For Sale: Hyde Gate (aka Rosslyn), in Essex, New York, April 1910.
Rosslyn artifacts pop up all over the place! And they’re not always Rosslyn artifacts; sometimes they’re Hyde Gate artifacts or Sherwood Inn artifacts… Honestly one of the most enjoyable aspects of owning and renovating our home is stumbling across interesting relics of its almost 200 year history.
I originally came across the advertisement above on eBay. The auction item was a full page ripped from the April 1910 edition of Country Life in America. How could I resist? One more quirky artifact for the digital library!
Turns out it wasn’t the only time that Hyde Gate (aka Rosslyn) was advertised for sale or rent in the early twentieth century. A March 1910 advertisement is available on Google Books. A handy tool for finding print book content, Google Books offers increased functionality for out-of-copyright content such as this old magazine. For free you can “clip” the image (at right) to use elsewhere, and you can even clip the text content from the page. The following is quoted from the ad:
For Sale: Hyde Gate (aka Rosslyn) in Essex, New York, March 1910.
FOR SALE “HYDE GATE,” Essex, N.Y. FOR RENT
The country residence of Caleb James Coatsworth Esq. is just at the outskirts of Essex Village on Lake Champlain, New York. The house faces the lake, and the grounds run right down to the lake with bath houses and a large private dock. The house is between eighty five and a hundred years old. Is built of brick. It is very beautifully furnished with the real antique Colonial furniture and although lighted throughout with electricity there is not on modem electrical fixture on the first floor.
In the hall there is an old lantern, and in all the rooms old candelabra hanging from the ceilings; there are also lamps on the centre table lighted by electricity. The house is a beautiful example of the Colonial period. It contains ten bed rooms and two bath rooms on the second floor, and three bed rooms on the third floor, also two lavatories on first floor. One can leave “Hyde Gate” in an automobile after breakfast and lunch at Lake Placid, or leave “Hyde Gate” in the morning and dine at Bretton Woods in the White Mountains, or dine at Montreal, Canada. Lake Placid is fifty miles from “Hyde Gate” by road; Bretton Woods one hundred and eighteen miles; and the Windsor Hotel, Montreal, Canada is just one hundred miles; all the roads are very good. It Is a great central starting point for automobiling. The owner of “Hyde Gate” has made all of these trips. You can leave the dock at “Hyde Gate” in a launch and go to Westport, NY, or Vergennes, Vermont (the oldest city in Vermont) through the beautiful Otter Creek or Burlington, Vermont in less than an hour, or “Bluff Point” in two hours where the Lake Champlain Hotel is located, which is considered the best hotel In the Adirondacks.
The grounds contain between five and six acres, beautifully laid out, and there is a great abundance of flowers, a large kitchen garden, and quite a number of fruit trees and currant bushes, etc.
A stable with room for five horses, carriage room for five or six carriages, large harness room with glass case for harness, and good comfortable quarters for coachman. There is a large carriage shed outside of table where extra carriages can be stored, also suitable for two automobiles, several chicken houses, and a pigeon house. There is a large new ice house with a cold storage house built in connection with it.
Hyde Gate” is just half way on Lake Champlain, and one can make the trip to New York in a motor boat in two days running spending the night at Albany, or you can run to Montreal with a motor boat in two days.
A couple of years later a similar advertisement ran in the April 1912 issue of Country Life in America. And it would seem that Caleb James Coatsworth was learning a thing or two about advertising with each return to ink. The text length and detail is generally the same throughout, but a bit of brevity slips into the equation, and the photographs improve significantly. Perhaps there are later advertisements that I’ve missed?
Let’s take a look at the copy for Coatsworth’s 1912 Hyde Gate advertisement:
For Sale: Hyde Gate (aka Rosslyn) in Essex, New York, March 1912.
For Sale HYDE GATE ESSEX NY For Rent
“Hyde Gate” is just at the outskirts of Essex Village on Lake Champlain, N.Y. It is the country residence of Caleb James Coatsworth. The house faces the lake, and the ground runs down to the lake. There are bath houses and a large private dock. The house is between 85 and 100 years old. It is a beautiful example of the Colonial period; made of brick. It is very beautifully furnished with antique colonial furniture. It contains ten bed rooms and two bath rooms on the second floor and three bed rooms on the third floor. Also two laboratories on the first floor.
The grounds contain between 5 and 6 acres beautifully laid out. There is a great abundance of flowers. A large kitchen garden and a number of fruit trees and currant bushes, etc. A stable with room for five horses, accommodations for 5 or 6 carriages, large harness room and good comfortable quarters for coachman. Another carriage shed affords accommodations for extra carriages and two automobiles. There are other outhouses. Further particulars from
Two laboratories on the first floor? Fantastic! It’s handy having multiple versions of this ad to sort out the unlikely presence of a pair of labs in a summer residence… Two lavatories, now that makes a little bit more sense. Imagine the ten year old son who’s spent all spring looking forward to summer vacation on Lake Champlain. His father has promised that their summer rental includes two laboratories. Oh, the experiments that have occupied the boy’s daydreams in the final stretch of the school year. A homemade volcano, frog dissection,… the options are endless. And then to arrive after an exhausting journey along bumpy roads in the days long before air conditioning. And the lad races inside to search for the laboratories, to find the answer to his fantasies only to discover that it was an error. Two lavatories? What sort of evil joke is that?
Columns in previous owner’s workshop, present day dining room (Photo: Geo Davis)
It’s time for another architectural salvage update, this time focusing on the Greek Revival columns that we salvaged from Rosslyn’s future dining room back in 2006 in the early days or our renovation project. Let’s dive right in with that photograph above, but first a quick semantic note. For the sake of this post (and others) let’s assume that “adaptive reuse” and “repurposing” are sufficiently equivalent to be used interchangeably. There are those who restrict use of the former for buildings and use the latter for both buildings and materials, design elements, etc. I use the two interchangeably, not limiting “adaptive reuse” to buildings.
Some of you may recognize the photograph at the top of this post as the workshop of Rosslyn’s previous owner, George McNulty. Others of you know this same space — originally a pair of parlors and later dining rooms when the property was operated as the Sherwood Inn — as Susan and my principal dining room. (To avoid confusion, the qualifier is intended to distinguish the space from our front parlor which we use as a smaller dining room and the morning room or north porch which we use as our informal dining room.)
Deconstruction & Salvage
Although similar to the photograph above, this next set of visual benchmarks were made about half a year later. In the first photo the well equipped wood shop was still ready for creative carpentry and historic preservation, active pursuits of the previous owner for decades. But in the photograph below renovations are well underway and this room is virtually empty and deconstructed to the studs and brick.
Soon-to-be repurposed column during September 2006 deconstruction in Rosslyn’s future dining room (Photo: Geo Davis)
All of the trim in this room had already been meticulously documented by McNulty, but we salvaged everything that we could for reuse and to template from in order to bring this room back to its previous condition. It’s worth noting that we originally had hoped to be able to minimize repairs to this room, but it turned out to be a sifting sand trap. Each element we tackled revealed two underlying problems and so on. The floor was failing, the ceiling was failing, the fireplace was failing, the columns and beam which separated the space into two rooms was not original, and there was a window — bricked up and concealed within a closet — that was begging to be opened. Needless to say this room, our future dining room, was one of many that mushroomed in deconstruction and rehabilitation. The scope of work dilated day after day after day for weeks and then months and eventually years. But, I’m getting ahead of myself.
To refocus on the columns, lets start by taking a good look at the southern column (above) and the northern column (below) and then let’s get a little boost from the good folks at Britannica on the anatomy of a Greek column.
Soon-to-be repurposed column during September 2006 deconstruction in Rosslyn’s future dining room (Photo: Geo Davis)
The simplicity of these columns, only minimally embellished, lead me to consider them of the Doric order. And the following overview serves us well with one subtle revision. Both in their original location and in their future icehouse location, these repurposed columns will rest on the floor. In other words, the floor serves as the stylobate.
There are many separate elements that make up a complete column and entablature. At the bottom of the column is the stylobate; this is a continuous flat pavement on which a row of columns is supported. Rising out of the stylobate is the plinth, a square or circular block that is the lowest part of the base. Atop the plinth and forming the remainder of the base are one or more circular moldings that have varying profiles; these may include a torus (a convex molding that is semicircular in profile), a scotia (with a concave profile), and one or more fillets, or narrow bands.
The shaft, which rests upon the base, is a long, narrow, vertical cylinder that in some orders is articulated with fluting (vertical grooves). The shaft may also taper inward slightly so that it is wider at the bottom than at the top.
Atop the shaft is the capital, which serves to concentrate the weight of the entablature on the shaft and also acts as an aesthetic transition between those two elements. In its simplest form (the Doric), the capital consists (in ascending order) of three parts; the necking, which is a continuation of the shaft but which is set off from it visually by one or more narrow grooves; the echinus, a circular block that bulges outward at its uppermost portion in order to better support the abacus; and the abacus itself, a square block that directly supports the entablature above and transmits its weight to the rest of the column below. (Source: Britannica)
You’ll be quizzed on this later. Maybe. Or not.
Repurposed Columns
Now armed with some targeted vocabulary we can fast forward to about a week ago when Pam, Hroth, and Tony extracted the columns from the hay loft of the carriage barn where they’ve been stored for about sixteen years. I won’t pretend they’re tidy, but they’re intact, well preserved and ready for repurposing as a whimsical-but-structural design element supporting the new icehouse loft.
Hroth surveying soon-to-be repurposed columns from carriage barn hayloft to icehouse (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
In the photo above we’re looking over Hroth’s shoulder at the soon-to-be repurposed columns. Yes. Big. Eight feet from the bottom of the plinth to the top of the capital. Hroth’s a tall fellow, but these stately columns tower above him. I’m bringing this up to allow for critics to suggest that these columns just *might* be out of scale with the diminutive icehouse. It’s a reasonable suggestion. But we’re not undertaking an historic preservation. Instead we’re rehabilitating a utility space, a once-upon-a-time storage barn for ice, into a contemporary mixed-use office, studio, lifestyle space. Relevance is driving the program and adaptive reuse with a whimsical nod to the past is guiding the design choices. There are some incongruities baked into the vision for sure, but we’re gambling that they’ll prove charming rather than unsettling. Fingers crossed!
Hroth transporting repurposed columns from carriage barn hayloft to icehouse. (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
After a decade and a half of dusty hibernation in the carriage barn’s hayloft, these artifacts of once again seeing the light of day. Tony (upstairs, inside) and Hroth (outside) tenderly liberated the columns from the veritable warehouse of architectural salvage — windows, doors, moldings, trims, shutters, fireplace surrounds, mantlepieces, and various miscellanea — to begin rehabilitating them.
Hroth and Tony transporting repurposed columns from carriage barn hayloft to icehouse. (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
It’s worth noting that I played with the perspective on the photo above in order to best view the column emerging from the carriage barn. Hoth’s face and figure suffered slightly Silly Putty disfigurement in the process. Please forgive me, Hroth!
Capital from column that will be reused in the icehouse rehab (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
The capitals are not connected to the columns, perhaps because installation is more convenient. Or perhaps as a casualty of our 2006 deconstruction (or sixteen years of getting bumped into while in storage?) But the elements are intact and ready for cleanup and reassembly. I’ll update the repurposed column progress as they move forward on their journey toward installation.
Capital from column that will be reused in the icehouse rehab (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Although it’s still a little premature to photograph the columns inside the icehouse, and since we have some long overdue cleaning and refinishing to undertake before these towering twins are ready to preside over their new environment, it’s helpful to imagine where we’re headed. To that end I’ll conclude with the most recent interior elevations that include the columns. There are inevitably tweaks that will emerge in the weeks and even months ahead and we massage the icehouse rehab into shape, but these drawings might sate your curiosity for a while.
Icehouse interior elevations including repurposed columns, as of November 11, 2022 (Credit: Tiho Dimitrov)
In closing, thank you Hroth and Tony for recovering the repurposed columns with such care. Thank you, Pam, for months of dimension documentation and photographs to ensure that Tiho was able to integrate these into the plan. Thank you, Tiho, for your perennial willingness to accommodate our sometimes challenging guidance and requests. And thank you, Rosslyn, for providing and supporting and nurturing our vision(s). Your gifts are without end.
Bathhouse on Rosslyn Waterfront (Source: Todd Goff)
Meet the former Rosslyn bathhouse. No longer extant on our waterfront, this charming building still exists nearby, having migrated south decades ago (or so we understand.) As boating and swimming (aka bathing) season yield to fall foliage and Canada geese migration, it seems a suitable moment to revisit a post I shared on the Essex community blog on June 17, 2013.
My post focused on the photograph above which features a lakeside utility building and remnants of a crib dock / pier extending out into Lake Champlain. This historic photograph was gifted to me by Essex neighbor and friend Todd Goff some years ago, and it stands as one of relatively few visual records documenting this iteration of Rosslyn’s waterfront.
It’s time to wander out on a proverbial limb. And despite a lifelong penchant for climbing trees I’m not 100% confident with this morning’s adventure. I’m hoping that you’ll help me!
When we posted this mystery photograph on the Essex community blog as part of the Vintage Essex Trivia series, we asked readers to guess the subject of the photo. We were looking for answers to questions like these:
Where was the photograph taken?
When was it taken?
What is the little building?
Does the little building still exist?
While previous Vintage Essex Trivia posts rendered plenty of history, rumor and anecdote, this photograph only resulted in two guesses from members of the community. There’s a reason for that. The scene captured by Gene Van Ornam (Geri Van Ornam’s father) in this photograph no longer exists in Essex. The wiles of time have transformed this waterfront more than once, but there are still some vital clues to guide us.
CLUES: SHERWOOD INN & ROSSLYN WATERFRONT
Despite the almost deafening sound of digital silence which greeted this most recent challenge, two oracular residents shed light on the photograph.
“This looks like a no longer existing precursor to the Sherwood Inn dock.” — Diane Lansing
“Looks like a precursor to the Rosslyn dock, based on the topography of the hillside. But that’s a total guess on my part.” — Kathryn Reinhardt (@adkkathryn)
Both Diane and Kathryn are correct. Bravo!
The stony pier (crib dock) actually predates the Sherwood Inn (though by how many years I’m uncertain), and remnants of it still exists today. The topography and pier are indeed helpful clues, but perhaps the most telling detail is the stone retaining wall which girds the bottom of the hillside.
The stone terracing has endured the wrath of icy flows and swirling floods. Or at least, most of it has endured Lake Champlain’s persistent threat. The 2011 floods which initiated this blog damaged Rosslyn’s waterfront, and reparations are ongoing. But the stone terracing and ramp are once again restored, offering a contemporary context for the historic photograph above.
The photograph below confirms the hypothesis that the building is the former Rosslyn bathhouse.
Special thanks to Diane and Kathryn for your sleuthing, Todd Goff for the superb photograph of Rosslyn bathhouse, and Shirley LaForest for the color postcard image which helps solve the mystery.
Identify established, one significant mystery remains. We’ve confirmed that the building appearing in both of the photographs above depicts the former Rosslyn bathhouse, but I can also confirm that it no longer stands lakeside on Rosslyn’s waterfront. What happened to it?
This is where I climb out onto that proverbial limb. Are you ready?
I’ve been told on several occasions by different people that the building now absent on Rosslyn’s flood-challenged hillside is none other than the charming cottage on Whallons Bay known as the Green Frog. In fact, I’ve even been told that it was transported from the Rosslyn waterfront to its present perch by dragging it over the frozen waters of Lake Champlain. Now that — hauling the Rosslyn bathhouse over the ice, perhaps with a robust team of draft horses? — is a vintage photograph I’d love to discover!
Perhaps you’ve heard the same thing? Or maybe you can offer a different explanation for what happened to the Rosslyn bathhouse?
Photo of Green Frog (Source: Todd Goff)
Photo of Green Frog (Source: Todd Goff)
At the very least it’s clear from the photographs above that the Green Frog, if it is in fact the former Rosslyn bathhouse, has been significantly remodeled over time. Hhhmmm… I’m not certain the second part of this mystery is resolved. Yet. But if/when I learn anything further, I’ll definitely update this post.
Florence Sherwood, Phil Keuhlen, and Chuck Sherwood at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
One of the great joys in owning Rosslyn these last 15 years (hard to believe it’s been a decade and a half since we purchased our Essex home from Elizabeth and George McNulty!) has been discovering the memorabilia of those who’ve come before us. So many Rosslyn memories, stories, and artifacts. Today I’d like to introduce you to the Keuhlen family who vacationed at the Sherwood Inn in August 1951.
Almost three years ago I was contacted by Phillip Keuhlen via the Rosslyn Redux page on Facebook. The impetus for his outreach was contextualizing photographs from a family vacation in Essex many decades ago. I was immeasurably grateful for the opportunity to peer into Rosslyn’s past when the property was operated as the Sherwood Inn. As happens remarkably often in this quirky existence, Phil and I uncovered a handful of additional life overlaps, the sharing of which has evolved into a penpal friendship of sorts.
I asked Phil recently to remind me how we had initially connected.
As for how we came to be in correspondence, it started with a group of photos sent to me from my Mom’s estate, and thinking I might provide some context for my children if they were ever of interest to them.
The breadcrumbs lined up thus:
Internet search on “Sherwood Inn”… much too broad… you would be surprised at the number!
From there to a link to your Rosslyn Redux website
Finally to initial contact via messenger after following link to your FB page…
Digital breadcrumbs for a fortuitous connection across an historic and geographic divide. Oh, brave new world!
Tantalizing Time Capsules
What is it about time capsules, especially serendipitous time capsules? Is it the wink of familiarity across decades, despite initial dissimilarities? Is there just something intrinsically compelling about time-hazed mirrors and patinated backstories? Something irresistibly intriguing about glimpsing earlier iterations of our realities?
I can’t answer these questions, but I suspect that there’s something universal in the fascination I experience when permitted to time travel backward into Rosslyn’s history. My earnest hunch, squinting eyes, and furrowed brow – perhaps the subtle conceits of an amateur sleuth – and my fluttering pulse are familiar and welcome as I study the black and white images shared by a man who lives on the other side of the country, a man I’ve never actually met in person, a man who has generously shared a nostalgic cache of personal artifacts that just happen to illuminate Rosslyn’s blurry past, a sneak peek into an earlier chapter of the property we’ve been revitalizing for years.
In that first photograph above Phil Keuhlen as a youngster is flanked by his proud parents. They’re kneeling in front of a porch that adorned Rosslyn’s East facade for many years. At first the brick home as we know it today isn’t recognizable to me. And then it is. A flash of familiarity. The entrance door sidelights with those delicate, curved mullions are unmistakable.
Florence Sherwood, Phil Keuhlen, and Chuck Sherwood at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
They are better visible in the photograph above as well, however the center transom light (over the door) appears to have been altered at some point.
Adding to my good fortune, Phil has filled in details that his family photographs leave out.
Here are the Sherwood Inn photos I promised… All were taken in August 1951. We lived in Bloomfield, NJ at the time. The little guy in the photos is me at 2 weeks shy of my 2nd birthday. Wish I could offer more background, but both of my folks have passed and the first of my siblings had not joined us yet, so there is no one else left to ask. My only recollection of that vacation is a vague memory of falling backwards and getting briefly stuck between a bench and a bulkhead on a ferry trip across Lake Champlain! Look closely at the one whose file title includes “Note Sign” and you will see a sign for Sherwood Inn in the background. It says there were cabins available… not sure if that is news to you. There is also one that is very blurry… that I included because it shows that there used to be an extension well beyond your boathouse. The names of Florence & Chuck Sherwood, staff member Jean and guest/daughter(?) Judy are all retrieved from my Mom’s contemporaneous inscriptions on the back of the photos.
There’s plenty to muse and chuckle over in Phil’s message, but two threads especially strike me.
Let’s start with Phil’s mother’s “contemporaneous inscriptions on the back of the photos”. The photographs are opulent time capsules in and of themselves. They instantly offer a potent visual connection across the decades, an accessible and inviting bridge between now and then. The presence of Phil, his parents, and several others in the photographs contributes to the allure. These are not mere architectural artifacts. They are intimate snapshots of love and laughter and memories-in-the-making in the very same yard, beach, buildings where we love and laugh and make memories seventy years later. There’s a relevance and resonance that functions like a time machine, embracing two disconnected slivers of time so that they overlap for a moment.
And that is just a reaction to the time tarnished images. The inscriptions that Phil refers to remind me of the messages memorialized on the back sides of vintage postcards I collect.
Although I remain somewhat conflicted whether or not it’s appropriate to share the messages from vintage and antique postcards, I tend toward a quasi-archeological justification (unless the content is obviously sensitive or inappropriate). (Source: Sherwood Inn Landing on Lake Champlain – Rosslyn Redux)
From time to time these words illuminate the image. Time capsules in and of themselves, these quickly scrawled artifacts can enrich and amplify the value of the photographs. This is certainly the case with the notes recorded by Phil’s mother.
I’m especially intrigued to see mention of Florence and Chuck Sherwood. Although I’ve been fortunate in amassing many artifacts from the days that Rosslyn served as the Sherwood Inn, I’m thin on information about this couple. And the staff member smiling in the photos below, who is she? Might she be identifiable? Is she perhaps still a member of our Essex community?
Phil Keuhlen with Jean (staff) at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
Jean, Sherwood Inn staff, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
And Phil’s young companion, Judy, will she remain a mystery? Or perhaps a dash of crowd research will help us to identify her as well.
Phil Keuhlen and Judy at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
Phil Keuhlen and Judy at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
What gratitude I feel to Phil (and to Phil’s mother) for recording and sharing these moments. And yet, I can’t help but repeat thoughts from an earlier post about a vintage photograph.
This faded photograph kindles nostalgia and wonder, revealing a glimpse into the history of Rosslyn… while dangling further mysteries to compell me deeper into the narrative of our home. Kindred sleuths are welcome! (Source: Rosslyn Boathouse, circa 1907 – Rosslyn Redux)
Phil Keuhlen at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
As for the second thread I’d like to revisit, Phil mentions the Sherwood Inn sign in the photograph above.
It says there were cabins available… not sure if that is news to you.
While the presence of cabins or cottages at the Sherwood Inn is known to us, this is a reminder that we’ve never managed to locate any record (photograph, title, etc.) that precisely captures the locations or looks of these cabins. I’d like to. I’m hoping that somebody may have snapped a photograph once upon a time.
Rosslyn Boathouse
As I’ve mentioned time and again since I began sharing this story over a decade ago, it was Rosslyn’s boathouse with which I was initially smitten. It’s my first and enduring passion when it comes to this property. So, needless to say, Phil’s mother’s photographs of the boathouse are especially captivating for me.
Keuhlen Family at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
Although salvaging and rehabilitating this architectural folly was an epic project, it’s immensely satisfying to see that there are so few differences between today’s pier, dock house, and gangway (to shore) and their earlier iteration in the photograph. Preserving this +/-125 year old Essex monument is a perennial challenge. Engineering and construction location hurdles for “a boathouse that was one ice flow away from a watery grave” were not insignificant. And then there was the ahistoric flooding. Not the 1983 flood which took place more than two decades prior to our ownership. The 2011 flood, on the other hand, visited weeks upon weeks of high water upon us immediately after we had completed the boathouse’s lengthy renovation.
The second Keuhlen family photo of Rosslyn’s boathouse was taken when the photographer turned slightly more eastward, away from the beach and toward Vermont.
There is also one that is very blurry… that I included because it shows that there used to be an extension well beyond your boathouse.
Phil’s note touches on one of the notable differences with Rosslyn’s 21st century boathouse. Although a portion of the cantilevered section at the end of the boathouse remains, the extensive pier that continued eastward through the 1990s is no longer extant. Ruins of the old stone and timber crib dock remain however, and they’re visible at low water (usually August to September or October). An ice flow approximately a decade prior to our purchase effectively erased what at one time more than doubled the pier’s extension into Lake Champlain. A studious eye can spy the original pier (and the coal bunker built atop it) in these posts: “Kestrel 1892 Steam Yacht in Essex” and “Rosslyn Boathouse, circa 1907“.
Phil Keuhlen at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
Toward a Poetics of Place
I mentioned at the opening to this post that Phil and I have discovered several uncanny life coincidences. While some (i.e. New Mexico parallels) aren’t germane in this blog post, others are. It turns out that Phil and my wife, Susan, grew up — albeit a generation apart — within walking distance from one another. And his family was similarly drawn to old home rehabilitation.
Funny how small the world can be, huh? My folks restored an old Victorian house in Glen Ridge, the little town between Montclair & Bloomfield… When they took possession, there was a (leaky) slate roof, a well in the attached shed, a coal fired boiler, an earthen floor in the basement, some remnants of lead piping and gas lighting. I learned a lot watching and helping with that rolling renovation… largely an early lesson in blowing cost and schedule. I used to joke with my parents that I would have been a genius if I hadn’t ingested all the dust from sanding and scraping lead based paint in that house as a youngster! […] My folks lived in that old home from 1954 until they moved to Colorado in 1970, and subsequent owners have been generous in allowing my family occasional walks down memory lane there. It sounds like Rosslyn has the same attraction of fond associations for many in Essex. I explored your site some more and found the link to the article in OHJ. Your restoration is simply stunning.
I want to close by telling you how much I have enjoyed your blog. I lived in Saratoga Springs in ’72-’73 and enjoyed exploring up your way every chance I got (ok… when not casting on the Battenkill or Ausable). You write evocatively about a special part of this beautiful country and the history that is integral to a sense of place and community.
I too want to close by telling Phil Keuhlen how much I have enjoyed these photographs and our communications, conversations sometimes rooted in a shared experience of the Sherwood Inn / Rosslyn and other times meandering far afield. It has brought me immense satisfaction journeying into this 1951 time capsule through the memories and artifacts of a stranger-turned-friend. And I am humbled once again with the proof that a sense of place and community is the heart and soul of Rosslyn Redux. I have approached this topic tangentially for years, wondering and wandering toward a better understanding of what defines our Rosslyn experience; what bound us so passionately to this property from our first encounter; and what after all are home, home-ness, homing?
In the early days of this blog I suspected our inside-out rehabilitation story might offer something useful — even practical — to others pursuing similar adventures. Perhaps this is still sometimes the case. But I’ve mostly migrated from prescriptive to curious. Wonder has long since eclipsed practical. Still coalescing is what I’ve come to see as a poetics of place.
With that somewhat nebulous prognostication, I close this pre-Thanksgiving post with heartfelt appreciation to Phil and his late mother. Your gift of memory and family artifacts are now woven inextricably into the Rosslyn narrative. Given the overalled youngster’s self assurance in this final photograph below, it seems almost inevitable that his grown up self would reach across the country and across the years to reconnect with a place that endures in memory. A place that endures as our home. An auspicious connection for sure! Thank you.
Father and son, Al Keuhlen (r) and Phil Keuhlen (l), at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
A vintage Sherwood Inn postcard received from a Crater Club neighbor.
Without a doubt, one of the greatest rewards of living at Rosslyn is the parade of people I’ve met (and the stories they tell) simply because this house and boathouse have touched so many over the years.
[pullquote]”Everyone’s so busy nowadays,” Lila said.[/pullquote]A couple days ago I answered the front door midday. A smiling, well dressed lady introduced yourself. Lila and I had met a couple of winters ago at the Essex Inn, and she reminded me that she had spent many enjoyable afternoons and evenings at the Sherwood Inn a half century or so ago.
She presented me with a color copy of a Sherwood Inn postcard she had received from a friend long ago. The rear side of the postcard said, “My summer home for June – September 1953. Old looking, eh?” Lila explained that she had been meaning to bring this postcard to me ever since we first met.
Lila’s Sherwood Inn Memories
Lila told me stories about the glory days of the Sherwood Inn, a once popular place for a drink and lakeside lodging in the property where I now live. She named several of the friends with whom she’d wiled away pleasant afternoons in the tavern and on the porch, and several were names that were familiar to me.
Lila also told me about playing tennis at the Crater Club where she still spends the warm part of the year. She lamented the fact that younger generations in her family (and all families perhaps?) seem to spend less and less time relaxing on Lake Champlain during summer vacation. “Everyone’s so busy nowadays,” she explained.
When she shook my hand to greet me and then again when she left I was amazed with her firm grip.
“Tennis,” Lila reminded me. “I played lots of tennis for many years.”
I hope I’ll have another chance to catch up with Lila this fall, another chance to hear about slower times in Essex when friends stopped for drinks at the Sherwood Inn and played endless tennis and vacationed all summer long on Lake Champlain…
Rifle-ready aerating at Rosslyn (Image by virtualDavis, Fall, ’11)
“Mornin’,” Wes said as he pulled the pantry door shut behind him and greeted Griffin with a scratch behind the ears.
“Good morning,” I called back from the kitchen where I was scrambling eggs.
“You don’t want me to run that thing on the tennis court, do ya?” he asked, referring to the lawn aerator we had rented in Plattsburgh the day before.
Wesley Hackett had been working for us since the spring of 2005. He’d been a member of the contracting team that renovated the Lapine House, and then we rolled him over to work on Rosslyn. When our historic rehabilitation was complete (Is it ever complete? Rehab ad infinitum…) he stayed on as caretaker, quickly a becoming a jack of all trades who we relied upon heavily.
I’d wanted to revitalize our lawns, especially the front lawn where contractors had parked and pallets of material have been offloaded and stored throughout our endless renovation project. I was especially concerned about the compacted soil beneath the old ginkgo tree, the maple trees and the basswood.
But projects lead on to other projects, and it was the autumn of 2011 before we finally managed to rent an aerator to fill our lawns with small holes. The first step toward healthier grass and healthier trees.
“Good question, Wes. I didn’t think about that.”
The clay tennis court probably dated back to Sherwood Inn days. It was located northwest of the ice house and had long since been converted into a perfectly level lawn suitable for crocket and volleyball when the weather was nice and a grassy pond when rainy days stacked up.
“I was just thinking about the clay, you know?”
“You’re probably right. You don’t want to get bogged down in clay. Let’s skip the tennis court and focus on whatever else remains around the carriage barn and back around the gardens.”
“That’s what I figured. Just thought I’d check.”
“Thanks for asking.”
“Oh, and by the way… Do you think you could advance me $300? I mean, you’ll probably be paying me tomorrow anyway, so I could pay you back.”
The day the gingko leaves fell (Image by virtualDavis)
I’d finished cooking and plating my eggs and was headed into the morning room to eat.
“It’s just the simple fact that Elvin wants to sell me his rifle ’cause he needs the money quick. It’s worth $1,500 easy, but, like I say, he needs the money, so…”
“Planning to get back into the woods?”
“A little bit. You know, some.” When Wes first started working for us he hunted for deer each fall, but several times over the last couple of years he’d mentioned that he really didn’t do it anymore.
“I’ll talk with Susan, but seems to me that it might just make sense to pay you early since we won’t be here Friday.”
“That’d be perfect. Maybe before lunch? I told Elvin I’d come by during lunch if I could do it.”
Room keys from the days when our home was an inn, a restaurant, a tavern, and a waterfront travel destination. We inherited these Sherwood Inn room keys (along with so many other cool artifacts) when we purchased Rosslyn. And, despite their practical irrelevance today, it’s hard to throw them away.
Drop in any mailbox. We guarantee postage.
It’s fun to see the “Drop in any mailbox…” message on these vintage key fobs. Remember when that was a pretty common detail for hotel room keys? Of course, that’s when accommodations still handed out real keys. Nowadays virtually everything including room keys has switched over to digital. But a plastic card with a msg strip has a totally different vibe yo an imprinted fob and room key. Especially a skeleton key!
I don’t remember ever needing to mail a key back to a hotel, but it’s a super practical idea. I wonder if it’d still work… Modern key cards probably find their way into trash cans a lot more often than these old school forebears.
