Hillcrest Station in Essex, NY (Source: Vintage Postcard)
Do you remember the Hillcrest Station in Essex, NY? Three weeks ago I shared a new-to-me vintage postcard (Instagram / Facebook) featuring an Essex service station (with Socony gas) by the name of Hillcrest Station. After winning the eBay auction for this intriguing glimpse into hyperlocal yesteryears, I combed through my collection of Essex artifacts and discovered that I have another vintage postcard depicting the same business from a different location. Needless to say, the Hillcrest Station no longer exists, so my hope in sharing the image on IG+FB was an attempt to learn a little bit more.
Little by little this former Essex business depicted in a pair of postcards is (possibly) getting demystified which is to say that a little amateur sleuthing has turned up a few leads. Let’s start with the other postcard photograph I have in my collection.
Hillcrest Station / Hillcrest Cabins in Essex, NY (Source: Vintage Postcard)
Same service station from a different angle. It’s not clear in the photograph above whether or not cabins were part of the mix, but this second image captures a sprawling enterprise including service/gas station, dining room, and travel accommodations. And the caption across the top of the card, “Hillcrest Cabins, one mile south of Essex, N.Y. on Route 22”, helps locate the property. This tidbit was corroborated by an intriguing tip from newspaper-sleuth, Paul Harwood, who found the following newspaper clipping in the April 21, 1934 issue of the Plattsburgh Daily Press.
This Essex town notices section refers to Hillcrest Station being located on Roger Hill. I’ve never hear this reference before, but perhaps other have? Of note, a front page article in the May 05, 1927 Ticonderoga Sentinel listing a juror panel for Essex County Court lists George Murphy as being from Essex and working as a “garageman”. That makes sense.
Scott Brayden also found newspaper mentions reiterating the location: “…located on Route 22, 1 mile south of Essex”. Here are two clippings from newspaper notices (1949 and 1950) to that effect. (NB: full broadsides at end of post.)
Hillcrest Station Notice 1949 (Source: Essex County Republican, April 15, 1949, p4)
Hillcrest Station Notice 1950 (Source: Essex County Republican, May 05, 1950, p8)
If we head south out of Essex on NYS Route 22, my best guess is that Hillcrest Station was located at the intersection with Middle Road. Some will recall this as the location of JJ’s Terrace (I think I’ve got the name correct). Others may also remember that Lincoln’s Hardware was across the street (location of present day Hub on the Hill). Or am I conflating things? In any event, Mary Wade also confirmed memories of Hillcrest Station. “I remember it in the Early 40’s, I believe it was still in operation then, maybe as far as after the war.” Perhaps additional recollections and photographs will emerge? I sure hope so.
Until then, I’d like to tease out the idea that Hillcrest Station was located at the intersection of NYS Route 22 and Middle Road. My hunch is based on more than the two photographs above and he news clippings. It’s based on a recent visit to the approximate location. I paused during a recent bike ride and took a few photographs that appear to offer some similarities with the historic photos above. I’m especially interested in the roofs of the main building in the foreground and the small cottage/cabin in the background (looking from Middle Road) as well as the trees. Hhhmmm…
Formerly part of Hillcrest Station? (Source: Geo Davis)
Formerly part of Hillcrest Station? (Source: Geo Davis)
Formerly part of Hillcrest Station? (Source: Geo Davis)
Hillcrest Station Update
I’ve received some intriguing feedback from Sean Kelly:
That hill used to be called rogers hill and the intersection used to be called rogers four corners – my grandparents farm was the one by the railroad tracks with the dilapidated farm stand in front – my wife and I recently bought the brick house in bouquet at the top of the next hill (Orr’s Hill), which is where my great grandparents once lived. So I’ve been doing a lot of Bouquet research over the past two years!
There are some references to that intersection in the newspaper when they started paving route 22 in 1921/22 (it was highway 8063 then) and the steam shovel that was doing the grading got stuck. I think the easiest way to answer what you’re looking for is just to pull up the last deed transfer for that plot – it also references rogers four corners, and shows the transfer from George Murphy (who I think owned Hillcrest) to Ted and Aida burns in 1947. They ran it as a bar (not sure when it closed) called Ted and Aida’s.
Ted’s Terrace! That’s right, not JJ‘s Terrace as I’ve previously noted. Thanks for jiggling my memory, Sean, and for filling in these details with all of that history!
Hillcrest Station ’49 & ’50 Public Notices
If you’re interested in the 1949 and 1950 Essex County Republican broadsides excerpted above, you can access them here:
What wintery wonders shall I share with you today? How about a celebration (and showcase) of upcycled Christmas gifts dreamed into existence by three allstar members of our icehouse rehab team?
Upcycled Christmas Gifts from Pam, Hroth, and Tony (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
[pullquote]These upcycled Christmas gifts are a product and symbol of renewal.[/pullquote]
I talk and I type, but these three creative characters have reimagined and reinvented deconstruction debris into functional art and decor. They transformed a piece of old garapa decking and a handful of icehouse artifacts (uncovered during laborious hand excavation for the new foundation) into a handsome coatrack, and they transformed a gnarled piece of rusty steel back into a museum-worthy ice hook that turns the clock back 100+ years.
Let’s start with the photograph at the top of this post which Pam accompanied with the following note of explanation.
Hroth, Tony and I wanted to wish you both a very Merry Christmas. We came up with the idea to make a coat rack out of repurposed items. The wood is old garapa. I found the spikes in the icehouse during inventory and the hook was also discovered in the icehouse during excavation for the concrete floor/footers. Hroth custom made a handle for the ice hook. We also wanted to add a new hummingbird feeder to the garden outside of the breakfast area. Merry Christmas! — Pamuela Murphy
Perfection! Garapa upcycled from Rosslyn’s 2008-9 deck build and miscellaneous ice hauling artifacts reconciled and reborn as a new coat rack that will greet icehouse visitors upon entering the miniature foyer, and a restored antique ice hook that will be displayed prominently in the main room. Bravo, team.
Upcycled Christmas Gifts from Pam, Hroth, and Tony (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
I was curious how Hroth had fabricated the garapa handle for the ice hook out of old decking boards. It’s so round/cylindrical that it looks as if he’d used a lathe.
Two pieces of garapa laminated together. Started out about a 16 inch because it was easier to run through the table saw. I made an octagon out of it on the table saw, then used the big belt sander… I roughed it up a little bit. Didn’t want it to look too perfect. Then Pam suggested that we take a propane torch to it. Made it look older.
It was a fun project. I still need to seal the wood and the metal. Penetrating sealer works well on metal. It’s sharp… We were thinking you might want to put some corks on the ends… or garapa balls. That was the first thing I thought of. We can certainly do that. — Ottosen Hroth
Carving tiny garapa orbs to install on the spikes strikes me as the perfect way to complete the coat rack so that jackets can be hung without getting spikes. It’ll be a difficult-but-intriguing challenge! There must be some technique for creating a small wooden sphere out of a block of wood. Hhhmmm…
I can’t imagine more perfect Christmas gifts. Their collaboration has rendered layers of Rosslyn history — from the late 1800s and early 1900s when the icehouse was in use, through 2008 when we built the deck that yielded this garapa, to 2022 when the old deck was deconstructed and the icehouse rehabilitation was initiated — into timeless beauty that will adorn the icehouse when it is introduced/revealed next summer. These upcycled Christmas gifts are a product and symbol of renewal. Our gratitude is exceeded only by Hroth’s, Pam’s, and Tony’s collaborative accomplishment.
Upcycled Christmas Gifts (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Upcycled Christmas Gifts (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Upcycled Christmas Gift 2022: antique ice hook with handmade handle (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
The flip-through gallery above offers a few more details, and all three (as the two featured photographs above) are documented inside the icehouse with mid-construction backdrops: old studs with new spray foam insulation and new subfloor ready for interior framing and hardwood flooring. It’s tempting to offer tidier or even fancier backdrops, but authenticity prevails. Future decor created from old materials, documented midstream the icehouse’s transformation. Future, past, and present. Concurrent history and hope, a timeless present, an artistic representation of this liminal moment.
Backstory to Upcycled Christmas Gifts
Susan and my gratitude to Pam, Hroth, and Tony is (and obviously should be) the focus of today’s Rosslyn Redux installment, but I can’t conclude without first considering a slightly more amplified retrospective, the backstory, if you will, to the new coat rack and restored ice hook.
Let’s start by rewinding the timeline to 2008-9. Building the new deck and installing garapa decking was the proverbial caboose in a virtually endless train of construction that started in the summer of 2006. (Source: Garapa Decking 2008-2009)
In the photograph below, taken exactly fourteen years ago today, Warren Cross is putting the finishing touches on our first deck build. Although the perspective may be misleading given the still unbuilt garbage and recycling “shed” which today stands directly behind Warren, this is the northernmost extension of Rosslyn’s deck. The stone step (actually a repurposed hitching post chiseled from Chazy and Trenton limestone (aka “Essex stone”) and the rhododendron shrubs are not yet in place either.
But it you imagine the perspective as if you were standing just north of the morning room, looking back toward the carriage barn and icehouse, you’ll be oriented in no time. Oriented, yes, but nevertheless a bit disoriented too, I imagine, as you look upon a carpenter laboring in the snow to scribe and affix the garapa deck skirting / apron that will complete the installation that had began in the autumn with far more hospitable conditions.
Warren Cross completing garapa decking installation on December 22, 2008 (Photo: Geo Davis)
It’s worth noting that Warren, already in his mature years when he worked on Rosslyn with us, not only threw himself into difficult endeavors like the one above, he contributed decades’ of experience and an unsurpassed work ethic that inspired everyone with whom he worked in 2008 and 2009. But there’s an even more notable memory that describes Warren. He was a gentleman. And he was a gentle man. It was a privilege to witness Warren’s collegiality, and Rosslyn profited enduringly from his expertise. But it was his disposition, his consideration, and his kindness that make me nostalgic when I hear him mentioned or when I catch sight of him in photographs.
In terms of memories conjured by this repurposed garapa decking, I should include Hroth’s “research” this past autumn into how best we might reuse the lumber. There was such anticipation and excitement in the hours he experimented and explored. The image below perfectly illustrates the hidden gold just waiting to reemerge from the deconstructed decking material.
Hroth is continuing to experiment with the garapa decking we salvaged from our summer 2022 deck rebuild. I’m hoping to repurpose this honey toned Brazilian hardwood as paneling in the icehouse bathroom. (Source: Upcycling Decking Debris)
Hroth’s discoveries underpin our plan to panel the interior of the new icehouse bathroom with what for a decade and a half withstood the Adirondack Coast elements season after season, and a rambunctious parade of footfalls, barbecues, dog paws, wetsuits, etc. It’s as if the new coat rack exudes the anticipation and optimism that many of us brought to the journey of upcycling the old decking into the new paneling.
And there is an aside that I’m unable to resist mentioning. Pam’s late husband, Bob Murphy, who worked as our property caretaker and became an admired and dearly respected friend, several times removed and reinstalled Rosslyn’s garapa decking over the years — monitoring, triaging, and compensating for the failing TimberSIL substructure. He knew that we would need to rebuild the entire deck soon, and yet he waged a relentless campaign to extend the useful life of the deck as long as possible. I think he’d be proud of the work accomplished by the team this summer, and he sure would have loved being part of that team! And the icehouse rehab would have thrilled him. Needless to say, these upcycled Christmas gifts from Pam and Hroth and Tony also exude Bob’s smile, familiar chuckle, and that mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
And what about that antique ice hook?
I mentioned above an antique ice hook, and the photograph below illustrates exactly what I was referring to. Disinterred by Tony while cleaning out and grading the dirt floor of the icehouse, this badly corroded artifact bears an uncanny resemblsnce to a common tool of yesteryear: the handheld hook. This implement was most often used for 1) grabbing and hauling ice blocks and/or 2) carrying hay bales. The location where this relic was discovered (as well as plenty of examples uncovered by quick research online) strongly suggest that this is an antique ice hook. (Source: Icehouse Rehab 01: The Ice Hook)
Isn’t a beauty? Well, rusty and corroded, but a beauty nonetheless, I think.
Antique Ice Hook, artifact unearthed during the icehouse rehabilitation, 2022 (Source: R.P. Murphy)
The prospect of restoring that ice hook crossed my mind at the time. But it struck me as a challenging proposition given the advanced state of decay. What a surreal transformation from rust-crusted phantom to display-ready relic! It too is marinated in memories, some recent and personal, others vague and distant. In the near rearview mirror are the painstaking efforts made by our team to secure the historic stone foundation beneath the icehouse while ensuring the structural integrity demanded by modern building codes. A labor of loves on the parts of so many. And today we can look back from the proud side of accomplishment. As for the more distant rearview, the antique mirror has succumbed to the influence of time, the glass crazed and hazy, the metallic silver chipped and flaking. And yet we can detect traces of laughter and gossip as blocks of ice were cut from the lake, hooked and hauled up to the icehouse, and stacked in tidy tiers for cooling and consumption during temperate times ahead.
A Glimmer of Springtime
In closing this runaway post, I would like to express my warmest gratitude for the upcycled Christmas gifts above, and for a new hummingbird feeder to welcome our exuberant avian friends back in the springtime. Taken together this medley of gifts excite in Susan and me the enthusiasm and optimism for the coming months of rehabilitation and mere months from now the opportunity to celebrate a project too long deferred and so often anticipated. With luck we’ll be rejoicing together in the newly completed icehouse by the time the hummingbirds return to Rosslyn.
Hummingbird Feeder 2022 Christmas Gift from Pam, Tony, and Hroth (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Thank you, Pam, Hroth, and Tony for these perfect presents. And thank you to everyone else I’ve mentioned above for enriching this home and our lives. I look forward to rekindling these memories when I hang my coat or my cap up each time I enter the icehouse. Merry Christmas to all!
Champy spotted at Essex ferry dock?!?! Once upon a time…
Champy Spotted at Essex Ferry Dock (Photo: Kathryn Reinhardt)
I’m gambling that it was around 1980 for no reliable reasons except the look and condition of the Old Dock Restaurant, the presence of ice shanties on a throughly frozen lake with no ferry canal, and the incredibly well executed snow/ice sculpture just north of the Essex ferry dock. It’s this last one that triggered a cascade of memories and lead me to hope that the photograph was taken by Jan Peden around 1980. More on that in a moment.
I make no effort to disguise my enthusiasm for hyperlocalephemera and other artifacts, especially yesteryear photographs and other representations of our fair village. So you just might be able to imagine my excitement when I received this message from friend and neighbor, Kathryn “Kathy” Reinhardt.
Sorting papers and I found two Essex postcards you might like. One of the Split Rock lighthouse with a postmark and message from 1910. The other card was not used and shows the snow covered ferry dock with a frozen Champ swimming alongside. Photo is by Jan Peden; card was published by ECHO.” — Kathryn Reinhardt
I’ll get to the historic image of the Split Rock Lighthouse in a moment, but let’s pause a moment to appreciate the legendary Lake Champlain monster (aka “Champ”, “Champy”).
Champy & Nostalgia
I’m hoping that this post might rekindle community memory enough to learn who helped sculpt this superb likeness of our favorite surviving dinosaur. The uninitiated may remember Champy from the Sid Couchey painting/illustration of the friendly monster cavorting off the end of Rosslyn’s boathouse. I shared it waaayyy back on April 27, 2012, so it’s say it’s time for a resurface.
Champy in front of Rosslyn’s boathouse (Art: Sid Couchey)
Ostensibly a cousin to the Lock Ness monster, our Lake Champlain mystery monster is considered a myth by some, a fundamental fact by others. Happy hour sightings along the lake’s waterfront apparently offer particularly plausible viewing opportunities, though I’ll admit having never witnessed the friendly fellow (or is Champy a she?).
I suggested earlier that my instinct to date this postcard photograph sometime near 1980 derives from vivid memories of the years prior to and after the 1980 Winter Olympics which took place in Lake Placid. I was a boy, so my memories are likely ripened with nostalgia, but it seems that there was community-wide embrace of winter in those years. Likely catalyzed by preparations for the Olympics and then the afterglow, it seems that there were abundant winter happenings — toboggan runs, outdoor jogging contests, cross country ski races, skating rinks, fish fries with freshly caught smelt, and snow sculptures — that drew people outside into the out-of-doors from community revelry. I remember competing in a cross-country ski race on the Westport Country Club golf course, and “red nose runs” in Elizabethtown. I remember fish fries at the old Westport beach, and the most horrifyingly thrilling toboggan chute down the hill and out onto the frozen lake. I believe that much of these memories are clumped around an annual midwinter event that was called the Westport Outdoor Weekend (WOW). And one of my favorite parts of this annual festival was the snow sculpture contest. Homes throughout the area competed for the bet snow sculpture. We used to drive around and admire them all. I believe I recall the Valley News even showcasing winners some years. And so this flood of nostalgia underpins my suspicion that this handsome facsimile of Champy might date to those years.
It’s interesting to me that the postcards, produced by ECHO, drew attention to the Essex-Charlotte ferry pier and history of service without a more inclusive mention of the Essex waterfront or the handsome snow sculpture!
Back side of Champy at Essex ferry dock postcard (Photo: Kathryn Reinhardt)
Split Rock Light
Let’s turn now to the second postcard that Kathy sent me. Although I and others usually refer to the historic lighthouse presiding over the dramatic geographic promontory jutting out into Whallons Bay as the Split Rock Lighthouse, I’ve notice this older references, especially the further back into history they fall, refer to it as Split Rock Light. That’s neither here nor there, but I find those little linguistic shifts intriguing.
1910 postcard depicting Split Rock Lighthouse (Photo: Kathryn Reinhardt)
I recently shared an almost identical postcard of the Split Rock Light, likely created from the same source photograph. The coloring, layout, and captioning differs between the two, but I imagine both images were late at the end of the 19th or beginning of the 20th century and then repurposed. It’s a compelling angle, especially because this same view today is less open. Here’s the postcard that I published on November 21, 2022.
Split Rock Light, Essex, NY (Vintage Postcard)
It’s fun to flip back and forth between the two images to see what’s similar and what differs. Back in November I was struck then as well by how thinly forested the Split Rock Light grounds were at the time.
The historic lighthouse located at Split Rock in Essex, NY reigns over a promontory bearing a curious resemblance to an arboretum, more landscaped and less wild than today. A copse of diverse specimen trees here, a granite outcrop there, a grassy bluff here,… I can’t help but see a sort of Split Rock botanical garden. (Source: This is Not a Metaphor)
That notable difference with the same location a century or so later vies for my attention, but so too does the message on the reverse of the postcard that Kathy sent.
In many respects this is the most formulaic, most universal postcard missive. We’ve all read (and possibly written) versions of this, right? But there’s a personal pleasure in the final two lines:
Having a delightful sail on this. — B.H.
As a boater in general, and a sailor in particular, this subtle sign-off hooks me. So often Susan and I spy this beautiful, historically significant spot by boat, and often by sailboat. So even though B.H. mostly went through the motions in the message area of the card, the fading memory of a sail on Lake Champlain, indeed on the enchanting broad-lake-to-narrows transition, appeals to my romantic imagination.
Back side of 1910 postcard depicting Split Rock Lighthouse (Photo: Kathryn Reinhardt)
I’d best conclude this post (definitively in need of an editor!) before I wander too much further afield. And yet I can’t resist acknowledging that one of the great satisfactions of these artifacts is not just the bridge across time, but the invitation to meander. To wonder and wander. And this post is proof that meandering is a favorite pastime for yours truly.
Thank You, Kathy!
This Rosslyn blog and the Essex community blog have been meaningful projects in large part because they have catalyzed a sort of community crowdsourcing, gathering all sorts of curious anecdotes, memories, stories, renderings, and relics from current and past members of Essex and environs. Any time I receive a message like the one that Kathy sent, my heart skips a beat. My anticipation builds and builds until the meeting or the phone call or the email or the letter completes the excitement provoked by the initial “teaser”. And so I close off this post with a holiday hug (stretched by distance but invested with bountiful gratitude) for Kathryn “Kathy” Reinhardt.
Kathryn Reinhardt preparing to “polar plunge” on May 1, 2016 (Photo: Geo Davis)
I hope she’ll chuckle good-naturedly at this fun photo that I took a half dozen years ago. It perfectly captures her perennial joy, her contagious laughter, and her warmth. I couldn’t resist mentioning this last 100% accurate description of Kathy’s character because she’s about to take an early springtime plunge into Lake Champlain in the photograph. Brrr…
In Essex we live connected with our history. There are daily reminders — architectural, cultural, anecdotal, etc. — of the yesterdays that endure or linger on today. It’s not so much that time has stood still (although there are plenty who will suggest as much), but rather Essex allows a concurrence of times. Past and present coexist in some respect, as layers or textures of our day-to-day.
And yet there are occasional reminders of our long gone past. The industrial Essex waterfront documented fuzzily in the postcard above, for example, stands in stark contrast to the same waterfront today. The industry and innovation alive and well in Essex today is very different from 100 or 200 years ago.
I’m especially smitten with Essex waterfront images, fueled no doubt by a lifelong yen for things nautical.
I appreciate lakeside time capsules that pop up unexpectedly like this historic postcard that I tried unsuccessfully to purchase on eBay. It turns out that another collector with deeper pockets (and more persistent auction monitoring!) was able to win this nostalgic view of Essex’s northern waterfront, but I’ve made an effort to render the low definition photograph slightly more legible for you so that you can decipher the stories suggested by yesteryear’s industrial Essex waterfront.
In my estimation the photographer appears to have been looking south across Blood’s Bay toward the cape or peninsula now known as Begg’s Park. This Essex “skyline” adorns a circa 1924 postcard, but the photograph was likely made years or even decades earlier.
Yesteryear or Yesterday? Rosslyn boathouse v3.0 (Photo: Geo Davis)
As I inch my way toward a long anticipated halfway point — six months of old house journaling — I’m finding that time, more than sixteen and a half years, has begun to blur. Excavating and analyzing more than a decade and a half of Rosslyn notes and artifacts and drawings and plans and journal entries has been an immersive and fascinating journey. It’s also become increasingly disorienting. Time has become unreliable. Kaleidoscopic. I find myself wondering, did that happen yesteryear or yesterday?
Yesteryear or Yesterday? Rosslyn boathouse v2.0 (Photo: Geo Davis)
If I were an historian or a detective, this protean timeline would be problematic. Big time.
But I’m not. And the bug is beginning to feel like a feature, as my techy friends like to joke.
Yesteryear or Yesterday? Rosslyn boathouse v1.0 (Photo: Geo Davis)
Postcard of Yesteryear or Yesterday
Three postcards above. Rosslyn’s boathouse. Yesteryear of yesterday. The version numbers tell the story, but the illusion is an invitation to join me in the timeless sanctuary which is Rosslyn, Historic Essex, the Adirondack Coast, Lake Champlain,…
We live amidst history. Ancient history and recent history. Forgotten history. History happening anew, now. And now. Layers of Rosslyn’s past, present, and future intermingle. Sometimes they resolve themselves. Sometimes they coalesce. A kaleidoscopic collage emerges, vanishes, re-emerges transformed. Again. Timeless. A thousand iterations. More. A mercurial montage. Sequencing. Re-sequencing.
https://www.instagram.com/p/B2-WgMcg7Ck/
I invite you to join me at the boathouse for a midwinter mallard jacuzzi or a midsummer double rainbow. Maybe slip into the Riley for a nostalgic cruise. Backward in time. Forward in mind, interweaving our collective imagination. Windows down, wind in our hair, wandering Essex byways. 19th century and 21st century, hand-in-hand. Yesteryear or yesterday.
My bride and I credit the vintage Adirondack lifestyle (and it’s 21st century progeny) for luring us away from Manhattan in 2006 to become North Country full-timers. But what exactly is the Adirondack lifestyle? And has the notion evolved from the time patinated vintage Adirondack stereotypes of yesteryear?
Still image from “Land of My Dreams”. (Source: Amateur Cinema)
Actually it’s not so easily defined, perhaps because there are so many different perspectives on what makes living (or even vacationing) in the Adirondacks desirable. High Peaks, Great Camps, cozy little lodges, Champlain Valley, agriculture, hunting, fly fishing, ice fishing, back country adventures, extreme sports, and the list goes on. Although a portrait of our Adirondack experience will evolve out of these blog posts, I won’t presently attempt to define the vintage Adirondack lifestyle. Though often attempted, any single face of of the Adirondack experience is an abstraction, often even a caricature or a stereotype. The real Adirondack experience is vast, rich and dynamic. It is precisely this richness and diversity which appeals to us. It is precisely this evolving character which inspires us to get involved with the people and organizations that have welcomed us.
Image by virtualDavis via Flickr
The video from which the still above was captured, the first in a series of three, is called Land of My Dreams and it was apparently created by Joseph J. Harley in the late 1940’s. It captures a nostalgic (if extremely dated) caricature of vintage Adirondack living, more precisely the rustic “camp” lifestyle popularized during the mid 1900s.
The story takes place on Bluff Island in the Adirondacks, Saranac Lake, New York. My great grandparents had a house that Joe built himself from scratch. The DEC took the house down after a law was made that people could only camp on certified islands in the lake. Joseph J. Harley was an amateur film maker who made many other movies and won awards for them. (YouTube.com)
Douglas Yu (@tourpro) over at Adirondack Base Camp put me onto this quirky vintage short, but he wasn’t able to share much more about the film or Harley. (Note: unfortunately these videos are now private, and no longer available.)
I couldn’t find much information about the filmographer, but at one point he was President of the American Cinema League.
Many of the artifacts that I’ve collected since purchasing Rosslyn fall into this hazy no-man’s land of vintage Adirondack collectibles (postcards, magazine advertisements, newspaper articles, brochures, videos, etc.) It’s challenging or impossible to determine the background for many of the artifacts, and they occasionally include dated or peculiar elements such as the “black face” character in the the second video. And yet, taken together they provide a context for the quirky tale I have to tell. I’ve decided that this blog is the perfect way to preserve and share these artifacts, characters and stories which don’t find their way into my Rosslyn Redux memoir or the Redacting Rosslyn monologues.
By collecting these artifacts into a “digital museum” I hope to showcase some of the esoteric ingredients of the vintage Adirondack lifestyle (and its contemporaneous offspring) which seduced us, aggravates us, intrigues us, perplexes us and inspires us in this new chapter of our lives.
Our first full workweek is in the rearview mirror, so Rosslyn’s icehouse rehabilitation is officially underway. No gold plated spade plunged into the earth, no glossy speeches, and no hoopla aside from a collective sigh of relief, some well earned rest today, and an antique ice hook. A what?!?! More about the ice hook in a moment.
Let the photo above be proof that clean-out and demo are now complete. It’s time to commemorate the ceremonial starting point for our long anticipated quest to rehabilitate Rosslyn’s historic utility building into a functionally relevant utility building for the 21st century. In the weeks ahead we’ll share the vision, introduce the team transforming this vision into reality, and invite you into the collaborative creative process.
Week 01 Recap
https://www.instagram.com/reel/CjcS50UA2nu/
The short videos above and below offer the best insight into progress and present conditions.
https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cjgl6ABAGcU/
Although last week was the first *official* foray into this project, it was made possible by several weeks of preliminary work completed by Pam and Tony (emptying the contents of the building, inventorying the architectural salvage and building materials that will be repurposed in this project, transporting and storing everything into the carriage barn and a rented storage container parked west of the barns for the duration of the project.) There’s always a lot more to launching a new construction project than expected, and ample credit is due to everyone — Pam, Hroth, Tony, Eric, Andrew, Justin — who successfully tackled the site prep. And behind the scenes, Tiho Dimitrov spent the week fine-tuning construction plans in conjunction with Thomas Weber who’s responsible for engineering the structural plan. All of these committed collaborators have gotten us to the starting gate.
The Ice Hook
I mentioned above an antique ice hook, and the photograph below illustrates exactly what I was referring to. Disinterred by Tony while cleaning out and grading the dirt floor of the icehouse, this badly corroded artifact bears an uncanny resemblsnce to a common tool of yesteryear: the handheld hook. This implement was most often used for 1) grabbing and hauling ice blocks and/or 2) carrying hay bales. The location where this relic was discovered (as well as plenty of examples uncovered by quick research online) strongly suggest that this is an antique ice hook. What do you think?
Detail from Steamer Vermont Stereoview, photographed by S.R. Stoddard c. 1870
In the thirteen years since arriving in Essex (or perhaps it’s only the twelve years since purchasing Rosslyn?) I’ve succumbed to a romantic-if-frivolous obsession with local and regional artifacts. Sometimes I’m fortunate enough to document firsthand relics from Essex yesteryear or Lake Champlain yesteryear. Other times I’m afforded a mere glimpse.
That cinematic snapshot above, as moody as it is patinated, falls into the latter category. Like a still from a crumbling film no longer visible. A phantom. A memory. Men aboard the steamship Vermont. Serious, contemplative, well dressed gentlemen (and likely a few imposters) recline or stand solemn on the forward, upper deck as they sail across Lake Champlain.
Who are they? Where are they headed? What is their occupation, their task, their conversation? Who is their haberdasher?!?!
We know only that the photograph, a detail from two images arranged in the stereoview below, was captured by S.R. Stoddard (circa 1870s according to the auction listing). Fading mementos of forgotten travelers. Worn edges and sepia-tinged souvenirs. Formal calligraphy on bright orange cardboard.
Sadly another bidder beat me to this treasure. But others will surface in due course…
Here’s the original stereoview.
Steamer Vermont Stereoview, photographed by S.R. Stoddard c. 1870
Sometimes a trifle is all we need to smile inwardly and lift our spirits. A chuckle. The wink of wonder.
This auction item offered no specific insight into Rosslyn’s yesteryears, nor did it illuminate in any meaningful way our fair village or its environs. But the photo, auction title, and description beguiled me nonetheless. Smile, chuckle, wonder.
Essex Cottage
Let’s start with the title.
Vintage Snapshot Photo 1946 Buick Special Eight & Cottage Lake Champlain Essex NY
Perhaps as early as the late 1940s or maybe the 1950s a snapshot was inspired by a car and cottage in Essex. No people. No lake view or Adirondack panorama. Just a portrait of travel conveyance and travel accommodation.
Before dilating slightly why this otherwise mundane memento intrigued / enchanted / captivated me, let’s read the auction description.
Vintage 1940’s deckle edge snapshot photograph of a Buick Special Eight sedan parked next to a little vacation house or cabin, identified as being at Lake Champlain in Essex, New York.
If the missing deckle edge disappoints you, sorry. I cropped the image and lost the deckle. But if you share my curiosity about the period when Essex was a popular destination for “motor touring” (car travel), then you’ll understand Why this quirky photograph caught my attention.
Nostalgia
There’s an elusive longing that I feel when I look at this photograph. I am 50 years old, so the nostalgia is not firsthand. If the heyday of “motor touring” (and the motor courts and cabin/cottage communities that proliferated during that time) preceded my birth by a decade and more, then what exactly is it that tugs poignantly as if personally relevant and familiar, as if similar a reference point exists in my own younger years?
I’m not certain. On the one hand, I do think that the 30s and 40s and 50s and even the 60s are often romanticized in music and film and art and books. So maybe there’s a sort of inherited nostalgia by way of influences that I’ve experienced through pop culture, etc. even having lived a generation removed from the actual phenomena.
On the other hand there is a small sliver of overlap between my own personal lived experience and the vignette documented in this vintage photograph. It’s this overlap, I suspect, that compels my curiosity about Hillcrest Station & Cabins and Camp-of-the-Pines.
As Susan and I took Rosslyn’s reins in 2006 I found myself inexplicably, irresistibly fascinated with earlier chapters in this property’s history. An almost childlike curiosity kindled my questions and my investigation.
I learned early on that there had been several guest cottages on the property during the days of the Sherwood Inn, possibly located beyond the carriage barn and icehouse. These diminutive guest accommodations had long since vanished, but this only increased my wonder. Where exactly had the Sherwood Inn Cottages been located? Did cars have the ability to pull up to the cottages? Or did they park in a central park area and walk across the lawn? Fix they have running water (i.e. toilets and baths/showers)? Did they have electricity? What sort of design and architectural style? Did they complement or contrast with the home, boathouse, carriage barn, and icehouse? When were they removed? We’re the demo’ed or transported elsewhere?
I suppose my interest is more romantic than nostalgic…
1946 Buick
Let’s parse this nostalgia versus romance distinction.
The cottage in the image above resonated in the same way that the Hillcrest Cabins and Camp-of-the-Pines did for me. All of them harken back to a time when our home was an inn that included a few similar cottages nestled somewhere on the property. To date I’ve been unable to locate photographs of these cottages though I have searched.
While I do have a bit of an obsession with the various narratives and artifacts left behind by those who have come before us, I’m not obsessed with history per se. I love the details. The stories. The patina. The aged and neglected and forgotten detritus of life lived. I’m guardedly optimistic that I will find photographs, maybe vintage postcards, or maybe even a brochure, that will show me what the cabins at the Sherwood Inn looked like. Perhaps the cottage in this photograph stood at the Sherwood Inn? I can’t quite figure out how the perspective might align, but as my interest is largely romantic, it’s not a big leap to conjure this building into a corner of our property. Of course, that doesn’t make it true.
But there is another romantic element at work here as well. I could not have told you the make or model of the car in the photograph, and, frankly, I’m taking it on good faith that the person who listed this auction item titled it incorrectly. But the visual of a 1946 Buick Special Eight inevitably overlaps in my romantic imagination with our 1949 Riley RMB (photos below). I’ve mentioned this handsome automobile in the past, and it’s recently been front of mine again as I evaluate whether or not I should be matching it up with a new owner more passionately committed to its restoration and maintenance.
I’ll close by saying that I did initially bid on this auction, but I bowed out early. My early offer was immediately overshadowed by another. Separating nostalgic from romantic inclinations proved helpful. This distinction has become increasingly important to me as I disentangle the many motives that braided my life and Susan’s life together with Rosslyn’s life over the last 16 years. But I’m wandering afield, teasing a tangent, so I’d best abbreviate this thought for another post. Stay tuned!
