Kestrel is a 62 ft. long, steam-powered yacht, constructed entirely of mahogany. She was designed by D. Crawford and built by George Lawley at his South Boston shipyard in 1892 for an owner that is presently unknown. The first available written records indicate that she was sold on June 14, 1899 to Samuel Keyser of Baltimore, Maryland who owned a vacation property just north of the village of Essex, New York. From the 1890’s through the 1930’s Kestrel was operated on Lake Champlain, and for most of that time she was kept at Rosslyn’s boathouse. It is said that her elegant lines became as iconic in Essex as the Merchant Row boathouse where she was berthed. Today Kestrel is on exhibition at Boldt Castle in the Thousand Islands.
Rosslyn (aka the W.D. Ross Mansion, Hyde Gate, and Sherwood Inn) in Essex, NY.
Rosslyn, the second oldest home on Essex, New York’s Merchant Row, is located just south of The Dower House. This historic home (also known as the W.D. Ross Mansion, Hyde Gate, and The Sherwood Inn) was built by William D. Ross for his bride Mary Ann Gould (c. 1826-8) (“Essex: An Architectural Guide.” 30).
Primarily Georgian in style, Rosslyn also exhibits elements of Federal and Greek Revival architecture. The central entryway of the five-bay facade is flanked by sidelight windows placed symmetrically on both sides of the doorway and an elegant fanlight above the doorway.
“The structure is noteworthy for its exceptional Doric cornice following a design from a pattern book by Boston architect Asher Benjamin, The American Builder’s Companion (1826).” (“Essex: An Architectural Guide.” 30)
Rosslyn faces Lake Champlain and Vermont’s Green Mountains beyond. Expansive lawns, locally quarried stone walls, an early 19th century inspired fence, and the alignment (and spacing) of Rosslyn’s outbuildings contribute to the classical proportions of this stately property. Rosslyn’s whimsical boathouse, still visible wharves, and a painstakingly restored waterfront recollect the Ross family’s shipping merchant heritage and The Sherwood Inn’s decades as a popular vacation destination.
Renovating Rosslyn
Like many of the homes in Historic Essex, NY, Rosslyn has experienced many cycles of renovation, neglect, alteration and restoration. As the second oldest home on Merchant Row (and one of the oldest residences in Essex village) it is difficult to ascertain the property’s precise historic lineage. While construction of the original brick and stone structure most likely began in 1820, there are indications that it either replaced (or augmented) and already constructed wood frame house…
A significant rear wing was added to Rosslyn in the early 19th century for domestic services (kitchen, pantry, etc.) and servants quarters. It was once common for wealthy families to hire and house live-in servants (cleaning staff, cooks, gardeners, nannies, etc.), however shifting social norms and economics diminished the practice in the United States making servant quarters increasingly rare.
Early in the 20th century Rosslyn was converted into The Sherwood Inn, and the service wing was renovated to accommodate guest lodging, restaurant and tavern. When the Sherwood Inn ceased operation in the late 1950s or early 1960s the rear wing was mostly removed and the remaining addition was adapted to residential use.
“It’s worth noting that the house was constructed out of brick (with stone foundations) and not wood. But this detail — like the soft math when recollecting the number and function of servants — matters little and reveals the patina-ing power of time’s passage. The other notable difference between Hyde Gate as Lesh describes it and Rosslyn as she stands today is that the veranda has been removed, revealing an older — and most likely original — stone stairway and entrance. The owner from whom we purchased the property undertook this alteration in a nod to historic authenticity. He too felt obliged to leave his imprint on the front facade of the house and erected a Greek Revival columned entrance roof which incorporates subtle Georgian detailing…” (Rosslyn Redux)
The Rosslyn property once consisted of many outbuildings including an ice house, a carriage house, several barns, a granary, and a privy (Images of America: Essex on Lake Champlain. 119). The ice house was the best way to store and preserve food in the past before electricity and refrigeration. The house’s location next to the lake would have been advantageous because in the winter ice could be cut from the frozen lake and brought to the ice house to store for summer.
A note discovered at Rosslyn identifies June 13, 1908 as the date that the home was first hooked up to electricity by Guy H. Mason (Images of America: Essex on Lake Champlain. 87). With the increasing ease of indoor plumbing, electricity, and other conveniences many of Rosslyn’s outbuildings became obsolete and were eventually removed. Today the ice house, carriage house and a boathouse (dock house) which was likely constructed in the late 1800s remain and have been renovated.
Rosslyn Boathouse
Kestrel docked at Rosslyn boathouse
Built on a pier jutting into Lake Champlain in Essex, NY, stands a charming dock house constructed in 1898 (“Essex: An Architectural Guide.” 30). Rosslyn boathouse is modeled on a late 19th century Eastlake Design, considered part of the Queen Anne style of Victorian architecture (Images of America: Essex on Lake Champlain. 118).
Popular boat races and regattas took place on the Essex waterfront drawing competitors and spectators to the Rosslyn boathouse and shoreline from near and far. While boating regattas have dwindled in the last half century, Rosslyn boathouse remains a spectacular spot for viewing the Essex fireworks on the Fourth of July.
Kestrel
Although Rosslyn boathouse is part of the original W.D. Ross family property, it was not constructed by or for the Ross family. The turn-of-the century building was most likely designed and built for the Keyser family to accommodate their 62 ft. long, steam-powered yacht, Kestrel. Constructed entirely of mahogany, the yacht plied Lake Champlain’s water the 1890’s through the 1930’s, becoming as much an iconic vessel in Essex history as the boathouse has become in the century since it first adorned Merchant Row.
Although the Keysers may have initially kept their yacht on their own waterfront north of Essex, their dock and/or boathouse was rendered unusable by ice or flood damage. Kestrel required local dockage for convenient access and an ample supply of coal to power the steam engine, so the Keyser family purchased a small piece of land on the lake from the Ross family and proceeded to build a dock, boathouse, and coal storage bin for the yacht. The Keyser boathouse has persevered through many floods and ice flows, and today it is once again part of the Rosslyn property. (The Kestrel: An Essex Icon by Morris F. Glen)
Reawakening a home, a dream and ourselves
Rosslyn Redux is a vicarious plunge into the idiosyncrasies (and absurdities) of renovating a circa 1822 historic home and boathouse in Essex, NY. The memoir by flâneur and storyteller, virtualDavis, is available at abdul2.rosslynredux.com.
Katie Shepard posted this vintage photograph of the steam yacht Kestrel on the Essex blog recently to see if anyone could identify the vessel, the boathouse, the men on the pier, the approximate year, etc.
Greater Adirondack Ghost and Tour Company: Wow, what a great photo. That’s the steam yacht Kestrel, owned by Samuel Keyser. The Keyser family used the Kestrel while summering in Essex and she was a regular sight on the Lake from the 1890s until the late 1930s. This beautiful 19th Century yacht still exists today and I’ve actually had the pleasure of seeing her first hand, she’s a magnificent vessel…
George Davis: You ghosty folks sure are good. Well done. And extra credit since you’ve seen the Kestrel in person, up in the 1,000 Islands, I imagine. Right?
Greater Adirondack Ghost and Tour Company: Thanks! We were visiting Alex Bay this past summer and went out to see Boldt Castle. Admission also covers the Boldt’s boat house over on Wellesley Island which we had never visited before. Sitting in one of the slips inside the boathouse was the Kestrel in all her glory. It took a minute of head scratching and “hmmm…where have I seen this boat before” until it finally clicked. It was a bit of a jaw dropping moment. I had no idea the yacht even still existed, but she’s an amazing survivor.
Kestrel at Boldt Castle Yacht House
While I knew that the Kestrel still existed and was afloat in the Thousand Islands, I was surprised that others were aware of the local connection and even more tickled by the fact the Plattsburgh “ghost folks” had spotted (and identified) the handsome old steam yacht. The following information is published on Boldt Castle’s yacht house web page. It helps illuminate the Kestrel’s lengthy history.
The Kestral was designed by D. Crawford and built by George Lawley at his South Boston shipyard in 1892. Her first owner is not presently known, but the first available written records indicate that she was sold on June 14, 1899 to Samuel Keyser of Baltimore, Maryland. After a succession of owners who lavished money and care on her, she was sold to James A. Trowbridge of Norton, Connecticut on February 19, 1937. Mr. Trowbridge enjoyed her for nearly 33 years and her ship’s log shows many short trips up and down Long Island Sound with a favorite stop at Northport, Long Island.
Records show an overhaul and some replacements in 1957. Her original boiler was replaced first in 1926 and again in 1967. In 1972, she was sold to Robert P. Scripps of New York, and appeared in the New York Harbor for the 1976 Parade of Tall Ships. She was then sold to the American Maritime Academy on Staten Island. The American Maritime Academy used for a few years and then abandoned her. In 1988 she was acquired at auction by Mr. John H. Luhrs of Ponte Verde, Florida.
After purchasing the Kestrel in 1988, the owner chose to have the steam engine completely repaired by the renowned Conrad Milster at his boiler room at the Pratt Institute in Brooklyn, New York. In 1990, she was taken to Kettle Creek Yacht Services at Tom’s River for final finishing. Some of the individual items that were salvaged and could be reused were her 1967 boiler and cylinder blocks, part of the engine shaft and assorted hardware. She now has four pineapple finials atop her compound engine.
Her interior has been completely redesigned and painted white. She has sixteen “Wylie” ports with decorative wedges, ten 22-inch deck cleats, and a compound curved sliding hatch on the forward deck. Her outward appearance shows a semi-permanent canvas awning with roll-down protective panels around her fantail stern. Her new five foot stacks displays Mr. Luhr’s private signal and brass decorative dolphins adorn her railends. Her capstan is original, while her galley has all modern conveniences and the head has a very unique brass faucet with shower attachment. During a period of five years Mr. Luhrs completed her final restoration at St. Augustine Marine Center in Florida.
The steam yacht Kestrel is representative of the period and vessels owned and operated by George Boldt.
On July 30 of 2009 Mr. Luhrs generously donated the Steam Yacht Kestrel to the Thousand Islands Bridge Authority for permanent display at the Authority’s Boldt Castle Yacht House facility for the enjoyment of present and future generations. (Official Boldt Castle Website)
Our Friends at Greater Adirondack Ghost and Tour Company shared this “photo of Kestrel docked outside her palatial new home. She sleeps inside the center (largest) berth in the yacht house.”
Kestrel at Boldt’s Boathouse, Wellesey Island (Credit: Greater Adirondack Ghost and Tour Company)
Kestrel at Keyser’s Boathouse in Essex
Nowadays I refer to our boathouse – the revitalized dock house captured in the vintage photo at the top of this post – as Rosslyn boathouse, but the name is actually slightly misleading. Rosslyn, the name given to our home by the W.D. Ross family when they built it in the 1820s, would likely not have originally been used for the boathouse.
You see the boathouse wasn’t built for another three quarter’s of a century, and when it was, the waterfront had been sold off from the rest of the property. It was purchased by Samuel Keyser for construction of a boathouse / dock house to moor and service his steam yacht, Kestrel. Sound familiar. Although the Keyser estate is located north of Rosslyn by a half mile or so, the pier on their own property was ostensibly damaged during flooding or perhaps an ice flow during Lake Champlain‘s spring thaw. (Still trying to learn more about this, but scarce information available.)
The turn-of-the century building was most likely designed and built for the Keyser family to accommodate their 62 ft. long, steam-powered yacht, Kestrel. Constructed entirely of mahogany, the yacht plied Lake Champlain’s water the 1890’s through the 1930’s, becoming as much an iconic vessel in Essex history as the boathouse has become in the century since it first adorned Merchant Row. (Essex on Lake Champlain)
Thousand Islands Field Trip
In closing this already run-on post, I’d like to make myself a promise to visit the elegant old steam yacht. Soon. And in the mean time, I’ll try to contact the staff to see if they have any interest in a few vintage photographs of the Kestrel to add to the ship’s log…
This morning I revisit a familiar and particularly popular perspective of Rosslyn’s lakefront or, to be more historically accurate, the Sherwood Inn waterfront in the early/mid 20th century.
Sherwood Inn waterfront with boathouse (Source: vintage postcard)
Sherwood Inn waterfront with boats (Source: vintage postcard)
Taken together this pair of vintage postcards forms a veritable diptych of the Sherwood Inn (aka Rosslyn) lakefront, “dock house” (aka boathouse), and a veritable flotilla of classic watercraft bobbing in Blood’s Bay.
Deciphering the Sherwood Inn Waterfront
This north-looking vantage was most likely photographed from the environs of the present day ferry dock that shuttles cars and passengers back-and-forth between Essex, New York and Charlotte, Vermont. As with most images captured almost a century ago, some details are blurry, lacking clarity and precision, but inviting the viewer’s imagination to fill in the gaps.
Looking at the second postcard (titled “Yachting on Lake Champlain, Essex, NY”) I zoom into the point where my vision — and the time sepia’ed rendering — become suggestive but unreliable. I’m studying an area on the water’s surface between the two most prominent motor cruisers, a spot slightly east of the dock house pier (visible in the first postcard).
Perhaps several small dinghies or rowboats at anchor explain what I’m seeing, but I can’t resist wondering if it isn’t a vestigial section of the northernmost pier that still exists on our waterfront today. Given the field conditions and all of the historic photographs that I’ve come across, the ruins appear to predate the dockhouse and the “coal bunker” pier that extended beyond it, originally for the Kestrel enduring into the last years of the 20th century.
Absent sharp focus and definition, this water surface anomaly distracts me, kindles my curiosity. I wonder. My mind wanders. I try to imagine the challenges of helming a boat through such a busy waterfront congested with other vessels and multiple semi-submerged hazards. We still contend with this navigational challenge to this day, and we’ve sacrificed at least two bronze propellors to the underwater ruins.
Do you see what I’m identifying as remnants of a crib dock extending west-to-east between two lengthiest cruisers? Any amateur sleuths out there? Let me know what you think…
Artifacts and Auctions
As I’ve mentioned in several previous posts, I offer these photo-postcards with a bittersweet postscript.
Recently I’ve been getting outbid in auctions of historic images of our home, boathouse, and waterfront. Did I mention that it’s the same bidder who keeps besting me? And did I mention that the prices are consistently soaring above the $200 to $300 range?
Fascinating.
I have no idea who is bidding against me, but s/he is keen to win these visual time capsules. I’d love to discover why. I’d love to discover whom. Perhaps a neighbor? Or a passerby smitten with Historic Essex?
Fortunately, my collection of Rosslyn artifacts is extensive. I often bid on photographs and postcards already in my collection. But I can’t resist adding duplicates, especially when combined with compelling missives. (Fortunately the first of the two postcards is blank on the back, and the second — the capricious capture of boats afloat —include a private but uncompelling note.)
But back to the unfolding mystery. The plot thickens. An unknown bidder consistently outcompeting yours truly after a decade or more with fairly few big dollar auctions. At the very least it’s clear that demand for historic Essex images in general (and Rosslyn images in particular) continues to increase. And to date no hint of another collector… Who. Are. You?!?! If you happen to be reading these words, please reach out. I’d love to learn what draws you to this somewhat esoteric subject. And I’d like to propose sharing images. Thanks.
Sherwood Inn Landing on Lake Champlain (Source: Rosslyn Redux)
Doubling Down
The good news is that I already own one of these two postcards. The image above of the Sherwood Inn waterfront photograph (with boathouse) has been in my collection for quite a few years. If you look closely you may notice a few subtle differences with the image at the top of this post.
I published this postcard (postmarked July 24, 1959) on May 21, 2015 in a post titled, “Sherwood Inn Landing on Lake Champlain” which includes the sender’s note. Yes, sometimes it’s worth sharing.
By way of conclusion, I’m embedding the Instagram post of these postcards which elicited some interesting comments/feedback that you may enjoy reading.
Rosslyn boathouse in distance, upended 16′ dock section in foreground
“Hey!” I looked up toward Route 22 and saw C.G. Stephens climbing over the guardrail. “Need a hand?”
It was the first time since our boathouse and waterfront had been submerged that anyone had offered assistance.
“Thanks. I really appreciate it,” I answered. I wanted to run up the hill and hug him, tell him how good it felt to be asked. But I didn’t. I was waist deep in thirty eight degree lake water, propping a portable dock up on the stone terrace to keep it from floating away. “Actually, I’m pretty good now. But thanks.”
Two sections of aluminum docking had gotten twisted and battered by waves and floating logs, and this morning the larger of the two had been knocked over the lowest stone retaining wall and lay upended on the submerged beach. Because the water’s now over my head on the beach and my waders only reach up to my chest, I had to work carefully from the terrace above the beach, slowly hauling the dock back up, waves and gravity working against me.
Before recovering the docks I waded through the boathouse. We’re no longer able to shut the main door because the water has swollen the bottom half too much to fit in the doorjamb. The water’s now thirteen inches deep inside, covering the first step and part of the second step leading up to the second floor. The two louvered doors leading out to the pier on the lake side had been battered all night by the waves, and the hinges were ripping. The temporary fastener we’d used to secure the doors was gauging the waterlogged wood. I released the doors and opened them wide, holding one side back with a rope and the other side back with a large stone. Now the water is surging through the inside of the boathouse, still tugging the doors against their restraints, but hopefully the damage will be less severe with them open.
C.G. and I stood on the bank for a few minutes, talking about the water level, the flooding and the beautiful morning. He said goodbye and headed back up to his big pickup truck idling on the shoulder of the road.
“Thanks for stopping,” I said as he left.
I took a few photos and headed back up to the house to find my bride.
“I’ve just had one of those Ah-ha! moments,” I explained. I told her about C.G. stopping and offering to help. “I finally realize what’s been bugging me; nobody’s offered a hand.”
I’ve been practically morose for the last few days as Lake Champlain water levels climbed and climbed and climbed. I assumed it was just an emotional reaction to watching our dreams and hard work getting swallowed up by floodwaters. An investment under water. After all, it was the boathouse that had pulled my imagination ever since I was a boy. It was the boathouse that had seduced us and won our hearts each time we visited the house with our realtor. It was the boathouse which had provoked a disproportionate amount of anxiety during renovation, which had posed three years of permitting and engineering and construction challenges, which had drained our coffers and strained relationships with contractors. It was the boathouse that most represented the lifestyle choice which compelled us to leave Manhattan and begin a new life in Essex. It was the boathouse which starred in recent memories of swimming and waterskiing and windsurfing and kayaking with our nieces, nephews, family and friends. It is the boathouse that is celebrated by local artists in exhibition after exhibition. It is the boathouse that adorns postcards and book covers and brochures and newspaper articles over the last hundred years. It is the historic boathouse that was resuscitated by the inspiration and perspiration of so many people over the last few years. Obviously watching the water swallow it up is unnerving. And waking up in the middle of the night, hearing the wind, worrying that the waves will unleash a floating log like a battering ram against the walls or the columns or the railings…
But three words, “Need a hand?”, illuminated the lightbulb for me. Literally hundreds of friends and strangers have stopped to photograph the submerged waterfront and boathouse. Emails, Facebook messages, Twitter tweets and photographs have flooded in. Sincere condolences and flip observations have lightened the mood. Even a few aesthetic and philosophical reflections have attempted to reframe the scenario. “But until C.G. stopped, nobody’s offered assistance. Is that strange to you?”
My bride listened. She agreed. She’d noticed the same thing.
“And, CG, though I’ve known him for at least twenty years, maybe more, isn’t even a particularly close friend. He’s more of an acquaintance, not somebody I would’ve bothered with a request for help.”
Susan told me that on Friday night over pizza at Dogwood, one of her closest friends had dismissed the flooded boathouse with a cavalier, “Oh, you can always rebuild it.”
Right. We can always rebuild it.
Rosslyn boathouse with Kestrel
Only, we can’t. Rosslyn’s boathouse is historic, built most likely in the late 1800s. It is a part of the historic architectural heritage of Essex, NY. History can not be rebuilt. It can be replaced with a facsimile.
Only, in the case of Rosslyn’s boathouse, it probably could not. Having been through the complex, multi-authority permitting needed for our original rehabilitation of the boathouse, I can say that if it were dismantled beyond repair, it is very likely that we would not be granted permission to rebuild it. New structures of this sort in the Adirondack Park have been disallowed for many years, and depending on the degree of damage to the structure, rebuilding is not a foregone conclusion.
And even if it were, the time, labor and material resources alone would be prohibitive. Flood insurance has not been an option. It is a boathouse after all. And even though there is absolutely no historic precedent for Lake Champlain to flood this high, insurance does not offer the safety net that it might for our house or carriage barn.
And then there is the human capital that it took to rehabilitate this structure. Mine. My bride’s. Several engineers. Between three and four dozen contractors, carpenters, laborers, painters and landscapers. Literally thousands and thousands of hours. Sweat and patience and dreams. People working in some of the most challenging conditions — forming and pouring concrete in freezing water; steel construction in snowy, windy winter; roof shingling and copper flashing in scorching summer — to save and restore a building that has greeted Essex residents and visitors for well over a century.
In other words, we can’t “just rebuild it.” And the notion that a close friend who witnessed Rosslyn’s rehabilitation from beginning to end wouldn’t see that surprised us both.
Why the self-pitying post?
Actually, it’s not self-pitying. Or, hopefully it’s not. I realize I’ve flown pretty close to the woe-is-me frontier, but I’ve tried to stay out of the No Fly Zone. I’m not asking for pity. Frankly, I’m not asking for a hand. Not yet. I’m keeping my fingers crossed and my psychic energy focused like a laser beam on dry, windless days until Lake Champlain’s water level drops two feet.
We’re resilient. A boathouse is a luxury, a folly, a non-essential, but we’re confident and optimistic that our funny little building on a pier in Essex will endure the flood, take on a handsome weathered patina and slip soon into the realm of “Remember when…”
So, if this isn’t a self-pitying post, what’s the take-away? If you’re a corporate speak aficionado, the take-away is empathy trumps apathy. Every time. And consider offering a hand when your friends might need it, even if you think they’ll decline, even if you’re not sure how you can help. Intention needs no translation.
On that note, if you’re anywhere near Essex, NY or Westport, NY consider offering a hand to the Old Dock Restaurant, Essex Shipyard & Rudder Club, Essex Marina, Normandie Beach Resort, Westport Marina and Camp Dudley. All of them are coping with Lake Champlain flooding, and even if they decline your offer of assistance, I suspect they will be genuinely flattered that you offered.
And, to close on a less preachy note, here are some of the more unique messages that I’ve received over the last few days:
“Global warming.” ~ Charlie Davis
“People pay a lot of money to have an indoor pool… I hope it’s heated.” ~ Michelle Rummel
“I got some great photos with the ducks swimming by, though. It’s all in the name of art…” ~ Catherine Seidenberg
“So sorry about your boathouse! Those pictures were so beautiful and so sad!” ~ Elena Borstein
“Maybe you can start your own ferry service – is it time to ski to Charlotte?” ~ Bobbi Degnan
“I suppose the bright side is that you can fish inside it…” ~ Paul Rossi
“I am all for starting a nice water taxi service, the Venice of the Adirondacks…” ~ Linda Coffin
“Still a beautiful boathouse even underwater.” ~ Matilde Busana
“Let’s all move to Flagstaff!” ~ Chris Casquilho
“I always thought it would be cool to live in that boat house with the lake and all… never quite meant it so literally though…” ~ Kevin Cooper
“Sad. But maybe there’s a children’s book there?” ~ Amy Guglielmo
“George is using him mind control on the lake. Watch it recede as he uses his awesome powers.” ~ Kathryn Cramer
“Heck, Catherine and I canoed through your boathouse today… We were very careful!” ~ Tom Duca
Bathhouse on Rosslyn Waterfront (Source: Todd Goff)
Meet the former Rosslyn bathhouse. No longer extant on our waterfront, this charming building still exists nearby, having migrated south decades ago (or so we understand.) As boating and swimming (aka bathing) season yield to fall foliage and Canada geese migration, it seems a suitable moment to revisit a post I shared on the Essex community blog on June 17, 2013.
My post focused on the photograph above which features a lakeside utility building and remnants of a crib dock / pier extending out into Lake Champlain. This historic photograph was gifted to me by Essex neighbor and friend Todd Goff some years ago, and it stands as one of relatively few visual records documenting this iteration of Rosslyn’s waterfront.
It’s time to wander out on a proverbial limb. And despite a lifelong penchant for climbing trees I’m not 100% confident with this morning’s adventure. I’m hoping that you’ll help me!
When we posted this mystery photograph on the Essex community blog as part of the Vintage Essex Trivia series, we asked readers to guess the subject of the photo. We were looking for answers to questions like these:
Where was the photograph taken?
When was it taken?
What is the little building?
Does the little building still exist?
While previous Vintage Essex Trivia posts rendered plenty of history, rumor and anecdote, this photograph only resulted in two guesses from members of the community. There’s a reason for that. The scene captured by Gene Van Ornam (Geri Van Ornam’s father) in this photograph no longer exists in Essex. The wiles of time have transformed this waterfront more than once, but there are still some vital clues to guide us.
CLUES: SHERWOOD INN & ROSSLYN WATERFRONT
Despite the almost deafening sound of digital silence which greeted this most recent challenge, two oracular residents shed light on the photograph.
“This looks like a no longer existing precursor to the Sherwood Inn dock.” — Diane Lansing
“Looks like a precursor to the Rosslyn dock, based on the topography of the hillside. But that’s a total guess on my part.” — Kathryn Reinhardt (@adkkathryn)
Both Diane and Kathryn are correct. Bravo!
The stony pier (crib dock) actually predates the Sherwood Inn (though by how many years I’m uncertain), and remnants of it still exists today. The topography and pier are indeed helpful clues, but perhaps the most telling detail is the stone retaining wall which girds the bottom of the hillside.
The stone terracing has endured the wrath of icy flows and swirling floods. Or at least, most of it has endured Lake Champlain’s persistent threat. The 2011 floods which initiated this blog damaged Rosslyn’s waterfront, and reparations are ongoing. But the stone terracing and ramp are once again restored, offering a contemporary context for the historic photograph above.
The photograph below confirms the hypothesis that the building is the former Rosslyn bathhouse.
Special thanks to Diane and Kathryn for your sleuthing, Todd Goff for the superb photograph of Rosslyn bathhouse, and Shirley LaForest for the color postcard image which helps solve the mystery.
Identify established, one significant mystery remains. We’ve confirmed that the building appearing in both of the photographs above depicts the former Rosslyn bathhouse, but I can also confirm that it no longer stands lakeside on Rosslyn’s waterfront. What happened to it?
This is where I climb out onto that proverbial limb. Are you ready?
I’ve been told on several occasions by different people that the building now absent on Rosslyn’s flood-challenged hillside is none other than the charming cottage on Whallons Bay known as the Green Frog. In fact, I’ve even been told that it was transported from the Rosslyn waterfront to its present perch by dragging it over the frozen waters of Lake Champlain. Now that — hauling the Rosslyn bathhouse over the ice, perhaps with a robust team of draft horses? — is a vintage photograph I’d love to discover!
Perhaps you’ve heard the same thing? Or maybe you can offer a different explanation for what happened to the Rosslyn bathhouse?
Photo of Green Frog (Source: Todd Goff)
Photo of Green Frog (Source: Todd Goff)
At the very least it’s clear from the photographs above that the Green Frog, if it is in fact the former Rosslyn bathhouse, has been significantly remodeled over time. Hhhmmm… I’m not certain the second part of this mystery is resolved. Yet. But if/when I learn anything further, I’ll definitely update this post.
Florence Sherwood, Phil Keuhlen, and Chuck Sherwood at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
One of the great joys in owning Rosslyn these last 15 years (hard to believe it’s been a decade and a half since we purchased our Essex home from Elizabeth and George McNulty!) has been discovering the memorabilia of those who’ve come before us. So many Rosslyn memories, stories, and artifacts. Today I’d like to introduce you to the Keuhlen family who vacationed at the Sherwood Inn in August 1951.
Almost three years ago I was contacted by Phillip Keuhlen via the Rosslyn Redux page on Facebook. The impetus for his outreach was contextualizing photographs from a family vacation in Essex many decades ago. I was immeasurably grateful for the opportunity to peer into Rosslyn’s past when the property was operated as the Sherwood Inn. As happens remarkably often in this quirky existence, Phil and I uncovered a handful of additional life overlaps, the sharing of which has evolved into a penpal friendship of sorts.
I asked Phil recently to remind me how we had initially connected.
As for how we came to be in correspondence, it started with a group of photos sent to me from my Mom’s estate, and thinking I might provide some context for my children if they were ever of interest to them.
The breadcrumbs lined up thus:
Internet search on “Sherwood Inn”… much too broad… you would be surprised at the number!
From there to a link to your Rosslyn Redux website
Finally to initial contact via messenger after following link to your FB page…
Digital breadcrumbs for a fortuitous connection across an historic and geographic divide. Oh, brave new world!
Tantalizing Time Capsules
What is it about time capsules, especially serendipitous time capsules? Is it the wink of familiarity across decades, despite initial dissimilarities? Is there just something intrinsically compelling about time-hazed mirrors and patinated backstories? Something irresistibly intriguing about glimpsing earlier iterations of our realities?
I can’t answer these questions, but I suspect that there’s something universal in the fascination I experience when permitted to time travel backward into Rosslyn’s history. My earnest hunch, squinting eyes, and furrowed brow – perhaps the subtle conceits of an amateur sleuth – and my fluttering pulse are familiar and welcome as I study the black and white images shared by a man who lives on the other side of the country, a man I’ve never actually met in person, a man who has generously shared a nostalgic cache of personal artifacts that just happen to illuminate Rosslyn’s blurry past, a sneak peek into an earlier chapter of the property we’ve been revitalizing for years.
In that first photograph above Phil Keuhlen as a youngster is flanked by his proud parents. They’re kneeling in front of a porch that adorned Rosslyn’s East facade for many years. At first the brick home as we know it today isn’t recognizable to me. And then it is. A flash of familiarity. The entrance door sidelights with those delicate, curved mullions are unmistakable.
Florence Sherwood, Phil Keuhlen, and Chuck Sherwood at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
They are better visible in the photograph above as well, however the center transom light (over the door) appears to have been altered at some point.
Adding to my good fortune, Phil has filled in details that his family photographs leave out.
Here are the Sherwood Inn photos I promised… All were taken in August 1951. We lived in Bloomfield, NJ at the time. The little guy in the photos is me at 2 weeks shy of my 2nd birthday. Wish I could offer more background, but both of my folks have passed and the first of my siblings had not joined us yet, so there is no one else left to ask. My only recollection of that vacation is a vague memory of falling backwards and getting briefly stuck between a bench and a bulkhead on a ferry trip across Lake Champlain! Look closely at the one whose file title includes “Note Sign” and you will see a sign for Sherwood Inn in the background. It says there were cabins available… not sure if that is news to you. There is also one that is very blurry… that I included because it shows that there used to be an extension well beyond your boathouse. The names of Florence & Chuck Sherwood, staff member Jean and guest/daughter(?) Judy are all retrieved from my Mom’s contemporaneous inscriptions on the back of the photos.
There’s plenty to muse and chuckle over in Phil’s message, but two threads especially strike me.
Let’s start with Phil’s mother’s “contemporaneous inscriptions on the back of the photos”. The photographs are opulent time capsules in and of themselves. They instantly offer a potent visual connection across the decades, an accessible and inviting bridge between now and then. The presence of Phil, his parents, and several others in the photographs contributes to the allure. These are not mere architectural artifacts. They are intimate snapshots of love and laughter and memories-in-the-making in the very same yard, beach, buildings where we love and laugh and make memories seventy years later. There’s a relevance and resonance that functions like a time machine, embracing two disconnected slivers of time so that they overlap for a moment.
And that is just a reaction to the time tarnished images. The inscriptions that Phil refers to remind me of the messages memorialized on the back sides of vintage postcards I collect.
Although I remain somewhat conflicted whether or not it’s appropriate to share the messages from vintage and antique postcards, I tend toward a quasi-archeological justification (unless the content is obviously sensitive or inappropriate). (Source: Sherwood Inn Landing on Lake Champlain – Rosslyn Redux)
From time to time these words illuminate the image. Time capsules in and of themselves, these quickly scrawled artifacts can enrich and amplify the value of the photographs. This is certainly the case with the notes recorded by Phil’s mother.
I’m especially intrigued to see mention of Florence and Chuck Sherwood. Although I’ve been fortunate in amassing many artifacts from the days that Rosslyn served as the Sherwood Inn, I’m thin on information about this couple. And the staff member smiling in the photos below, who is she? Might she be identifiable? Is she perhaps still a member of our Essex community?
Phil Keuhlen with Jean (staff) at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
Jean, Sherwood Inn staff, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
And Phil’s young companion, Judy, will she remain a mystery? Or perhaps a dash of crowd research will help us to identify her as well.
Phil Keuhlen and Judy at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
Phil Keuhlen and Judy at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
What gratitude I feel to Phil (and to Phil’s mother) for recording and sharing these moments. And yet, I can’t help but repeat thoughts from an earlier post about a vintage photograph.
This faded photograph kindles nostalgia and wonder, revealing a glimpse into the history of Rosslyn… while dangling further mysteries to compell me deeper into the narrative of our home. Kindred sleuths are welcome! (Source: Rosslyn Boathouse, circa 1907 – Rosslyn Redux)
Phil Keuhlen at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
As for the second thread I’d like to revisit, Phil mentions the Sherwood Inn sign in the photograph above.
It says there were cabins available… not sure if that is news to you.
While the presence of cabins or cottages at the Sherwood Inn is known to us, this is a reminder that we’ve never managed to locate any record (photograph, title, etc.) that precisely captures the locations or looks of these cabins. I’d like to. I’m hoping that somebody may have snapped a photograph once upon a time.
Rosslyn Boathouse
As I’ve mentioned time and again since I began sharing this story over a decade ago, it was Rosslyn’s boathouse with which I was initially smitten. It’s my first and enduring passion when it comes to this property. So, needless to say, Phil’s mother’s photographs of the boathouse are especially captivating for me.
Keuhlen Family at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
Although salvaging and rehabilitating this architectural folly was an epic project, it’s immensely satisfying to see that there are so few differences between today’s pier, dock house, and gangway (to shore) and their earlier iteration in the photograph. Preserving this +/-125 year old Essex monument is a perennial challenge. Engineering and construction location hurdles for “a boathouse that was one ice flow away from a watery grave” were not insignificant. And then there was the ahistoric flooding. Not the 1983 flood which took place more than two decades prior to our ownership. The 2011 flood, on the other hand, visited weeks upon weeks of high water upon us immediately after we had completed the boathouse’s lengthy renovation.
The second Keuhlen family photo of Rosslyn’s boathouse was taken when the photographer turned slightly more eastward, away from the beach and toward Vermont.
There is also one that is very blurry… that I included because it shows that there used to be an extension well beyond your boathouse.
Phil’s note touches on one of the notable differences with Rosslyn’s 21st century boathouse. Although a portion of the cantilevered section at the end of the boathouse remains, the extensive pier that continued eastward through the 1990s is no longer extant. Ruins of the old stone and timber crib dock remain however, and they’re visible at low water (usually August to September or October). An ice flow approximately a decade prior to our purchase effectively erased what at one time more than doubled the pier’s extension into Lake Champlain. A studious eye can spy the original pier (and the coal bunker built atop it) in these posts: “Kestrel 1892 Steam Yacht in Essex” and “Rosslyn Boathouse, circa 1907“.
Phil Keuhlen at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
Toward a Poetics of Place
I mentioned at the opening to this post that Phil and I have discovered several uncanny life coincidences. While some (i.e. New Mexico parallels) aren’t germane in this blog post, others are. It turns out that Phil and my wife, Susan, grew up — albeit a generation apart — within walking distance from one another. And his family was similarly drawn to old home rehabilitation.
Funny how small the world can be, huh? My folks restored an old Victorian house in Glen Ridge, the little town between Montclair & Bloomfield… When they took possession, there was a (leaky) slate roof, a well in the attached shed, a coal fired boiler, an earthen floor in the basement, some remnants of lead piping and gas lighting. I learned a lot watching and helping with that rolling renovation… largely an early lesson in blowing cost and schedule. I used to joke with my parents that I would have been a genius if I hadn’t ingested all the dust from sanding and scraping lead based paint in that house as a youngster! […] My folks lived in that old home from 1954 until they moved to Colorado in 1970, and subsequent owners have been generous in allowing my family occasional walks down memory lane there. It sounds like Rosslyn has the same attraction of fond associations for many in Essex. I explored your site some more and found the link to the article in OHJ. Your restoration is simply stunning.
I want to close by telling you how much I have enjoyed your blog. I lived in Saratoga Springs in ’72-’73 and enjoyed exploring up your way every chance I got (ok… when not casting on the Battenkill or Ausable). You write evocatively about a special part of this beautiful country and the history that is integral to a sense of place and community.
I too want to close by telling Phil Keuhlen how much I have enjoyed these photographs and our communications, conversations sometimes rooted in a shared experience of the Sherwood Inn / Rosslyn and other times meandering far afield. It has brought me immense satisfaction journeying into this 1951 time capsule through the memories and artifacts of a stranger-turned-friend. And I am humbled once again with the proof that a sense of place and community is the heart and soul of Rosslyn Redux. I have approached this topic tangentially for years, wondering and wandering toward a better understanding of what defines our Rosslyn experience; what bound us so passionately to this property from our first encounter; and what after all are home, home-ness, homing?
In the early days of this blog I suspected our inside-out rehabilitation story might offer something useful — even practical — to others pursuing similar adventures. Perhaps this is still sometimes the case. But I’ve mostly migrated from prescriptive to curious. Wonder has long since eclipsed practical. Still coalescing is what I’ve come to see as a poetics of place.
With that somewhat nebulous prognostication, I close this pre-Thanksgiving post with heartfelt appreciation to Phil and his late mother. Your gift of memory and family artifacts are now woven inextricably into the Rosslyn narrative. Given the overalled youngster’s self assurance in this final photograph below, it seems almost inevitable that his grown up self would reach across the country and across the years to reconnect with a place that endures in memory. A place that endures as our home. An auspicious connection for sure! Thank you.
Father and son, Al Keuhlen (r) and Phil Keuhlen (l), at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
Rosslyn Boathouse, Circa 1907 (Source: vintage postcard with note)
It’s time travel Tuesday! Gazing through the time-hazed patina of this vintage postcard I’m unable to resist the seductive pull of bygone days. Whoosh!
I tumble backward through a sepia wormhole, settling into the first decade of the 20th century. It’s 1907 according to the postal stamp on the rear of this postcard.
Back of Rosslyn Boathouse Postcard
Eleven decades ago a man rowed a boat past Rosslyn’s boathouse, from north to south, through waves larger than ripples and smaller than white caps. It was a sunny day in mid-to-late summer, judging by the shoreline water level. A photographer, hooded beneath a dark cloth focusing hood, leans over behind his wooden tripod, adjusting pleated leather bellows, focus, framing. And just as the rower slumps slightly, pausing to catch his breath, the shutter clicks and the moment is captured.
Perhaps this is the photographer who memorialized Rosslyn boathouse more than a century ago?
Albumen print of a photographer with Conley Folding Camera circa 1900. (Source: Antique and Classic Cameras)
There’s so much to admire in this photograph-turned-postcard. Rosslyn boathouse stands plumb, level, and proud. Probably almost two decades had elapsed since her construction, but she looks like an unrumpled debutante. In fact, aside from the pier, coal bin, and gangway, Rosslyn boathouse looks almost identical today. Remarkable for a structure perched in the flood zone, ice flow zone, etc.
I’m also fond of the sailboat drifting just south of Rosslyn boathouse. Raised a sailor, one my greatest joys in recent years has been owning and sailing a 31′ sloop named Errant that spends the summer moored just slightly north of its forebear recorded in this photo.
Although the pier and the massive coal bin in front of the boathouse are no longer there, they offer a nod to Samuel Keyser‘s stately ship, the Kestrel, for many summers associated with Rosslyn boathouse.
Kestrel at Rosslyn boathouse in Essex, NY
Other intriguing details in this 1907 photo postcard of Rosslyn boathouse include the large white sign mounted on the shore north of the boathouse (what important message adorned this billboard?); the presence of a bathhouse upslope and north of the boathouse (today known as the Green Frog and located on Whallons Bay); and the slightly smudged marginalia referring to a small white skiff pulled ashore slightly south of the boathouse (what is the back story?).
This faded photograph kindles nostalgia and wonder, revealing a glimpse into the history of Rosslyn boathouse while dangling further mysteries to compell me deeper into the narrative of our home. Kindred sleuths are welcome!
