As we hurtle toward completion of the icehouse rehab, I catch myself in barn reflection. Again. Yes, I consider the icehouse a barn. And, yes, migrating my books and artifacts and works in progress from a bedroom-turned-office (aka study/studio) in our home into the almost renovated icehouse is enthusing me beyond reason. It’s also catalyzing reverie and rumination into my farm backstory. Let’s dig a little deeper?
The Farm in Cossayuna, New York (Painting: Louise Coldwell)
The painting above, made by my godmother, Louise Coldwell, has hung above my study/studio fireplace for the last 15 or so years. In this façade of the first home I remember, the two small windows at the top, right were my bedroom. Below my bedroom, the dining room. To the left of the entrance doorway, the living room. My parents bedroom was above the living room. I say, “the first time I remember”, but there were others. An apartment in Manhattan and another in Bronxville. Also, overlapping, a house in Glens Falls and another in Lake Placid. Itinerant years when my parents were still primarily living and working in New York City and then orchestrating a shift upstate. I’ll sit down with them to try and map out these years and lodgings. I muddle these memories in part to offset the fact that The Farm stands out for me. I’m not 100% certain why, but it is the first home the main impression on me, a home that still conjures poignant flashbacks.
Recently I’ve been sifting through memories and mementos of those few-but-formative years, and I’m coming to suspect that my association between barns — especially old, weathered, rural farm barns — and “home” (as well as “homing” and basically all matters related to “homeness”) is intrinsically rooted in my early childhood adventures at The Farm.
Omnipresent: OMC and The Farm (Photo: Geo Davis)
Note the painting, partially cropped, in the photograph above. For a decade and a half this is what I saw when sitting at my desk, if I turned away from Lake Champlain to look at the fireplace. And if you allow your eyes to drift down to the cluttered mantle above the fireplace, you’ll see a black-and-white photograph.
That’s me as a shaggy, bowl-cut youngster, with OMC, a family friend and neighbor when we were at The Farm. He was also my godfather and, in many respects, a surrogate grandfather. The initials stand for Old Man Coldwell, a nickname he used to sign the pottery he made (including the enormous bowl featured in this post: “Generosity of Friends: Lemons from Afar”).
Memories of The Farm and OMC overlap for me. Not always, but often. His presence and guidance, his physicality — apparent in this photograph — and his wonder-welling words. Our time together was guided by adventure. Riding an old tractor through a field to round up a cow that had gotten out. Riding an old tractor through a field to round up a cow that had gotten out. Walking to a distant meadow where he kept a rowboat and fishing rod ready on a pond bank. Squatting among strawberry bushes hunting for the largest, ripest fruit. Harvesting honey from a hive and eating it, thick and warm from a spoon. Massaging clay and squishing it through my fingers when he and my mother were potting…
At The Farm with OMC circa 1974-5
My parents’ friendship (and eventual falling out) with OMC remain intertwined with their memories of The Farm as well. I’ll inquire what if any memories they might share. Until then, I’ll loop back to the property itself.
My parents, living and working in New York City, had purchased an 1840s farmhouse on 85 acres in 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)
Bucolic. Burnished, no doubt, by time’s spirited sentimentality.
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? (Source: Preservation by Neglect: The Farm in Cossayuna)
I’ve explored elsewhere the overlap between my lifelong fascination with barns (and barn vernacular) and my early memories at The Farm. The chicken or the egg? Which came first?
Woven into the earliest tapestries of my childhood are fond associations with barns. (Source: A Barnophile of Bygone Barns)
I wander my patchwork memory map and wonder, wandering, wondering, where is the margin mocked by tides and waves, the littoral boundary of fact and fiction, fluctuating with wind and moon? What was The Farm? And what have I imagined into it?
I inevitably distort history, omitting and abbreviating and emphasizing, distilling the vast landscape of data into vignettes. These accrete gradually, revealing the narrative design of my story. (Source: Remembering and Recounting)
Are these memories of The Farm in Cossayuna accurate? Reliable? Are they actually defining details in my life, reliable anchors tethering my current contemplation of homeness?
“Life is not what one lives, but what one remembers and how one remembers it in order to recount it.” — Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Living to Tell the Tale (Source: Remembering and Recounting)
This rings true to me. We are our story. Our stories. And The Farm, embedded inextricably into my attraction to Rosslyn, has provided a sort of scaffolding for many of my homing initiatives since about 2005.
As I bring this meandering meditation to a close, it’s worth noting that I’ve shared images of The Farm over the years. Always the farmhouse, never the barns. Peculiar that I don’t have any images of the barns. I’m almost certain that I took a few photographs when I visited within the last decade, but I haven’t managed to put my fingers on them. I will keep looking, but in the meantime, I’ll ask my parents if they might have an old photograph or some other representation of the outbuildings at The Farm.
Have you ever ever heard of an Eastern massasauga rattlesnake? Or a Sistrurus catenatus?
Me either.
Until recently.
I’ve just come across notes that I scribbled almost three years ago on May 15, 2009 after seeing a large, unfamiliar snake behind the carriage barn. I tried to identify the exotic serpent but never solved the mystery.
My sleuthing was reinvigorated this afternoon, leading me to a new possibility. As unlikely as it may seem, I now suspect that I may have spotted a massasauga rattlesnake with markings totally unlike our local Adirondack timber rattlesnakes.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. First let’s take a look at my old notes:
After gardening, while watering transplanted tomatoes I saw a large snake with unfamiliar coloring/markings. I described it to naturalist John Davis (@trekeast), conservationist Chris Maron and Essex Farm guru, Mark Kimball. No consensus. Perhaps a copper head, a northern water snake or an adder. I poked around the web looking at photos and reading descriptions. It was not a Northern Water Snake. The Northern Copperhead photo could be a match, and the description fits quite accurately. And this photo of a copperhead looks similar. Actually, most photos I find online of Northern Copperheads look similar:
Some other possibilities include Eastern Fox Snake, Northern Water Snake and Corn Snake. In fact, it looked an awful lot like a, Anerythristic Corn Snake (Elaphe guttata), but we’re definitely not in their natural range. Here’s a photo of a baby corn snake that is much smaller than the stealthy serpent I spied, though otherwise very similar. And here’s another corn snake. This photo of an Anerythristic Corn Snake is a dead ringer for the rhubarb runaway.
That was my thinking three years ago. But I’ve changed my mind. If only I had a photograph…
At the time I called my bride on my mobile phone and asked her to bring my camera so I could take a picture. “Come quick. I don’t want the snake to get away!”
A brief, anxious verbal volley later the snake had vanished into the deep grass around the rhubarb patch. No photograph. Though the image of the snake — pale yellowish tan background with brown and black foreground markings — lingered in my mind, the length of the snake grew longer with each passing minute.
The timber rattlesnakes that live in the Adirondacks are dark, almost black with only a faint pattern visible in certain lighting situations. This snake was not a timber rattlesnake. And I never saw a rattle. Nor did I hear a rattle.
And yet when I stumbled upon the photographs of the yellow rattlesnake above, I instantly recognized the snake that vanished in the rhubarb patch. We had a Sistrurus catenatus, yellow massasauga rattler in Rosslyn’s rhubarb patch!
Or did we?
What if the assumption that all Adirondack timber rattlesnakes living in the Split Rock Mountain Forest area are brown-black is erroneous? What if some of our local rattlers look like the yellowish tan snakes in this video which was ostensibly filmed in New York Sate?
The photographer/videographer who shared that dramatic footage was prudent not to disclose the location of the snakes, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they were right here in the Champlain Valley. Those pale snakes, especially the rattlesnake with the pale yellow head are extremely similar to my rhubarb patch mystery serpent!
If you’re a wise herpetologist with a knowledge of the Adirondacks’ Champlain Valley maybe you can help solve my snake mystery…
Updates
June 27, 2012: Perhaps Bill Brown (and many others) are relying upon empirical evidence about the Split Rock rattlesnakes that is changing?
Bill Brown, an expert on timber rattlers… said the Split Rock population is unusual in that all the specimens are black. Except for a tiny population in New Hampshire, other populations in the North are made up of black snakes and yellow snakes (with crossbands)… A biologist who has studied timber rattlers for more than three decades, Brown attributes the uniformity of the Split Rock population to the “founder effect.” It is supposed that all the founders of the population were black, and no yellow snakes contributed to the gene pool. (Adirondack Explorer)
July 17, 2012: Seems that we need help identifying another mystery snake in the Adirondacks.
Recently I was contacted by a herpetologist here in NY studying the Massasauga who was interested in my observation. In our discussion he mentioned this:
It is common for Milksnakes to be identified as Massasaugas. The belief is that Milk snakes have evolved to mimic venomous species in their area, and in eastern states are known to be EMR mimics. Is it possible what you saw was a Milk Snake? ~Alexander Robillard of SUNY College of Environmental Science and Forestry
So, it’s quite likely that I saw an enormous, beautiful milk snake. I’ve seen no similar snakes recently or ever. And given the fact that our local population of rattlesnakes (Split Rock Wilderness) are apparently all blackish, this suggestion seems the most likely.
[The following excerpt, “History of Essex, New York”, has been taken from Chapter XXXIV (pp. 540-559) of History of Essex County with Illustrations and Biographical Sketches of Some of its Prominent Men and Pioneers, edited by H. P. Smith, published by D. Mason & Co., Publishers and Printers, 63 West Water St., Syracuse, NY 1885. Text has been cross referenced between the print original (in my possession) and an online facsmimile found at history.rays-place.com.]
History of the Town of Essex
ESSEX was formed from Willsborough on the 4th of April, 1805. It lies on the shore of the lake, north of the center of the county. It is bounded on the north by the town of Willsborough, east by the lake, south by Westport, and west by Lewis. The southeastern coast is marked by the projection into the lake of Split Rock. On the south side of Split Rock is an oval bay called Grog Harbor, from the seizure and destruction at that place of a bateau-load of rum, captured from the British during the War of the Revolution. The rum was spilled into the harbor to save it from recapture. It is nearly opposite the mouth of Otter Creek and Fort Cassin on the Vermont side. In 1814 the British, designing to seize the stores and ammunitions at Vergennes, attacked the fort The onslaught was made on a Sunday afternoon and was witnessed by large numbers of people who stood on the mountain side south of Split Rock. After the firing of two hundred cannon shots and the dismantling of five of the seven guns of the fort, the discomfited fleet withdrew. This defeat of the British was the precursor of their subsequent overthrow at Plattsburg. On the north side of Split Rock sparkle the waters of Whallon’s bay, a place of surpassing natural beauty.
In 1786 Judge R. A. Heirn settled on a tract of a thousand acres of land west of this bay, erecting large dwellings, barns and tenement houses in the English style, and assuming manorial dignities. His wife was a dusky daughter of the West Indies. The manor is now owned and occupied by Wesley G. Lyon. (See chart made by Judge Heirn and inserted in subsequent page.) Judge Heirn engaged largely in the lumber business, and, through some mismanagement, lost heavily and was forced to dispose of his estates and leave for other parts. The old buildings are still standing and have been put in repair by the present owner. “The broad piazzas, the lawn of many acres sloping down to the shore, the splendid elms and fruit trees, remain as they were planned and set by the original proprietor.”
In the northwestern part of the town is the Boquet mountain, as it is locally termed, with an elevation of about fifteen hundred feet above tide. It is one of the most symmetrical and impressive mountains in the county. The Boquet river flows northerly through nearly the center of the town. It has been described in the preceding history of Willsborough. The formation known by geologists as the Terraces of Lake Champlain are very marked in Essex. They run nearly parallel with the line of the shore, and can be traced for some miles into the interior. The surface of Lake Champlain is only about ninety feet above tide-water, and in the process of excavating in the town, large quantities of marine shells are discovered every year. These shells are also found on the summit of Poke-o’-Moonshine mountain in Chesterfield, a mass of solid azoic rock over two thousand feet above tide. The soil of Essex is clay, loam and gravel, and is well adapted for farming and grazing purposes. The township contains some of the finest farms on Lake Champlain. Large quantities of hay, beans, wool and butter are annually exported. The mineral composition of the soil is a hypersthene rock overiaia with Chazy and Trenton limestone and Hudson river slate. Potsdam sandstone crops out in places along the line of the Boquet river. The limestone is of a superior quality for building purposes and the manufacture of lime. Large quarries have been opened in the town for public works, for building the canals, and for the masonry of the Vermont Central Railroad. It is so stratified that blocks of nearly every thickness can be easily quarried. It takes a high black polish, and has been much used in ornamental work. Great quantities have been burned into lime -in the village of Essex and shipped to various markets. A fine cement rock is also found in this town. The formations of rock are highly interesting on account of the varied and numerous fossils contained in them. In the south part of the town, on the lake shore at Cannon Point, is a remarkable natural curiosity, giving certain evidence of a prehistoric eruption. From a point near the shore, bearing unmistakable signs of having at one time formed the crater of a volcano, is a center from which radiate three veins, or rather streams of igneous rock, one extending towards the lake and constituting the point, one running to the northwest, which has been traced nearly two miles, and the third running to the southwest, which has been traced more than three miles. This melted rock has also filled in many of the horizontal spaces between the strata of lime rock in the vicinity, as may be readily seen along the bluffs of the lake shore. The rock of this overflow is a handsome porphyry filled with rectangular crystals of compact feldspar, which is very hard, susceptible of the highest polish, and has been much used for ornamental purposes.
In the south part of the town, on the lot owned by William R. Derby, is found a very valuable deposit of rose quartz of a superior quality and adapted to the manufacture and finishing of china and stoneware. Many porphyry dykes are also found in this town.
The territory embraced in the boundaries of the town of Essex, in common with the other lake towns of the county, was first taken from the hands of the aborigines by the French. On the 13th of June, King Louis XV, of France gave a large tract of land to Sieur Louis Joseph Robart, his storekeeper at Montreal. Nathaniel B. Sylvester, in his valuable work, Northern New York and the Adirondack Wilderness, quotes the description of this seigneurie as follows: “Three leagues front by two leagues in depth on the west side of Lake Champlain, taking, in going down, one league below [north of] the River Boquet, and in going up, two and one-half above said river.” The French, who never effected a settlement, were forced to recede before the power of British aggressions on the conquest of 1760. Their possessions were practically confiscated by the British government and disregarded in the location of its subsequent grants. The French claimants for a long time appealed to both the courts and crown of England to obtain the restitution of their possessions, but without success. In many cases they were conciliated by equivalent grants of land in Canada. Even since the Revolution they have a number of times asserted their claims in the courts of this country. In 1809 the Supreme court of New York rendered a decision adverse to the validity of the French concessions. (See Johnson’s rep. 18, 163.)
There was no settlement in the town which tended to the permanent colonization of the country until the arrival of William Gilliland in the spring of 1765. This eminent pioneer first purchased parts of the seigneurie of Sieur Robart, king’s storekeeper at Montreal, and attempted to found a baronial manor, in imitation of those situated on the Hudson river. His first tract was six miles front on the lake and from three to four deep. He afterwards purchased other extensive tracts, a full account of which and his later persecutions is given in earlier chapters of this work.
He was born near the city of Armagh, Ireland, about 1734, and received his education there. His cultured manners, general intelligence, and fine person, made him a favorite wherever he was known. He became attached to a young lady of fortune and noble parentage named Lady Betsey Eckles. The disparity in their birth and fortune reared a barrier, and her family secluded her and used their influence to secure his banishment. He then enlisted in the 35th Regiment of the line, and after four years’ service was discharged, alone and friendless, in Philadelphia. He went to New York, entered a prominent mercantile house, and within a year became a partner. He married Elizabeth Phagan (February 8th, 1759), the beautiful and accomplished daughter of his partner, receiving with her a dowry of £ 1,500. His later operations in Essex county are, as we have said, detailed in preceding chapter.
He has numerous descendants still living, in this town and in Willsborough, which it will be interesting to name.
William Gilliland’s daughter Elizabeth married Daniel Ross about 1785, and settled at what was then called Elizabeth, now the village of Essex. His daughter, Eliza Ross, was the first white child born in the town (1786). Daniel Ross was the first settler in what is now the town of Essex. He built the first iron works in Willsborough in 1800, and was always a most liberal patron of the iron trade in all its branches. He was sheriff of Clinton county before its division, and represented that county in the State Legislature. He was appointed the first judge of Essex county, when it was formed, and held the office nearly thirty years. One of his sons, General Henry H. Ross, afterwards a prominent man in Essex county, was one of the first white children born in the town (1790). General Ross lived in Essex all his life and died in September, 1862. He was unanimously elected the first judge of the county under the new constitution of 1846, and several times represented his district in Congress. As adjutant of the Thirty-seventh Regiment of Militia he served on General McComb’s staff at the battle of Plattsburg, and was afterwards and for some time a major-general in the militia. Of his descendants, his youngest son, Anthony J. B. Ross, two daughters, Mrs. Ellen B. Fairbanks (widow of Rev. J. N. Fairbanks, an Episcopal clergyman), and Frances J. Ross, now live together in the old homestead called “Hickory Hill” in the village of Essex. This homestead was built by Henry H. Ross in 1820. In 1822 Henry H. Ross married Susannah Blanchard, daughter of Judge Anthony J. Blanchard, of Salem, N. Y. She died February 26th, 1877.
James B. Ross, another son of Henry H. Ross, is now practicing law in Denver, Col. His son, Henry H. Ross, 2d, in July, 1881, married Anna Noble, and in December, 1882, died at Denver, leaving one child, a son, James H. H. Ross, who was born the day before his father died. He now lives with his mother in the village of Essex, at her place called “Rosslyn,” and represents the fifth generation in the direct line of the descendants of William Gilliland. The other descendants of Daniel Ross and Elizabeth Gilliland were William D. Ross, who passed all his life in the village of Essex, and died in 1844. He was extensively engaged in lumbering and mercantile business, and the manufacture of iron. His descendants are now living in Chicago, Plattsburg, and in Washington county, N. Y. Edward Ross, another son, who died unmarried in 1825, aged thirty-three years. The two daughters of Daniel Ross were Eliza, wife of Charles Platt and afterwards of Ransom Noble, late of Essex, and Sarah, wife of Charles Noble, late of Elizabethtown.
The children of Henry H. Ross, now living in Essex county, are James B. Ross, lawyer, of Denver, Col.; Frederick H. Ross, merchant, of Dowagiac, Mich.; and John Ross, for many years engaged in building steam and sail vessels, and in general wood manufacturing at Essex, and flO\v of the Plattsburg Dock Company. His adopted daughter, Susannah Ross, is the wife of Rev. E. D. Cooper, D.D., rector of the Church of the Redeemer at Astoria, Long Island, N. Y. Sarah Shumway, granddaughter of Charles H. Platt and Eliza Ross (above named daughter of Daniel Ross and Elizabeth Gilliland) is also a resident of Essex.
Charlotte Gilliland, another daughter of William Gilliland, was married about 1786 to Stephen Cuyler. Their son, John Cuyler, married Phoebe Hoffnagle. Of their children now living in the town of Willsborough are John B. Cuyler and Susannah Cuyler, who reside together about two miles south of the village of Willsborough. Other descendants of Stephen Cuyler are living in New York, Philadelphia and Chicago.
Another daughter of William Gilliland, Jane Gilliland, was married to John Bleecker, of Albany, where many of his descendants now reside.
His other child, William Gilliland, settled near Plattsburg, the present residence of his descendants.
The sketch or chart on the next page is a fac-simile of an original map found among the papers of the late General Ross, and forms a comparison of the handwriting and statements, with other early records, deeds and surveys showing the ownership and description of lands in the vicinity at the date of its making; it is identified as the work of Robert A. Heirn, whose history has been elsewhere given in this chapter. It includes a large tract then owned by him, and was made in the year 1786. It is without doubt the oldest sketch in existence showing the location of farming lands and highways in Essex county, just after the Revolution.
Part of William Gilliland Tract
The following is a statement showing the present owners of the tracts named in the map, or of tracts included in or including said tracts, furnished by Mr. Anthony J. B. Ross, of Essex:
OLD MAP. PRESENT OWNERS.
Gilliland Block-house farm James B. Ross.
Higgins David S. Hayward.
Ross Northerly part, including the
house, designated on map William R. Derby.
Southerly part Belden Noble.
Easterly part Essex Village.
Gilliland Easterly part Essex Village.
Central part Farm of A. J. B. Ross & Sisters.
Westeriy part Adam K. Stafford & M. McFarland.
Heath Easterly part Village of Essex.
Westerly part Adam K. Stafford.
Northerly part Ezra K. Parkhill.
Southerly part Henry H. Noble.
Hoffnagle, 100 acres, (No. 4) Henry H. Noble.
Heath lot, 100 acres, Henry H. Noble.
200 acres, (next south) Northerly part Roswell C. Waite.
200 acres, Southerly part Samuel D. Tuttle.
Botts, Samuel D. Tuttle.
Hoffnagle, 100 acres, (No. 3) Stephen D. Derby.
Jewett, 100 acres, Stephen D. Derby.
W. Low lot, 50 acres, Stephen D. Derby.
Hally’s lot, 50 acres, Stephen D. Derby.
Hoffnagle lot, 160 acres, (No. 1) John Burt.
Havens lot, Wesley G. Lyon.
The lot obtained of Bolts, 125 acres, Westerly part Joseph W. Cross.
The lot I live on, 110 acres Easterly part, Wesley G. Lyon.
Anthony J. B. Ross has, in his custody a paper in the handwriting of General Henry H. Ross, containing valuable historical memoranda relating to the town of Essex. It was written about 1840. It states that the first settlers were from Duchess county, and numbered Daniel Ross, Isaac Sheldon, Thomas Pray, and Abram Reynolds. Shortly afterward Amos and Benjamin Stafford came from Scituate, Rhode Island. The first school in the town was kept by Mrs. Erasmus Towner. The first male teacher was Enoch F. Henry, who taught in 1789. The first tavern was built by William Ring in 1786. The first grist-mill was erected in 1810, at Boquet, by William D. Ross. About the same time and at the same place he built a rolling and slitting-mill and nail factory. The first store was built and conducted in the village of Essex in 1784 by Daniel Ross, who about the same year built a saw-mill at Boquet and a grist-mill at Willsborough. The first regular religious service was initiated by Henry Boynham,an English Episcopalian, in 1800. Delevan Delance, a resident of Essex, was one of the earliest sheriffs of the county. Reuben Whallon, of Whallonsburgh, held the office of first judge of the old Court of Common Pleas. The first law office in the towns of Essex and Wilisborough was built of stone about midway between the two villages about 1800 by Judge Martin Aiken. It is now a tenement house on the farm of Benjamin Fairchild.
Other pioneers of Essex were Daniel Murray, Henry Van Ormand, Dr. Colborn Clemens (the first physician), David and Abner Reynolds, Nehemiah Payn James Eldrich, Thomas Stafford, E. Eggleston, and Richard Eggleston.
Soon after the close of the Revolution, and before the inhabitants of the town had settled into the habitual repose of continued peace, a block-house was constructed about three-fourths of a mile north of the village of Essex on the farm now owned by James B. Ross (now called Faulderwood). It was an pretentious structure built of logs, and evidently intended rather as a protection against the unbridled ferocity of Indian hatred, than against the assaults of civilized enemies. In 1799 upon the formation of the county it was converted into a court-house, and used as such until, under the act of 1807, the county buildings were erected at Elizabethtown. There is considerable uncertainty about the date of the construction of this building. Mr. Watson in his valuable history has united with French’s Gazetteer in placing the date as late as 1797. But, as will be seen by reference, it is indicated in the Heirn chart made in 1786 and printed in these pages. Captain Martin Eggleston thinks it was erected in 1775, but this seems improbable from the slight possibility that it could survive the devastations of the war, and the fact that there was probably no need of a block-house here at so early a date. The most probable theory, therefore, seems to be that it was built soon after the War of the Revolution.
Resuming the narrative of early settlement it may be stated that General Ransom Noble came to Essex in about 1800 and engaged successfully in the tannery, lumber, and iron business. His sons, H. and B. Noble, succeeded him in business. Henry Noble, another son, now deceased, settled at Elizabethtown where his family now reside. Charles Noble, also a son, formerly resided in New York city. The family of Harmon Noble, deceased, now live in Essex, and the family of Belden Noble, are at Washington, D. C. Henry Harmon Noble, son of Harmon Noble, and the only male representative of the family at Essex, resides in the house formerly occupied by his father, and in earlier days by General Noble himself. The place is appropriately called “Sunnyside.” (See biographic sketches in later pages.)
Amos and David Stafford occupied two lots on Whallon’s bay immediately after the close of the Revolution. In 1792 Judge Charles Hatch moved into that part of Essex known as Brookfieid, where he remained until 1804. He then went to Westport. Mr. Watson states that the removal of his family from Brookfield to Westport (on North West bay), a distance of eight miles, occupied two days, and required the labor of four men to open a roadway for the wagon.
Such was the general condition of the neighborhood previous to the beginfling of the present century. The villages and settlements increased gradually in population and business activity. Lumbering was carried on extensively, the iron industry was a bud of great promise; taverns owned by men who were endowed with generous licenses to engage in the traffic of liquors grew abundant, and potash factories flourished with an ease that made them seem indigenous. Commerce on Lake Champlain did not reach its greatest activity for a number of years, but something of its future began to be manifest, and the village of Essex, the most thriving of the three which exchanged courtesies in the town of Essex, sprang into considerable prominence as a commercial and ship-building center.
Before the War of 1812 the craft that sailed the lake were very small, there being none, according to the statement of Captain Martin Eggleston, that would carry more than forty or fifty tons. Several large sloops were built in Essex in 1811 and 1812, and, indeed, the principal boat-building on this side of the lake was done here. Richard Eggleston built in 1810 the first sloop that ever sailed the waters of these northern lakes. She was built for William D. Ross, who named her the Euretta. Soon after, when the clouds of approaching war hung threateningly over the whole country, larger craft were required, and Richard Eggleston built eight or ten vessels of more than one hundred and fifty tons burden. He undoubtedly constructed more than a hundred freight vessels in all. In 1811 and 1812 he commenced building two sloops, The President and The Richard, the former for John Boynton, of Plattsburg, and the latter for Gideon King, of Burlington, who, among others, had obtained letters of marque and reprisal, and designed using the sloops for privateering purposes. Before the craft were finished news arrived that the British fleet was coming to bombard Fort Cassin on Otter creek, across the lake. The sloops were hastily caulked, launched, taken to Barn Rock on the south side of Split Rock Point, put in the bay and completely concealed beneath huge masses of brush. In about two weeks the British bombarded Fort Cassin in order to weaken the strength of the navy yard at Vergennes, but without success. After the bombardment the British anchored in a line in front of Essex, furled their top-sails, threw out their guns towards the village and made every preparation to fire. The British commander came in towards shore and wanted to know if the citizens desired a truce. In response to a signal from General Henry H. Ross they came ashore, and a parley was held. The Englishmen spied upon the shore the spars which had been prepared for the sloops, and demanded information concerning the whereabouts of the vessels. He was told they were at Whitehall, whereupon he ordered his men to cut the spars to pieces. He immediately retracted his order, however, with the observation that the Revolutionists “could easily get more.” The sloops were afterwards finished and passed through exciting vicissitudes, under the names of the Growler and the Eagle. They were taken by the British and recaptured at Plattsburg.
This was not the only visit paid to the site of Essex village by British enemies. In the War of the Revolution the fleeing British, retreating from Ticonderoga after the defeat of Burgoyne, were intercepted here by a party of “Green Mountain Boys” under Ebenezer Allen, who captured fifty prisoners and all their military stores.
The lumber markets in those days, it will be remembered, were Montreal and Quebec. Enormous quantities of square timber and sawed lumber were shipped there from all points along Lake Champlain. A number of sloops were manufactured to carry lumber south after the completion of the canal to Troy. Between 1825 and 1836 there were probably one hundred and twentyfive sloops sailing the lake. Richard Eggleston also built two hundred and fifty row galleys or bateaux for the American fleet on the lake. His son, Captain Martin Eggleston, who was born at Essex in 1806, sailed on the lake from 1821 to 1863.
As early as 1810 there were three asheries in the territory now composing the town of Essex. One near Whallon’s bay, owned by Judge Heirn, one about six miles west of the village of Essex, owned by Daniel Ross, and one in the village of Essex, owned by William D. Ross. It is estimated that these three asheries manufactured from two hundred to three hundred tons of potash annually. General Ransom Noble owned and conducted a tannery in Essex as early as 1800, and was extensively engaged in the lumber and iron business. About 1810 there were three taverns in the village of Essex, kept by Amos Anson, Nathan Nichols and Isaac Drew. There were seven outside the village, as follows: one at Whallon’s bay, kept by a Mr. Miller; one at Whallonsburgh, kept by Sawyer Carter; one kept by Benjamin Stafford in the west part of the town; one on the same road toward Westport from Stafford, kept by John Burt; one six miles west of the village of Essex kept by Jesse Reynolds, near the potash factory of Daniel Ross; one kept by N. Wallace, about a mile west of the village, and one at Boqüet. Shortly after 1810 General Wright kept the hotel now run by J. C. Baldwin.
William D. Ross had a distillery just north of Essex before 1820, which was probably the only one in the town.
Farming remained at a low ebb until as late as 1830, when the lumber trade began to decline. The western parts of the town were cultivated first, although the most fruitful soil lies along the shore of the lake.
Town Officers, etc. – The records of this town are not in existence until after the year 1820, as far as we have been able to ascertain, which prevents the publication of the names of the first officers. We have, however, obtained the names of the successive supervisors after and including the year 1818. They are as follows: 1818-19, Reuben Whallon; 1820-21, Ralph Hascall; 1822 to 1824 inclusive, William Smith; 1825-26, Ransom Noble; 1827 to 1829 inclusive, Reuben Whallon; 1830-31, John Gould; 1832, Richard Eggleston; 1833 to 1835 inclusive, Henry H. Ross; 1836-37, William D. Ross; 1838-39, Abel Baldwin; 1840, Henry H. Ross; 1841-42, Samuel Shumway; 1843-44., Belden Noble; 1845-46, Daniel North; 1847-48, Michael H. Stower; 1849-50, Edward S. Shumway; 1851-52, Palmer E. Havens; 1853-54, William D. Ross, 2d; 1855-56, Eli W. Rogers; 1857-58, James Stafford; 1859-60, Phillip S. Baldwin; 1861-62, Belden Noble; 1863 to 1865 inclusive, John Hoskins; 1866 to 1868 inclusive, John Ross; 1869-70, George W. Palmer; 1871, Jonathan Mather; 1872, Buel D. Bacon; 1873-74, Jonathan Mather; 1875, Andrew J. Tucker; 1876 to 1878 inclusive, Walter D. Palmer; 1879, W. H. Stower; 1880 to 1883 inclusive, Charles W. Tucker; 1884 to present time, Anthony J. B. Ross.
Population of Town.- 1850, 2,351; 2,115; 1860, 1,633; 1865, 1,501; 1870, 1,600; 1875, 1,867; 1880, 1,462.
The first muster roll from the county at the outbreak of the Rebellion was taken in the town of Essex. Captain William D: Ross, eldest son of General Henry H. Ross, took about forty men from the town early in May, 1861, and had them incorporated with the Anderson Zouaves, under Colonel Riker at New York city. The following is a list of the volunteers as named in said roll, most of whom he commanded as lieutenant and captain. The roll is dated May 2d, 1861: William D. Ross, Belden R. Parkill, James Phillips, Charles Hoffnagle, Edmund Atherton, Albert Green, John Maloy, Joseph Hall, William E. Pratt, Horace A. Pratt, John Gordon, Franklin J. West, Samuel F. West, Henry H. Tucker, Andrew Todd, Napoleon Durant, Joseph Martin, Friend A. Smith, Charles P. Saywood, Henry W. Baldwin, George Tucker, James Stone, John Reed, Peter Lowe, Ira P. Knapp, Nathan W. Lincoln, E. Story, John Damady, Horace Smith, Franklin Flurry, Edwin Clemmons, F. A. Brown, George Chase, Artemas Woodruff, Daniel Cross. With a few exceptions the above names represent the men who left the town in May, 1861, to take an active part in the great struggle. The brave and gallant captain of this company, William D. Ross, did not live to see the cause, for which he was willing to sacrifice his life, victorious. On the 25th day of October, 1861, while in the line of his duty, the railroad track near Washington, he was struck and killed by a passing train. He was buried with military honors at Washton, where his remains rested until his death was made known to his friends in Essex, when he was brought home and buried in the family vault. At the time of his death he was thirty. one years of age, and had been in the practice of law in Essex for about eight years. For further military details see the chapter devoted to that subject.
MUNICIPAL HISTORY.
The town of Essex contains three villages, Essex, Whallonsburgh, and Boquet. The village of Essex, the largest and oldest of the three, is situated on the shore of the lake in the northeastern corner of the town. As stated in the earlier part of this chapter, it was at one time one of the chief ports on the lake, and until after 1840 was an important ship-building center. Iron was manufactured here extensively at one time, but these industries have died and have been replaced by others.
Mercantile. – As early as 1815 William D. Ross, Ransom Noble, and John Gould were store-keepers here. How long they continued is not known, but they had been succeeded by others years before the oldest merchant now in the village began business here.
The merchant of longest standing in the village is William R. Derby, who has traded here since September, 1854. At that time he bought out the general store of Wesley G. Lyon, who had been a general merchant in the place about eight years preceding. Mr. Derby has occupied his present building about eight years. Andrew J. Tucker has sold general merchandise in this village since 1861. He was in partnership with Welsey G. Lyon until 1864, when that relation was dissolved and a new partnership established between Mr. Tucker and D. E. Field. This firm was not separated until 1880. Mr. Tucker has been in the building he now uses from the start, with the exception of the six years between 1863 and 1870. He carries a stock estimated at $8,000. Buel D. Bacon opened a hardware store in Essex in the fall of 1868. He then purchased the stock and good will of Theodore Calkins, who had conducted the business for several years previous. Mr. Bacon has been in his present building since 1881. In 1873 S. D. Derby started a general store in company with his brother, W. R. Derby, and remained with him four years. Since 1877 he has been alone. He carries a stock of about $15,000.
W. J. Hoskins commenced dealing in furniture about 1875. In July, 1884, his brother, E. W. Hoskins, entered into partnership with him. W. J. Hoskins died in January, 1885, since which time his brother has conducted the business alone. E. H. & C. H. Stafford (brothers) began to keep a general store here in 1882, being successors to W. G. Lyon, who had conducted a like business in the same building since 1868.
George D. Anson established a store in the building now occupied by him in 188o. It is the same building which H. D. Edwards had used as a store years ago, but it had been vacant for some time when Mr. Anson came into it. Ira C. Stafford, a jeweler, also has a jewelry and music store in the village. W. W. Wilson has had a feed store here since November, 1884. Mosier Ferguson has had a shoe-shop in this village since 1875, and Charles Michon since 1878. R. Fortune, tailor, has been engaged in his present occupation here since 1842. For the first twenty years he occupied the house now used as the Congregational parsonage. He came into the building he now occupies in 1867.
Manufactures. – The Essex Horse Nail Company (Limited) was incorporated in June, 1879. There were originally, and are now, about fifty shareholders in the company. The first officers were: President, Palmer E. Havens; vice president, Alpheus A. Morse; secretary, Walter D. Palmer; treasurer, William R. Derby; superintendent, James Mills. Directors besides the officers above named: Stephen D. Derby, Wesley G. Lyon, Anthony J. B. Ross, Seth Crosman, Charles A. Martin, Lyman Barton, John N. Oliver, James H. Howe.
The company purchased the ground and buildings of Lyon & Palmer, who had up to that time, 1879, used them for the manufacture of sashes and blinds. One of the buildings was remodeled into the present machine-shop, and another converted into the store-house. The office and other buildings were erected anew. The total cost of the building and remodeling was about $20,000, and of machinery and fixtures about $25,000. The works and office are situated on the shore of the lake. where the company own a wharf for their own convenience. It affords those interested in lake traffic the benefits of competition between this wharf and three others in the same village. The company employ, when running in full force, sixty or seventy hands. The president of the company now is Hon. Palmer E. Havens; the vice president is D. F. Payne; secretary and treasurer, W. D. Palmer; superintendent, C. W. Woodford. Mr. Woodford has been superintendent since May, 1880. The capital stock of the company is $80,000, paid up. (See biography of C. W. Woodford herein.)
The old sash factory of Lyon & Palmer, mentioned above, stood on ground which formed originally the ship-yard of Hoskins, Ross & Co., the firm being composed of John Hoskins, John Ross and Wesley J. Hoskins. Subsequently James B. Ross became interested in the concern, the firm title was changed to The Essex Manufacturing Company, and the business to the manufacture of sashes and blinds. Lyon & Palmer bought them out in 1877. The old shipbuilding business was killed by the construction and opening of railroads on both sides of the lake.
Hotels. – Essex village has two hotels. The oldest one, that now kept by J. C. Baldwin, was erected and kept by General Wright before the beginning of the present century. Some parts of it are supposed to be a hundred years old. It is a fairly well-preserved centenarian. General Wright conducted the hotel business therein until about 1810. The present proprietor has been here since May 1st, 1874. He was preceded by Eli Farnsworth. Some years before the beginning of the Civil War, Charles G. Fancher came into possession, and was followed successively by William Brainard, who left in 1861, Martin Eggleston, Edward Burt, Webster W. Royce, Parker Torrance, Sidney Carr, Eli Farnsworth and J. C. Baldwin.
North’s Hotel was built by Delavan Delance about the year 1830 for a private dwelling house. Afterwards Noble Clemmons remodeled it into a hotel and kept it until about 1850. The present proprietor, De Lloyd W. North, took possession in 1882. Before that it was vacant for a time, the last proprietor before the vacancy being Harry Palmer. William Brandeau preceded him, his term beginning May, 1874. Before Brandeau was Eli Farnsworth; prior to Farnsworth’s occupancy the house lay idle for years, probably since 1864 or ’65. In 1861 William Brainard came in and remained three or four years.
The Professions.- Hon. Palmer E. Havens began the practice of law in the village of Essex in 1841. He was admitted at Plattsburg after passing a period of study in the office of General Henry H. Ross. He has ably represented his county and district in the Legislature as Assemblyman and Senator. (See biography.)
FIRST NAME
LAST NAME
James B. Ross, now of Denver, Col., was admitted in 1854, and practiced in Detroit until 1859. From there he removed to Houghton, Mich., where he stayed nine years as the attorney for the copper mining companies of Michigan. He came to Essex in 1868. In 1874 his brother, Anthony J. B. Ross, who practices here now, went in with him. They practiced together under the firm style of Ross & Ross until 1882, when James B. Ross moved to Denver. During his residence in Essex, James B. Ross was one of the wardens of St. John’s Church. He was also largely interested in the business pursuits of the town. Anthony J. B. Ross graduated at Hobart College, Geneva, N. Y., in 1866, and was admitted to practice at Albany in 1874 after studying the requisite period with the firm of Hand, Hale, Swartz & Fairchild, of Albany. He is the present supervisor of the town. The law-office now occupied by Mr. Ross was built (of stone) by General Henry H. Ross in 1812.
Edwin R. Chase, M.D., aged fifty-seven years, came to Essex in 1858. He received his professional education in the Albany Medical College.
Dr. Edward B. Atkins, aged thirty-six years, was graduated from the Albany Medical College in 1874, and came to Essex in May, i88o. In 1877 he received the Adeundem Degree from the University of New York city.
Union School. – The Essex Union School was formed April 12th, 1866. The first trustees were Wesley G. Lyon, E. R. Eaton, and Robert Fortune, one year; Ezra Parkhill, E. R. Chase, M.D., and R. Morse, two years; Palmer E. Havens, John Hoskins, and John Ross, three years. The office of first clerk and librarian devolved upon Wesley G. Lyon E. R Brougham was the first principal. Under the new regime the school remained for a short time in the old brick house which now stands about ten rods south of the one at present occupied. The trustees very soon secured an old dwelling house, formerly owned and occupied by General Ransom Noble, and moved it on to the school lot. It was denominated the Academy building. Finding it unfit for the purposes to which it had been converted, the board in 1867 erected the present structure at a cost not exceeding $5,000. The primary department has been since added. The present trustees of the school are as follows : – Committee on teachers: Wesley G. Lyon, W. J. Hoskins (since election deceased), William H. Stower. Committee on finance: Walter D. Palmer, Dwight E. Field, Henry H. Noble; committee on buildings, etc., H. W. Parkhill, Myron Eggleston, and George Anson. The present clerk of the board, H. W. Parkhill, has officiated continuously since 1875. There are three teachers in constant employment, F. M. Hickok being at present the principal. The average attendance of the school is about one hundred and thirtyeight.
Churches. – The most ancient church organization now existing in the village of Essex is undoubtedly the Congregational Church, though it cannot date its origin back of the period of religious services held by the Episcopalian, Henry Boynham, mentioned in the memoranda of Henry H. Ross.
Presbyterian Church. – This church was organized on the 3d day of December, 18 15, by the Rev. Cyrus Comstock, of the Berkshire and Columbia Missionary Society. The records show the first members to have been Ira Manley, Reuben Whallon, Ralph Hascall, Mary Hascall, Theodosia Gould, Annis Wallis, Asa Frisbie, Mrs. Fairchild, Mrs. Higby, Mrs. Throop, Chloe Higby. Among the members who were soon after added to the society were Fanny Little, Julia Lynde, Betsey Earle, Ellen Gilbert, Mrs. Boynton, Dr. Abel P. Mead, Dr. Samuel Shumway, Hannah Shumway, Phoebe Eggleston, Eliza Whallon, Daniel Lynde.
The first preaching, in addition to that of the Rev. Mr. Comstock, was by Rev. Asa Messer. About the year 1823 Ira Manley preached occasionally. At this time meetings were held in the brick school-house in Essex and in the school-house near Wilisborough Falls. It was a Congregational Church until December, 1830, when the members from Essex adopted the ecclesiastical government of the Presbyterian Church. Previous to this time the society embraced the towns of Essex and Wilisborough; but when the Essex congregation changed to the Presbyterian government, the two towns separated their church interests and the Wilisborough congregation continued under the original form of worship. Following are the names of the elders after the change: James S. Whallon, Abiel P. Mead, Asa Frisbie, Colonel William Smith. The first church building was erected in the year 1818. The movement which resulted in the building of the church was preceded by the circulation of the following subscription paper : – “We, the subscribers, do hereby associate ourselves into a society for building a meeting house, or a place of public worship, in the town of Essex, on or near the site of the old school-house which was burned, on the hill in the rear of the dwelling house of Ezra Parkhill. And we do severally agree to pay to a committee of three persons the several sums respectively annexed to our names for the purpose aforesaid, which said sums shall be paid in four equal quarterly installments, in cattle, grain or iron, to wit: The one-fourth part of which sums to be paid by the first day of May next; the remaining three installments by the first days of August, November and February next thereafter, in cattle, grain or iron, or in material acceptable to said committee, who are to be chosen and elected by the said subscribers at a meeting to be held at the house of Delevan Delance in Essex, on the first Monday in December next. And the pews or other property of the said meeting house and the ground appropriated for the same shall be disposed of according to the resolutions of the said subscribers at a subsequent meeting; shall be at such time and place as shall be appropriated by the first meeting aforesaid. Dated Essex, November 10th, 1817. “Henry H. Ross, $400 including an acre of land at $125; W. D. Ross, $300; Ransom G. Hatch, $250; Ralph Hascall, $150; John Gould, $100; (name illegible) $100; D. Delance, $50; D. B. McNeil, $75; Charles McNeil, $5 (cash); Luther Adgate, $50; Ezra Parkhill, $50; Charles B. Prindle, $50; Luther Prose, $40; John Earl, $25; Jonathan Little, $75; James M. Hayes, $20; Sawyer Carter, $25 ; Simeon Pangburn, $5; H. A. Hawley, $25; Ezra Coats, jr., $5 (a gratuity); David Delance, $4; Willard Church, $5; Asahel Row, $4; J. G. Cornell, $5; D. W. Sturtevant, $5; David Jacobs, $5; Joshua Martin, $50; Russell Vaughn, $5; Dean Delance, $6; Samuel C. Taylor, $25; Elijah Carter, $15; John Hoffnafle, $50 (but if preparations are making for building a meeting-house in Wilisborough, before the frame of Essex meeting-house is raised, then $25 to be deducted;) Hine Clemons, $50; Solomon Cook, $25; William Braman, $10; Thomas Edwards $10; Phineas Haskins, $5; Silas C. Perry, %5; These names were all signed with a wafer and seal numbered consecutively.
The church erected in 1818 was used until 1821, when a supplemental subscription paper was issued to raise funds to complete the building. In this subscription paper appears the name of H. A. Hawley for “$2 towards painting, and $3 towards interior finishing, when the same shall be half done.” The present church was erected in 1853 at a cost of about $10,000. The corner stone was laid December 13th, 1853, the services being conducted by Rev. J. T. Willet. The value of the church property, including the parsonage, is about $10,000.
Following are the names of the successive pastors who have served the church since 1827: 1827-30, Rev. Vernon D. Taylor; 1831-32, Rev. J. B. Baldwin; 1832 to 1844, Rev. Joel Fisk; 1844 to 1847, Rev. A. Bronson; for a short time after 1847, Rev. Moses Chase officiated; 1850-51, Rev. J. G. Randall; 1852 to 1865, Rev. J. T. Willet; 1865 to 1882, Rev. C. N. Wilder; 1882-83, Rev. Thornton Mills; present pastor, Augustus Frederick. The present church officers are as follows: Trustees, Henry H. Noble, C. W. Tucker, Thomas Maguire, William H. Stower, E. R. Chase, M.D., C. H. Stafford, William R. Derby, D. E. Field, A. A. Morse. Elders, A. A. Morse, B. F. Lee, Edwin R. Chase, M.D., O. C. Morse, E. P. Morse, C. H. Stafford, W. E. Atherton. Deacon, Asa Hale. The membership is one hundred and thirty-one.
There has been a Sunday-school connected with the church from about the beginning of the organization. A. A. Morse has held the office of superintendent for more than twenty years. Membership is ninety.
Methodist Episcopal Church. – This church was organized January 12th, 1835, the original trustees being as follows: First class, William D. Ross, John Gould, Hine Clemons; second class, Noble Clemons, Lewis Ladd; third class, Charles C. Cheney, Asa Derby. The present church edifice was begun soon after the organization, but it was several years before it was finished. In 1852 the Wilisborough people, who had been associated with the church during the first seventeen years of its life, effected a separation. The ministerial succession in the church has been as follows: Lewis Potter and John Graves and John Haslan; Arunah Lyon and Benjamin Cox; Aaron Hall and O. J. Squires; J. D. White and Benjamin Pomeroy; J. D. Burnham and A. Garvin; S. Coleman and Henry Taylor; J. D. White and ____ ; J. D. Burnham and M. B. Wood; William Arner and ____ ; David Osgood and O. J. Squires; John Graves and J. D. Wescott; Josiah Chamberlain and D. H. Loveland; William Arner and ____ ; in 1852 W. H. Meeker; followed by Andrew McGilton, Matthias Ludham, Joel Eaton, Joseph Cope, J. M. Puffer, George W. Brown, D. N. Lewis, John Vrooman, J. D. White, M. N. Curry, J. W. Thompson, C. H. Richmond, W. P. Rulison, George H. Robbins, 1876-79; E. J. Guernsey, 1879-82; J. M. Edgerton, 1882-85; and the present pastor, Elam Marsh, who came in the spring of 1885.
The church building was extensively improved in 1876 and again in 1884, the last time at a cost of about $1,000.
The present officers of the church are as follows: Stewards, W. H. Adsit, (district steward); 0. Parker, B. D. Bacon, M. Sibly, Z. Clark, G. D. Anson, C. E. Hoskins, E. W. Hoskins, L. L. Calkins, recording steward. Leaders, A. E. Winslow, W. D. Palmer, D. S. Whallon. Trustees, John Hoskins, chairman, W. G. Lyon, B. D. Bacon, W. H. Adsit, M. E. Eggleston, clerk. Sunday-school superintendents B. D. Bacon and Mrs. F. J. Avery.
The Baptist Church of Essex village was an offshoot of the Essex church at Brookfield, and was organized in 1838, with a membership of eighteen. Elders Hodges and Walden of Elizabethtown supplied the pulpit the first three years and increased the membership to one hundred and five. The church was begun in 1840 and completed in 1842. Fifteen ministers have officiated, viz.: Revs. C. W. Hodges, J. H. Walden, Lyman Smith, Isaac Waldron, Elias Huriburt, C. H. Pierson, K. Smith, C. W. Walker, E. A. Wyman, George E. Henderson, Calvin Fisher, Luman Kinney, Stephen Wright, I. E. Howd, S. W. Nichols, J. R. Taylor, A. H. Stock. Rev. A. H. Stock left in April, 1884, since which time the church has been without a pastor. The present deacons are Philip S. Baldwin and Aiken E. Sheldon, who also perform the duties of church trustees. Albert Baldwin is the present church clerk.
St. John’s Church, Essex, (Episcopal,). – The church was organized March 21st, 1853, the missionary in charge being Rev. F. C. Putnam. The persons present at the first meeting were, Rev. F. C. Putnam, Henry H. Ross, William H. Low, Henry N. Gould, Ezra Parkhill, H. A. Palmer, Elihu Gilbert, Seth Crossman, Peter Chamberlain, William Buch, Henry D. Edwards, Henry Barker, Charles A. Martin, William E. Sayward, Asa P. Hammond, and George E. Atwater.
The organization of this church was mainly due to the efforts and influence of Mrs. Henry H. Ross, and her daughter, Susannah M. Ross, now Mrs. Cooper. The first officers were as follows: Henry H. Ross, senior warden; Asa P. Hammond, junior warden. Vestrymen, Henry N. Gould, William H. Low, Henry W. Putnam, Ezra Parkhill, Seth Crossman, Elihu Gilbert, George E. Atwater, Charles A. Martin.
From 1853 to 1877 services were held in a building erected by Henry H. Ross about 1835 for a school-house on the lot where the present church edifice stands, and by him devoted to the uses of the church during those years. In 1877 the church purchased the building and lot, removed the old building to its present site and rebuilt it in its present form, from designs by the Rev. John Henry Hopkins, D.D. In the same year the rectory was built on the same lot. The church is a frame building supported by buttresses on the east side. with a wing for the organ chamber and vestry-room, and a bell cot at the north end. It contains a marble altar constructed from stone found in the town. The base is of blue limestone, sanded, the sides and top of dolomite cut from a boulder found in the vicinity, which presents a variegated surface resembling mosaic work. It is supported at the sides by pillars of black marble (blue limestone polished), and surmounted by a super-altar of the same marble and a cross of dolomite which, as well as the front of the altar, is inlaid with porphyry and marbles of different colors. It was made from designs by Dr. Hopkins and was his gift to the church. The church also contains a tablet to the memory of Henry H. Ross, the founder of the parish, and another to the memory of the Rev J N. Fairbanks, the third rector of the parish, both being erected by the vestry.
The following have officiated as rectors of this church: 1853-54, Rev. Fernando C. Putnam; 1855-56, Rev. Edmund D. Cooper; 1857-60, Rev. J. N. Fairbanks; 1862-65, Rev. Edmund D. Cooper; 1865-66, Rev. Charles Husband; 1867-68, Charles C. Fiske; 1868-69, Elias Weil; 1869-70, Rev. John Henry Hopkins, jr., D.D.,; 1871-72, Rev. James E. Hall; 1873-76, Rev. J .W. McIlwaine 1878-83, Rev. E. L. Toy; 1884, Rev. Norman Irish, D.D., who is the present pastor.
The present number of communicants is ninety. The officers are: Stephen D. Derby, senior warden; Andrew J. Tucker, junior warden; A. J. B. Ross, Robert Fortune, Moses Knowlton, H. E. Woodford, Edward W. Richardson, Charles. W. Woodford, Edward B. Atkins, M. D., vestrymen.
A Sunday-school was organized at the same time with the church; the rectors have been superintendents.
St. Joseph’s church (Roman Catholic.) – This church was organized in 1872. The first trustees were Michael McFarland and Terence McFarland.. First priest, Rev. James Shields. The church building was begun in 1872 and finished in the next year, at a cost of about $9,000. Following are the names of the successive priests who have served the church: Rev. John Redington, Rev. John H. Sullivan, Rev. Mr. Devlin, M. A. Holihan, the present priest. The present membership comprises about one hundred families. The trustees are Terence McFarland and Victor Fuller. A Sunday-school has been conducted since the organization of the church, with the priest as superintendent.
Freemasonry. – Essex lodge No. 152 (the first in the county), was chartered February 14th, 1807. Its records are lost but it seems to have been in existence as late as 1822. The present Masonic lodge of Essex (Iroquois lodge, No. 715), was chartered June 7th, 1862. Its original membership numbered about fifty. The first officers were: James B. Ross, W. M.; Andrew J. Tucker, sen. warden; George Alexander, junior warden. The present officers are as follows: Charles J. Merriam, W. M.; W. M. French, senior warden; 0. E. Hayes, junior warden; John B. Cuyler, senior deacon; G. F. Eggleston, junior deacon; Dwight E. Field, secretary; A. J. Tucker, treasurer; G. A. Calkins, senior master of ceremonies; David S. Hayward, junior master of ceremonies; H. J. Hinkley, tiler. Lodge meetings are held in the store building in which Stafford Brothers keep store.
In August, 1869, a chapter (Split Rock chapter, Number 243), containing a membership of twenty-five, was organized. The first high priest was John Ross. William Hoskins held the office of king; Franklin D. Bennett, of scribe; Ambrose Brunell, of captain of the host; and Joshua Bennett, of principal sojourner. The present officers are: D. E. Field, H. P.; D. S. Hayward K.; H. S. Stower, S.; A. J. Tucker, C. of H.; Anthony J. B. Ross, P. S.; John B. Cuyler, R. A C. (royal arch captain); J. W. Chamberlain, M. 3d V. (master of the third veil); George Alexander, M. 2d. V.; Asa Frisbie, M. 1st. V.; H. J. Hinkley, tiler.
Postmasters. – The first postmaster of which any record can be found is Judge John Gould, who officiated from a date antecedent to 1818 until about 1838. He was succeeded by Dr. E. P. Mead, who served his country in the capacity of mail distributor four or five years, and was in turn superseded by Charles J. Fancher. He gave place to Robert Fortune about six years after he had taken the oath of office. By another presidential transformation Charles G. Fancher became successor to Mr. Fortune. The latter was re-instated after a short period, and in a few years again gave place to Mr. Fancher. In about 1875 Walter D. Palmer was appointed and retained the office until the spring of 1885, when E. W. Hoskins, the present incumbent assumed the duties of the office.
Boquet. – This is a small hamlet situated about three miles to the southwest of the village of Essex, on the Boquet river. It was formerly a flourishing manufacturing community. The first manufacturing efforts of civilized man in this village were put forth in 1810, when William D. Ross erected a grist, mill on the bank of the river, and about the same time built quite an extensive rolling and slitting-mill and nail factory. As early as 1784, however, Daniel Ross conducted a general store here for the accommodation of the early settlers who had established themselves in scattered families along the river side. There must have been, too, at that early date, some lumbering done about the site of Boquet, for Daniel Ross also ran a saw-mill here in 1785. It was probably engaged entirely in supplying the home demand. After 1810 the place began to assume considerable local importance. Business did not die out there for many years. Henry H. Ross, in his memoranda before mentioned, written about 1840, states that in Boquet there was then “a large mill for the manufacture of rolled iron and nails, a grist-mill, etc.” There has never been and is not now a post-office here. In 1828 a district school-house was built of stone and in octagonal shape. It still serves the original purpose of. its erection. In 1855 an Episcopal chapel was built on the hill in the south part of the village, but was purchased by the Baptist and Presbyterian element of the community in 1880, and is now used as a union church. Brookfield and Essex clergymen supply the pulpit. Little remains of the business activities of ancient days. The old dam has been worn away rather than washed away, and the mills are the more silent in that they arouse an idea of former thrift and industry. The only business now conducted in the old village is that of C. W. & W. A. Tucker, dealers in produce and general merchandise. They started a hay barn about eight years ago, and soon after built the store near the railroad. They still press hay and dispense merchandise to the inhabitants of Boquet and vicinity.
Brookfield is a farming settlement in the west part of the town, which has one store, that kept by James Reynolds for the past three years. There is also at Brookfield one of the oldest Baptist Churches in the county. About the beginning of the present century they held services in an old log building, and afterwards in a barn, until their church edifice was completed (before 1809). In 1809 Rev. Solomon Brown, who founded the churches of Keeseville, Elizabethtown, Jay and Westport, is named as a delegate from the Essex Church (at Brookfield) to the association held at Elizabethtown. The church then had eleven members. Sixteen pastors have presided over her ecclesiastical councils: Solomon Brown, Jeremiah H. Dwyer, J. B. Wilkins, E. Goodspeed, E. P. Adams, J. S. McColum, Charles Berry, Elias Huriburt, C. Fisher, E. W. Allen, W. Gussman, W. S. Bush, S. W. Nichols, J. R. Taylor, E. M. Lynch, W. H. Stock. Her largest membership was attained in 1837, when it numbered one hundred and forty-three. Her present membership is about fortyeight. Judge Charles Hatch’s’ residence here from 1792 to 1804 has been mentioned in a previous page.
Whallonsburgh.- Next in size to Essex, though last in the date of its existence as a village, is Whallonsburgh. R. A. Ferguson, who came to the place in 1870 with his father, John Ferguson, describes it as being then an unbroken forest. His father, a carpenter, struck the first blow to clear the land and build the first dwellings and factories of the new settlement. He came from Washington county, N. Y., in the service of Reuben Whallon, who had come from the same vicinity about two years before. Mr. Ferguson built a saw-mill, just in the rear of the present site of William F. Blinn’s store, and a clothing factory near where the sash factory now is. The place grew very gradually; lumbering constituted the principal business of the inhabitants. A. Hale soon built a grist-mill on the hill in the western part of the village, and was soon followed by William Smith and James S. Whallon, who erected a grist-mill which now forms the west end of the sash factory. Smith & Whallon, not being contented with their milling profits, built a plaster factory adjoining the grist-mill. This business throve mightily, teams frequeatly coming from Vermont for loads of plaster. In 1840 a fine forge existed here, built by the proprietor, James S. Whallon. The clothing works and one grist-mill were still running. William Smith, probably the first postmaster, had received his appointment prior to 1825. James S. Whallon followed Smith, Lewis Cady followed Whallon, and in about 1860 Eli W. Rogers followed Cady. Mr. Rogers has officiated uninterruptedly from that time to the present. The industries now active in the village may be briefly noticed as follows: In 1881 Edgar Chamberlain and Eugene, his brother, succeeded William H. Richardson in the manufacture of blinds and sashes. The business originated in 1869, Samuel Root, William H. Richardson and V. C. Spencer being the first proprietors. In 1872 Messrs. Root and Spencer withdrew. James S. Whallon built the mill which was formerly used as a carding-mill. The Chamberlain Brothers lease the premises of Samuel Root. They keep about fifteen hands busy and can turn out about seventy doors in a day, and have made as many as 1,500 pairs of blinds in a month.
The grist-mill now running, in Whallonsburgh was built about 1830 by James S. Whallon, soon after the former mill of Smith & Whallon had been damaged beyond repair by a freshet. Jonathan Mather, the present owner, has held the title for a great many years. John R. Mather superintends the running of the mill.
F. J. Avery has been a general merchant here since 1870. He established the business himself. William F. Blinn started a store here in April, 1885. John R. Mather is proprietor of a cabinet shop, and G. J. & J. G. Waiker run an extensive hay barn.
The village boasts a Union Church, which was organized not far from 1830. The present edifice was erected before 1840, James S. Whallon contributing most generously towards its construction. The Presbyterian and Methodist clergymen at Essex preached here. Rev. Joel Fisk first officiated, and Rev. Joseph T. Willet preached here for about thirteen years. They organized a Sabbath-school almost at the beginning.
The present school-house was built in 1851. Miss Mattie Stafford is the present teacher. The district is extensive, and consequently the school always has a large attendance.
Reinventing Rosslyn’s icehouse as a hybrid home office and recreation/entertaining space has taken center stage intermittently since last summer (planning board and permitting) and continuously since last autumn (deconstruction and reconstructing). In fact, it sometimes feels like the icehouse rehabilitation has eclipsed just about everything else. This evening’s snapshot, our icehouse backlit by setting sun, appears to show the building emitting a halo of light. It kind of captures the vibes of this project in recent months!
Backlit Icehouse, May 5, 2023 (Photo: Geo Davis)
Backlit, Haiku
Old icehouse backlit; sunsetting a prior use, moon rising a new.
I’ve talked plenty about this project metaphorically backlit against the ideas of historic rehabilitation and adaptive reuse. And I’ve examined ways in which this latest chapter in a slow rolling renovation that’s been ongoing in one capacity or another since 2006 is backlit by our lifestyle choice to leave NYC and relocate to Essex. But I haven’t really developed the literal, visual impact of this charming building — my “Multipurpose Man Cave” — offset by the sun settling into the Adirondacks.
Backlit Rehab
But this deserves some ink. As too sundown and the gloaming as observed from the soon-to-be-complete icehouse terrace, patio, hot tub,… Still an unphotogenic construction site, there are never these moments, like this evening, when I get a glimpse of how things might look and feel by midsummer.
For now, no more ink. Just a backlit snapshot of Rosslyn’s icehouse rehab looming large, glowing, dramatic.
Once upon a time—starting in about 2005 or 2006 and concluding about a dozen years ago, if memory serves—I was on the board on Historic Essex (formerly Essex Community Heritage Organization, ECHO). Todd Goff, a fellow director, Essex neighbor, and friend, took it upon himself to correct me, differentiating for me “historic preservation” from ” from “historic rehabilitation”. I no longer remember the context, but I expect I was updating him in 2006 or 2007 on our progress in the early days of our mushrooming renovation project. Armed with a keen mind (and master’s degree in preservation), I respected Todd’s knowledge and appreciated his clarification. I expect that I used renovation, restoration, and preservation interchangeably in those days, never stopping to consider the profoundly important differences.
I most likely had not used the historic rehabilitation at all prior to that point, and learning more about it opened my eyes, ignited my curiosity, and kindled my imagination. More on fanciful end of the spectrum anon. For now I’d like to delineate for you historic rehabilitation as I understand it. (And please note that if you, like Mr. Goff, are able to advance my instruction, please advise in the comments below. Thanks in advance.)
J.C. Coatsworth Residence (Antique Postcard)
Preservation vs. Rehabilitation
Less stringent than historic preservation, historic rehabilitation emphasizes maintaining the historic integrity of architectural heritage while balancing its relevant functionality for modern day use.
Both preservation and rehabilitation are sensitive to the imperative of preserving the historic character and value of a resource, but modern functionality weighs more heavily in the case or the latter. When an architecturally significant resource is abandoned or in advanced stages of disrepair, both approaches are viable means of saving and revitalizing the resource. Likewise, both can be complex, painstaking, lengthy, and expensive processes. In fact, sometimes the scope exceeds the means and/or justification for revitalizing a property, and all too often valuable architectural and cultural heritage is indefinitely neglected and eventually lost.
The potential for integrating modern functionality (and therefor relevance) into an historic property can be the difference between its recovery or it neglect.
Sherwood Inn (Antique Postcard)
Defining Historic Rehabilitation
Rehabilitation is defined as the act or process of making possible a compatible use for a property through repair, alterations, and additions while preserving those portions or features which convey its historical, cultural, or architectural values. (Source: U.S. National Park Service)
In short, historic rehabilitation (rehab) is the process by which an historic property is returned to a state of usefulness while maintaining its historic character. Starting out with a comprehensive analysis of the cultural and/or architectural heritage ensures a solid foundation for planning the entire rehabilitation process. Drawing upon the collaborative expertise of diverse professionals, rehab must be tailored to the unique character and historic significance. Ranging from minimalist repairs and overdue maintenance to more involved intervention such as modification to ensure structural integrity, installation and/or removal of windows and doors, and even construction of non-historic additions.
Boathouse with Coal Bin on Pier (Antique Postcard)
Rosslyn’s Historic Rehabilitation
From those early days as Rosslyn’s newest stewards, when Susan and I were still running on dreams, optimism, and a totally unrealistic sense for the magnitude of the project we’d undertaken, our twin objectives were to preserve the immense heritage we’d inherited while ensuring that our new home was a functional, energy efficient modern home attuned to our needs and lifestyle. Todd helped me understand that what we were undertaking was indeed an historic rehabilitation, and that paradigm shift that he initiated catalyzed a shift in my thinking not only about our revitalization of these four historic buildings, but indeed the entire ethos underlying our pivot from Manhattan to Essex and own own personal reawakening. But I’m getting ahead of myself…
Boathouse with Ruins of Pier in Foreground (Antique Postcard)
Essex, NY in 1876 (Source: OW Gray Atlas of Essex County)
Where in the world is Rosslyn? If you’re not too terribly averse to a verse, here’s an introduction writ small (wrapped up in a tidy micropoem.)
Up in the Adirondacks
at the foot of the foothills,
where Champlain's sweet waters
refresh, render respite,
and sooth worldweary souls,
a sanctuary sings
welcoming melodies.
(Source: Where's Rosslyn?)
Poetry not your preference? Pity! 😉 Let’s try this.
Beginning to zero in on where in the world Rosslyn is? If neither the poetics of place nor encyclopedic brevity are helping much, let’s try a map or two. Maybe I can narrow your focus a little further with this line drawing that I created with Katie Shepard for our community blog, Essex on Lake Champlain back in 2015. (If you click on the map it’ll open a window where you can download the unfuzzy PDF complete with a key explaining each of the numbers in the map.)
Essex Architecture Map, July 2015 (Source: Essex on Lake Champlain)
Enough with the old school black and white (and sepia with faint rose highlighting). It’s time for technicolor!
So, where in the world is Rosslyn? Train your eyes on the three docks/piers extending out into Lake Champlain. The middle one is the ferry dock. (See the ferry heading to Vermont?) The smallest of the three man made peninsula’s is Rosslyn’s dock house (aka “boathouse”). Armed with that little insight, perhaps you can find the same property on the two maps above? (Hint: the boathouse wasn’t yet constructed in 1876 when the map at the top of this post was made.)
Heck, it still enchants us despite constant maintenance and seasonal flood worries. And the boathouse hammock is a mini vacation!
Head inland from the boathouse and you’ll discover Rosslyn itself, tucked next to two massive trees, a ginkgo and what I believe is a silver maple (Acer saccharinum). In fact, I’m sitting in the top right room on the second floor right now. Perhaps if you swoop in a little lower you’ll catch me jotting this blog post.
A little further left of the house are the carriage barn (lower) and ice house (upper) which offer up all sorts of mysteries. But those for another day. Unless you remember three curious artifacts I shared with you a while ago… (Source: Essex Aerial View)
Hopefully this helped orient you. Yes, a Google map might be more precise and quicker, but sometimes Rosslyn Redux and the art of homing aren’t particularly precise or quick. Besides, a thin veil of privacy keeps the snoopers away. Or at least adds a little challenge to their quest. But if you’re looking for a little more clarity on where in the world Rosslyn is located, I suggest you check out this hopefully helpful hub: “Where’s Rosslyn?“
When is an aerial view more than a Google snoop-shoot? When it’s an Essex aerial view painting created by the super clever Touch the Art creator, Amy Guglielmo (@amyguglielmo). And better yet? You can view Rosslyn from the eagle’s perspective…
Deciphering this Essex Aerial View
Start with the two large masses extending out into Lake Champlain. The lower, more rectilinear man made peninsula is the Old Dock Restaurant. If you’ve ever arrived in Essex, NY via ferry from Charlotte, Vermont, you’ve seen this red building. A little over a century and a half ago that pier and building were part of the Ross family’s mercantile operations. Today, the Old Dock is a popular summer destination for boaters and locals to grab lunch, cocktails or dinner with an outstanding view of the Green Mountains.
The second man made peninsula is the Essex-Charlotte ferry dock. See the ferry loaded with cars? It looks like it has just pulled away from the dock. Our ferry offers more than prime Champy spotting. It’s also the way that many commuters (and a handful of local kids who attend schools in Vermont) conveniently cross Lake Champlain a couple of times a day.
Now let your eyes drift a little further up Amy’s Essex aerial view and you’ll spy a third, smaller pier. That is Rosslyn’s boathouse, the maritime folly that enchanted us back in 2005-6 enough to swap NYC for the Adirondacks. Heck, it still enchants us despite constant maintenance and seasonal flood worries. And the boathouse hammock is a mini vacation!
Head inland from the boathouse and you’ll discover Rosslyn itself, tucked next to two massive trees, a ginkgo and what I believe is a silver maple (Acer saccharinum). In fact, I’m sitting in the top right room on the second floor right now. Perhaps if you swoop in a little lower you’ll catch me jotting this blog post.
A little further left of the house are the carriage barn (lower) and ice house (upper) which offer up all sorts of mysteries. But those for another day. Unless you remember three curious artifacts I shared with you a while ago…
We walked down the road from the tennis court and stopped off at my parents’ house, still closed up for the winter. It would be several weeks before my parents arrived in Rock Harbor for the summer, and by then the asparagus would have gone to seed, so we picked enough for dinner and enough extra to bring back to the city for another meal.
I also picked a fistful of rhubarb to sauté with maple syrup for dessert. Susan disliked rhubarb, but I loved the lip puckering tartness. The taste transports me instantly to The Farm.
My parents, living and working in New York City, had purchased an 1840s farmhouse on 85 acres near Greenwich, New York five months after getting married. I was born less than two years later.
Although The Farm served primarily as a weekend getaway for the next five years, it dominates the geography of my earliest childhood. A stream of nostalgia gilded memories flow from this pastoral source: exploring the time-worn barns, absent livestock except for those conjured up by my energetic imagination and the swallows which darted in and out, building nests in the rafters, gliding like darts through dusty sunbeams; vegetable gardening with my mother; tending apple, pear and quince trees with my father; eating fresh rhubarb, strawberries and blackberries; discovering deer and raccoons and snakes and even a snapping turtle.
Yesterday I meditated a minute on bygone barns. Ancient farm buildings. Tempered by time, tempted by gravity, and sowbacked beneath the burdens of generations, these rugged utility structures retain (and sometimes gain) a minimalist elegance long after design and construction and use fade into history. My meditation was meandering and inconclusive. In part this was due to the wandering wonder these timeworn buildings inspire in me. And in part it was because my observations are still evolving and inconclusive. I’m not a barn expert, an agricultural architecture preservationist, or even a particularly astute student of barns and farms. But I am a barnophile.
a person with a fondness for structures used to house livestock, grain, etc.
an admirer and/or collector of agricultural outbuildings
Aside from the hubris I’ve just exercised in birthing this barnophile definition, I’m generally inclined to a humbler and less presumptuous relationship with the mostly agrarian artifacts we categorize as barns.
[As an unabashed barnophile with a] weakness for wabi-sabi, I’m especially keen on bygone barns.
By “bygone barns” I’m conjuring an entire class of rural farm and utility buildings belonging to an earlier time. Classic lines, practical design, form following function, wearing age and even obsolescence with pride,… I’m even smitten with buildings so dilapidated that they’ve been reduced to their skeletal essence by the forces of nature. Sunlight, moonlight, weather, wildlife, and vegetation permeate these carcasses. The sparse assembly of materials — beaten by the elements for more years than anyone alive can definitively claim to know — endure erect, monumental, lavishly adorned with forgotten functions and the patina of passing time. (Source: Bygone Barns)
Barn Vernacular (Source: Geo Davis)
But why do forgotten farm buildings enchant me? What reason lurks beneath the tidy text, what foundation for my unusual fascination with these vestiges of a simpler, more local, perhaps even a slower time? Katie Shepard, so very rarely off target, suggests this childhood reminiscence might play into my barn-centric attraction.
My parents, living and working in New York City, had purchased an 1840s farmhouse on 85 acres in 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)
As usual, Katie is right. Woven into the earliest tapestries of my childhood are fond associations with barns. This was undoubtedly further reinforced during our years at Homeport given the inordinate amount of time that my brother, sister and I occupied ourselves in the mysterious old barn complete with ballroom and servant’s quarters long since adapted to other uses. And in my grade school years my siblings and I memorized Dylan Thomas’s “Fern Hill” to recite as a birthday gift for my father. I wish I could take credit for this creative gift giving tradition, but it was my mother, Melissa Davis, who gently guided the three of us each winter to select a poem that would appeal to my father, and then to memorize it during our daily 45-60 minute commute to school each morning and and each evening. Three days after Christmas, on my father’s birthday, we would recite the poem together, and (with one notable exception that’s better reserved for another day) my father enjoyed the gift, leaning back, sometimes closing his eyes, and listening attentively. I think “Fern Hill” may have been the best received, and it became a go-to for family recitation over the years, hypnotically weaving itself into the ethos of our childhood the way a prayer might.
Boundaries of a Barnophile
There comes a time to focus the “philos”, or at least to try and narrow or delineate the subject of interest.
I’ve talked around my fascination with barns, barn architecture, barn construction, and barn aesthetics… But I haven’t outlined the tenets for my enduring intrigue, nor have I articulated exactly what I mean when I refer to a barn vernacular. It’s time to draft at least a preliminary look at my love of barns. […]
In the vernacular vocabulary of quintessentially North American architecture, the barn endures as a practical yet proud icon of rural living. […]
Although my fascination with barn vernacular isn’t limited to Yankee barns, it is my most consistent and encompassing vision.(Source: Toward a Barn Vernacular)
In other words, I’m inclined toward classic geometry, roofs steep enough to shed water and snow (with a particular fondness for 9:12 pitch), and unembellished details. And I will always favor bygone barns to new construction. The quality of workmanship and materials stands out, but so too does the story stretching across decades, even centuries.
I consider aging utility buildings — barns, boathouses, icehouses, sugarshacks, etc. — to be at least as intriguing as old houses. More sometimes. So many relics, unselfconscious, candid. Less penchant for concealing, fewer makeovers, more concurrently present years and lives. Sometimes it’s the old, banged up subjects and objects that look the best. Thank goodness for that! (Source: Horse Stall Haiku)
And what of other barn-like buildings, rural utility buildings designed and constructed after the same manner?
School Bus Stop Ahead (Photo: virtualDavis)
They appeal to me as well. In fact, the agricultural DNA isn’t essential to me at all. I suppose I’m somewhat “barn androgynous”, equally smitten with similarly origined buildings even if they’ve never seen a horse, cow, chicken, pig, or hay bale.
That said, it’s worth acknowledging that the architecture of New England barns, Yankee barns, and even — drifting a little further southeast — tobacco barns are especially appealing to me. And if it’s fair to assume that my affinity is at least partly nostalgia-driven, then it’s probably worth adding another influence the those sited above. Four year of boarding school in Old Deerfield, Massachusetts definitely instilled in me an appreciation for early colonial building, and there were a couple of barns that still loom proud in my memory.
Beyond Boundaries
Although I wish I could gather these strings and call it caput, I must further complicate the boundaries I’ve endeavored to delineate above.
While there’s something alluring about the volume and the efficiency of barns, the unpretentious posture with no attempt to conceal functions or mechanism, scale isn’t essential. The small corn crib above, for example, intoxicates my imagination nearly as much as the grand barn at the top of this post.
Baked into my identity as a barnophile, into this somewhat esoteric aesthetic and philosophical appetite, is a tendency to stretch my definition of barns to include other similar outbuildings.
While Rosslyn didn’t fit squarely into the vision of an old farm or a collection of dilapidated barns that I originally was hunting for, this stately home does have three remarkable outbuildings, all three of which lured me as much as the house. In fact, well before we completed our top-to-bottom rehabilitation of the home, we tackled the icehouse, boathouse, and carriage barn. All of them were on the brink. Actually much of the house was as well. But just as we committed to salvaging the home, returning it to its former grandeur, we likewise undertook laborious, challenging efforts to salve the icehouse, boathouse, and carriage barn. All buildings were dilapidated, but the icehouse and boathouse were both succumbing to the omnipresent challenges of weather and neglect.
I’ve posted plenty in the past about Rosslyn’s boathouse, the lakeside folly that beckoned to us from the beginning. For a whimsical mind like my own, smitten with boating adventures — real and imagined — becoming irreversibly enchanted with our small dock house protruding out into Lake Champlain was pretty much inevitable. Although its mission has always been tied to watery locomotion, it is for all practical purposes a sort of barn. A diminutive lakeside barn purpose-built for boating. A utility outbuilding conceived and specifically confected to serve the Kestrel just over a century and a quarter ago.
And Rosslyn’s icehouse, occupying much of my attention these last few months as we cartwheel through an ambitious rehabilitation and adaptive reuse project, is likewise a barn. We often refer to the carriage barn and icehouse, standing as they do side-by-side, as “the barns”. As a utility building designed to complement the architecture of the carriage barn and home, it was nevertheless first and foremost a utility building constructed to support the residents with year round cooling at a time when refrigeration did not yet exist. It was an ice barn!
And so you see perhaps the elasticity of my identity as a barnophile. A barn might not immediately appear to be a barn. But the rudiments, the purpose, and likely the longevity have profited from the heritage of barn building. And this, my friends strikes me as the right place to wrap up. If this this post was intended as a more intimate look at the romance of bygone barns, those that have endured a looong time and even those no longer viable, then I’ve covered my bases. And too, I’ve revisited my original hope of locating an old barn to convert into a home, a hope that has not altogether faded away.
In fact, Susan and I have been for a few years brainstorming a barn-inspired for the future, our future, that just might begin to emerge in the years ahead. Stay tuned…
Voyeuristic Glimpses: Carley, June 9, 2020 (Photo: Geo Davis)
Before you shift uneasily in your seat and survey your surroundings nervously, I’d best prologue my post with an assurance that nothing unseemly is in store. Exhale. Voyeuristic glimpses, yes, but only as the subject of an overdue clarification.
Voyeuristic Glimpses
After bricks and mortar, land and lake, residents (human and canine), Rosslyn’s blog is the most visible — and maybe even the most accessible — part. And if the blog is by definition a digitally distributed diary, then it offers voyeuristic glimpses into Susan and my relationship with Rosslyn, a circa 1820 home and property on the Adirondack Coast of Lake Champlain. We can debate how candid or unfiltered they are, of course, because the experiences these coup d’œil capture are inevitably shaped and edited by my perspective. As such the metaphorical “fly on the wall” is more aspirational goal than reality, and the voyeuristic glimpses captured in these blog posts do not pretend to be much more than editorialized field notes. Shoot for objectivity; settle for subjectivity. Caveat emptor.
Voyeuristic glimpses aside, the blog is only one constituent part of Rosslyn Redux. In sum, it’s actually a sprawling, multimodal mess! Er, I mean… it’s a multidisciplinary *experiment*.
Voyeuristic Glimpses: icehouse door, December 27, 2022 (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Mosaic Mirages
Beyond chronicling the stumbles and growth spurts of Rosslyn’s historic rehabilitation (along with the inevitable ups and downs of our romantic runaway to this lakeside Elysian), Rosslyn Redux is an exploration. An experiment. A creative endeavor. A lyric essay — from Old French essaimeaning attempt or trial — calling upon collage and composting as often as language and logic. In many respects, Rosslyn Redux aspires more to conceptual art than a home renovation blog, more to performance art than a midlife marriage memoir. It’s an epic poem mosaic (a constellation of poetry fragments) crossed with an archeological exhibition crossed with an inside-out inquiry into homing and homeness crossed with a serial meditation on rootedness and itinérance and longevity and impermanence crossed with a genre bending memoir crossed with a sketch and artifact swollen scrapbook.
Hhhmmm… If it’s all this, or even close to all this, then isn’t it just a cluttered attic too deep and dusty to decipher?
Sometimes. So far.
Voyeuristic Glimpses: contemplative Pam, December 13, 2022 (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)
But I’m endeavoring to evolve Rosslyn Redux beyond an avalanche of artifacts into a cohesive experience. Into a sojourner’s stopover, perhaps even the sort of sanctuary that Rosslyn has been for us.
My initial foray into building something durable out of our relationship with Rosslyn lead to bookish brainstorms (and hundreds of pages of drafts.) But conversations with editors and agents, pitching what was most readily definable as a memoir in those days, consistently came up against the same setback. Whether genuinely or politely intrigued by the ingredients for our Rosslyn story, everyone advised me to refocus the story, to restrain the narrative arc to my relationship with Susan. Newlyweds swapping Manhattan for the bucolic Adirondack Coast where they anticipated simplifying their lives while licking their wounds. Newlyweds nesting in a tumbledown money pit. A poet and a designer dive into home renovation… what could go wrong?!?!
I was also consistently and repeatedly advised to limit the story to one year. Two or more years is too messy! (Of note, editors’ and agents’ discomfort with the sprawling scope and calendar of our renovation was also a familiar refrain with our parents who were were increasingly nervous about the ever attenuating timeline and dwindling coffers.)
The trouble was, this was as much a story about Rosslyn as it was about the two of us. And so much more. And “the story” felt to me like more than a story. I envisioned an immersion. A three-dimensional immersion. I envisioned inviting the audience into the experience more like a long-stay houseguest, not just a reader. And, the truth be told, I was as keen to explore the limitations of language as I was to document the historic property’s rehabilitation; our hyperlocal reboot; a meandering meditation on home; etc.
Needless to say, I wandered and wondered and gradually — accepting that I was lost — I succumbed to inertia.
But Susan and my relationship with Rosslyn did not end. The sanctuary salved us, and the adventures reignited our wonderlust. And little by little clarity has emerged, a plan, a map forward. Born of necessity. And that, my friends, is why the last five months have been so different than the previous. And while the coming months will continue to catalyze and coalesce a map. Perhaps even a clear and cohesive multidisciplinary work to offer my virtual houseguests.
Seasonality might strike you as a strange menu for organizing a blog (and an even stranger way to navigate a narrative.) But in many respects it may well be the *only* useful way to structure a circular story that’s slim on plot, chronically achronological, and deeply immersed in the poetics of place.
Summer’s End
As if on cue, rain, frost, acrimonious wind summon summer’s end. — Geo Davis
I often romance sunrise and to a lesser degree, sunset, powerful circadian rhythm markers. There are likewise singularly potent seasonal markers along our Adirondack shore of Lake Champlain that punctuate notable transitions, from summer-to-autumn, for example. Some are relatively fluid such as hauling and winterizing the boats, removing the docks, and the colorful drama of our much anticipated fall foliage. Each of these examples are determined approximately by the calendar but more precisely by weather changes, prevailing temperatures, the scheduling particularities of our protean paths through life, etc. Less fluid examples of seasonality during this same period include harvesting ripe apples in the orchard, first hard frost of the autumn, and the mysteriously consistent Labor Day weekend meteorological shift. With respect to this last marker, most years we enjoy a lengthy “Indian summer”, but Labor Day — with startling predictability — plunges us into chilly, usually rainy weather as if on cue.
Seasonality: Winter (Source: Geo Davis)
What Is Seasonality?
The concept of seasonality is often cited in the context of business (i.e. financial market and sales forecasting) and healthcare (i.e. patient and virus fluctuations), but let’s consider the idea of seasonality in a less confined context. Let’s look at the root of the word, for starts. Season. I imagine we’re all pretty clear what we mean when referencing the annual rhythm of the seasons, the periodic ebb and flow of monthly rituals, and even their fluctuations in variations. Seasonality is those periodic patterns, variations that recur at predictable or semi predictable intervals year after year.
Seasonality: Spring (Source: Geo Davis)
Rosslyn Seasonality
Our mind easily conceives of seasonality’s periodic points, references for rhythm and repetition, but I think we might need to do a little more work to grok the idea of seasonally recurring events and transitions at Rosslyn, so let’s push a little further.
In keeping with my goal to curate and convey the narrative of our Rosslyn years I’m essaying to distill and disentangle, gather cohesive collections, often thematically tied, sometimes chronologically structured, and often enough coalescing around seasonality. Excuse the clunkiness. It’s a work in progress.
I have remarked elsewhere that Susan and I aspired to recalibrate our lives when we moved from Manhattan to Essex. It was a desire to embrace the art of a slow living. Part intentionality and part immersion in the here and now. We yearned to savor the unique gifts of each passing period of the year. It was a comprehensive paradigm shift away from our habitual efficiency and productivity and busyness, and it wasn’t an easy shift. It was a paradigm shift toward creativity not only in the most active sense of making, but also in the embrace of essentialism. A mindfulness focused on learning and appreciating and investing ourselves in the many microscopic moments of homeownership and rehabilitation and adaptation and outdoor living and gardening and sporting recreation and… living fully and intentionally all of the magnificent processes of our new existence. Yielding to seasonality meant rebooting our lives and our work from New York City to upstate New York, from the quintessential metropolitan hub to its veritable antithesis. It meant homemaking in the North Country, only 5+ hours away by car but a world away in terms of the rhythms and rituals, and even many of the values.
So, what sorts of seasonality, what specific rhythms help punctuate our Rosslyn lifestyle?
I will try to jumpstart your navigation through Rosslyn seasonality with prior posts that offer glimpses into precise instances of seasonality. I will continue to update this post as I revisit and revise older posts and as I compose new ones. If you’re inclined to seasonality as a way of organizing your own experiences, please bookmark this post and reference it in the future as a window into our Rosslyn adventure. (And if you find the idea too contrived or too procrustean for your taste, rest assured, there are a great many other ways for you to navigate this mosaic-memoir.)
Seasonality: Summer (Source: Geo Davis)
Try These Posts
Consider this an evolving outline of my posts explicitly or implicitly treating the topic of seasonality. I will revisit and update when helpful.
December 2014: “In recent years December has given us our first real blast of winter. A premature blast usually because early December snows have usually melted by Christmas…”
De-Icing the Duck Pond: “Let me start by saying that we don’t have a duck pond. We have a lake. Lake Champlain. And although it pains me slightly to say it, we also don’t have any ducks. Not personally, at least. Lake Champlain, on the other hand, has plenty of ducks. And when the lake freezes and the ducks run out of water to swim and eat, we offer them a small “duck pond” in front of Rosslyn boathouse to tide them over until spring.”
Winter Wonderland 2019: “Winter storm warnings wander across our radar often enough this time of year that we become a little meteorology skeptical. Not cynical. Just suspicious that promised snowstorms won’t quite measure up to the hype. Sort of a wait-and-see approach to meteorological forecasting…”
February Swim in Lake Champlain: “February swim, anyone? In Lake Champlain?!?! Griffin, our now almost nine year old Labrador Retriever, was thrilled to chase some throw-toys in the chilly lake today despite the fact that it’s February 19 and the water temperature is exactly three days above freezing… 35° of mid-winter swimming bliss!”
Spring Dance: Coyotes and White Tail Deer: “One trail cam. One location. Three months, give or take. Deer. Coyotes. And the transition from winter to spring in the Adirondacks’ Champlain Valley.”
Spring Meditation 2018: “Welcome to springtime in the Champlain Valley, a glorious but slightly schizophrenic transition — sun, rain, wind, hot, snow, sleet, etc. — when springtails make way for dandelions.”
Moist May 2017: “The Lake Champlain water level is ever-so-slowly dropping, but it’s premature to rule out the possibility of hitting (or even exceeding) flood stage. At present, there’s about a foot of clearance between the bottom of Rosslyn boathouse’s cantilevered deck and the glass-flat water surface. Windy, wavy days are another story altogether.”
Spring Soggies & Blooms: “The rain has stopped. At last! It’s a misty, moody morning, but the sun is coming out, and the rhododendrons are blooming. Life is good.”
First Peaches: “It’s but a month and a day after Independence Day and we’re eating our first peaches of the season. Eureka! So memorable a moment each summer when I savor the first bites of the first peaches of the season that I’ve begun to wonder if we might need to create a floating holiday. It’s hard to conceive of a better cause for celebration.”
Septembering: “September 1 should logically be indistinguishable from August 31. But it’s not. Seasonality along the Adirondack Coast is irrefutable, and possibly no season-to-season transition more apparent than the one we’re now experiencing. “Septembering” is neither sly nor subtle.”
Undocking: “Once upon a time undocking referred to a boat pulling away from a dock, a ship disembarking from a pier. At Rosslyn we also use the term to describe the annual autumn removal of docks (and boat lift) from Lake Champlain…”
Waterfront Winterization: “There comes a time each autumn when summer has faded and winter is whispering over the waves. Or when work, travel, something eclipses the languid stretch of fall boating and watersports. Sometimes earlier, sometimes later, and as inevitable and bittersweet as fall foliage, waterfront winterization is an annual ritual that braces us practically and emotionally for the North Country’s frosty November through February.”
Autumn Aura on the Adirondack Coast: “An autumn aura is descending upon the Adirondack Coast. Autumn colors, autumn lighting, autumn sounds (think southward-flying Canada Geese), autumn textures (think crisp leaves eddying and frosted grass underfoot), autumn smells, and autumn flavors…”
October Wind, Canada Geese and Essex DNA: “Despite the on-again-off-again Indian Summer that we’ve enjoyed this autumn, there have been some bracing days, many like the one captured in these photos. Picture perfect. Bluebird skies and sunshine. But crisp. And windy.”
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…