listened to the recording), so far I’ve been unsuccessful at locating a copy of the recording. If you can help out, please let me know.
ESSEX-ON-CHAMPLAIN
There’s a wonderland of beauty,
One that has ten thousand charms,
At Essex, old Essex-on-Champlain;
Its attractions grip and hold you
Like some giant lover’s arms,
Dear Essex, dear Essex-on-Champlain.
Then here’s three cheers for Essex,
The fairest spot on the Champlain shore,
Where the moonlight plays like fountains
O’er the crystal lake and mountains,
Dear, dear old Essex, Essex-on-Champlain.
All who know her sing the praises
Of our village by the lake,
Of Essex, old Essex-on-Champlain;
And, with each returning season,
Here their thirst for beauty slake,
At Essex, dear Essex-on-Champlain.
Then here’s three cheers for Essex,
The fairest spot on the Champlain shore,
Where the moonlight plays like fountains
O’er the crystal lake and mountains,
Dear, dear old Essex, Essex-on-Champlain.
Summer skies or wint’ry weather
Have their charms for those who care
For Essex, old Essex-on-Champlain;
And her friends are now a legion
You can find them everywhere,
Dear Essex, dear Essex-on-Champlain.
Then here’s three cheers for Essex,
The fairest spot on the Champlain shore,
Where the moonlight plays like fountains
O’er the crystal lake and mountains,
Dear, dear old Essex, Essex-on-Champlain.
So we sing a song for Essex,
‘Tis a song from out the heart
For Essex, old Essex-on-Champlain;
Wheresoe’er her name is spoken
Fondest mem’ries always start,
Of Essex, dear Essex-on-Champlain.
Then here’s three cheers for Essex,
The fairest spot on the Champlain shore,
Where the moonlight plays like fountains
O’er the crystal lake and mountains,
Dear, dear old Essex, Essex-on-Champlain.
Ever since I began reading about George O. Webster’s “Essex-on-Champlain” I’ve yearned to hear it performed. I hope that one day in the not too distant future it might be possible to make a recording, sung and performed on the Warren A. Cross memorial pipe organ at the Essex Community Church. And back in 2013 there was even rumor that Rev. Webster’s great grandson, Thomas Palmer, a church organist and pianist with a direct-DNA link to the composer may have worked on an audio recording of “Essex-on-Champlain.” Fingers crossed!
GEORGE O. WEBSTER HYMNS
In addition to “Essex-on-Champlain”, Rev. George O. Webster composed literally hundreds of additional hymns. While “Essex-on-Champlain” may be the most hallowed of George O. Webster hymns for Essex residents and visitors, it by no means represents a unique accomplishment. In fact, it didn’t even appear in this impressive directory of hymns composed by Webster, opening the possibility that Webster may have composed additional hymns that are not properly credited. We’ve taken the liberty of updating the list with “Essex-on-Champlain” and we hope you’ll let us know if we’re missing any others.
America, Beloved
Are You Building on the Rock?
Are You Over Borne by Trials?
Arise, Arise, a Voice Is Sounding
Arise, Arise, for Lo, the Night Is Past
Arise, Arise, for Men
Army with Banners Is Marching Along, An
As We March Along, We Will Sing a Song
Awake, O Ye Blossoms
Away in Yonder Forest
Be Loyal to Your Colors
Blossoms Lift Their Sunny Faces
Boys and Girls Repeat
Breaking Through the Clouds Above Us
Call Rings Through the Land, A
Can a Boy Forget His Mother?
Can I Forget the Debt I Owe?
Captain Calls for Volunteers, The
Changeful May Be My Lot
Clericus Hymn, The
Clovers White and Clovers Red
Come Home, Come Home
Conflict Is Raging of Right Against Wrong, A
Cry to Arms Is Heard, The
Day When Heaven and Earth Unite
Do the Storm Clouds Gather So?
Earth’s Victors with Garlands of Flowers
Essex-on-Champlain
Faith Will Keep the Sunlight Shining
Father, So Holy
Fear Not, but Trust
Fill Each Swiftly Passing Day
For His Dear Sake Who Carried
For the Summer’s Golden Hours
For Your Flag and My Flag
Forward, Forward, Soldiers of the Cross
From the Garden of the Heart
From the Heaven’s Opened Portals
From the Riven Side of Jesus
Gates of Life, The
Gird on Your Armor
Go Forward, Go Forward in Jesus’ Conquering Name
God Leads to Victory
God Will Take Care of Me, Why Should I Fear?
God’s Will I Know Is Best for Me
Going Forth to Serve for Jesus
Golden Hours Are Gliding On, The
Guiding Hand I Clearly See, A
Hail to the Great Creator
Have We Climbed the Mount of Vision?
Have You Heard the Call to Battle?
He Took My Place
Hear the Sweet Voice That Is Calling to Thee
Hear You Not the Savior’s Loving Call?
Holy Father, Thou, Throned on High
How Wonderful, How Marvelous
I Am Happy in My Savior
I Have a Mighty Savior
I Know That My Lord Watches o’er Me
I Need Jesus
I Wandered on Life’s Careless Way
I Will Tell the Wondrous Story of Redeeming Love
I Would Go Where Jesus Sends Me
Idly Standing in the Market
If Christ Should Come to Me
If Jesus Will Make Me a Blessing Today
If the Clouds Are Dark and Dreary
If the Way Leads Down
If the Way Seems Hard with the March
If You Can Smile
If You Cannot Cross the Place
If You Will Just Be Happy
If You Would Walk in the Narrow Way
I’m Redeemed with a Price
In Every Hour of Trial
In My Heart He Set the Music Ringing
In My Heart There Swells a Song
In the Great World Field
Is It Well with My Soul
Jesus Gave Himself for Me
Jesus Is a Friend of Mine
Jesus Loves Us
Jesus Set the Music Ringing
Jesus Took the Little Ones
Jesus, Who Knows and Cares
Just a Ray of Sunshine
Just a Whispered Prayer
Keep in Touch with Jesus
Keep the Joy-Note Ringing
King of the Ages
Let a Song of Praise from Our Hearts Upraise
Let the Children of the King
Let the Glory Crowned Banner of Jesus Today
Let the Nations Hear the News of Full Salvation
Let Us Cheer and Help Each Other
Let Us Now the Heart’s Door
Let Us Run Our Race
Let Us Sing for Joy
Let Your Life Be Set
Life Is a Book
Life Is a Friendly Road
Lift Today Your Heads, Ye Mighty Gates
Lift Up Your Heads, Lift Up Your Heads
Listen to the Strain
Lo the Rosy Gleam of the Morn’s First Beam
Long Years I Had Wandered
Lord Is Calling for Men to Serve Him, The
Lord of Life Is Victor Now, The
Lord, Teach Us to Pray
Love Led Him to Calvary
Love Led the Savior, in Days Long Ago
Love of Christ the Savior, The
Lovingly, Tenderly, Tell the Sweet Story
Make Your Life a Means of Blessing
Manger, a Mother, a Baby So Fair, A
Many, Many Years Ago
Many May Strive
March Forth for the King
Men of Our America, The
Mighty God, the King of Life Immortal, The
Mighty Hosts of Sin and Wrong, The
Morning Breaks, I Face the Way Ahead, The
My Heart Is Aglow with a Love Light Divine
Now, in the Pride of the Strength of Thy Youth
O, Fallen Brother, Heed the Call
O Gift Divine, God’s Boundless Love Revealing
O Holy Spirit, Breathe upon Us Now
O Jesus, Lad of Nazareth
O My Brother, Worn
O Precious Word of Jesus
O Savior Dear, My Heart O’erflows with Gladness
When I originally published the series of posts on Webster, I encouraged readers to augment the list, and we did receive two comments filling in some missing information including the following from George O. Webster’s granddaughter, Mary Hartman.
I am G.O. Webster’s granddaughter – Mary Caroline (Palmer) Hartman. Born in Battle Creek, MI in 1939 to Lawrence and Mabel (Webster) Palmer. I am now widowed and reside in Texas. There is an old song book in my possession – “Spiritual Melodies” published by Pilgrim Publishing House in 1942 that contains four hymns you are missing on your list. These are songs with lyrics and music written by George:
Praise His Name
Jesus is Leading Me On
I Met the Christ
My Guide Will Bring Me Home
(Source: Mary Hartman, June 1, 2015)
Well done, Ms. Hartman!
The following was received from Teri Canty.
I have found a piece, mostly known as a descant (or an obbligato) with Silent Night. The two were blended in an arrangement by Anita Smisek. I believe the original hymn may have been known by the title “O Night of Holy Memory”. The text is attributed to George Webster and the music to Ira Wilson. Here are the lyrics:
Neath the silent stars the town is sleeping.
Shepherds on the hills their watch are keeping
Flocks are safe within the fold, secure from danger, want or cold.
Silent, silent night, Holy, Holy night,
Sleep in peace, sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in peace.
O’er the moonlit plains were angels winging.
From the realms afar glad tidings bringing
See their robes of glistening gold, reflecting a celestial light.
Silent, silent night. Holy, holy night
Christ, the Saviour, Christ, the Saviour is born, Christ is born.
Now the dawn grows near the town is waking.
Magi on the hills their goal approaching.
Their gifts are safe within their arms, their hearts have found the loving light
Glorious, glorious night. Heavenly host sing alleluia
Jesus is born.
I haven’t found a music setting for JUST this text; it is always blended with Silent Night. If you have any luck locating the original setting, I’d love to know about it. (Source: Teri Canty, December 30, 2018)
The wonders of crowdsourcing! Now if we can inspire a performance and recording…
Preservation by Neglect: Carriage barn and icehouse, 2006 (Source: Geo Davis)
I’ve flitted around the topic of preservation by neglect on this blog for too long. I suppose that I’ve felt less comfortable putting my thoughts into writing than gabbing with friends similarly drawn to old buildings and artifacts. There’s a question of humility toward a topic better left to more scholarly authorities on historic preservation. And, to be perfectly candid, my appetite for preservation by neglect is perhaps a little unorthodox.
However, I’m currently resuscitating several blog post “orphans” — drafts initiated but left incomplete and unpublished over the years — that reveal some of the influences on my perspective of preservation by neglect, so it’s time to provide at least a perfunctory introduction to the idea. You may already have noted that many/most of my posts tend to tilt toward the lyrical and even the rhapsodic (i.e. “Icehouse On Ice“) rather than the historic, architectural, etc. Given this proclivity, how best to encapsulate and clearly communicate the idea of preservation by neglect? Why, defer to those better versed, of course!
What is Preservation by Neglect?
Time for me to get out of the way.
“Preservation by neglect,” is a term used to describe the way an old building is preserved by disrepair, thus the building’s original or historic features aren’t marred by a building owner that looks to make changes to an old building that are perceived as insensitive. — Elizabeth Blasius (Source: Historic Preservaton is Dead)
Pretty straightforward, right? Preservation by neglect generally refers to historic preservation of a building or area that happens accidentally, mostly because no active effort is made to alter, update, or demolish the structure(s).
Neglect can lead to a measure of preservation by default when there is no active maintenance or development pressures, and the countryside persists with very little change. This neglect can occur as a result of little or no economic pressures that would otherwise cause land values to increase and properties to be renovated. But the problem with accidental preservation by neglect is that it is not true preservation; it does not permanently protect resources from changes… — Robert Stanford (Source: Reading Rural Landscapes: A Field Guide to New England’s Past)
Limited economic means and population stasis or decline are frequently at the root of preservation by neglect, effectively reducing even eliminating the incentive to alter the existing built environment and potentially allowing for the possibility of permanent preservation in the future.
While I certainly don’t advocate preservation by neglect and prefer actual preservation, I’d rather the neglected buildings remain than be demolished. Particularly in downtown areas, there is a constant reminder of the past, the building’s important contribution to the streetscape, and what could be if the building were restored. If you tear down every empty building, then what? […] most importantly, there’s a loss of character and a sense of place. At least with the buildings remaining, there’s hope. Hope that they’ll be restored. Hope that downtown can be revitalized. Hope that the community’s uniqueness and pride can be retained. — Terri Fisher (Source: T Squared’s 4 Square)
Preservation by neglect is not necessarily a goal, nor is it a realistic solution for historic preservation, but in some cases it is a bridge from past to present that would have been lost given typical pressures from development, fashion, safety, etc.
Although sometimes considered a conservation strategy, this invests it with a greater degree of intention than I suspect is usually the case. Often historic buildings deteriorate because they are no longer necessary or desirable, or they’ve become too difficult or expensive to maintain, or conditions have become too precarious or dangerous to attempt renovation. Entropy. In some cases this inevitable natural deterioration resulting from human inaction can help protect a building from alteration, demolition, etc. that might otherwise permanently alter, damage, or eliminate the underlying architectural or cultural heritage. In essence, these forgotten properties, are spared by virtue of being too far gone for convenient rehabilitation. Their neglect has in some (but certainly not all) cases lead to eventual preservation. (Source: The Farm in Cossayuna)
In short, when active preservation (intervention with intent to historically preserve) is not a viable option for historic buildings and other architectural or cultural heritage, deliberate or inadvertant neglect, even when allowing the assets to continue deteriorating, is often an effective way to maintain the historic integrity and character of the property. Sometimes he best way to preserve a property is to simply do nothing.
Preservation by Neglect: Icehouse, 2006 (Source: Geo Davis)
Rosslyn’s Icehouse
Although an argument might be made that at different points in time all four of Rosslyn’s still extant buildings were subjects of preservation by neglect, significant efforts were made to preserve the home and the boathouse. Fortune more than anything seems to have safeguarded the carriage barn while so many other outbuildings vanished over the last century. But the icehouse is in my estimation the best example of preservation by neglect as I’ve explained in a previous post. Here’s the most relevant excerpt.
Although various reasons likely underpin the icehouse’s endurance, and the attentions of previous owners are no doubt high on this list, I would suggest that one of the reasons we’re now fortunate to undertake a purposeful re-imagination of this building is that it’s been preserved for more than a century, in large part, by neglect. First and foremost it wasn’t demolished to make way for other needs (such as the clay tennis court that adjoins its west and northwest flank). And it wasn’t adapted into a chicken coop or conjoined with the carriage barn or… It served a limited functional purpose for at least two previous owners that I’m aware of (one as part of honey-making accommodations and another as a woodworking shop), but the building wasn’t irretrievably bastardized to fulfill its temporary needs. (Source: Icehouse On Ice – Rosslyn Redux
I’ll sidestep the temptation to dilate previous comments by offering a couple of tidy clarifications on the most obvious risk with preservation by neglect.
Preservation vs. Demolition by Neglect
Inevitably neglect, extended neglect flirts with loss of the building(s). For this reason it is not a suitable preservation objective except when no other alternative is viable.
There is a fine line between preservation by neglect and demolition by neglect. A building that has been mothballed, or closed up with a tight roof and closed windows, locked doors, and a solid foundation, will remain a viable part of the streetscape through years of neglect. However, the minute the roof starts to leak, the windows are broken, or the doors are kicked in, demolition by neglect sets in. The building’s demise is heartbreaking to watch and is often the result of an equally sad situation such as bankruptcy or death of the owner or crime in the neighborhood. The final result is often a mandate from the municipality that the neglected building be demolished because it is hazardous to passerby. — Terri Fisher (Source: T Squared’s 4 Square)
In short, if historic preservation is the objective, preservation by neglect is at best a highly risky means to the end, and the risk is slow, irreversible demolition.
An Unorthodox Twist
I mentioned at the outset a somewhat peculiar penchant for preservation by neglect. My time and energy are dwindling so I’ll again draw on the post cited above.
The idea [of preservation by neglect] is baked into my love for and efforts toward rehabilitating old buildings, and it’s in many respects more compelling to me than the finished accomplishments of a preservation project. [Perhaps] it’s akin to my penchant for wabi-sabi. In my perspective there is profound beauty in the imperceptibly slow entropic forces revealed in aging, even failing, man-made artifacts. (Source: Icehouse On Ice – Rosslyn Redux
Don’t misunderstand. Susan and I have dedicated an monumental effort to preserving (actually rehabilitating) Rosslyn over the last sixteen years. The last thing we wanted was entropic victory! But in general, in the world at large, I find myself absolutely fascinated with the inevitable lifecycle of human artifacts. And I am almost always in favor of celebrating the imperfection and patina of longevity rather than masking the passage of time with inauthentic, ersatz makeovers. More on this another day.
Poetic Preservation by Neglect
In closing, I touched on the idea of initiated-but-neglected posts in my introduction. The overlap with the focus of this post intrigues me.
The earliest iteration of this originally somewhat melancholic reflection is nearly a decade old. Like many blog drafts it became an “orphan”, put aside for a day when my time was more abundant or my melancholy was less crowding or my thoughts were better gathered or… As with my poems, I frequently launch into a draft with the passion and clarity of purpose propelling me. And then, something stalls. And the initial foray falters. Or, at the very least, the seed for what I envision writing is cast aside indefinitely.
Often enough I circle back, allowing the persistent relevance of the idea, the recurring urgency to undergird a certain confidence that I might be on to something. That I need to revisit the seed, germinate it, nurture it. (Source: Icehouse On Ice – Rosslyn Redux)
And so it is that I fall back on my more poetic inclinations, more than content to leave the scholarly opining to my more academic peers. For me, the almost uncanny parallel between my creative drafts, too often neglected and often totally abandoned, and historic buildings kindles my curiosity. Hopefully yours, at least a little, as well.
I turn afield this afternoon to share with you a growing collection of vintage postcards and miscellaneous artifacts featuring Camp-of-the-Pines in Willsboro, New York. To be 100% transparent from the outset, my aspiration is twofold:
I want to solicit community knowledge about this [apparently] no longer extant Lake Champlain neighbor.
I want to showcase our remarkably robust collection of vintage artifacts for this intriguing one-time travel destination.
By way of introduction and orientation, let’s navigate north from Rosslyn along the Adirondack shore of Lake Champlain in a skiff or a sailboat (so long as the draft is not too great). Northbound you’ll observe some but not many homes and camps partially concealed by foliage. Before long we’ll discover the Boquet River delta which extends a sandy bar far out into the broad lake south of the Four Brothers Islands. After the river a large holding with several discreetly sited residences yields to a cluster of buildings that—once upon a time, according to these artifacts—might have been Camp-of-the-Pines (aka Camp of the Pines). I say “might” because this is my best guess, and waaay down the path of conjecture. My hypothesis may well prove mistaken.
Okay, let’s dive in!
Community Crowd Sourcing
For about a decade Katie Shepard has been sharing our Rosslyn and Essex-area artifacts (mostly antique and vintage postcards) on our community’s social media channels to celebrate local heritage and crowdsource the postcards’ many familiar and sometimes unfamiliar subjects. She published the postcard above back in August 2017, but unlike many artifacts there wasn’t much familiarity with this historic Willsboro destination. In fact, this was the only message received by a reader.
Despite enthusiastic familiarity, we learned little. Katie’s forensic fact finding focused on the information available on the postcard itself.
According to the caption along the top of the postcard this is an aerial shot of Camp of the Pines in Willsboro, NY with Vermont and the Four Brothers Islands on Lake Champlain in the distance. — Katie Shepard (Source: essexonlakechamplain.com)
The backside of the postcard offered a little more insight.
Camp of the Pines, Willsboro, NY (postcard)
The back side of the postcard shown below gives us a bit more information:
CAMP-of-the-PINES, Willsboro, NY “Where Lake Champlain is at its Best” Single rooms to private cottages with Central Dining Room Modern Appointments — Sports Private Sand Beach
In short, it appears that Camp of the Pines was a Willsboro summer “camp” on Lake Champlain. But where? And when?
Katie’s sleuthing draws our attention to the postmark date which appears to be August 8, 1956 which she deduces must have been during operation of Camp of the Pines. But when did it start and cease to operate? Where exactly was it located? And what happened to the property after it concluded its days as a commercial venture. Does it still remain intact? Changed? Has it become a private residence?
Camp of the Pines Artifacts
What follows are additional historic artifacts/images of Camp of the Pines. Perhaps one will trigger some useful tidbits of information, a memory, a backstory, maybe even an epilogue?
Let’s start with this 1940 brochure advertising a June 29 thorough September 3 vacation season at Camp of the Pines.
Camp of the Pines (Source: 1940 brochure)
Vintage gold! If your eyes struggle with the fuzzy letters, here’s a transcription of the paragraphs on the right side.
Health, happiness and good fellowship await you at CAMP-of-the-PINES on Lake Champlain during your vacation days.
Amid the peace and glories of Nature you will find plain, comfortable accommodations, restful beds, an abundance of good food, and the courteous service of a Christian Camp.
So, we’re on to something. A Christian summer camp. And the map on the left side is somewhat helpful as well, generally locating the camp more or less as I’ve described above. Let’s dive deeper into the brochure.
Camp of the Pines (Source: 1940 brochure)
The next two pages of the brochure are replete with intereresting information and are transcribed in full.
Accessibility
CAMP-of-the-PINES is located on Lake Champlain less than two miles from Willsboro, Essex County, New York.
The New York-Albany-Montreal highway and the Delaware & Hudson Railroad station are a mile and a half distant, while Port Kent, the western terminus of the Burlington Ferry is a short drive to the north.
The Village of Willsboro maintains good stores, a well-equipped library, a bank, several churches, telegraph office and garages, and enjoys the services of a highly trained physician.
The Camp is a kingdom apart, far enough from any road to insure perfect quiet and freedom from intrusion of every sort, but reached over an improved highway.
Points of Interest
Drives to and from widely renowned historical and beauty spots can be made in one day — Ausable chasm, Whiteface Mountain, Fort Ticonderoga, Lake Placid, Lake George, John Brown’s Grave, The Heart of the Adirondacks, and the cities of Plattsburg, Burlington, Saratoga, Montreal and other points of interest. Two bridges span Lake Champlain within easy driving distance of the Camp.
Mountains and Lake
Lake Champlain in its nine-mile width and 136 mile length offers an unusual opportunity for trips by sail and power boats.
This histories lake, far-famed for its beauty and grandeur and the glory of its mountain environment, makes the Camp site one of the most fascinating in the East.
From all points on the shore line of the Camp estate more than thirty miles of magnificent views, together with broad, entrancing lake vistas up to twenty males in extent, greet the eye.
With tho stately and picturesque Adirondacks stretching off to the West, the majestic Green Mountains silhouetted against the Eastern sky and the great blue Lake Champlain nestled in between, the location of CAMP-of-the-PINES is ideal for nature-lovers and those seeking new and broader outlooks.
Sunrise and sunset may be from the Camp and the moonlight, casting a silvery path over the broad expanse of clear water backed by the majestic mountains, is romance itself.
A quiet bay on which the Camp property is located affords the safety of a small lake, with none of its disadvantages.
The large tract of land with its gradual rise from the beach, enjoys isolation from other properties and has a long shore line presenting extensive lake and mountain view. One-half of the tract covered by majestic pine woods and the other by open fields where one may absorb health-giving sunshine in abundance.
There is no low or marsh land and fog is practically unknown. This locality is renowned for the absence of mosquitoes, black flies and other mountain pests. Dry mountain air, clear skies, cool nights and comfortable days are the rule.
The Camp is aptly named — tall, stately pines spread their branches above the buildings and tents which are scattered along the shore and up the easy hill side — fragrant pine needles of other years softy carpet the walks and woods.
The Club Plan
It is the aim of the Camp management to limit its clientele to guests of refinement and common interests and so maintain a happy, genial and inspiring camp atmosphere. To contribute to the maintenance of this ideal, guests will be limited to members of the CAMP-of-the-PINES VACATION CLUB.
Membership in the Club may be secured upon written application. Blanks for application will be sent upon request. The payment of a nominal fee of one dollar for each adult admits the applicant to full membership for one year. This amount will be returned to anyone whose application is not accepted and to any not making use of the Camp facilities, if desired. The Club dues will be used in their entirety, and under direction of a committee, to provide vacations for for worthy persons who, otherwise, could not enjoy the benefits of rest and change.
The Meals
Choice vegetables grown on the Camp Farm are gathered daily, just prior to their use, thereby retaining that sweetness and freshness which make them so appetizing. Milk and fresh eggs from the same source are served. Guests will find tables supplied with an abundance of wholesome, seasonable, well-prepared home cooked food. Ample portions and repeated servings are the pride of the Camp.
Camp of the Pines (Source: 1940 brochure)
Healthful Sports
Boating, bathing, swimming, motor boat rides, aquaplaning, fishing, tennis, croquet, handball and other games provide the guests with out-of-door exercise. Indoor games, dancing, singing and entertainments afford pleasant occupation and offer opportunities for wholesome social intercourse.
Safe and clean row boats may be rented by the day or week.
Camp guests have access for a modest fee to a golf course adjoining the camp property.
Camp Store
The Camp store supplies guests with pure refreshments, toilet articles, souvenirs, cards, magazines and many of the away-from-house necessities.
Fishing
In addition to the fishing in Lake Champlain, many small lakes, ponds and streams in the vicinity lure the ardent fisherman, while broad fields, shady glens and mountain wilderness attract the naturalists.
A limited number of children can be accommodated but children under fifteen are not expected unless accompanied by an adult.
Persons with a communicable disease cannot be accommodated.
No alcoholic beverages will be sold, served or permitted in the Camp.
Dogs are not allowed.
Roughing It In Comfort
Guest accommodations consist of one-room cabins with private bath (toilet, lavatory and shower); Duplex cabins with semi-private bath; Twin cottage rooms (with and without running water) or weather-proof tents with board floors, wooden wainscots and frames and electric lights.
All buildings are located among the pines at the edge of the woods, have porches and are completely screened.
The Camp property is electronically lighted throughout and has modern appointments and sanitation with both tub and showers.
There is an abundance of hot water at all times in shower rooms and bathrooms and available by pitcher service in your tent or room.
Fresh bed linen and summer blankets will be supplied. Woolen blankets may be rented at the office. Guests provide themselves with towels, washcloths, soap and heavy blankets.
Unusually Fine Beach
The broad, gently sloping sand beach, free from depressions and stones, affords bathers an opportunity to wade out in safety, a long distance from the shore. The clear blue waters of the lake make bathing and swimming a real pleasure and the clean, sand beach affords ideal conditions for sun baths.
This stretch of private sand beach is a favorite place for all ages. Beyond the bathers’ beach is a beach for swimmers where a float is provided, affording good diving.
Morn ‘til Night — It’s Fun!!
Particularly those vacationing alone will enjoy the friendly, family atmosphere and the daily program of entertainment and activities.
There is a continual tug-of-war between the beach with its suppers, swimming and aquaplaning and the Recreation Hall with its sings, games and dancing. Organized hikes and tournaments, badminton, horseshoes, croquet and tennis fill the days.
Guests who remember with pleasure motor-boat rides will have cause for even more pleasant memories of rides in the new 27-foot inboard motor boat which makes for initial appearance in the 1940 season.
What to Expect and What to Bring
From the pines themselves springs the gracious hospitality of the Camp. Like them it will not smother you with a too heady nearness — neither will it leave you lonely. Your vacation here is your OWN, to spend as you will — strenuously or restfully — in solitude or in refreshing companionship. You will live informally in informal clothing. The simplicity and ease with which living is accomplished is a boon to tired minds and bodies.
Everything about CAMP-of-the-PINES encourages out-of-door life and we suggest that guests bring comfortable walking shoes, camp clothing, both heavy and light, fishing tackle, tennis rackets, bathing suits, golf clubs and musical instruments.
Guests are encouraged to make CAMP-of-the-PINES a place of happy, helpful friendships and to arrange for parties of friends to come with them and to visit them. A cordial welcome awaits you and the assurance of days filled with rest and recreation which will send you back to the daily grind with renewed health and inspiration.
1949 Adirondack Guide Advertisement
Nine years after circulating the impressively detailed Camp-of-the-Pines brochure above, Camp-of-the-Pines featured prominently in this 1949 Adirondack Guide.
Camp-of-the-Pines advertisement from 1949 Adirondack Guide. (Source: Adirondack Guide via David Brayden)
I’m especially intrigued by mention of the “adjoining golf course” which possibly helps pinpoint the location of Camp-of-the-Pines. (Many thanks to David Brayden for providing this artifact!) Personal our broader community will be able to connect some of the dots so far?
Camp-of-the-Pines Inside Out
As of now, I still have only a very slender perspective on the interior of Camp-of-the-Pines, but the two images below offer a glimpse from within.
Camp of the Pines, View from dining room window
If that blurry, time patinated photograph doesn’t mislead me, it looks as if the dining room view overlooks the Four Brothers Islands and Burlington, Vermont beyond.
The following postcard takes us into a space referenced in the brochure above, the Recreation Hall.
Camp of the Pines, “The Hub” Recreation Hall (front)
I include the reverse side of the postcard because the small description has become familiar at this point.
Camp of the Pines, “The Hub” Recreation Hall (front)
Camp-of-the-Pines From Above
I’ll wrap up, for now, with an aerial view of the property. This perspective helps orient us along the Willsboro shoreline on Point Road, possibly suggesting a location north of the Boquet River, south of Willsboro Point, and adjoining the Willsboro Golf Course.
Camp of the Pines, Areal View (front)Camp of the Pines, Areal View (back)
In Conclusion
I have to admit that I’m still thin on conclusions (and even a little thin on conjecture). But I’m optimistic that this post *might* little-by-little elicit further insights from our readers. And I recollect acquiring a couple of additional artifacts that I can’t currently locate, so I may be able to update this post with some more objects to study and consider. I also recollect taking some photographs from a boat a few summers ago. Maybe I can locate those as well…
Update
Many thanks to newspaper “archeologist”, Paul Harwood, who discovered this snippet about Ed Grady, the owner of Camp-of-the-Pines in September 15, 1949.
Ed Grady, owner Camp-of-the-Pines (Source: Ticonderoga Sentinel, September 15, 1949, via Paul Harwood)
Chopping Wood Sends Troy Man To Hospital PLATTSBURG — A clothesline and an ax combined to send Edward Grady, 25, of Troy, to the Champlain Valley Hospital here for treatment late Monday afternoon. Grady, according to State Police, was engaged in chopping wood at his camp “Camp in the Pines” at Willsboro Paint. The ax struck a clothesline, was deflected and inflicted a gash Grady’s forehead. Eight stitches were required to close the wound. Grady returned to his camp after receiving treatment.
We returned home from a heat-indexed 102° Essex Day for a languid lunch — quiche and garden-to-table Caprese salad (with aromatic purple basil) followed by watermelon — under the shady American Linden.
Lunch under the Linden (Source: Susan Bacot-Davis)
A subtle breeze freshened just enough to wick the perspiration from our necks, and for a moment, it was perfection. Sated. Shaded. Contemplating watersports…
Suddenly mobile phones interrupted the postprandial lethargy with rain warnings. On cue, the sky darkened. The scorching heat dipped a few degrees. We hastened to clear lunch, and just in time because now… It. Is. Pouring!
Essex Day deluge (Source: Geo Davis)
Retreating indoors to wait out the shower, my mind somersaults into Essex Days past, to the witty words of my late friend and longtime Crater Club summer resident, Jeff Moredock. Almost a decade prior he re-dubbed the longtime summer street festival from which we’ve just returned, “Excess Day”. And for me it will remain such forevermore.
Excess Day
Excess in the Village of Essex
On the eve of Excess Day Husbands and wives Can be heard Bickering back and forth Trying to determine whose excess Must leave the house
Husbands cling to old rods and reels Wives insist they need their curling irons Small children hide balls and dolls They haven’t played with in years Dogs hide their worn-out chew toys
But when dawn breaks on Excess Day The sidewalks are lined with the Detritus of daily life Fishing reels curling irons balls And dolls and much much more
The crowds sweep down the street In search of bargains treasures or Just something they don’t have And don’t need or so say Husbands to wives And wives to husbands
By mid-day prices begin to drop As the crowds begin to thin Books bird houses bar stools Pottery paintings and more Fly off the sidewalks and Before long the day is ended
One family’s excess is now another Family’s excess and sure to be seen Next year on the Other side of the street
Stone Splash Blocks: one fully visible, one scarcely discernible at right (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
As always besotted by artifacts (especially those directly related to Rosslyn) and irresistibly drawn to crowdsourcing as a way to answer questions that my own research leaves wanting, today’s post represents an exciting moment celebrating the convergence of the two. On June 28, 2013 I published “Stone Gutters?” showcasing a pair of mysterious artifacts unearthed while rehabilitating Rosslyn’s carriage barn. From what we could tell they had been repurposed from their original function into stone footings supporting the substructure of the north-side horse stalls. Almost ten and a half years later I can confirm that those singularly handsome artifacts are in fact stone splash blocks.
Stone Gutters
Let’s start with a slightly tightened up recap of the 2013 episode:
A pair of exciting — and slightly mysterious — artifacts have been disinterred from Rosslyn’s carriage barn today…
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?
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?
[…]
My gut tells me that these hefty artifacts were originally part of a stone gutter system. (Source: Stone Gutters?)
I wrapped up that long-ago post with a last minute discovery of a photo and description from Parlington Hall (located in Yorkshire, England) that added a twinge of confidence to 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. (Source: Parlington Hall)
Although I was comfortable speculating that what Doug and Jacob discovered while demo’ing the carriage barn stables were in fact part of a stone gutter system, the circular bowls leading into the troughs differed from the Parlington Hall example. And the likelihood that a stone gutter system had been integrated into the construction of Rosslyn (akin to diagrammed examples from Parlington Hall) struck me as extremely unlikely given the size and weight of each individual block.
Stone Splash Blocks
A week ago Pam came across the hand carved stone in the photo above while managing the icehouse dirt work. Actually, she came across both of them. You can just spy the edge of the second one at the right of photo.
I had been storing these *treasures* outside (think lichen-friendly patina-ing) in an area where we stage building and landscaping materials, but she’d never seen them before and was pleased with the discovery. I decided to push the photo back out into the sometimes prodigiously savant interwebs to see if any new ideas might come to the fore.
Eureka! In short order Leslie Jewel Hight (@lesliejewellhight) and Al Tirella (@al.tirella) demystified this decade old enigma. What we had discovered in the spidery underbelly of the carriage barn 10+ years ago was a pair of stone splash blocks. Moreover, they confirmed not just my original hypothesis, but they did so with visual evidence. Here’s the discussion that germinated on Facebook:
Leslie Jewell Hight: It’s a splash block to channel water coming out of the roof gutter away from the building.
Al Tirella: That’s what I thought right off as well.
Leslie Jewell Hight: I’ve encountered a few old buildings that still have functional stone splash blocks. Most have modern aluminum downspouts leading to them, but I saw one that used rain chains and it appeared to me that the rain chains did a better job.
Al Tirella: Frank Lloyd Wright was a huge proponent of the chain downspout. Ingenious whoever was its inventor.
Rosslyn Redux: I believe you two are correct. Thank you. I’d love to find a photo of one of those homes using similar “splash blocks” (great name! New to me…) to serve as a model. Any pointers?
Rosslyn Redux: Hurrah! That is perfect. A Jeroboam of gratitude to you, Leslie. Thank you.
Al Tirella: Ha! As vast as the internet is, I came across the exact image and emailed it to GD a couple of days ago.
Leslie Jewell Hight: It sticks out in the sea of cheap plastic reproductions, doesn’t it? I noticed the photographer said it was at a Shaker site, so I wonder if Rosslyn Redux’s example has the same provenance?
Al Tirella: The modern pre-cast cement ones are not that bad. I have 3 of them.
Rosslyn Redux: Leslie Jewell Hight I wondered the same thing. Sooo similar!
Ah-ha! You ask, and the internet shall provide. Sometimes. Not always, of course, but what a thrilling gift when it does. I offer my most sincere thanks to Leslie and Al. And also to Andrew Raimist (@Remiss63) whose photograph of a remarkably similar stone splash block was included in his Shaker photographs taken at the Shaker Village at Pleasant Hill, Kentucky. It’s worth mentioning that all of his architecture and design photographs command attention, but it is the carved stone splash block that so perfectly confirmed Leslie’s conviction. Indeed it is a twin of our stone splash blocks.
Not Cannonball Molds?
Back in 2013 the men who unearthed the artifacts suspected that they might be a form used for casting metal objects. I asked them to hypothesize what might have been cast with the hand carved blocks.
“A canon ball,” one suggested hopefully. (Source: Stone Gutters?)
I could see where the idea came from, but the size of the potential “fill tube” seemed excessive, and the unwieldy blocks would be tremendously onerous to use. But, what do I know about casting cannonballs?
When I posted the image last week, a similar guess suggests to me that maybe these are pretty similar to what was used for manufacturing cannonballs once upon a time.
Icehouse on ice. Yes, this tidy clutch of words and ideas appeals immensely to my poetic perspective on living, but there’s more to it than that. Like so many of the posts I’m revisiting lately, the earliest iteration of this originally somewhat melancholic reflection is nearly a decade old. Like many blog drafts it became an “orphan”, put aside for a day when my time was more abundant or my melancholy was less crowding or my thoughts were better gathered or…
You get the point. As with my poems, I frequently launch into a draft with the passion and clarity of purpose propelling me. And then, something stalls. And the initial foray falters. Or, at the very least, the seed for what I envision writing is cast aside indefinitely.
Often enough I circle back, allowing the persistent relevance of the idea, the recurring urgency to undergird a certain confidence that I might be on to something. That I need to revisit the seed, germinate it, nurture it.
This is the case with my work on preservation by neglect. The idea is baked into my love for and efforts toward rehabilitating old buildings, and it’s in many respects more compelling to me than the finished accomplishments of a preservation project. Not sure I’m ready to put my finger on exactly why yet, but it’s akin to my penchant for wabi-sabi. In my perspective there is profound beauty in the imperceptibly slow entropic forces revealed in aging, even failing, man-made artifacts. Sorry, that’s a major mouthful and earful, and it’s a bit of a mind bender. That’s why I’m not yet ready to flesh this idea out. I’m still trying to sort it for myself. Hopefully soon I’ll be able to better articulate what’s percolating in my noggin.
I’m wandering afield, so I’ll lap back to my earlier intentions.
Ice House, Northeast Side (Source: Jason McNulty)
Icehouse Rehab Revisited
Icehouse on ice. Again.
Rehabilitating (and repurposing) Rosslyn’s historic icehouse is an ongoing desire. Has been since the outset. But advancing this desire to rehabilitate the icehouse has been chilling on ice almost as long.
Going all the way back, since the summer of 2006 when we purchased this property, we’ve wanted to transform this obsolete utility building into a relevant-for-the-21st-century utility building. But, alas, we’ve perennially and indefinitely postponed the project for a variety of reasons. Actually that’s not 100% true. We ensured the building’s preservation back in 2006-6 by tackling the most pressing challenges.
We stabilized the failing structure, replaced the failed roof, repaired the crumbling stone foundation and upgraded the mechanicals. But then we mothballed the project, deferring the next phase indefinitely until circumstances warranted moving forward. For several years we’ve used the ice house as a storage and maintenance annex for the carriage barn, but recently we’ve begun to address a sustainable plan for use. I hope to address this in more depth over the course of the next year. But for now, I’ll just say that we understand that simply stabilizing the building is not enough. Successful rehab demands a sustainable plan for use. And we’re working on it! (Source: Demolition Dedux )
But once the icehouse’s structural integrity was restored, we shifted further rehabilitation off the short-term priority list. It could wait. It would have to wait. Completing the house rehab (and the boathouse rehab) had proven challenging enough. Hemorrhaging time and money, our scope of work had been repeatedly curtailed, narrowing to the two most essential buildings.
Ice House, East Side (Source: Jason McNulty)
Icehouse On Ice, Hurrah!
Let’s step back a moment, before moving onto the exciting update (in the next section as well as several other recent posts) about the looong neglected icehouse rehabilitation coming to an end at last.
This handsome little outbuilding has endured for six score and more — probably about 130 years or so, but how could I resist the chance to borrow that linguistic artifact when polishing an aged subject?!?! — rugged winters and sultry summers. And looking around it’s pretty evident that most icehouses haven’t endured. They’ve largely vanished from historic view-sheds throughout the country. But this well built, classically proportioned addition to Rosslyn’s timeless property remains with us, ready for a new chapter.
Although various reasons likely underpin the icehouse’s endurance, and the attentions of previous owners are no doubt high on this list, I would suggest that one of the reasons we’re now fortunate to undertake a purposeful re-imagination of this building is that it’s been preserved for more than a century, in large part, by neglect. First and foremost it wasn’t demolished to make way for other needs (such as the clay tennis court that adjoins its west and northwest flank). And it wasn’t adapted into a chicken coop or conjoined with the carriage barn or… It served a limited functional purpose for at least two previous owners that I’m aware of (one as part of honey-making accommodations and another as a woodworking shop), but the building wasn’t irretrievably bastardized to fulfill its temporary needs. And this, as mentioned elsewhere, so forgive my repetition, is the best argument for preservation by neglect.
Ice House, Northwest Side (Source: Jason McNulty)
Icehouse On Ice No More
After sixteen years, we’re finally moving forward. And not just baby steps this time. Building on the original infrastructure improvements from 2006-7 and drawing upon a decade and a half of perspective gained from actually living on this benevolent property, we’re now ready to rejigger our original vision, tempering the lofty, grounding the capricious, and infusing new relevance into this landmark utility space.
Ice House, North Side (Source: Jason McNulty)
I will be sharing new plans as we move forward, showing here what we presented to the Town of Essex Planning Board last month. There are still some adjustments to be made following our public hearing and project approval last week. I’ll delve into those details separately as well. But in the mean time I’ll like to honor the beginning of the thaw, the un-icing of this too long postponed project. And it struck me as a poignant opportunity to showcase images that were gifted to us by Jason McNulty. The photographs taken by him on November 8, 2004 and were sent to us on July 6, 2010 following his first return visit back to Rosslyn, the house where he grew up. There is a personal appeal for me, glimpsing the property well before we owned it. And the gratitude we felt upon receiving the images a dozen years ago is rekindled now as we initiate our preliminary stage of rehabilitation.
Beekeeper Rendezvous 1924 (Source: Lake Placid News, August 29, 1924)
Almost 100 years ago Rosslyn (a.k.a. Hyde Gate Farm) hosted a beekeeper rendezvous. Or, to be more precise Professor Wilson, from Cornell’s Dept. of Agriculture, and Mr. Rae, New York State’s “chief inspector” (of apiaries?), hosted a gathering of beekeepers at Rosslyn.
Now & Then
Although any Rosslyn artifact piques my interest, this news clip served as a reminder that
I’ve intended to learn the art and science of beekeeping and honey production for quite some time,
I supported a crowdfunding campaign for Flow Hives 5-6 years ago (or even longer ago?!?!),
I received my beehive and related apparatus from Flow Hive almost as long ago, and
I’ve neglected this goal for a long time. Too long!
Ever since I began planting Rosslyn’s orchard I started daydreaming about bees pollinating our fruit trees and rendering delicious honey in the process. But, “a dream without a plan is just a wish”, right? And today we are still reliant on nature’s own supply of honeybees, butterflies, hummingbirds, etc. to ensure the fertilization of our apples, pears, stone fruit, mulberries, and persimmon. If only I could teleport back to August 29, 1924 and learn the ropes from this probably well experienced cohort. So often I feel this history distorting nostalgia for knowledge buried in Rosslyn’s long line of yesterdays. And as often I’ve recognized the unlikely chance of time travel and settled for a patchwork quilt of now-and-thens.
Beekeeper Rendezvous 1924
Contemporary contextualizing aside, there are a couple of intriguing tidbits that I can’t resist the temptation to explore before letting this sepia snippet from an ooold newspaper fall back into the kindling box.
Let’s look at the full classified notice.
FIELD DAY FOR BEE MEN A field day at Hyde Gate Farm, Essex, for Essex County beekeepers is on this afternoon. Prof. Wilson of the department of agriculture at Cornell is present as is also Mr. Rae, chief inspector for the state of New York. Luncheon served free of charge to all beekeepers and their families. (Lake Placid News, August 29, 1924, page 12)
The title alone is evocative. It conjures a cinematographic scene with gentlemen farmers and at least a couple of officious types gathering in the high grass somewhere west of Rosslyn’s carriage barn. At the time there would have been several barns — the present day carriage barn with a lean-to barn running along the southern facade, a smaller barn conjoined to the west facade, a freestanding barn southwest of the carriage barn, the present day icehouse, and a dovecote (i.e. dovehouse / pigeon house) located just east of the icehouse — so a panoramic view of the gents huddling around hives in a sun soaked meadow would have required a slightly circuitous amble to the north or south of the barns, perhaps through the gardens where the beekeepers’ families were conversing in twos and threes while sipping lemonade, eagerly awaiting the complementary luncheon… Can you see it?
You’ll note that I’ve specified men learning in earnest, listening to a presenter gesticulating toward the hives, everyone acting relaxed but secretly a little edgy about the number of been coming and going in the increasingly hot mid-day temperature. Men and not women. Not children. I’m taking a leap, but it seems to be likely, especially given the linguistic tilt of the title which invites “bee men” in particular rather than beekeepers as referenced in the first sentence of the listing. Perhaps I reach too far. It’s compelling to envision a couple of female beekeepers among the gentlemen farmers, poised and confident month the buzzing swarm.
Also intriguing is the reference to Hyde Gate Farm. I’m familiar with the years that Rosslyn was known as Hyde Gate House, but this little shift in nomenclature intrigues me.
A family named Walmsley of New Orleans, La. then became owners and later Mrs. Caleb J. Coatsworth bought the house. (about 1907 or 1908) When Mrs. Coatsworth died, her daughter, Mrs. Howard Hill, fell heir to the property.(1912) During ownership of the Hill family the place was named Hyde Gate House.
In 1937 Essex county assumed ownership, but sold to Richard R. Williams in 1941. Mr. Williams in turn, sold Hyde Gate House to Sloane E. Miller in 1942, who disposed of the property in 1945 to Mr. and Mrs. W. Sherwood, the present owners and occupants. (Source: Favored by Fortune: Sherwood Inn Flashback)
So it would seem that starting with Mrs. C.J. Coatsworth or Mrs. Howard Hill the property became known as Hyde Gate House and Hyde Gate Farm. I admit finding a certain pleasure in recognizing Rosslyn’s agricultural DNA since the property is mostly associated with its mercantile forbears and later it’s incarnation as The Sherwood Inn. I like to think of the +/-60 acres that we’ve been fortunate enough to gradually aggregate as a farm once again, Rosslyn Farms.
But I’m off on a self indulgent tangent, so I’d best return to the newspaper.
The reference to Cornell also draws my attention as it highlights the extensive history that today’s Cornell Cooperative Extension has invested in this region. And I’ll close this peripatetic post with two final editorial asides.
First, I draw your attention to the subtle enticement (free food for the whole family!) luring beekeepers away from their chores and homes. A tried and true formula that reminds me of a memory shared by a friend. During his college years a rock-and-roll band went by the peculiar name, Free Beer, and their performances emblazoned across bulletin boards across campus never failed to draw a capacity crowd.
My final aside may simply highlight a technicality, but it nevertheless brought a curious eyebrow lift when I read it. The listing suggests that the event is happening on the day that the paper was printed. In order for the notice to be of use, newspapers would need to be purchased and read first thing in the morning. Perhaps this is one of several successive notices. Or perhaps the promo team dropped the ball and waited to the last minute (ergo free lunch!). Most intriguing of all is the real time relevance of the newspaper for people living a long time prior to our 24×7 information age where messaging is virtually instantaneous and the plugged in population might occasionally dismiss prior generations as being a little disconnected, etc. Far from it. Read the paper over breakfast, change up the days plans, pack the family into your Model T, and head over to Hyde Gate Farm for a beekeeping field day and luncheon!
Beekeeper Rendezvous 1924 (Source: Lake Placid News, August 29, 1924)
In my ongoing quest to gather and showcase vintage artifacts from our fair hamlet, I often come across images and other items that stump me. The vintage stereoview in this post is one such example. We’ve shared it on the Essex on Lake Champlain community blog in the hopes of crowd-sleuthing the whereabouts. Our understanding was that this sliver of an Essex harbor was once known as Blood’s Bay. But that’s far from certain…
Here’s what we offered our neighbors by way of brainstorming invitation.
I have read that this northern Essex harbor was once-upon-a-time referred to as Blood’s Bay or some such similarly sanguine moniker. Do you know of any other names this bay has been called throughout the years? (Source: Essex on Lake Champlain)
And here’s how two of our neighbors responded.
Steve Mckenna: Whallons bay.
Mark Kupperman: Second vote for Whallon’s bay, from what used to be the town beach? Is that building part of original Barracks?
George Davis: Or perhaps a bit further north?
Steve Mckenna: Ha! That was my second [guess] (Source: Essex on Lake Champlain)
Perhaps they are right. Perhaps the image was made near where the intersection of Albee Road and Lakeshore Road. But I’m not certain. And at the risk of perpetuating a falshood (and in the hopes of soliciting more learned feedback), I’d like to reword my thoughts from the original post on our Essex community blog.
Given other historic photographs from early in the 20th century it appears that the timbers in the foreground of this stereoview were part of a “crib dock” pier near the present day Essex-Charlotte ferry dock, and the “barn” in the distance was most likely located near Sandy Point. Or possibly on the now defunct crib dock north of — and parallel to — Rosslyn’s boathouse? This is more apparent in another stereroview shot from the opposite perspective which we’ll share online soon. (Source: Essex on Lake Champlain)
What do you think? Any idea what we’re looking at?
