Rosslyn has been reinvigorated (even reinvented) many times over its two century history on Essex, New York’s Merchant Row. But beyond all others, the mother lode of artifacts and memories of this fascinating property derive from its years as the Sherwood Inn.
This morning I’d like to share with you an article that was published on the front page of the Essex County Republican on March 29, 1946.
Favored by Fortune: Sherwood Inn Flashback (Source: Essex County Republican (Keeseville, N.Y.), March 29, 1946, Page 1)
The full article is well worth a read, so I’ve transcribed it below in it’s entirety. But first I’d like to thank Scott Brayden for bringing this article to my attention. It’s no exaggeration to claim Scott as one of the MVP sleuths of Rosslyn and Essex area history. In addition to an extraordinary gift for disinterring artifacts with his metal detector, smarts, and soothing patience, Scott has also mined digital archives with remarkable luck. This article, three quarters of a century after it was published, STILL fascinates. And while there are potentially a couple of discrepancies with the broader historic record, it’s mostly spot on. And it fills in some of the gaps that still exist in my own understanding of the property that enraptured Susan and me a decade and a half ago…
Here’s the original article about the Sherwood Inn.
Favored by Fortune: Sherwood Inn Flashback (Source: Essex County Republican (Keeseville, N.Y.), March 29, 1946, Page 1)
Here’s the Sherwood Inn transcribed article about the from the March 29, 1946 Essex County Republican front page.
90-Year-Old Essex Home
Sherwood Inn Has Associations Dating Back to 1830s, Brick Mansion Erected by W. D. Ross
Sherwood Inn at Essex on Lake Champlain, built, it is believed, between 1830 and 1835, is one of the oldest and most dignified residences in that community, permanent establishment of which was begun about 1785 by Daniel Ross. The residence is known to have ante-dated the Harmon Noble house, erected in 1835, and is thought to have been erected by William D. Ross.
The property was later owned by the Harmon Noble Estate, which when divided was acquired by Sarah Elizabeth Noble Waite. Upon her death, or the following year, 1889, it was sold to Edward Richardson who was proprietor of a summer boarding house there.
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.
[pullquote]Essex is favored by fortune in having another of its oldest homes cared for so well.[/pullquote]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.
Interior of the imposing brick mansion, renamed Sherwood Inn in 1945, has undergone little change since days of early settlement at Essex. Front entrance is made into a broad hallway with fine stairway leading to second floor. On left, or southern side of the house are living room and connecting dining room. To the right of the hall, on the north, is another living room, with kitchen to the rear. The large room across the back of the house, formerly used as dining room, has recently been converted into a pine-paneled Colonial tap room, attractively furnished. A frame section of the residence containing the original kitchen with fireplace and Dutch oven, extended farther to the rear in past years but was demolished before Mr. and Mrs. Sherwood became owners.
The upstairs sleeping rooms, all generously supplied with windows and three of which are equipped with fireplaces, as are the living rooms on the first floor, are inviting in modern fittings. All front rooms overlook Lake Champlain, whrose [sic] waters wash against the shore only a few steps across the highway on which Sherwood Inn faces.
The Inn has the same pleasant setting it has had for nearly a century and there is still evidence of the fine gardens, carefully tended by various of its owners. Essex is favored by fortune in having another of its oldest homes cared for so well.
Hillcrest Station in Essex, NY (Source: Vintage Postcard)
Do you remember the Hillcrest Station in Essex, NY? Three weeks ago I shared a new-to-me vintage postcard (Instagram / Facebook) featuring an Essex service station (with Socony gas) by the name of Hillcrest Station. After winning the eBay auction for this intriguing glimpse into hyperlocal yesteryears, I combed through my collection of Essex artifacts and discovered that I have another vintage postcard depicting the same business from a different location. Needless to say, the Hillcrest Station no longer exists, so my hope in sharing the image on IG+FB was an attempt to learn a little bit more.
Little by little this former Essex business depicted in a pair of postcards is (possibly) getting demystified which is to say that a little amateur sleuthing has turned up a few leads. Let’s start with the other postcard photograph I have in my collection.
Hillcrest Station / Hillcrest Cabins in Essex, NY (Source: Vintage Postcard)
Same service station from a different angle. It’s not clear in the photograph above whether or not cabins were part of the mix, but this second image captures a sprawling enterprise including service/gas station, dining room, and travel accommodations. And the caption across the top of the card, “Hillcrest Cabins, one mile south of Essex, N.Y. on Route 22”, helps locate the property. This tidbit was corroborated by an intriguing tip from newspaper-sleuth, Paul Harwood, who found the following newspaper clipping in the April 21, 1934 issue of the Plattsburgh Daily Press.
This Essex town notices section refers to Hillcrest Station being located on Roger Hill. I’ve never hear this reference before, but perhaps other have? Of note, a front page article in the May 05, 1927 Ticonderoga Sentinel listing a juror panel for Essex County Court lists George Murphy as being from Essex and working as a “garageman”. That makes sense.
Scott Brayden also found newspaper mentions reiterating the location: “…located on Route 22, 1 mile south of Essex”. Here are two clippings from newspaper notices (1949 and 1950) to that effect. (NB: full broadsides at end of post.)
Hillcrest Station Notice 1949 (Source: Essex County Republican, April 15, 1949, p4)
Hillcrest Station Notice 1950 (Source: Essex County Republican, May 05, 1950, p8)
If we head south out of Essex on NYS Route 22, my best guess is that Hillcrest Station was located at the intersection with Middle Road. Some will recall this as the location of JJ’s Terrace (I think I’ve got the name correct). Others may also remember that Lincoln’s Hardware was across the street (location of present day Hub on the Hill). Or am I conflating things? In any event, Mary Wade also confirmed memories of Hillcrest Station. “I remember it in the Early 40’s, I believe it was still in operation then, maybe as far as after the war.” Perhaps additional recollections and photographs will emerge? I sure hope so.
Until then, I’d like to tease out the idea that Hillcrest Station was located at the intersection of NYS Route 22 and Middle Road. My hunch is based on more than the two photographs above and he news clippings. It’s based on a recent visit to the approximate location. I paused during a recent bike ride and took a few photographs that appear to offer some similarities with the historic photos above. I’m especially interested in the roofs of the main building in the foreground and the small cottage/cabin in the background (looking from Middle Road) as well as the trees. Hhhmmm…
Formerly part of Hillcrest Station? (Source: Geo Davis)
Formerly part of Hillcrest Station? (Source: Geo Davis)
Formerly part of Hillcrest Station? (Source: Geo Davis)
Hillcrest Station Update
I’ve received some intriguing feedback from Sean Kelly:
That hill used to be called rogers hill and the intersection used to be called rogers four corners – my grandparents farm was the one by the railroad tracks with the dilapidated farm stand in front – my wife and I recently bought the brick house in bouquet at the top of the next hill (Orr’s Hill), which is where my great grandparents once lived. So I’ve been doing a lot of Bouquet research over the past two years!
There are some references to that intersection in the newspaper when they started paving route 22 in 1921/22 (it was highway 8063 then) and the steam shovel that was doing the grading got stuck. I think the easiest way to answer what you’re looking for is just to pull up the last deed transfer for that plot – it also references rogers four corners, and shows the transfer from George Murphy (who I think owned Hillcrest) to Ted and Aida burns in 1947. They ran it as a bar (not sure when it closed) called Ted and Aida’s.
Ted’s Terrace! That’s right, not JJ‘s Terrace as I’ve previously noted. Thanks for jiggling my memory, Sean, and for filling in these details with all of that history!
Hillcrest Station ’49 & ’50 Public Notices
If you’re interested in the 1949 and 1950 Essex County Republican broadsides excerpted above, you can access them here:
In the snapshot above, Peter is trimming the top off one of two Greek revival columns deconstructed and salvaged back in 2006 when we rehabilitated Rosslyn’s dining room. Although our vision was to repurpose these bold design elements, to upcycle them some way, somehow, it wasn’t until undertaking the icehouse rehab (after postponing it indefinitely 14 or 15 years ago) that this capricious concept presented itself: use them in the icehouse!
Why, you might well ask, would we need two imposing columns inside the diminutive icehouse? While the question is reasonable, perhaps *need* is not the most appropriate evaluation. After all, adaptive reuse of a utility building originally constructed to fulfill a highly specific (and outdated) function obviously doesn’t *need* handsome embellishments for structural support. And yet the opportunity to re-integrate these historic Rosslyn elements into an otherwise utilitarian barn has presented a whimsical challenge that at some level echoes the unlikely marriage of work space and recreation hub we’re imagining into existence with this newest rehab project.
And soon enough, you’ll be able to witness the capricious way in which this pair of columns (and an understated entablature) not only help support the loft where I’ll be composing these daily dispatches in coming months, but also define and frame a spatial transition from the more intimate entrance and coffee bar into the loftier main room of this small building.
Offcuts from Re-tuning Columns (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Those geometric discs above are actually offcuts from Peter’s column re-tuning. while it’s easy enough for me to conjure these quirky concepts, and similarly viable for Tiho to translate my ideas into drawings, it is left to the alchemy of Peter and other finish carpenters to ultimately morph busily s and plans into reality. Thank you, Peter!
Tuning, Haikus
Re-tuning columns salvaged from a dining room, once deconstructed.
Sometimes a few fingers full of words best communicate a notion nebulous enough to wiggle free of prosaic paragraphs. And other times image, sound, motion speak sounder than words. So I conclude with two haikus, the more familiar variety above, and a quirky mashup below. Enjoy.
“Beguiled into Stewardship”, Old House Journal, June 2015 Issue (Page 1-2)
Exactly three years ago on June 3, 2015, Old House Journal published an article about Rosslyn. Time for a flashback! Regina Cole’s story and Carolyn Bates’s photographs are entitled, “Beguiled into Stewardship“, and you can find their original article here. (Note: the print edition and the online edition differ slightly.)
If you’re unfamiliar with Old House Journal, — and if you’re renovating or rehabilitating an older home — I recommend both the print magazine and the online website and resources.
This site is the ultimate resource for owners of old houses and period-style homes, gathering information from Old-House Journal, Old-House Interiors, Early Homes, and New Old House. You’ll find inspiration, how-to info and advice, stories and photos of old houses galore and sources for traditional products. Whether you’re restoring your old house or searching for period decor, you’ll find help here. (Source: Old-House Online)
An Insider’s Glimpse
It’s worth noting that the article fumbles a few points here and there, but the gist is mostly on target. And the photographs are amazing!
Like many owners of important old houses, this couple never intended to become stewards of a 2½-storey neoclassical manse that spreads over more than 6,000 square feet. The building was originally just a three-bay, side-hall dwelling, but Rosslyn was expanded between 1835 and 1840 into its symmetrical five-bay configuration. Other buildings on the grounds include several barns and a very adorable, Eastlake-style boathouse added in 1898. (Source: “Beguiled into Stewardship“)
Eek! Adorable? Though my bride and I fell head over heels in love with the Rosslyn’s boathouse (really a “dock house” more than a boathouse) long before we succumbed to the home’s beguiling pull, neither of us would likely describe the quirky lakeside structure as adorable. Too cute, me thinks, for this weathered folly. But I’ll leave that judgment up to you.
A significant rear wing had been added to Rosslyn in the 19th century for domestic services—a kitchen and pantry, etc.—and servants’ quarters. Early in the 20th century, when the house became a hostelry called The Sherwood Inn, that service wing was renovated to accommodate guest lodging, a restaurant, and a tavern. When the inn ceased operation by the early 1960s, most of the rear wing was removed.
George and Susan used its remnant to create a large new family room. For symmetry and better flow, they also added two new wings, one to house a screened porch and one to create circulation between old rooms and new. The boathouse, of course, was a later addition, but its late Victorian style is so charming, they never considered removing it. It has been restored inside and out.
[…]
The front of the house is historic, but the rear had undergone numerous additions and subtractions over the years. George and Susan updated the rear with sensitive additions and a patio surrounded by a stone wall. George rebuilt the old stone walls that surround the property. They built a new fence, basing its design on one found in a Federal pattern book. (Source: “Beguiled into Stewardship“)
Mostly accurate, except I’ll humbly concede credit to others for the handsome stone walls. I did design/redesign/adapt them and figure out how to repurpose old stone salvaged from failed walls and long buried foundations, but virtually all of the heavy lifting was done by others. And we remain extremely grateful for it!
Okay, enough revisionism… On to the article.
“Beguiled into Stewardship”, Old House Journal, June 2015 Issue (Page 3-4)
The opening spread showcases one of the handsome entrance gates designed and built by our friend, Tom Duca. And that interior shot of the front entrance door with side lites and fan lite? That challenging project was meticulously executed by Kevin Boyle.
“Beguiled into Stewardship”, Old House Journal, June 2015 Issue (Page 5-6)
The front parlor and the dining room offer pigmented nostalgia bridges.
The pea green paint in the parlor is a nod to the previous owner whose paint choice perplexed us at first, but grew on us gradually, imperceptibly during our endless renovation. My bride elected to preserve and refresh it while I was away. It was the perfect choice.
And the light blue walls in the dining room recollect the dining room in Maison Margaux, a top-to-bottom renovation I shepherded in Paris’ Faubourg St. Germain.
“Beguiled into Stewardship”, Old House Journal, June 2015 Issue (Page 7-8)
The kitchen and morning room (aka “the north porch”) are principle phases of our daily orbit. No finer way to start the day that breakfasting with songbirds!
“Beguiled into Stewardship”, Old House Journal, June 2015 Issue (Page 9-10)
Griffin, our Labrador Retriever, is the perennially proud protector of Rosslyn in general and our bedroom in particular. From his perch at the end of the bed he can monitor the deer and wild turkeys sneaking snacks from his vegetable garden and orchard. I suppose “protector” might be a mild overstatement.
Rosslyn’s Parlor (Source: Carolyn Bates, “Beguiled into Stewardship“, Old House Journal )
Yesterday marked ten weeks of old house journaling. Every. Single. Day. Two months and ten days back at the helm of this wayward, meandering, sometimes unruly experiment I call Rosslyn Redux. I emphasize the daily component of this benchmark because it’s been an important part of the goal I committed to at the end of July. Starting on August first I would resuscitate Rosslyn Redux. The why part of this equation is important, but I intend to tackle that separately. For now I’ll touch on the how and then take a blurry backward glance at my June 3, 2018 post, “Rosslyn Featured in Old House Journal“, and concurrently touch on the 2015 Old House Journal article about Rosslyn entitled,”Beguiled into Stewardship“, which inspired my post. Confused much? Me too!
Rosslyn’s Kitchen (Source: Carolyn Bates, “Beguiled into Stewardship“, Old House Journal )
So, sidestepping, for now, the question of why resuscitate Rosslyn Redux let’s focus on how to resuscitate Rosslyn Redux. First and foremost I’m looong overdue for completing and publishing a backlog of neglected drafts:
New updates of recent projects (hemlock hedge bordering north side of front lawn, rebuilding the deck, repairing the boathouse gangway and waterfront staircase, and transforming the icehouse into a studio / office / entertaining space)
Long overdue recaps of old projects (home rehab, boathouse rehab, carriage house rehab, post-flood waterfront rehab, holistic gardening and orcharding, trail building through fields and forests, protecting and restoring habitat for our wild neighbors — aka rewilding — to ensure an healthy, happy ecosystem for all, and expanding our guest capacity to include two Lake Champlain vacation rentals)
Revisiting all of these “orphaned” WIPs — come on, if I can’t toss in wonky, writerly jargon here then I might start using it IRL and freaking people out! — isn’t just because I’ve wanted to share this story forever, variously started to share this story forever, and want forever to figure out if it’s even possible to gather and trim-trim-trim all of this unruly mess into a story with an ending. Yes, an actual conclusion. Happily ever after…
Rosslyn’s Kitchen (Source: Carolyn Bates, “Beguiled into Stewardship“, Old House Journal )
This last urge is actually the most important. Sorry I buried the lede. On purpose. You see, it’s part of the why I mentioned earlier. And that, fair reader, is why I’m getting a little cagey. So for now I’ll focus on the two main how-to-resuscitate avenues I’ve outlined above.
Rosslyn’s Entry Hall (Source: Carolyn Bates, “Beguiled into Stewardship“, Old House Journal )
Old House Journal-ing
A little over seven years ago, Old House Journal published an article about Rosslyn entitled,”Beguiled into Stewardship“, written by Regina Cole with photographs taken by Carolyn Bates. You can read the full article online. Although the print edition (in the June 2015 issue) does have some differences from the article that appears online the bulk of the main text is the same.
In my 2018 response to the article I tried to gently correct the record on several points made by the author, so I’ll won’t retread those board now, but I’d like to weave in a couple of elements. The first is the photographs for this post. They are all taken directly from the Old House Journal as photographed by Carolyn Bates. At the time of the article, these photographs represented the years-long but finally complete (insofar as any property redo is ever truly, definitely complete, hence my preference for the term “rolling renovation” when talking about our projects) status of Rosslyn. At that point it would have been virtually impossible for us to conceive of any further changes. And yet, seven years later I’m tempted to add “circa 2015” to the captions beneath each image. Proof positive that entropy is forever contending for the upper hand, and our homes are for all practical purposes living, breathing entities that continue to evolve even once renovations are complete.
Rosslyn’s Dining Room Fireplace (Source: Carolyn Bates, “Beguiled into Stewardship“, Old House Journal )
So, in a subtly nostalgic way these photographs already feel a bit like time capsules.
And on a related note, the tone of the article sounds so confident, so accomplished, so finished. A wordy sigh of relief to have crossed the finish line.
“…at one point, 100 people were involved with restoring the house. The bulk of the project took three and a half years.” (Source: “Beguiled into Stewardship“)
I suspect we’ve long ago passed the threshold of one hundred generous contributors to this project. Hopefully we can still tabulate and update the figure one of these days. But that second sentence. Ha! Little did we know that we’d be rehabilitating ad infinitum! In the mean time, it’s become immensely important for me to credit everyone currently working on Rosslyn. On of the most profound discoveries over our seventeen years is that Rosslyn is first and foremost a vast ecosystem of stories, lives that have been woven together because of this property. Honoring this legacy and preserving it is an ambition I’ll unlikely succeed in achieving, but I’m trying to ensure that those people who I still can showcase, still can document recipe their rightful place in her story.
Rosslyn’s Dining Room (Source: Carolyn Bates, “Beguiled into Stewardship“, Old House Journal)
And there’s something more. Old house journaling. Sure, I’ve effectively pinched and adapted the term from the magazine, so I humbly submit this post as a derivative inspired by the original, not an imposter, not a sanctioned partner, just poetic language borrowing. For the longest time I used the term “daily munge” to describe the daybook entries I was scribbling, typing, and dictating during the busiest years (2006 through 2009) of demolition, design, rebuilding, landscaping, etc. I’ve riffed on the idea elsewhere, so I’ll crib my own words.
Daily Munge is a term I made up long enough ago that it’s no longer make-believe. It’s real.
Think of Daily Munge as a storyteller’s compost pile. Or a writer’s scrapbook. Or a voyeur’s over-the-shoulder glimpse at what’s on my mind…
Long before journals became weblogs became blogs, writers and storytellers kept fuzzy cornered, coffee stained notebooks and clutches of notes wrapped in string. Word people (my kind of word people, at least) are chronic collectors. We cling to our clutter because we are paranoid. Or maybe because we’re hoarders. We’ve learned that our best ideas may be yesterday’s mistakes. Notes become novels. Slapdash clouds of words becomes monumental poems. Not often, of course, but once is all it takes to convince us that we’d best hoard our verbal midden heaps. Just in case. My Daily Munge is my squalid midden heap. My compost pile. My scrapbook. And in some slightly esoteric way it is what made Rosslyn’s endless rehabilitation survivable, what kept me intrigued, note taking, documenting. After all, isn’t it possible that Odysseus’s almost endless homecoming might have had more to do with collecting and curating chronicles than obstacles? Possibly. (Source: Daily Munge Archives – Rosslyn Redux
I’ve explained this concept too many times to still think it’s a clever description. Nobody has a clue what I mean. And I can no longer locate the magazine article where I believe I borrowed the term “munge” as I use it. And in a recent effort to clarify, at least in the context or Rosslyn Redux, I stumbled upon “old house journaling” as a way to convert what I’m doing here. So maybe my newest push is also an effort to grow something from the munge-y old house journaling and scrapbooking and artifact hoarding and…
Rosslyn’s Morning Room (Source: Carolyn Bates, “Beguiled into Stewardship“, Old House Journal )
Morning Light, Front Hallway, August 20, 2022 (Source: Geo Davis)
Ah, that morning light… Long before we purchased Rosslyn, before we’d even had any realistic discussions about purchasing Rosslyn, and before I personally had wrapped my mind around the possibility of Rosslyn becoming our future home, before all of this, I began experiencing a recurring daydream.
If you imagine a daydream to be a bit like a film, the sequence started in Rosslyn’s front hallway. Actually, the sequence started upon entering the hallway, as if from the kitchen door. It’s early in the morning, dawn illuminating the interior, chasing shadows into corners. Tasha, our labrador retriever, accompanies me as I step into the hallway, carrying a cup of coffee, steam rising to my nose. I linger on the way toward the dining room, pause a second, two seconds in the buttery warmth, to witness a whole new day arriving at this exact moment.
The photograph above, taken one week ago, last Saturday at 6:23am, is for all practical purposes that opening moment in the daydream. There are some notable differences like the actual art, carpet, light fixtures, and other furnishings. But these are incidental. The mood and energy of this photograph perfectly conveys the opening moments of the daydream that I relived countless times in the extended prologue to our acquisition of this home. Although the interior of Rosslyn’s front hallway was in decidedly rougher shape during our early visits to the house (photos in an upcoming post), I imagined it looking — and even more importantly — feeling just like this.
I’ve been a “morning person” for, well, forever. I rise early. I do my best thinking early in the day. My wellspring of motivation and energy is most notably in the first few hours after I awaken. And, all things considered, morning just make me optimistic.
So it’s not particularly strange to me that one of my earliest points of connection with Rosslyn was a morning memory of an experience that had never actually taken place. Frankly, Susan and I did visit Rosslyn for almost two years before deciding to make an offer, but we never visited early in the morning prior to purchasing. So the material for this daydream was conjured out of desire and various tidbits gathered during non-morning visits. Apparently my unconscious curiosity and desire was pining for early morning, alone with my dog and a hot cup of coffee (another anomaly which I’ll touch upon elsewhere), to witness the intimate arrival of morning in the home’s entrance hallway (and dining room, another return-to-later detail).
When Susan and I decided on paint colors, I pushed for yellow. She wasn’t particularly keen. I no longer recollect what color she desired, but my yen for yellow was quite simply a yielding to this daydream. My imagination had confected a morning vibe that needed to be experienced in reality. Not a particularly compelling argument when horse trading with Susan over design decisions, but I ultimately prevailed. Trim we agreed on early throughout the house. Beach hardwood flooring, the period chandelier and wall mounted lighting, the rug, the art,… all of these were joint decisions. But the yellow walls remain a point of disagreement even now. In fact, we’re considering a change, and given her willingness to accommodate me for the better part of a decade and a half with faint yellow walls in both halls, I’m inclined to yield at last. (Psssttt… But I haven’t admitted it to her yet, so please don’t through me under the bus!)
The Farm in Cossayuna, New York, circa 1975 (Painting: Louise Coldwell)
Although long overdue, toooooo long long overdue, today I’d like to introduce The Farm in Cossayuna. Or reintroduce it, for those of you who’ve been with me for a while. I refer to it often, and yet I don’t usually contextualize my reference in any sort of useful manner. It’s as if I unconsciously assume everyone knows what I’m referring to when I weave The Farm in Cossayuna (aka “The Farm“) into a conversation, a blog post, a social media update. Why? Not sure. Maybe the omnipresence of The Farm as a defining point of reference in my own life?
This upstate New York farm property figures prominently in the childhood memories underpinning my Rosslyn obsession. It was also my first experience of preservation by neglect. And judging from my most recent visit a decade ago, it looks likely that this once-again-woebegone holding may be depending upon the mercy of preservation by neglect once again. But I’ll flesh that out in a moment. First let’s fill in the backstory a little bit.
One of the first (if not the first) mentions of The Farm on Rosslyn Redux was back in May 31, 2011 when this blog was still young.
My parents, living and working in New York City, had purchased an 1840s farmhouse on 85 acres near Greenwich, New York five months after getting married. I was born less than two years later.
Although The Farm served primarily as a weekend getaway for the next five years, it dominates the geography of my earliest childhood. A stream of nostalgia gilded memories flow from this pastoral source: exploring the time-worn barns, absent livestock except for those conjured up by my energetic imagination and the swallows which darted in and out, building nests in the rafters, gliding like darts through dusty sunbeams; vegetable gardening with my mother; tending apple, pear and quince trees with my father; eating fresh rhubarb, strawberries and blackberries; discovering deer and raccoons and snakes and even a snapping turtle. (Source: The Farm)
And a few months later on September 29, 2011 I returned to the same theme.
My idealized notion of a country house had its roots in a small farm that my parents had bought in Washington County while still living in New York City in the 1970s. Initially a getaway for my recently married parents trying to balance life and careers in New York City and later, albeit briefly, a full time residence, The Farm underpins my love for countryside and provides my earliest childhood memories.(Source: Abandoning City Life)
Sadly, I don’t know when this farmhouse was originally built but it was ours four about seven years. My mother confirmed this afternoon that they sold The Farm in 1977. And yet forty five years later I’m still dusting off memories and drawing upon The Farm’s wellspring of influence for my homing projects.
Preservation by Neglect: The Farm
If we contemplate The Farm in Cossayuna through the lens of preservation by neglect, there are at least two timeframes to focus on: the period prior to 1970 when my parents purchased the property, and the period after 1977 when my parents sold the property. Both are interesting, and I’d like to touch briefly on both.
But first let’s refresh the idea of preservation by neglect. 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 leads to eventual preservation.
The painting of The Farm in Cossayuna at the top of this post was made and gifted by Louise Coldwell, a next door neighbor and family friend. In my memory, that is the home I remember. Perhaps from the years of looking upon the painting, and perhaps because the romance of a house, a person, a view seems to win out when rendered in a painting versus a photograph.
But when my parents purchased the property it probably looked a bit more like this black and white photograph (if you can use your imagination to pull three years of renovation away from the image.)
The Farm in Cossayuna, New York, circa 1973 (Photo: Gordon Davis)
I believe that the photograph was taken in 1973 by my father. The miniature portico over the front door has been removed (and replaced with an eagle) by the time the painting was made. But otherwise things look pretty similar. The near chimney looks like it could use a repointing (my memory takes me to a chimney fire in this small stone stack) and the roof’s ridge beam shows some sagging, especially on the right side. But all told, the house looks pretty good. My memory fails me in providing a proper assessment of the home’s condition when my parents purchased it, so I’ll see if I can tease it out of them. What I do recollect is the condition of the barns. They were in rough shape even then, though I’ll save those memories (and a few photographs from my 2012 return to the property) for another post focusing specifically on the barns. Spoiler alert: one of the large barns had to be torn down when I was still a baby…
But let’s fast forward almost three decades and take a look at the house, albeit from a different angle, when I returned with my parents and an old neighbor in 2012.
The Farm in Cossayuna, New York, Autumn 2010 (Photo: Geo Davis)
Following a community cider day at the one time home of Louise and Dwight Coldwell, we were fortunate to be offered a ride and an introduction to the new owner of our old house. Wilbur McIntyre, a dairy farmer who lived a couple of doors away, took us down the long wooded driveway to see the home and barns. We met the adult son of the owners and were invited to look around. Ostensibly undergoing some maintenance, the main door to the exterior had been removed and a blanket hung in its place. Chickens pecked around on the floor inside what had been our dining room once upon a time. We abbreviated our inside visit and returned to the yard noting some changes like a small pond that had been dug at the far end of the home. The barns, to my satisfaction, were still standing and in remarkably fine fettle for utility buildings clearly neglected for many decades. There’s something about a well built barn, even as nature punishes it relentlessly day after day, year after year.
In some respect the outside of the house looks virtually unchanged. The sag in the roof is still visible, and there’s an even more pronounced sag in the single story addition at the far end of the house (the location of our kitchen in the 1970s). Inside the house appeared to be in a state of advanced disrepair, but for all I know we might have caught a thorough rehabilitation effort in the early phase. Perhaps today the interior is bright, sturdy, inviting, and the chickens are back outside in the yard.
The Farm in Cossayuna
I’ve talked elsewhere about the curious pull this house exudes upon me, but for now the matter at hand is how this property — neglected before and after my parents’ short stewardship — has endured so admirably, so unmuddled by “makeovers” and ill conceived additions. The existing addition I’ve already noted predates my parents’s purchase, and it is perhaps an architecturally unfortunate departure from the simple colonial bones of the house, and the windows were clearly replaced at some point, perhaps also prior to the period my mother and father loved this little home in the woods. In short, this property appears to have endured more neglect across the decades than preservation, and yet it endures. It affords a gentle optimism that even the inhospitable winters and the relatively moist year-round conditions are nevertheless allowing for this one-time farm to exist another year, another decade, perhaps another century.
During this last visit to The Farm in Cossayuna Susan and I had already undertaken the brunt of Rosslyn’s ambitious 4+ yearlong rehabilitation. Work on the grounds was ongoing, and the 2011 floods had devastated the boathouse and waterfront, so we were once again working against the odds. In addition to salvaging the boathouse after about three months under water, we need to rebuild stone wall terracing, replant gardens, lawns, and trees. Rehab ad infinitum!
Rosslyn, no longer being preserved by neglect, was now being historically rehabilitated with intention and determination. And to this day, our commitment has not wavered. The current boathouse gangway repairs and the icehouse rehabilitation project are only the two most current efforts to ensure that our stewardship of this historic property allows it to be enjoyed for generations to come. And yet we are well aware that our good fortune, the longevity and endurance of this stately property, is due in no small part to preservation by neglect, much as…
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.
Columns in previous owner’s workshop, present day dining room (Photo: Geo Davis)
It’s time for another architectural salvage update, this time focusing on the Greek Revival columns that we salvaged from Rosslyn’s future dining room back in 2006 in the early days or our renovation project. Let’s dive right in with that photograph above, but first a quick semantic note. For the sake of this post (and others) let’s assume that “adaptive reuse” and “repurposing” are sufficiently equivalent to be used interchangeably. There are those who restrict use of the former for buildings and use the latter for both buildings and materials, design elements, etc. I use the two interchangeably, not limiting “adaptive reuse” to buildings.
Some of you may recognize the photograph at the top of this post as the workshop of Rosslyn’s previous owner, George McNulty. Others of you know this same space — originally a pair of parlors and later dining rooms when the property was operated as the Sherwood Inn — as Susan and my principal dining room. (To avoid confusion, the qualifier is intended to distinguish the space from our front parlor which we use as a smaller dining room and the morning room or north porch which we use as our informal dining room.)
Deconstruction & Salvage
Although similar to the photograph above, this next set of visual benchmarks were made about half a year later. In the first photo the well equipped wood shop was still ready for creative carpentry and historic preservation, active pursuits of the previous owner for decades. But in the photograph below renovations are well underway and this room is virtually empty and deconstructed to the studs and brick.
Soon-to-be repurposed column during September 2006 deconstruction in Rosslyn’s future dining room (Photo: Geo Davis)
All of the trim in this room had already been meticulously documented by McNulty, but we salvaged everything that we could for reuse and to template from in order to bring this room back to its previous condition. It’s worth noting that we originally had hoped to be able to minimize repairs to this room, but it turned out to be a sifting sand trap. Each element we tackled revealed two underlying problems and so on. The floor was failing, the ceiling was failing, the fireplace was failing, the columns and beam which separated the space into two rooms was not original, and there was a window — bricked up and concealed within a closet — that was begging to be opened. Needless to say this room, our future dining room, was one of many that mushroomed in deconstruction and rehabilitation. The scope of work dilated day after day after day for weeks and then months and eventually years. But, I’m getting ahead of myself.
To refocus on the columns, lets start by taking a good look at the southern column (above) and the northern column (below) and then let’s get a little boost from the good folks at Britannica on the anatomy of a Greek column.
Soon-to-be repurposed column during September 2006 deconstruction in Rosslyn’s future dining room (Photo: Geo Davis)
The simplicity of these columns, only minimally embellished, lead me to consider them of the Doric order. And the following overview serves us well with one subtle revision. Both in their original location and in their future icehouse location, these repurposed columns will rest on the floor. In other words, the floor serves as the stylobate.
There are many separate elements that make up a complete column and entablature. At the bottom of the column is the stylobate; this is a continuous flat pavement on which a row of columns is supported. Rising out of the stylobate is the plinth, a square or circular block that is the lowest part of the base. Atop the plinth and forming the remainder of the base are one or more circular moldings that have varying profiles; these may include a torus (a convex molding that is semicircular in profile), a scotia (with a concave profile), and one or more fillets, or narrow bands.
The shaft, which rests upon the base, is a long, narrow, vertical cylinder that in some orders is articulated with fluting (vertical grooves). The shaft may also taper inward slightly so that it is wider at the bottom than at the top.
Atop the shaft is the capital, which serves to concentrate the weight of the entablature on the shaft and also acts as an aesthetic transition between those two elements. In its simplest form (the Doric), the capital consists (in ascending order) of three parts; the necking, which is a continuation of the shaft but which is set off from it visually by one or more narrow grooves; the echinus, a circular block that bulges outward at its uppermost portion in order to better support the abacus; and the abacus itself, a square block that directly supports the entablature above and transmits its weight to the rest of the column below. (Source: Britannica)
You’ll be quizzed on this later. Maybe. Or not.
Repurposed Columns
Now armed with some targeted vocabulary we can fast forward to about a week ago when Pam, Hroth, and Tony extracted the columns from the hay loft of the carriage barn where they’ve been stored for about sixteen years. I won’t pretend they’re tidy, but they’re intact, well preserved and ready for repurposing as a whimsical-but-structural design element supporting the new icehouse loft.
Hroth surveying soon-to-be repurposed columns from carriage barn hayloft to icehouse (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
In the photo above we’re looking over Hroth’s shoulder at the soon-to-be repurposed columns. Yes. Big. Eight feet from the bottom of the plinth to the top of the capital. Hroth’s a tall fellow, but these stately columns tower above him. I’m bringing this up to allow for critics to suggest that these columns just *might* be out of scale with the diminutive icehouse. It’s a reasonable suggestion. But we’re not undertaking an historic preservation. Instead we’re rehabilitating a utility space, a once-upon-a-time storage barn for ice, into a contemporary mixed-use office, studio, lifestyle space. Relevance is driving the program and adaptive reuse with a whimsical nod to the past is guiding the design choices. There are some incongruities baked into the vision for sure, but we’re gambling that they’ll prove charming rather than unsettling. Fingers crossed!
Hroth transporting repurposed columns from carriage barn hayloft to icehouse. (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
After a decade and a half of dusty hibernation in the carriage barn’s hayloft, these artifacts of once again seeing the light of day. Tony (upstairs, inside) and Hroth (outside) tenderly liberated the columns from the veritable warehouse of architectural salvage — windows, doors, moldings, trims, shutters, fireplace surrounds, mantlepieces, and various miscellanea — to begin rehabilitating them.
Hroth and Tony transporting repurposed columns from carriage barn hayloft to icehouse. (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
It’s worth noting that I played with the perspective on the photo above in order to best view the column emerging from the carriage barn. Hoth’s face and figure suffered slightly Silly Putty disfigurement in the process. Please forgive me, Hroth!
Capital from column that will be reused in the icehouse rehab (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
The capitals are not connected to the columns, perhaps because installation is more convenient. Or perhaps as a casualty of our 2006 deconstruction (or sixteen years of getting bumped into while in storage?) But the elements are intact and ready for cleanup and reassembly. I’ll update the repurposed column progress as they move forward on their journey toward installation.
Capital from column that will be reused in the icehouse rehab (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Although it’s still a little premature to photograph the columns inside the icehouse, and since we have some long overdue cleaning and refinishing to undertake before these towering twins are ready to preside over their new environment, it’s helpful to imagine where we’re headed. To that end I’ll conclude with the most recent interior elevations that include the columns. There are inevitably tweaks that will emerge in the weeks and even months ahead and we massage the icehouse rehab into shape, but these drawings might sate your curiosity for a while.
Icehouse interior elevations including repurposed columns, as of November 11, 2022 (Credit: Tiho Dimitrov)
In closing, thank you Hroth and Tony for recovering the repurposed columns with such care. Thank you, Pam, for months of dimension documentation and photographs to ensure that Tiho was able to integrate these into the plan. Thank you, Tiho, for your perennial willingness to accommodate our sometimes challenging guidance and requests. And thank you, Rosslyn, for providing and supporting and nurturing our vision(s). Your gifts are without end.
I enjoy smoked turkey. Thinly sliced. Between bread. Or inside a wrap with Swiss cheese and lettuce and mayonnaise. Maybe even some slices of pickle. Yes, slices of pickle and salt and pepper.
But a smoky fireplace on Turkey day?
Half an hour before my in-laws arrived to celebrate Thanksgiving dinner at Rosslyn I began to prepare the dining room fireplace. Logs, kindling, newspaper. The usual. But before lighting the fire I undertook an unusual step: warming the flue.
“Wait,” I can hear you say. “Isn’t the fire supposed to do that?”
Yes. And no.
While I’ve blathered on often enough about the quirky fireplace situation at Rosslyn, I’ve neglected to explain the importance of the dining room fireplace. Despite having six chimneys and nine fireplaces, there’s only one “usable” wood burning fireplace in the entire house. And it required to small parade of miracles to ensure that we would be able to restore and use this one fireplace to actually burn logs.
Long story short: the majority of Rosslyn’s chimney flues were either built for coal burning (and are too narrow) or are too old and deteriorated for burning wood fires. We discovered this after we’d fallen in love with Rosslyn and her nine fireplaces. We bought the stately-but-sagging home anyway, and before long many of the fireplaces had been converted to gas. Efficient. Easy. Pleasant.
But I love fireplaces, real fireplaces, with logs and crackles and the faint fragrance of smoke and oak or maple smoldering away. And so we managed to find a mason who assured us that he could rebuild the dining room fireplace.
The flue was lined and the firebox was rebuilt. In fact, almost the entire fireplace was rebuilt as was the surround and hearth and mantle. Beautiful. Elegant. But problematic.
The chimney is tall. Almost four stories tall. And it is built into the exterior brick wall. This makes is cold during the winter which in turn prevents it from drawing smoke up from the hearth until the air column withing the flue is warm. Unfortunately, starting a fire and waiting for the chimney to warm up enough to draw out the smoke is hazardous to my marriage.
“You’re not going to start a fire in there,” my wife asked/announced as I began setting it up between turkey basting and gravy stirring.
“Yes, my dear,” I announced with feigned authority. “I am.”
“Are you crazy? You’ll smoke up the entire house just as everyone is arriving for Thanksgiving!”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure I can warm it up enough to draft before starting the fire…”
She was not convinced. But I insisted. A year or so ago I actually managed to warm the flue enough by burning a rolled up newspaper held high up into the throat of the firebox. The paper burned and the smoke slowly began to rise. I continued to light new rolls of paper like a chain smoker on steroids, holding them high up into the chilly chimney until the fire burned clear and fast. I could see the flames and smoke being pulled up the chimney. Then I lit the previously laid fire. Victory. We enjoyed a beautiful fire throughout dinner with a dining room full of guests. No smoky fireplace.
That was the one and only time we’ve successfully had a fire in the dining room. The only other time we tried was just before family and friends arrived for Christmas dinner almost two years ago. Catastrophe! The flue seemed to be drawing, but as soon as the fire was started the smoke ceased to rise and the dining room filled with smoke. Thick, heavy smoke. We had to smother the fire to put it out releasing even more sooty smoke… Weeks later we were still trying to clean the sooty stains and smells from the dining room.
This year would be different. I had succeeded once, and now I understood the formula.
Unfortunately, the formula was insufficient remedy for the cold flue and heavy smoke. The dining room filled with smoke and my bride chastised me as I ran out the front door with the burning roll of newspapers like an Olympian preparing to the light the torch.
Fire out, we proceeded to throw open any windows not yet sealed with winter storm windows. And then the doorbell rang. Our guests had arrived…
Roll several sheets of paper lengthwise and twist one end closed. This keeps the smoke from traveling through the newspaper tube and into your face. Light the other end of the torch and hold it inside the fireplace. Move it slowly around the walls and let the flame touch the damper grate. When the flue is properly warmed, the smoke from the torch will travel straight up the chimney. (eHow.com)
Sounds good. And, in some cases, it works wonderfully. Though Rosslyn’s dining room fireplace apparently poses some challenges to this tried and true method for warming a cold flue. Perhaps a “gas supplement” is the trick to start our finicky fireplace:
Prime the flue. If your chimney is built on the outside of your house, the chimney flue is probably cold. When you open the damper, the cold air in the flue will sink and come into your warm house. If you try to light a fire during this air sink, you’re going to end up with smoke coming into the house instead of up the chimney. To counteract the air sink, you need to prime the flue by warming it up. This is done by lighting a roll of newspaper and holding it up the damper opening for a few minutes. When you feel the draft reverse, you know the flue is primed, and you’re ready to start your fire. If you have a fireplace that has a gas pipe to supplement your wood burning, turn on the gas and light the pilot light without any wood in the fireplace. Your flue will warm up in a matter of minutes. (The Art of Manliness)
Sound logical enough. But one success and two failures represents daunting odds, especially when my bride’s patience has already been exhausted. And I hesitate to add gas to an already worrisome fire hazard. Call me a coward.
But all hope is not lost. It has been suggested that running a heater in the firebox for a period before starting the fire would warm the flue. Or installation of a flue-top exhaust fan which would such smoke up the chimney until the fire could manage on its own.
Both sound slightly dubious, so I’m casting about for alternatives. Any ideas? I need to fix this smoky fireplace once and for all…
The Farm in Cossayuna, New York, circa 1975 (Painting: Louise Coldwell)
The Farm in Cossayuna, New York, circa 1973 (Photo: Gordon Davis)
