Dutchess County Historical Society Yearbook 2006 Vol. 85

DCHS Year Book • Volume 85

Dutchess County Historical Society YEAR BOOK 2005-2006

KEITH O’NEILL, EDITOR

D. C. H. S. YEAR BOOK, VOLUME 85 Published annually since 1915 Copyright © by The Dutchess County Historical Society, 549 Main Street, Poughkeepsie, New York, 12601, and Post Office Box 88, Poughkeepsie, New Yorkm 12602. Individual copies may be purchased through the Society. Selected earlier Year Books are also available.

ISSN 0739-8565 Manufactured in the United States of America CALL FOR PAPERS The Publications Committee is now soliciting articles for future Year Books. Articles should be no longer than 7500 words, double-spaced typescript or on disc, in Microsoft Word. The 2007 issue will commemorate the 50th anniversary of Dutchess Community College; the 2008 will mark Dutchess County’s 325 year and the 2009 volume will celebrate the Hudson/Fulton/Champlain 400th anniversary.

Inclusion of photographs or other illustrative material is encouraged.

Manuscripts, books for review, and other correspondence relevant to this publication should be addressed to: Dutchess County Historical Society, Publications Committee, P.O. Box 88, Poughkeepsie, NY 12602 The Society encourages accuracy but does not assume responsibility for statements of fact or opinion made by contributors.

The Dutchess County Historical Society was formed in 1914 to preserve and share the county’s right history and tradition. The only countywide agency of its kind, the Society is an active leader and promoter of local historical works, and the collection and safe-keeping of artifacts, manuscripts, and other priceless treasures of the past. The Society has been instrumental in the preservation of two preRevolutionary landmarks, the Clinton House and the Glebe House, both in Poughkeepsie. In addition, the Society has educational outreach programs for the schools of Dutchess County.

The Society offers a variety of activities and special events throughout the year. Contact the Society for further information: by phone at (845) 471-1630, or at the address above.

COVER: Facade of Juliet Theater, January 12 or 13, 1940. Special Collections, Vassar College

View on the Webatuck at Amenia, NY. See John Quinn’s article on Page 89

Table of Contents

A HISTORY OF THE JULIET THEATER by Annon Adams…………. 1 PARAMOUNT MEMORIES by Pete Bergamo………………………… 13 TRINITY CHURCH—250 YEARS by Shirley B. Bergmann……………. 19 FROM THE BILL OF RIGHTS TO IBM: POUGHKEEPSIE JOURNAL HISTORY by Meg Downey…………………………………………........ 41 TWO HUNDRED YEARS OF THE FULL MOON LODGE by Patrick Higgins……………………………………………………………….. .… 55 HISTORY OF DRESS AT VASSAR COLLEGE by Holly Hummel…… 59 THE PALATINE FARMSTEAD AT RHINEBECK by Nancy Kelly….. 67 CAPTAIN H. L. BARNUM: AN ENIGMA by Harold Nestler…………. 85 TEN MILE RESEVOIR by John Quinn………………………………... 89 BACK FROM THE DEAD: PLEASANT VALLEY’S OLD MILL STORE

by Thomas E. Rinaldi……………………………………………………. 99 CONTRIBUTORS……………………………………………………..... 109

A History of The Juliet Theater Annon Adams*

The Juliet Theater opened in the Town of Poughkeepsie, New York, before a select audience on January 6, 1938. Located at the corner of Raymond and Collegeview Avenues, it is near the line that divides the old Hudson River city of Poughkeepsie from the Town of Poughkeepsie. The first neighborhood theater built outside of downtown Poughkeepsie, the Juliet was in the small commercial area of Arlington, which adjoins Vassar College. The Juliet was also the first theater in the Poughkeepsie area to be built for sound pictures. Other area theaters were built before 1924, during the silent film era. As the souvenir program said: “Netco Theaters Corporation (Netco), operators of the Bardavon, Stratford, and State Theaters, Poughkeepsie, New York, and managing company of Paramount Pictures Theaters within the State of New York, proudly offer you the new Juliet Theater.”

When the Juliet opened, there were three additional theaters in the downtown area, for a total of six. Netco had Vassar College in mind when it planned the Juliet, a “deluxe neighborhood theater.” Vassar’s President, Henry Noble MacCracken, gave the theater its name and was the featured speaker at the opening. The souvenir program for the opening featured many photos of the college.

On January 7, the Poughkeepsie Eagle News reported: “The opening had something of the impressiveness of a metropolitan opening night, as a good share of the 500 guests arrived in formal Reprinted by permission of the Theater Historical Society of America from their quarterly publication, Marquee, Second Quarter, 2004.

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dress.” The paper had reported on January 5 that the guests were to include President and Mrs. Roosevelt, whose home in Hyde Park was close by, but it’s doubtful they were in the audience.

Many executives at Paramount Pictures, Inc., including its president, Barney Balaban, and representatives from other studios were listed to attend.

After the audience sang “The Star-Spangled Banner,” there were remarks by George C. Walsh, President of Netco Theaters Corporation, and Supervisor Joseph V. Lyons of the Town of Poughkeepsie. Lyons was apparently a late addition, as he is not listed in the souvenir program. Then as the Vassar Miscellany News reported, Mayor Spratt of the City of Poughkeepsie introduced President MacCracken as “one who had sat in at the birth of the infant theater, sat in at the christening, and actually named the child.” President MacCracken “replied that he was not sure if he was speaking as a budding Demosthenes or a mid-wife.”

As reported the next day Poughkeepsie Eagle News, MacCracken “described motion pictures as a great new educational implement, declaring that it was regrettable that it has received such little encouragement from the field of education itself.” Education had not yet caught up with the swift pace of development of film as an art. “The trend toward scientific, biological, travel and other films, he asserted, was exerting a tremendous educational influence on the public.”

After the Universal News, “Little Lambie,” a Paramount Color Classic Cartoon, and “Water, Water, Everywhere,” a Paramount Grantland Rice Sports Reel, the audience watched the feature Tovarich, starring Claudette Colbert and Charles Boyer.

George C. Walsh wanted his guests to know that, as he says in the souvenir program: “We have endeavored to give to the people of Arlington, Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, and neighboring communities not merely a fine theater, rich in style and artistic beauty, but a place to which you may come for your entertainment, with the assurance of seeing the finest pictures obtainable in surroundings of warmth and friendliness.”

The architect for the Juliet was Krokyn and Browne, of Boston, and the builder was John Eylers, of Poughkeepsie. The theater seated 579 on one level. A local wag suggested that every Juliet needed a balcony, but this one didn’t. The exterior of the 2

A HISTORY OF THE JULIET THEATER

theater was brick with cement trim reminiscent of Gothic architecture, a design staple for college buildings. The interior was in simple Moderne style with Moderne furniture in the lounge and basement. The carpet patterns in the theater and upstairs lounges were the most complex designs in the theater.

The new Floating-Comfort theater chairs from the International Seat Corp. were in tan and rust to harmonize with the general color scheme and carpeting. Lighting throughout was indirect.

To insure that the theater became a community center, on the second floor, in addition to the restrooms, there was the “Balconade Lounge Facilities” or Social Lounge, or Tea Lounge and Kitchenette. Management couldn’t quite decide what to call this space. They described it this way in the souvenir program: As you reach the top of the stairs, you immediately think of some delightful club room. There are divans, lounge chairs and bridge tables and a general atmosphere of clubbiness that is certain to make for a friendly feeling.

And of all things, there is a fully equipped kitchenette, so that Clubs or any groups may serve Teas or hold meetings and get-togethers, if they wish after attending the regular performance. So your Club will be as welcome as any other group. Naturally the Ladies predominate such a plan and so to add to their enjoyment and comfort, there is a properly equipped Powder Room, off which is the Rest Room.

The Juliet Theater Policy stated: “Club groups, sororities, and societies are invited to use these facilities, WITHOUT CHARGE, after attending our regular performance. RESERVATIONS MADE IN ADVANCE.” The wife of a later manager remembered that Vassar girls would rent these rooms for meetings and parties.

Indeed, these facilities seemed to be aimed at pleasing the fair sex.

To provide something for male customers, there was what the souvenir program called “a happy and novel innovation”—a Game Room. How it would be used seems less clear in the minds of management: As the management now plans it, there will probably be installed two of the latest types of Ping Pong tables and other games to wile away the time. And that brings up the idea of Tournaments and there is room for gallery seats to 3

ANNON ADAMS

watch from. Of course there will be comfortable seating arrangements and all those thoughtful items to unconsciously help you find fun. The decorations on the wall might be sport murals that you yourself helped put on. We shall see about that. And last but not least is the matter of lights. There will be center lights over the tables and wall fixtures on the side. But best of all, come and see for yourself. Any member of the theater staff will show you.

The Game Room was used infrequently. Any mention of the Game Room and the Lounge and Kitchenette was removed from ads within a year of opening. These community facilities didn’t seem to catch on. With a small staff, facilities like these would have been hard to manage.

The ping-pong table remained in the basement until the 1980’s; however, the basement had water problems when it rained, so its use as a game room was difficult. The first manager of the Juliet was Maurice Finney, who had been working as an Assistant Manager for Manager Henry Hof of the Stratford.

When the Juliet opened, the theater policy was to have four changes of film per week. New pictures would open on Friday, Saturday, Tuesday, and Thursday. This quickly changed to three changes per week. At first, films would be shown simultaneously with one of Netco’s downtown theaters.

Doors opened at 2:00 p.m. and 6:30 p.m., with performances beginning at 2:30 p.m. and 7:00 p.m. and continuous performance on Sundays only. Prices were: for matinees, adults, 20 cents and children, 15 cents; and for evenings, adults, 40 cents and children, 15 cents.

The Town of Poughkeepsie had to pass a law quickly allowing Sunday motion picture performances. Netco seems to have been slow to discern the differences between operating in the City and the Town of Poughkeepsie.

In addition, there would be special performances of foreign and cultural films. A Vassar College film committee composed of the President, faculty, and students recommended these films.

They were to be of three types: foreign, documentary and excellent old films, such as Modern Times.

On Saturday, January 15th, there were two special performances of Une Soiree a la Comedie Francaise at 10 am and 4:30 4

A HISTORY OF THE JULIET THEATER

pm for a 40 cent admission. The performances were cosponsored by Vassar and the Poughkeepsie chapter of the American Association on University Women (AAUW). The film was about the Comedie Francaise and included a performance of Moliere’s play, La Precieuses.

During the first five months, there was one more foreign language film on Saturday, and two more shown during the middle of the week.

When Vassar’s students went home, the theater closed for summer vacation and re-opened when the students returned.

When the theater re-opened in the fall, films played the Juliet after playing either the Bardavon or the Stratford, and sometimes there were return engagements. Occasionally, foreign films and documentaries were shown on Saturday or midweek.

In December, 1938 a new theater policy was advertised, which dropped the matinee shows Monday through Friday.

There was a matinee at 2:30 p.m. on Saturday and continuous shows on Sunday.

Again, the theater closed during Vassar’s summer vacation.

When the theater re-opened September 22, 1939, it was advertised as “Everybody’s Theater” with new lower prices: adults, 30 cents, and children, 10 cents. The Juliet still ran a single bill that changed three times a week. Foreign films were shown mid-week.

Netco management now had its headquarters in the Bardavon Building in downtown Poughkeepsie, and it seems they were keeping a close eye on the Juliet. Instead of closing, a new summer policy was instituted. Double features and prices were changed: evening, 25 cents; and matinee, 15 cents. Shows were at 7 p.m. and 9 p.m., with matinees on Saturday, Sunday, and Holidays at 2:30 p.m. Prices were still above those of the grind houses downtown.

In November, 1940, on Monday nights for the Ladies, Glasbake Oven Glassware would be given out free. There was a Gala Xmas Festival sponsored by the merchants of Arlington on the Friday and Saturday before Christmas with valuable free prizes. The Juliet was also advertising Free Coupons that would provide the moviegoer with a chance to win a free Chevrolet.

In January, 1941, the “University of Knowledge” by Wonder Books were offered. Volume 1 of 24 was available for a week at 5

ANNON ADAMS

four cents. Subsequent volumes would be available for 25 cents on Friday nights. Finally, later in January, prices were reduced again. Evening prices were reduced five cents to 20 cents, while matinee prices stayed at 15 cents.

Ed Unger selling tickets to Vassar College students, ca 1944. Photo Credit: Joseph T. Murray, Special Collections, Vassar College.

The price decreases and promotions must not have been producing the results that Paramount desired. On Sunday, April 13, 1941, the Juliet’s ad appeared with those of the Liberty, Rialto and Playhouse, three grind houses in downtown Poughkeepsie.

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A HISTORY OF THE JULIET THEATER

Paramount gave Irwin “Ed” Unger a lease to operate the Juliet.

He ran the Juliet as a sub-run house with double features changed three times per week until 1943, when there were only two changes per week. During the week, there were still no matinees, and films ran continuously only on Sunday.

In 1944 two Dutchess County residents ran for President, and the Juliet advertised: “Relax, Enjoy a Good Show, and the Latest Election Returns will be posted in the lobby of the above theaters at regular intervals as they are received during the evening.” In Dutchess County, the Republican Thomas E. Dewey defeated Franklin Delano Roosevelt.

About half the time the Juliet ran the same shows as the Liberty downtown. Occasionally, there would only be one feature and sometimes there was even a notice saying that the film was the first showing in Poughkeepsie, as was true in October, 1945 for Wonder Man starring Danny Kay. On June 24, 1945, the advertisement said that Free Admission would be given to all purchasers of War Bonds.

By the end of WWII, two theaters in downtown Poughkeepsie had been closed, even before the advent of television. In 1947, another suburban theater opened north of Poughkeepsie on land that had been owned by the Roosevelts— the Roosevelt. Soon after, drive-ins were opened—two in Hyde Park and one near the Juliet.

In 1952, Paramount decided to take back the lease on the Juliet from Ed Unger and operate the Juliet itself. On Sunday, July 6, 1952, the Poughkeepsie New Yorker ran an ad under the banner “Poughkeepsie’s Leading Theaters,” which included the Bardavon, Stratford, Colonial (revamped State), and Juliet.

Until the late 1950’s Paramount had a District Manager in Poughkeepsie. When Eugene Street was District Manager, he called the Juliet his little dollhouse. When Street left that position, the Juliet and the other ABC Eastern theaters were managed from New York City and had the direct attention of Leonard Goldenson, the Chairman of United Paramount theaters and then, after the acquisition of American Broadcasting Company in 1953, the Chairman of ABC. Exhibition policy continued to be double features changed three times per week. There were occasional children’s shows on Saturday morning. The biggest change, however, was the regular 7

ANNON ADAMS

mid-week showings of foreign and art house films, including Kirosawa’s Rashomon, DeSica’s Bicycle Thief, and Two Women with Sophia Lauren. For local Poughkeepsians, the Juliet became the place where they saw their first foreign films.

In the mid 1960’s, there were occasional single features that would have an open-ended run. Darling with Julie Christie ran for seven weeks; however, these films were not considered mainstream features. They were too “arty.”

Still, Len Goldenson did not think that the Juliet should show mainstream features. Al Sicignano became the District Manager in 1967 and, with Goldenson’s assent it is assumed, decided to try a first-run policy at the Juliet. How to Succeed in Business and Half a Sixpence ran with fair results. On August 2, 1967, To Sir with Love began a run that lasted until October 17. Al Sicignano’s hunch that the Juliet could do well with a first-run policy paid off. From then until the theater closed, that was the policy.

In June of 1967, Al Sicignano asked Pete Bergamo if he would like to manage the Juliet. He had been managing the Colonial theater in downtown Poughkeepsie, and he jumped at the chance to manage the Juliet. Pete showed his enthusiasm for the first-run policy and its success with his ad on September 26, 1967, which said “Held Over! 9th Happy Week!”

The first run policy was a success as far as ABC was concerned; however, Vassar College wasn’t as happy. The administration wanted the films to change more often so students had more variety. Others in the community missed the foreign films.

The local Catholic Bishop also called Pete. The Motion Picture Association of America instituted a film rating system in November, 1968. Initially, “X” meant “Children Under 17 Not Admitted.” Now, the equivalent rating would be NC-17. Midnight Cowboy was the first film from a major studio to be rated X and it played the Juliet for 10 weeks in 1970. The Bishop wanted to know if Pete could prevent the showing of Midnight Cowboy, but Pete had to tell him that that was not in his power. He didn’t choose the films that were shown.

Shortly after Al Sicignano became District Manager in 1967, an air conditioning unit was installed at the Juliet. During the winter of 1970-71, ABC renovated its Hudson Valley theaters.

The Juliet’s marquee was removed and replaced with a signboard 8

A HISTORY OF THE JULIET THEATER

flush to the corner brick. The box office was removed from its sidewalk location to inside the theater’s lobby. Carpeting and light fixtures were updated. Pete posted ads that advised: “Please Pardon Our Dust, But It’s Business as Usual During Our Current Renovations.” The Owl and the Pussy Cat was playing when the renovation was completed in February, 1971.

On March 26, 1973, Pete received a letter from Alvin Geiler of ABC Eastern theaters, Inc. notifying him: “On March 30, 1973, ABC Eastern theaters, Inc., will be merged into Hallmark Releasing Corporation and our affiliation with ABC will be terminated.” Geiler remained Pete’s boss, moving over to Hallmark.

The Juliet showed the films of American Film Theater. From October 1973 until May 1974, there were two-day runs of plays that had been filmed for this series, including Eugene O’Neill’s The Iceman Cometh, Edward Albee’s A Delicate Balance, Eugene Ionesco’s Rhinoceros, John Osborne’s Luther, Anton Chekhov’s Three Sisters, Kurt Weill and Maxwell Anderson’s Lost in the Stars, Harold Pinter’s The Homecoming, and Simon Grey’s Butley. On a Monday and Tuesday each month, there were matinee and evening showings. American Film Theater did the advertising and sold subscriptions to the series. Pete remembers that it wasn’t very well organized; however, it was nice to be able to offer this worthy series to his customers.

Working for Hallmark was very different from working for ABC. There was little contact with management. Hallmark was only interested in the bottom line. Cash was watched closely and sometimes removed without notice from the Juliet’s account for other purposes. Unable to condone or tolerate having his payroll checks bounce, Pete made arrangements with the local bank to insure that the Juliet’s account always had enough cash to meet his payroll and weekly expenses. Only the most pressing maintenance concerns were addressed at the theater or the stores surrounding it.

As a manager, Pete liked to be out front with the patrons when shows started and ended. He enjoyed doing ads, but he liked to take care of ad preparation and other paperwork before the shows started. Pete says he has done every job in a theater except changing the marquee. (He doesn’t like heights.)

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Staffing of the theater remained unchanged under Hallmark, with a ticket seller, two people to sell refreshments, and an usher.

Pete kept his staff on their toes, as they never knew where he would turn up. If needed, he would help out selling tickets or refreshments. Before a show started, he would make sure that the lines were orderly. The Juliet had limited seating and, when there were large crowds, he would do a head count to determine how many seats were still available so he could advise patrons in line whether or not a seat would be available for them. He remembers patrolling the lines for the popular Heaven Can Wait on a rainy weekend. He spent two wet and miserable days saying, “After this person, I don’t think we’ll have any more tickets for this show.

You have time to catch a show at another theater.”

At the end of a film, Pete liked to find out how patrons had liked the movie and whether the theater’s temperature was comfortable and the sound levels were good.

In 1975 in a surprise management move, Hallmark fired Pete.

There was no warning or explanation, and Pete was deeply hurt, as he knew he was a good theater manager. Cate Enterprises of Boston took over the management of the Juliet from Hallmark, and in 1976 asked Pete to return.

While ABC was slow to move out of urban downtowns, Hallmark was clearly monitoring the current trends in the movie business. In 1977, Hallmark wrestled control from Cate. In June, 1978, the Juliet was twinned by dividing the auditorium in half.

The Juliet became Poughkeepsie’s first twin theater. The following December, the Juliet became Poughkeepsie’s first multiplex.

A 1975 fire had burned out two specialty stores adjoining the theater. The theater had not been damaged by the fire, though, as the Poughkeepsie Journal reported “management was advising would-be patrons in a taped telephone message that there was a slight smell of smoke in the theater. Those objecting to the smell of smoke were advised to stay away.” Pete says the smoke odor was quite strong, but operations continued as usual. The retail tenants were discouraged from returning and eventually it was decided to use the former retail space for two small theaters.

Beginning Thursday, December 20, 1978, the theater became the Juliet 1-2-3-4.

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Pete left the Juliet in 1980 to take over the management of a theater in nearby Wappingers Falls owned by a small Long Island company where he could operate the theater to the high standards he preferred and the owners were amiable and conscientious.

Film studios began in the late 1970’s to move to day and date opening of films—opening most first run features across the country on the same date. About 1980, this method of opening came to Dutchess County. This meant that instead of being able to show a film exclusively, a theater was likely to compete with other first run houses. Though there was some local competition at first, it became cut-throat when a six theater multiplex opened in the South Hills Mall in the Town of Poughkeepsie in December, 1984. The next year, South Hills expanded to eight theaters. The crowning blow came in 1987 when the Galleria Mall opened next to South Hills Mall and it also had a multiplex with eight theaters. Business at the Juliet began to suffer and the theater was closed after its last shows on Sunday, September 8, 1990. The Poughkeepsie Journal reported that it had been profitable until 1987 and quoted Al Geiler on the owner of the malls’ cineplexes, “Hoyt’s monoply purchasing power made it impossible for us to compete.”

In November 1991, the former Juliet re-opened as Juliet Cafe Patisserie and Billiards, at first just using the lobby space and the former retail space, but later adding a brick oven for pizzas and more billiard tables in the auditorium.

In a move to revitalize the Arlington commercial district adjoining Vassar College, the college purchased the property, which includes the former Juliet Theater in the summer of 2001.

The college is not sure what it will do with the property in the future when the lease for Juliet Cafe and Billiards expires. As reported in the Poughkeepsie Journal at the time of the purchase, “a 2000 report on improving the business district commissioned by the Arlington Revitalization Steering Committee—a group composed of city, town, and college officials and business leaders—found redeveloping the Juliet Theater was among the top five recommendations by students, local residents, and shopkeepers.” Many local residents would love to see the Juliet re-opened as an art film house; however, given the realities of the film business today, it may not make business sense.

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The Juliet Theater opened with the Vassar College community as its target audience, and now it is owned by Vassar College. Though it didn’t fulfill Paramount’s ambitions when it opened and suffered through early leasing and a double feature exhibition policy, it gradually became a business success, first with foreign and art films, and then as a first run house. The first theater in the Poughkeepsie area built for sound was also the first twinned theater and the first multiplex in the Poughkeepsie area.

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Paramount Memories Pete Bergamo*

It’s difficult for me to remember when this love affair that I have with films really began. It may have been when my dad took me to the State Theater to see vaudeville acts and a feature, or perhaps when my mother took me to dish night at the Rialto and I, thinking that she was thirsty, proceeded to bring her a drink that I managed to spill on the gentleman sitting next to us! At any rate, it has always been films.

At age 9 or 10, I was permitted to attend matinee performances by myself and, you can be sure, there were not too many films that I missed. My friends could quote ball scores; I could tell them what films were coming to which theater and when!

At 14, one could work after school until 6 p.m. and on Saturday and Sunday for eight hours. I literally hounded the managers of the Bardavon and Stratford Theaters for work until Ted Fortino, manager of the Stratford, gave in and allowed me to work part time at the theater. Many years later, Ted would be the relief assistant when I took over management of the Imperial Theater in Wappinger Falls.

Eugene Street, who had replaced Harry Royster as Paramount’s district manager, would occasionally use ushers from the Stratford at the Bardavon for special performances and/or employee absences. To this day, I must credit Gene Street for many of the work ethics that I employed during my time in *

Reprinted by permission of the Theater Historical Society of America from their quarterly publication Marquee, Second Quarter, 2004.

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management. For him, the customer was king, and everything that was done was focused on the comfort and consideration of our patrons. Ushers had to face people as they entered the auditorium, and everyone was escorted to his or her seat by flashlight. On busy nights, each usher would do a visual sweep of his assigned section so that he instantly knew where every available seat was.

On the back wall of the Bardavon was a signal button used to contact the projection booth. One buzz was for “sound up,” two for “sound down,” and three for “look at the screen.” Any time that Mr. Street entered the auditorium, he immediately used that button. Sometimes I could not observe anything wrong and to this day, I think that was his method of keeping the operators alert.

Paramount theaters were the “Tiffany” of exhibition and the Bardavon was Poughkeepsie’s “A” house and offered only the best of the first-run films. The Colonial (formerly State) was reopened by Paramount under government decree so as to create competition in the area and subsequently leased to Harry Royster.

It too played “A” product, but physically it was not as nice a theater as the Baravon. I even shared this feeling when I became its manager in 1965.

Paramount theaters were maintained in first-rate condition.

Everything was repaired and/or replaced in timely manner. The theaters were always properly cooled or heated and customer courtesy was paramount (excuse the pun).

At least once a year, the chief projectionist from the New York City Paramount would make a booth inspection to insure that all of the equipment was in top form. I watched and learned, and I would take many of these operational policies with me throughout my career.

Paramount left nothing to chance and utilized a system of “blind checkers.” The checkers worked as a man and wife team and were so inconspicuous that they would attend both matinee and evening shows and never be noticed. They checked everything: theater ambiance (temperature), cleanliness, employee courtesy as well as attentiveness to their work, condition of rest rooms, quality of projection, sound, availability of management, punctuality of theater openings and show times etc., etc., etc. As a 14

PARAMOUNT MEMORIES

manager, you were never aware of their presence until a copy of the “checker’s report” arrived. This writer always did well!

Paramount also did “spot audits.” The auditors would arrive unannounced and immediately seal anything that represented money, e.g., concessions, tickets, the safe. A complete audit was done on the spot and problems were dealt with accordingly. I would always joke with Emil Borselino, one of the auditors, about what he hoped to find—and he would always reply: “Pete, it’s always the little old lady crossing the street who just robbed the bank!” Needless to say, my audits were always good ones.

In 1950, I went to Middletown, New York to prepare for a career in mental health. I came home on weekends, however, and continued to work at the Bardavon. I knew that I had “arrived” when Mr. Street asked me to work the concession stand on a Sunday matinee.

At the time, Mr. Street’s district encompassed theaters in Poughkeepsie, Newburgh, Peekskill, Middletown, and Glens Falls. During an encounter in front of the Bardavon, Gene asked me if I would be interested in breaking in as the part time assistant at the Paramount in Middletown. I jumped at the chance, but I did continue with my schooling.

The 30s and 40s are sometimes referred to as the “golden days of exhibition” but for me, the early 50s were mine. I was becoming part of a business that I loved and would experience the advent of 3-D, CinemaScope, VistaVision, and stereophonic sound. This was absolutely amazing!

I can recall Leonard Goldenson’s visits to the theaters. He did not visit often and direct supervision was left to other executives in the home office (Bernie Levy, Ed Hyman). If memory serves me correctly, Ed Hyman was instrumental in working with Fox for the installation of CinemaScope in our theaters.

Mr. Goldenson was slight of build, and not much taller than this writer. His deportment, however, shouted EXECUTIVE! You knew that he was in charge. Always sharp and well-dressed, he appeared to deal with managers in a caring and friendly manner.

Of course, he would do the “white glove” tour of each theater, but he would also discuss other things such as what could be done to improve business. You must remember that theaters were beginning to feel the impact of television in the early 50s and attendance had dropped considerably. As a young assistant, I 15

PETE BERGAMO

did not interact with Mr. Goldenson, but I continued to watch and learn.

From 1956 to 1960, I served a tour in the Air Force and my only contact with theaters were those that I attended in St. Louis.

In 1960 I returned to Poughkeepsie, and it was not too long after that I began to work as a part time assistant at the Juliet and Bardavon Theaters and, when ABC assumed management, also the Colonial.

By this time the district office had closed, and the theaters were supervised out of ABC in New York. Al Sicignano, who I first met when he was a film booker for Paramount in the 50s, was now supervising the Hudson Valley theaters under Mr. Goldenson and most of my contact was with him.

In 1965, after I completed work on my B.S. at Columbia, Al offered me the opportunity to become a full-fledged manager at the Colonial, and I accepted. When I went to New York City to finalize the agreement with Al, our offices were still in the Paramount Building, and, as I stood in front of the Paramount Theater ready to go up to Al’s office, I cannot explain the “rush” that overcame me. After ABC moved to their new headquarters on Sixth Avenue, we continued to attend occasional district meetings in Al’s office. He had a beautiful view, and you could look down the street and see Radio City Music Hall. We also attended screenings of certain films (The Sound Of Music and A Man For All Seasons were two of them.) I just cannot describe the excitement of being a part of this!

Al would also become an important part of my career in exhibition. He was uncanny in his ability to “smell out” a potential hit and he was very seldom wrong. An example of this was when Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner became available for Poughkeepsie, and he booked it into the Bardavon. By that time I was managing the Juliet and wanted it to play there. He consoled me by saying that he had just seen a film in its “rough cut” without its music score that would be perfect for the Juliet. He booked it for us and that film was The Graduate.

I was much younger than most of Al’s other managers but he always treated me with equal respect. He would call and ask my opinion about films that he was considering for the Juliet and quite often he agreed with my responses. He also taught me how to plot out hypothetical grosses to determine if a film could cover 16

PARAMOUNT MEMORIES

its “front money” or “guarantee” (two methods involved in the process of film buying).

After the Brooklyn Paramount closed, Eugene Pleshette, the theater’s last manager, was given charge of concession operations and he, too, would occasionally visit the theaters. I was still part time then and did not spend any time with him. I do remember him as being fairly tall, stocky, and very well dressed. The managers spoke well of him, and I must assume that he mostly discussed concession operations.

Even after Al Sicignano transferred me to the Juliet in 1967, I continued to fill in as needed at the Bardavon and ABC’s new theater in Somers, New York. I had a very capable fulltime assistant at the Juliet and I was able to do this without any problems. As much as I loved the Juliet, I did enjoy working at the other theaters, and I was not offended by being asked to do so.

Al Sicignano eventually became vice-president of ABC Films and supervision of the theaters fell to Alvin Geiler who was manager when ABC theaters, Inc. was sold to Hallmark Releasing. Geiler went with Hallmark and remained my boss.

When Al turned 65, he was forced to retire as per ABC policy. We continued to correspond via cards until he left the area. I still think of him quite often. Two other dear friends that I must mention are Bill FitzSimons, who I first met at the Middletown Paramount and who subsequently became the Bardavon manager; and Ray Boyea from the Broadway in Newburgh. Both were great mentors. Bill has since passed away, but Ray and I still keep in touch. What wonderful memories I have.

17

18

Trinity Church: 250 Years Shirley B. Bergmann THE COMING OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND TO DUTCHESS COUNTY

The Rev. Samuel Seabury’s visit to Fishkill in 1755 was the first appearance of the Church of England in Dutchess County. He was the priest of St. George’s Church in Hempstead, Long Island, a missionary of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in foreign Parts (SPG), and the father of the first American bishop. The SPG supported all of the C. of E. churches north of Maryland except in New York City, Philadelphia, and Newport. Seabury made a total of six trips to Dutchess, preaching and baptizing in various places, using private homes and sometimes Dutch churches. He organized Christ Church, Poughkeepsie, and Trinity, Fishkill, and won SPG support for a single mission including both churches. The SPG would find them a priest and provide thirty-five pounds a year and a library, while the local members would supply a glebe farm and 60 pounds a year and build a church. Priests were always scarce, as they had to be ordained by a bishop. Since there were no bishops in the colonies, this had to be done in England.

John Beardsley made several visits and came as priest in 1764.

The two churches argued about the choice of a site for a glebe, Fishkill opting for a site halfway between the two towns, saying they could not afford the greater cost of Christ Church’s site close to Poughkeepsie. They preferred that location as, in case of a future separation of the two churches, Christ Church would buy out Trinity’s share. They left the choice to Beardsley, who said he would pay one third of the cost, 200 pounds, himself and chose the Arlington site. The Glebe House, presently a museum, was built for him.

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In July 1766, the SPG officially approved Christ Church as a mission. Since Beardsley discovered that to certify Trinity as well would double the cost, he chose to save the money. Christ Church claims 1766 as its founding date, but Trinity having no official date, chose to claim 1756, on the grounds that they were already raising funds to build a church then.

Beardsley was active and vigorous in his work, traveling between four locations in his care, preaching and baptizing. It soon became apparent that there was not enough population to support churches at Crum Elbow or Beekman as Seabury had hoped, and they dropped from sight. After the death of his first wife, Beardsley married a daughter of Bartholomew Crannell, a prosperous landholder and shrewd attorney, an active and generous churchman and a Tory. The financial and legal affairs were left mainly in the hands of Beardsley and Crannell, and inadequate records led to legal problems and bitterness years later when Trinity and Christ Church tried to separate their affairs.

THE BUILDING OF TRINITY

No written records of the construction of Trinity exist—the building must speak for itself. There have been plenty of stories ranging from the demonstrably false to the probable. The Reformed Church bell was not bought from Trinity when its steeple was removed. The timbers are probably chestnut and may have been cut in the Adirondacks and floated down the Hudson.

It has been reported that the builder was a master carpenter named Barney from New York City. But were the original carpenters fired for drunkenness and a second crew hired? Were the trusses built in New York by ship’s carpenters and shipped to Fishkill? Was there glass in the windows, and were there shutters?

The building was a simple rectangle about forty-two by sixty feet with a three-foot extension that was part of the base of the tower. Ten smoothed tree trunks were mounted vertically on masonry foundations and joined at the top by timbers. On these were mounted a series of trusses that support the ceiling and the roof. This assemblage is the heart of the building, as the walls, also on stone foundations, are only strong enough to support themselves. The principles of construction owed much to the techniques of building the Dutch barns of the period. The four 20

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columns at the road end of the building supported a four-stage steeple that was reputed to exceed one hundred feet in height.

Trinity Church, Fishkill, NY

The main entrance was in the base of the tower, and there was a “grave yard door� halfway down one side. There was a Palladian window at the altar end, four large windows in each side wall, and another pair either side of the tower at the entrance end. Lacking engineering training and lacking knowledge of the structural strength of their building materials, and with a ready supply of good wood, early builders tended to overbuild. Since iron nails were handmade one at a time, they were costly, and wooden pegs were used as joiners whenever possible.

The timbers of the trusses were fastened together by mortise and tenon joints; that is, a hole was gouged in one timber, and the end of the adjoining piece was trimmed to fit in the hole tightly.

When the two pieces were joined, a hole was drilled through both and a tapered peg driven in hard. If necessary, the ends of the peg could be sawed off afterwards. The virtues of this method are proved by the existence and solidity of the building 238 years later. At Trinity, both members of a given joint are marked by an incised Roman numeral, and each joint by a different number. A completed truss was horribly heavy, and the builders lacked powered cranes for lifting. A single timber eight inches square 21

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and twenty feet long would weigh at least 250 pounds. It seems obvious that the trusses were built on the ground, taken apart, hoisted one timber at a time, and reassembled in place. Since hand-made joints were never exactly identical, it was necessary that the right pieces be in the right places. The numbering system guaranteed that.

Floor joists were logs flattened only on top, and two-inchthick flooring planks were nailed in place. The original handmade nails are still visible. Since the floor joists were about three feet apart, the floor was disconcertingly springy until additional bracing was installed around 1960.

There would have been shutters to protect the windows whether glazed or not, but the existence of glass has been questioned. When the Provincial Congress met at Trinity, it found extensive evidence of the intrusion of pigeons, but whether this was because there was no glass or the windows of an unpopular church had been stolen or broken by vandals is unknown. Window glass was laboriously hand made and expensive, and there was not enough money to finish the interior or to paint the exterior. Many homes made do with oiled paper, but it hardly seems practical for the church’s large windows.

Obtaining window glass would have been a high priority. The present louvered shutters date from about 1820, and once had fixed louvered half-circles at the top.

The exterior of the church must have presented an appearance similar to that of many Colonial frame churches. The flared roofline is not so common, but it can be seen in a number of early Dutch houses. There were several features that show that the builders wanted a handsome building as well as a practical one. The four-stage steeple, the carved details of the trim, the beaded siding boards, and the elegant coved cornice display an eye for beauty and a willingness to pay for it.

THE MISSION YEARS

Trinity has almost no written record of its affairs before and during the Revolution, but Christ Church has published a book of its early documents. Beardsley sent reports of his missions to the SPG and six of them still exist. One settles the disputed date of the building of Trinity: 1768. The same letter requests the gift 22

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of a Bible and a Book of Common Prayer. We still have the Bible. The colonial government gave the mission 200 acres of vacant land to enlarge the glebe, a source of later dispute.

Lexington and Concord in 1775 set off a lot of militant activities with bitter disagreements among the Patriots, the Tories and the pacifist Quakers. The Church of England was regarded almost as a branch of the royal government, and the local branch had a Tory priest and several Tory members. It probably lost members.

In this period, the Dutch Church was being torn by a controversy over the place of ordination of its clergy, and the use of the English or the Dutch language in its services. Trinity, at least, gained some members.

THE WAR YEARS

The fighting in the Revolution had actually begun in 1775, but July 4, 1776 marked the great divide. Americans were no longer rebellious subjects but an independent nation, in their own eyes.

They could not afford to lose the coming struggle, and many Tories were sure that England would win and feared the consequences if they supported the rebellion. When a Commission to Detect Conspiracies was set up in New York, it was not just a witch-hunt, but a defense against a certain danger.

The British navy had been chased out of Boston, but that summer it was in New York harbor poised for invasion.

The Church of England required that its religious services be conducted according to the Book of Common Prayer, which included prayers for the king in every service. Its priests had to choose whether to keep their oaths of allegiance and suspend public worship or to maintain that the prayers could be dropped.

People could swear allegiance to the new government or risk imprisonment or exile. The Hudson Valley was so important strategically that some Tories were sent to New Hampshire to await trial, as their presence in Dutchess was regarded as dangerous. Some were placed under house arrest, and others were imprisoned in various places, including ships anchored in Esopus Creek, near Kingston.

Beardsley refused to take the oath, and the two churches were closed. He even made a trip to New York City without permission, and was arrested on his return, along with a number 23

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of Quakers. The Quakers protested that they were only attending the Annual Meeting of their sect and had no interest in politics.

They were released, but Beardsley was sent briefly to the “Fleet� prison. He was then placed under house arrest, but that was not too onerous. He was allowed to leave at least once for a Vestry Meeting and could leave to visit the sick and to baptize. It surely didn’t hurt that one of the commissioners was his brother-in-law, Peter Tappen.

In late 1777, a group of people intent on vigilante justice was troubling the peace. Beardsley was a target, and the commissioners feared that he might be injured. He agreed that he had better leave, and in December he and all his household, excluding male servants and slaves, were sent by ship to New York City. They were allowed to take only their clothing and food and bedding for the trip. Beardsley became chaplain for a Loyalist regiment. As time passed, many Tories changed their allegiance, and others who did not were allowed to stay at home if they lived quietly and obeyed the laws.

A letter to the SPG from New York reported that the Christ Church people were meeting and holding services omitting such collects (prayers) as were offensive to those in authority. That church was the owner of record of the glebe, and the vestry, renting the house and the farmland, had continuing business all through the war. Apparently, there were occasional religious services when a patriot priest happened along.

Trinity shortly lost the use of its building, and we have only one piece of evidence of its religious activity. Someone kept the Bible safely and probably other items, perhaps including the longtime altar table.

Both sides of the conflict regarded control of the Hudson as vital to success in the war. If the British should gain it, they could bring their fleet up river, prevent appreciable communication between New England and the South, and seize supplies. New York State was one of the granaries of the country, and with the British navy controlling the coastline, the river traffic both along it and across it was essential. The navy landed troops on Long Island, defeated the outnumbered and ill-trained Patriots and drove them to Manhattan. The Continental Army was defeated there, driven to White Plains and defeated again. Washington 24

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took his battered army partly into New Jersey and partly into the Highlands of the Hudson.

With the British controlling the river north to almost West Point, Fishkill and Newburgh became very important to the American cause. Since they were protected by the river forts and the chain across the Hudson, the ferry crossing was safe communication bypassing New York City. There was land suitable for troop concentrations, and the villages provided housing and useful artisans and tradesmen. They must have been terribly overcrowded.

In these early days, the army was learning its job by doing and by making mistakes. Care of the wounded and ill went the same way. Some of the wounded from these early battles were moved to a hospital set up in Newark, and then inland out of harm’s way. Others were to go to Peekskill, but it was found that there was no suitable building there, and they were carried to Fishkill.

The state government had fled New York ahead of the armies and come to Fishkill. Isaac Ter Boss, who is buried in Trinity churchyard, helped carry the state papers, medicines and money to Fishkill. The Provincial Congress met first at Trinity, but they found it lacked seating and was dirtied by pigeons. Their removal to the Dutch Church left Trinity available.

To twentieth century eyes, the medical care available at this time seems hardly worthy of the name. They had no notion of the actions of bacteria, few medicines and anesthetics, and a profound belief in the virtues of bleeding, purges, blisters, and clysters as treatments for almost anything. Surgeons were experienced in amputations and trepanning (opening the skull to relieve pressure), but amputation at the thigh or shoulder was usually fatal because of the difficulty of controlling blood loss.

Disease killed many times the number of people who died from wounds, and a number of the wound deaths were caused by infection. Army doctors learned by experience that small hospitals had a lower death rate than large ones, and officers kept their ill and injured in the barracks if at all possible. Hospitals expected to put two men in a bed, more if necessary, and the result was cross infection. A man enfeebled by one disease lacked the strength to fight off another.

The commonest killers were dysentery and putrid fevers (a general term including among other things, typhoid and typhus).

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Pneumonia, venereal disease, mumps and measles, the latter contracted by young men from country areas who had never been exposed, increased the total. Smallpox was a scourge, and inoculation was still controversial. Many states forbade it, and George Washington disapproved at first. The inoculation used matter from a sick man’s scabs, and the treated man could die or give the disease to someone else unless quarantined.

When the death rate from inoculation was reduced from about eight per thousand to one per thousand, and an epidemic killed one hundred per thousand, the answer was clear.

Washington persuaded the Continental Congress to require that all army recruits be inoculated.

There was a smallpox epidemic at Fishkill, and a local inhabitant years later related seeing bodies stacked like cord wood between Trinity and the Dutch Church.

Inadequate food, clothing and shelter, especially in winter, contributed to more deaths. After one especially severe winter, Maj. Gen. William Heath commented that in the New Windsor hospital, the number of patients who froze to death was comparable to the number who recovered. Trinity could have been no better.

Moses Wing, who had his leg amputated at the thigh after the battle of “Flatbush,” was transferred to Fishkill to the care of Dr. Chauncey Graham. The Rev. Dr. Graham was actually the pastor of the Fishkill Presbyterian Church. He is also mentioned as certifying the state of health of certain prisoners in the 1775-76 period. Whether he was a physician, in addition to being a clergyman and operating a boarding school, or whether he was temporarily the administrative head of the Fishkill hospitals is not known. Minimum medical training was quite simple. Wing was discharged from the army in December 1776, returned to his home in Sandwich, Massachusetts, studied medicine under a local doctor, and returned to military service as a medical officer on shipboard in 1778.

Dr. James Tilton designed a hospital hut that was built near Morristown, New Jersey. It consisted of three wards, each containing a fireplace. It allowed about 28 square feet for each patient, and using that figure Trinity could have housed about 90 people. Several sites in the county had hospitals, an unspecified location at New Hackensack, the Quaker Meeting House near 26

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Pawling, and the Fishkill Presbyterian Church and adjoining academy near the junction of New York State Routes 52 and 82.

The Beverly Robinson house in Garrison, like Trinity, seems to have been used throughout most of the war, even though the demand was reduced as fighting moved to the south. Col. Robinson commanded a Loyalist regiment—the one in which Beardsley served as chaplain.

The army encampment south of the village had its own cemetery, which has never been discovered. Some burials occurred in the local churchyards, but the monuments, if any, have disappeared. David Godwin many years later wrote a memoir outlining the military service of himself, his father, and his brothers. They all served in the Hudson Valley, and his father died in Fishkill during the war. “He was buried […] in the church yard at Fishkill with all the honors of war.” One brother, who was a prisoner of the British for more than three years, died shortly after his release and was buried beside his father. Which of the three churchyards was their burying place is never mentioned. There is a story that nineteenth century gravediggers at Trinity found bones and fragments of wool blankets.

THE NEW AMERICAN CHURCH

The mission was in a bad way at the end of the war. With two unfinished buildings and the loss of their subsidy, they were very poor. The church had lost a number of priests to emigration and, lacking a bishop, could not create more. Its organization was destroyed and its guide to worship was obsolete. The distrust with which it was held was counterbalanced by the fact that fiftyfive signers of the Declaration of Independence and two thirds of the framers of the Constitution were members. The Protestant Episcopal Church was formed, Samuel Seabury was consecrated a bishop, and the members gradually moved forward. The local churches had to wait for their new priest to be ordained, and then had to help him with a debt that would have sent him to a debtors’ prison if he moved to New York State. It was agreed that Christ Church should pay two-thirds of his salary and Trinity one-third, and that they would share his services in the same ratio.

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During this time Beardsley in Canada was pressing to be repaid for money spent on the churches before his departure.

Christ Church carried on the negotiations and the matter was compromised.

None of the early priests stayed long, as they moved on to bigger churches. John Sayrs went to Maryland and became one of the early U.S. Senate chaplains. He also founded St. George’s Church in Georgetown D.C. He is buried under its chancel with a tombstone inscription composed by Francis Scott Key. Sayrs was followed in 1799 by Philander Chase, a man of great ability and vigor. He was under 30 and offended many in the congregation by his lack of tact toward his elders. He established a new church at Lithgow and gave some time to a church in Patterson. He criticized the churches for their poor record-keeping and set to work to record past baptisms. He became head of the Dutchess County Academy in Poughkeepsie, the school founded by Chauncey Graham in Fishkill. He persuaded the bishop of the diocese to hold its annual convention in Poughkeepsie in 1805, when there was a yellow fever epidemic in New York City. In previous epidemics, the convention had been canceled.

Shortly after this he took a position in New Orleans without giving any notice to the vestries. He eventually went to the frontier, founding the first Episcopal Diocese of Ohio and becoming its first bishop. He founded Kenyon College and Gambier Seminary. He moved on to Illinois, founding a diocese there, becoming its first bishop and establishing Jubilee College.

He crowned his career by spending the last ten years of his life as Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church.

Trinity was compelled to remove its steeple in 1803, and the same year it installed pews and repaired the fence. There was a wine glass pulpit overlooking box pews. The church had no heat, so families could bring hot bricks or charcoal stoves to warm their own space. Trinity had had appraisers assess the damage to the church building and a suitable rent for seven years of military occupation. We have no evidence that the debt was ever paid, but we do know that Trinity Church, New York, gave Fishkill 500 pounds to finish the building.

Before the Revolution, the combined churches had been given 200 acres of unclaimed land to enlarge the glebe. When 28

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they decided to sell the glebe, Christ Church claimed the whole 200 acres for itself. There had been inadequate records kept in the early days, and the then priest had emigrated to Canada.

Arbitration gave half that holding along with half of the original glebe to Fishkill. Each church badly needed the cash from a sale.

TRINITY STANDS ALONE

In 1809, the two churches stopped sharing priests, and, Trinity

being too poor to support a priest full time, had to find new partners. A priest might be named a rector of Trinity, but the diocese would be paying Trinity to provide pastoral services to two, three, or possibly four even smaller churches in the area.

Some partners were Peekskill, Garrison, Chelsea, New Hamburg, and Hopewell Junction. This led to short tenures, gaps, and very incomplete record-keeping. The majority of the priests of the nineteenth century are just names. They left behind records of the vestry elections at annual meetings and sketchy data of parish families with some baptisms and less of confirmations, marriages and funerals.

Fishkill grew slowly, having no industrial base. It served as a small market center for the surrounding farms, and as a land transportation hub. The Albany Post Road crossed the travel route between Connecticut and the Hudson River port and ferry crossing at Fishkill Landing (now Beacon).

THE SECOND HUNDRED YEARS

One outstanding exception to the short tenure of the priests

was John R. Livingston, who served from 1855 till his death in 1878. He caused the Church of St. John to be built in Glenham along with a parish house that served as Glenham’s first school.

In 1870, Trinity was completely remodeled, the stub of the tower being removed to create the present silhouette. The pews and pulpit were completely removed. It had been hoped to remove the columns as well, but as they were essential to the support of the building, they had to remain. They were, however, painted to resemble marble. A narthex (vestibule) was partitioned off, reducing the chill when the door was opened in cold weather. At the opposite end of the building a chancel was created by 29

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building a platform and erecting a partition across the church in the line of the front pair of columns. The partition was pierced in the middle by a large pointed arch, and on the left by a smaller arch forming an area for the choir and organ. The right hand corner was enclosed to make a robing room. At some time, a small addition containing some primitive plumbing was constructed. Using lumber from the old box pews, ordinary audience pews were constructed. They were rearranged, abolishing the former center aisle and substituting a central seating block with two side aisles and two smaller side seating areas. A section on each side was left bare, allowing the installation of two wood stoves. A new altar, pulpit, lectern and communion rail, all in the latest style of Victorian Gothic, were installed, and the pews and trim were painted dark brown or stained walnut.

Livingston had independent means, and it seems impossible for all this work to be done without substantial contributions from him. He was unmarried and his sister kept house for him.

She efficiently arranged for substitutes when he was ill and even provided for one for six weeks when he died.

In 1857, Trinity Church, New York, gave to the Fishkill Church two Waterford crystal chandeliers removed from St. Paul’s Chapel when it converted to oil lamps from candles. In 1926, apparently endeavoring to return to earlier styles, it asked for their return.

In 1881, Gloriana Bartow reported to the vestry that she had raised money for a stained glass window, something Livingston had always wanted, but had not lived to see. A newspaper clipping, inserted in one of the Cotheal journals, reported that the window was the work of Messrs. Morgan of 53 Bleecker St., New York, the firm that had supplied much of the stained glass for “the new Roman Cathedral 5th Ave.� Miss Bartow noted that she had raised $219, and the window, including protective wire screening, had cost $203.38. Of the balance, $5.18 was being spent on altar linens and $10.44 on material for kneeling cushions!

Trinity had been given a glebe of its own of its own by Samuel Verplanck in 1785. There are some records of needed repairs and unsatisfactory tenants, so it is hard to guess how much income was gained. The church building was unpainted for 30

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several years after it was built and then went through several color changes—yellow, brown, and white. It acquired wood and then coal stoves and oil lamps. Electricity and a furnace did not appear until 1921. On a lot across Main Street from the church, the gift of Miss Catherine Cotheal, a rectory was built in 1892.

Harold Thomas became priest in 1920 and was remembered

by Judge Lawrence Hancock as the most saintly man he ever knew. Trinity was in increasing financial trouble and after 1932 could not pay his salary, which was too low to begin with. In spite of this, he helped parishioners who were having trouble paying mortgages. When he retired in 1936 for ill health, the church had to sell some of its few bonds to pay up his arrears of salary. In this period, Trinity became an “assisted parish” and remained that way until 1958.

During the 1930s, housing began to encroach on farmland, as the coming of Texaco increased the population. The coming of IBM after World War II accelerated the process. The area churches grew, and several new denominations appeared. Trinity was feeling the lack of a parish house. At one point Edith Uhl held Sunday School in her small house next to the church, and she also stoked the church furnace.

THE LAST FIFTY YEARS

The Rev. R. DeWitt Mallary had come in 1953, and he oversaw

the erection of a parish house on land purchased behind the church. To finance this, the glebe was sold; there was extensive fund raising and money was borrowed from the Diocese. Mallary was succeeded by the Rev. Edmund Mathews in 1957, and under him the parish became independent and could afford a full time rector.

In 1962, a major renovation of the church interior was undertaken. All of the Gothic furnishings and arches were removed and replaced by fittings that harmonized with the Colonial architecture. At the same time, a wing was added to provide a working and storage area for the Altar Guild and a dressing area for the priest and acolytes.

The increasing population and prosperity of Fishkill exacted a price from Trinity. The church was now hemmed in by major highways, and the rectory was no longer attractively located. It 31

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was sold and the money invested to provide a housing allowance.

In 1979 came the Rev. James Heron, and the parish house was enlarged and brought up to modern safety and health standards.

Major repairs to the church were undertaken, complying where possible with modern standards of historic preservation.

Shutters, windows, and doors were taken apart, repaired, and reinstalled. It was necessary to replace a lot of the siding, but some was preserved along with the many coats of paint.

THE GRAVEYARD

The

graveyard contains over 160 stones, some broken or illegible. They were recorded in 1913 in “Old Gravestones of Dutchess County� and again in 1987 by Philip Giamatteo as an Eagle Scout project. The oldest stone names Elizabeth Duncan, who died July 4, 1770, and there are eight memorials to Revolutionary War veterans. One erected to William Alger is entirely devoted to his status as a Freemason. None of them claim veteran status. The truly unique stone is inscribed as follows: In memory of William Gould Who died October 2d, 1838 aged 31 years 3 months 29 days also Sarah his wife who died Oct. 2d, 1838 aged 35 years 2 months 2 days also Charles their son who died October 3d, 1838 aged 4 years 4 days Natives of the town of North Wooton England Poisoned by eating fungi (toadstools) Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord

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The word “toadstools” and the parentheses are actually carved in the stone. There exists a letter from William’s father in England to his brother in Newburgh instructing him to settle his brother’s debts, and to take any stone he could use in his own business from his brother’s stone yard. He was to send the five surviving children to England and their grandfather preferably in the care of a relative and if possible in the Great Western. That was the first steamship built for the trans-Atlantic crossing and had its maiden voyage in April. 1838. It made the fastest trip and docked In Bristol, the port nearest to his farm TREASURES

The most treasured memento is the Bible given to Trinity by

the SPG in 1756. This edition was bound with the Church of England Book of Common Prayer, which included a service of thanksgiving for deliverance from the Gun Powder Plot and a service to commemorate the “martyred King Charles I.” Trinity’s copy was rebound by itself and covered in red leather to match the copy of the first American Book of Common Prayer. The book of Vestry minutes dating from 1785 and the records of baptisms, confirmations, marriages, and deaths (though incomplete) are valuable historic records.

The most dramatic memorial is a covered silver flagon, about thirteen inches tall, inscribed as follows: Presented by Samuel Verplanck Esqr To the first Episcopal Church In the Town of FISHKILL ----------To Commemorate Mr. Eglebert (sic) Huff by birth a Norwegian, in his life time attached to the Life Guards of the Prince of Orange (afterwards King William III of England), he resided for a number of years in this County, and Died with unblemished reputation, at Fishkill, 21 March 1765 Aged 128 Years ------------33

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Fishkill January 1820

The Reformed Church of Fishkill has a duplicate of the flagon. There is a family tradition that Englebert deserted from a Dutch warship in New York harbor, and Dutch records show that there was such a ship in New York at the right time-just before then British takeover. Huff is buried in the churchyard of the Hopewell Junction Reformed Church.

THE VERPLANCK FAMILY

It is impossible to describe the contributions to Trinity Church

by its members over its 238-year history, but one family stands out, both for its contributions and for longevity. Other names show up for one, two, or three generations, but the Verplanck name first appears with the gift of a glebe farm by Samuel Verplanck in 1785 and ends with the death of Bayard Verplanck in 1955. Over the years, there was at least one Verplanck and sometimes three or four on the vestry more than half the time.

Undoubtedly, this was sometimes a matter of compliment to a wealthy and powerful family, especially as some of these people spent a good deal of each year in New York City. However, the vestry minutes show faithful attendance at meetings and service on committees by many. The records of St. Mark’s, Chelsea, show that from its organization in 1867 until shortly after the death of the Rev. F. W. Shelton, when the church was forced to become a mission, one of the Wardens and two of the six Vestrymen were Verplancks. William S. Verplanck is recorded as having been a life-long friend of Shelton’s.

The farm given by Samuel lay along New York Route 52 in the Stormville area. It was leased to various farmers and provided some income and many headaches for many years. The farmhouse burned down in 1906, and a new one was not built until 1917. Around 1931, some land was sold to Dutchess County for highway improvements, and in 1939 the church young people proposed turning it into a recreation area, requesting $50 from the vestry to help dam a stream. Nothing came of this and the whole property was sold in 1954 to help finance the building of a 34

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Parish House. It eventually became the Mt. Storm ski area. The original deed of gift was lost, and in 1836, Samuel’s son and heir having also died, his seven grandchildren executed a quit claim deed confirming Trinity’s ownership of the farm and the validity of the lease to William Vermilyea in 1810 for “a term of two lives.” Samuel was also the donor of the silver pitcher described along with other church treasures.

In the church records, baptisms and burials of Verplancks appear repeatedly. In 1805 a Mrs. Verplanck is listed as the baptismal sponsor of a woman with no surname given. She was presumably a slave. The graveyard contains a number of memorials, some quite elaborate. The marble column erected for Gulian Crommelin Verplanck in 1886 has a lengthy Latin inscription beginning with his birth in Novum Eboracum (New York). John Bayard Rodgers Verplanck lies under a flat marble slab (1955) and his wife Susan Van Wyck (died 1960) lies beside him under a similar slab. During her lifetime, Mrs. Verplanck converted to Roman Catholicism and was faced with a problem.

She wished to be buried in ground consecrated to her faith, but also to be buried beside her husband. With the permission of Trinity’s vestry, her plot was blessed by a Roman priest as properly-consecrated ground. These are the most recent full burials in the churchyard.

When the Parish House enlargement and the construction of a Columbarium was planned in 1985, it was apparent that digging might encroach on Verplanck graves. The rector informed a Verplanck descendant of the situation, promising that if any remains were encountered, they would be reverently reburied as close as possible to their original location. Permission was given.

One spring Saturday with the building contractor scheduled to start excavation the following Monday, a back hoe, operated by a man experienced in handling gravestones, was hired to move nearby stones away from possible damage during construction.

The marble column described above rested on a mound and was fronted by a flat slab marking a vault containing the remains of a dozen family members, the most recent death being in 1888. The backhoe lifted away the column, and the operator began pounding with his bucket on what he thought was the masonry foundation of the stone. Suddenly a hole appeared. Investigation showed that he had pierced the vaulted ceiling of a masonry vault 35

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some eight feet wide and perhaps eighteen feet long. On slate shelves rested the remains of a number of skeletons, and in one set lay a Civil War army uniform belt buckle. At the end of the vault nearest the church was a slate door. Apparently there had once been steps excavated to lead to that door. Memory of the existence of the vault had been lost, but it was close to discovery in 1962 when footings were dug for the sacristy addition to the church.

If its existence had been known, it could have been left, protruding from the ground but intact. As it was, the repair costs would have been prohibitive, and work on the Parish House would have been delayed at least a year. A ladder was inserted in the hole in the roof, and pictures were taken. The backhoe then smashed in the entire structure and the hole was filled. After construction was completed, the memorials were replaced at or near their original locations, and the area landscaped.

CONCLUSION

After the 1962 renovations, the congregation was feeling quite proud of its accomplishments. Bishop Stuart Wetmore preached the sermon at the reopening of the building, and, after complimenting the parish on its accomplishment, he gently but firmly reminded the congregation that the Church is “the Body of Christ, which is the blessed company of all faithful people.” The building, no matter what it is like, is just the place where the Church meets.

This brief history has dealt mostly with the building and its history. There has been little mention of the laymen who have given of their time and treasure to support the church and the Church. In the author’s 48 years in the parish, there have been too many to mention, and in the earlier years, they are mainly unknown.

The congregation will continue to face sometimes-conflicting responsibilities. The first obligation is to worship God, and try to do His work on earth. It must maintain the loving community that is a group of people highly varied in age, race, and background, but sharing a common faith. It is also the custodian of a building that is part of our nation’s heritage and an object of beauty. It tries to share its knowledge of the past with visitors, 36

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researchers, and school children, and the writing of this brief history is part of that effort.

APPENDIX A: PRIESTS OF TRINITY CHURCH

Samuel Seabury, Missionary, 1755-1761 John Beardsley, 1766-1776 Henry Van Dyck, 1787-1791 George Spieren, 1791-1795 John Sayrs, 1795-1798 Philander Chase, 1799-1805 Barzillai Bulkley, 1806-1809 John Brown, 1812-1815 Petrus Ten Broech 1816-1818 William Thomas, 1821-1827 Robert B. Van Kleeck, 1833-1835 J. L. Watson, 1835-1836 C. A. Foster, 1837-1838 Robert Shaw, 1841-1842 William Hart, 1843-1845 Christian F. Crusé 1846-1851 F. W. Shelton, 1852-1854 John R. Livingston, 1855-1878 John H. Hobart, 1879-1889 John M. Chew, 1889-1891 Horatio O. Ladd, 1891-1896 Joseph Ivie, 1896-1908 Clinton Drum, 1908-1918 Harold L. Thomas, 1920-1936 Benjamin Myers, 1936-1952 R. DeWitt Mallary, 1953-1957 Edmund Mathews, 1957-1979 James Heron, 1980-2004 Sister Jean Campbell, OSH, 2005-present

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APPENDIX B: BIBLIOGRAPHY 1. PUBLISHED MATERIAL

Bailey, Henry D. B., Local Tales And Sketches (in the Blodgett Memorial Library, or, BML) Dean, Herman, Newspaper Columns (in the BML) Dean, Henry, Historical Sketch and Directory of the Town of Fishkill, Fishkill Landing 1874 Diamant, Lincoln, Chaining the Hudson, New York 1989 Duncan, Louis, Medical Men in the American Revolution, 1775-1783, 1931 Gillett, Mary C., The Army Medical Department 1775- 1818, Washington DC 1981 Ladd, Horatio Oliver, The Founding of the Episcopal Church in Dutchess County, New York, Fishkill 1894 _____, Landmarks of Dutchess County 1683-1867, NYS Council on the Arts, New York City 1969 Lindsley, James Elliott, This Planted Vine: A Narrative History of the Diocese of New York, New York City 1984 MacCracken, Henry Noble, Old Dutchess Forever!, New York City 1956 ____, Minutes of the Committee and the Commission for Detecting Conspiracies 1776-1778 Vol I and II, New York City 1925 Poucher, J. Wilson and Reynolds, Helen Wilkinson, Old Gravestones of Dutchess County, Poughkeepsie, NY 1924 Reynolds, Helen Wilkinson, editor, Eighteenth Century Records of Dutchess Co. N.Y., collected by Willis Reese, in Collections of the Dutchess Co. Historical Society Vol. VI 1938 ____, editor, The Records of Christ Church Poughkeepsie, N.Y., Poughkeepsie 1911 Skinner, Willa, Signal Fires In The Highlands, A History of Fishkill, N.Y. 1683-1873, Hopewell Junction, NY 1978 White, Bishop William, Memoirs of the Protestant Episcopal Church, Philadelphia, 1820

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TRINITY CHURCH 2. UNPUBLISHED MATERIAL

Beardsley, John, Letters to the SPG from microfilms in the NYS Library Bolt, Eugene, Information about Christian Crusé Cotheal Family Papers in the BML 3. TRINITY CHURCH RECORDS

Ault, Eloise, Research on the Wing family of Sandwich, Mass. and Wayne, Maine Buys, Barbara Smith, Former Trinity historian, Trinity and genealogical research Giamatteo, Philip, Mapping of Graveyard and recording tombstone inscriptions, 1987 Gorman, Virginia, information of Frederick Shelton, from records of St. Mark’s Church, Chelsea NY Hancock, Laurence, Reminiscences Herman, Marie Hoose, Trinity research for Bicentennial celebration of 1956 Huff, Dr. Richard, Researches on the history of the Huff family Kolb, Catherine A., Biography of John Brown Nugent, Janet E, John Beardsley research Shannon, Margaret (Washington Writers Research), research on John Sayrs Stammerjohan, George R. (California Dep’t of Parks and Recreation), research on Petrus Ten Broeck Uhl, Edith, Reminiscences Van Buren, Dr. John M., Godwin family papers

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From the Bill of Rights to IBM: Poughkeepsie Journal History Meg Downey

This country’s early newspapers were rags. Literally. They were

made of discarded cotton and linen, which is why they are still around today. A paper you left in your attic a decade ago will probably have disintegrated—its brittle wood pulp has no lasting power.

And the old newspapers were rags figuratively as well. They were mostly political and literary sheets espousing the publisher’s particular point of view. Thorough, objective reporting wasn’t done. The publishers didn’t have the staffs, the technology or, in many cases, the inclination.

But this bias gives these papers a wonderful perspective. You don’t have to find the editorial page to see what these early editors and publishers cared about. Their writing was often frank and bold. As you look through these old pages, you will find a colorful view not seen in standard history books.

The Poughkeepsie Journal of Nov. 3, 1791 gave a lively account of the murder of Cornelius Hogaboom, Columbia County’s sheriff. He was slain after canceling a property sale in Nobletown.

Fifty (or thereabouts) armed men, disguised like Indians, started up out of the bushes—fired a shot from the whole without effect:—Mr. Hogaboom said to his companions, ‘they only mean to frighten us,’—a second charge was fired, when Mr. Hogaboom received the fatal shot, and had time only to say, “I AM A DEAD MAN.” There was passion. When the steamer Atlantic was wrecked on a voyage from Fisher’s Island to New York City in the winter 41

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of 1846, a young bride lost her husband. The editors wrote: “Alas! The pallid object of such tender solicitude is no more anything but frozen dust—caresses and tears cannot warm it back to life. It is but an icy monument which death has carved to mock her love.”

When I hold an old newspaper in my hand, I feel like I’m touching history. But in reading the articles, I found that when you’re in the middle of history, you don’t always appreciate it.

We are still reporting today the impact of the biggest story we ever covered in terms of its national significance.

The New York Constitutional Convention began on June 17, 1788 in Poughkeepsie, which was the state capital following the burning of Kingston by the British in 1777.

The Dutchess County delegates were all ardent AntiFederalists who opposed the fledgling Constitution. In April, the Journal had reported that the Constitution Society of Dutchess County had met at the Amenia home of Edmund Perlee and agreed that “if the proposed Constitution is adopted, we shall involve ourselves in many difficulties incompatible with a free people.”

The Journal’s first editor, Nicholas Power, briefly mentioned convention debates, but the paper frankly considered the convention dull. The Journal reported July 8, that “since our last issue, nothing very material has transpired in the Convention.

They are still discussing the Constitution by paragraphs.”

By the end of July, the convention was still struggling with amendments. Power reported, “In what mode the constitution will be adopted is yet uncertain. We may venture to say, however, from the anxiety of some of the members to go to their families, and to gather their harvest, they will determine the question in a very few days.”

He was right. The move to ratify won by three votes on July 26 with a surprising majority of local Anti-Federalists supporting passage. But only after a promise from the Federalists that the states would reconvene to rectify certain “defects.” Those “defects” were later discussed at the Federal Convention of 1791 and were eventually adopted as ten amendments establishing basic freedoms known today as the Bill of Rights.

A second big event reflected the conventions of the times more than it reported the news. Probably the most significant 42

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thing to happen in Poughkeepsie since the Constitution was ratified was the visit in September 1824 of the beloved hero of the American Revolution, General Marquis de Lafayette of France.

Lafayette was 67 at the time and had returned to America for the first time since we had won our independence. The Journal’s article about his visit gave a tedious, minute-by-minute account of the event, exactly who was in the parade, in what order, who shook his hand when. It didn’t once describe what the general looked like or what he was wearing. It never quoted him directly.

But, boy, did you know that everything was done properly.

A brief excerpt: Good order, sobriety and decorum were everywhere conspicuous, the extended cavalcade, as it ascended the hill from the river, occupying as it did, nearly the whole width of Main Street, from the river, quite past the court house—the windows of very house filled with well dressed females, testifying by their smiles and the waving of their handkerchiefs, their joy and gratitude in a manner, though less boisterous yet as sincerely, as did the multitude below by their joyous shouts and acclamations—presented altogether one of the most grand and imposing spectacles we have ever beheld.

Early editors were one-man bands. They didn’t have time to do

reporting so most readers kept up with local events by reading the advertisements and legal notices.

My favorite ad in 1812 announces James Williams’ fruit trees for sale in Red Hook. He didn’t just sell apples. He sold Spitzenburghs Swaars, Gloria Mundi, Ox, Pie and Paradise. His peach trees weren’t peach trees but Pine Apples and Lemons.

Some peaches were more officious with the names of President and Congress. The apricots were Moonpark and the pears, Swan’s egg. The plumbs (spelled with a B) were regal with nomenclatures of Queen Claud and Fothringham. And the Rhaspberries (with an Rh), called Antwerp and Brentford, gave European airs.

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Of course, some early ads were purely mercenary. This ran on Dec. 4, 1860 just prior to the Civil War: “Will the Union be Dissolved! Before the above question is answered, we would respectfully invite all who feel interested to call at the One Price Store.”

Legal notices were the early gossip columns. In 1818, Susannah Carson, whose husband had left her for the second time, submitted this public notice: This is therefore to forewarn all persons from harboring him until he provides for my maintenance and gives security for that, and his good behavior.

To all good people who wants him descripted To running away he had long been addicted He deserted his country being scared at a ball And ran home the greatest hero of all For such service as this he gained a pension How well he deserved it I need not to mention But one thing for all I need must acknowledge He’s the worst husband God ever made to my knowledge.

And then there was the more positive tidbit. The Nov. 23, 1894, Poughkeepsie Eagle reported the wedding of Miss Minnie A. Elliott, only daughter of the Rev. Thomas Elliott, to a Tivoli man at her home on Willow Street in Fishkill Landing. We know the house decorations were “suitable to the season” and that the wedding presents were “handsome and useful.” It did not say whether the groom was also.

The Journal’s roots go back to 1785 when most of the United States was in a post-war depression. Jobs were scarce and debtors were filling prisons.

But fertile Dutchess County with its Hudson River trade was beginning to prosper. From 1714 to 1790, the county grew from 400 residents to 40,000.

Poughkeepsie became a haven for new commerce. It was here in this busy river port, at “the Second Door West from the Store of Messrs. Tappen and Smith,” where Nicholas Power began publishing The Country Journal and The Poughkeepsie Advertiser on Thursday, Aug. 11, 1785.

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His four-page weekly newspaper was the first of tens of thousands of issues leading up to today’s Poughkeepsie Journal. The Journal today averages 330 pages per week—about half advertising and half news—news gathered by reporters in Beacon and in Bosnia, in Rhinebeck and Iraq, and beamed back and forth over high-tech satellites. And now, of course, the Journal is a Web site as well: www.poughkeepsiejournal.com.

Twenty-six newspapers were publishing in New York State when the story broke on the death of Washington in December 1799. The Journal is the only surviving New York newspaper that could have carried that story and every other major U.S. story since then.

Though it began as a weekly newspaper, the Journal started daily publication in 1860, inspired by demand for news about the Civil War. Besides being the oldest newspaper in New York State, the Journal is the second oldest in the United States. We’re one of 11 newspapers that have been in continual publication since the 18th century. The oldest is the Hartford Courant, which began publication in 1764.

Editor Nicholas Power gave his early readers a mixture of state laws reprinted with boring exactitude, dispatches brought by ship or post-rider from other cities in America and abroad; articles credited to other newspapers; and advertisements and legal notices which, as I said earlier, contained practically the only local news. He also offered “every Kind of Printing performed with Neatness and Dispatch” at his offices on Main Street.

Sometimes staying solvent was tough. Power would frequently implore subscribers to pay up. He would accept wheat, rye, Indian corn, oats, buckwheat, butter and flax, but preferred C-A-S-H, which he would always write in capital letters in his entreaties.

Power also made money by selling justice blanks for deeds, mortgages, indentures, and sealing wax as well as the Rural Casket, a literary journal.

When these newspapers began, production was tedious and primitive. Everything was hand made, the presses, paper, type, ink. Because of that, you wouldn’t find the late-breaking news on the front page. That was reserved for long-winded speeches or 45

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reprinted laws that could be set in type early. The real news would be inside the paper on the last pages set.

Power, like most early editors, thought of himself not as a journalist, a position we’ve tried to elevate to professional status today, but as a printer. You gave him information and he printed it. He didn’t worry about accuracy or objectivity. Even Ben Franklin, no journeyman when it came to journalism, called himself a printer in his epitaph, which he wrote himself and the Poughkeepsie Journal printed following his death in April 1790: The Body of Benjamin Franklin Printer, Like the Cover of an old book, Its Contents turned out, and Strip’d of its lettering and binding Lies here. Food for Worms; But the Work shall not be lost; For it shall, as he believed, appear once more In a new and more elegant Edition, Corrected and improved By the Author.

Early Journal editors faced many challenges. As a former editor of a weekly newspaper, I can tell you I agree wholeheartedly with the following statement made by one of the Journal’s early publishers: “A country editor is one who reads the newspapers, selects miscellany, writes articles on all subjects, sets type, reads proof, works at the press, folds papers and sometimes carries them, prints jobs, runs on errands, cuts and saws wood, works in the garden, talks to all his patrons who call, patiently receives blame for a thousand things that never were and never can be done, gets little money, has scarce time or materials to satisfy hunger or enjoy the quiet of nature’s grand restorer, and esteems himself peculiarly happy if he is not assaulted and battered by some unprincipled demagogue.”

Good help could be hard to find for early publishers. On June 24, 1795, Power published a notice offering “one copper reward” for the return of his apprentice Nathan Delano who had run away. He seemed to want him back despite his being 46

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“addicted to liquor” and “too well versed in the Art of Embezzlement.”

When news was slow in 1789, Power simply reprinted extracts from Gordon’s History of the American War. Readers could go back 14 years and relive the Battle of Lexington.

As the Journal aged, new owners were bolder in using its news columns to express their political viewpoints. Like most American publications in the first half of the 19th century, the Journal reflected the personalities and biases of its owners. There was no line dividing the news from the editorials.

During the War of 1812, the Journal, owned by the firm of Bowman, Parsons and Potter, reprinted from the Federal Republic: REASONS, NOT LONG, FOR BELIEVING THE WAR WILL BE SHORT.

1. Because the army lacks men.

2. Because the treasury lacks money.

3. Men and money are the sinews of war.

4. Because the navy lacks ships.

5. Because the president lacks nerve. …Whence we conclude that either such an administration will rid us of the war or the war will soon rid us of such an administration.

The paper bitterly opposed the War of 1812—an unpopular position to take. By the end in 1815, the paper declared: “This country has brilliantly distinguished itself. But the administration has been uniformly disgraced. The war was honorable but the peace was infamous.”

Some views were less lofty but no less sincere. An essay in 1788 determined that the national debt would be eradicated if people would stop spending money on the dubious luxury of taking snuff.

Letters to the editor were an important forum in early papers as they are today. In 1802 Power, who often came close to calling Jefferson a traitor, printed a letter from a reader who was furious about the “$100 spent on illuminating the Capitol as a consequence of Thomas Jefferson’s election.”

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Spelling errors were rare, but errors of fact seemed to be of less concern. In 1808, the Journal announced, “We have been informed that Indians and whites have been fighting and that people have been killed. We also have information from another source saying that no one had been killed. We give this news, as we had it, not vouching for its authenticity.”

And, as an aside, instead of just reporting the news, the Journal’s staff has occasionally made the news. There was the young man from Beacon who only two years out of Matteawan High School became a reporter for the News-Press, a Journal predecessor, in 1910 and rose to city editor of the paper in 1911 when he was only 19.

His name was James Forrestal, and in 1947 he would become our first Secretary of Defense. I am convinced the barrage of complaints one deals with as city editor put him in good stead for that job.

“The more things change, the more they remain the same.”

Alphonse Karr wrote that in 1849. You can see reflections of modern events in our past.

“HIS NAME IS BLAINE,” the largest headline of its time, spanned almost half a page on June 7, 1884, to announce the nomination of James G. Blaine as the Republican presidential candidate. In an editorial lavishly praising Blaine, the Poughkeepsie Eagle, a Journal precursor, underscored the unlikelihood of his candidacy: he was “without patronage, without power, refusing to ask any man to support him...”

Two days before the Nov. 5th election, Blaine faced a dilemma similar to one that would haunt other politicians more than 100 years later. An article appeared detailing Blaine’s attempt to disassociate himself from a supporter, the Rev. Samuel D. Burchard, whose reference to Democrats as the party of “Rum, Romanism, and Rebellion” received nationwide publicity.

It was twelve days after the election when the Eagle announced the certainty of Blaine’s defeat by Democrat Grover Cleveland. Included in the story was this quotation from the loser: “I had thousands upon thousands of Irish votes, and should have had many more but for the intolerant and utterly improper remark of Dr. Burchard.”

The early Journal also reported ominous signs of events to come.

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Unprecedented front-page coverage was given to the assassination of President Garfield on July 2, 1881. After the assailant had been identified erroneously twice, the Poughkeepsie Eagle revealed that the actual assassin, Charles Guiteau, was in Poughkeepsie during July 1880 and advertised a lecture at the YMCA titled, “Which Will It Be, Garfield or Hancock?” The talk was canceled due to low attendance. When Guiteau was found guilty of killing the president, the Eagle attacked the insanity plea: “the defense of insanity had been so abused as to be brought into great discredit.” Shades of John Hinckley, who attempted to assassinate President Reagan 100 years later in 1981.

Under foreign news, the Journal reported that some Jews in Europe were obliged to live in Jews’ quarters or ghettos. They were ordered to wear a mark of distinction on their clothing.

That was Jan. 18, 1826.

“Civil rights” was the title of the major story about four black passengers forbidden to sit with whites. They “...were denied the rights granted to all American citizens...” This didn’t happen on a bus in Selma in the early 1960s but on a Hudson River steamer in May 1882.

The Journal had long been an advocate for equality. It had called slavery “a curse to the human Race. May the time soon come when these states will wipe the stigmas from her shores.”

That was not written in 1861, but in 1821.

Like today, nineteenth-century personal advertisements were a popular way for people to find other people, though the criteria were slightly different. An ad in 1819 gave notice to Young Gentlemen that “two young women in the vicinity, possessed of exquisite personal charms, with minds adorned with the richest profusion of good sense […] are in the market and ready to answer any queries relative to matrimony […] they are perfectly acquainted with the theory of making puddings, apple dumplings and other delicacies.”

And just like Ann Landers, the Journal could also offer advice and solace. In a popular series, called “Knick-Knacks,” the editors offered this pearl in 1856: “If you would borrow money and have no security, go to a youth; for men are like green peas the younger they are, the easier they will shell out.”

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Because of the Journal’s long history in this valley, we think it’s part of our role to look back over the big picture. In 1999, we ran a yearlong series called “Heralding the New Millennium.” It looked back on the history of the Hudson Valley and spun ahead to its future. We published it in a book called The Hudson Valley, Our Heritage, Our Future in 2000.

When I say we looked back, we went as far as 387 million B.C. to describe what the valley was like then—basically some very big clams.

We ran excerpts from the diary of the ship’s officer who accompanied the English explorer Henry Hudson on his historic first voyage up the Hudson in 1609. Hudson, who was commissioned by the Dutch, called the river valley that bears his name “as pleasant a land as one can tread upon.”

The book also tells about the remarkable people who lived in the valley like Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt; Thomas Dewey; inventor Samuel F. B. Morse; Sojourner Truth, the abolitionist, evangelist, and champion of women’s rights who was born into slavery across the river in Ulster County in 1797; Matthew Vassar, the beer brewer who founded a college; Supreme Court Justice Thurgood Marshall, who had a summer home in Amenia; writers and poets like Washington Irving and Edna St. Vincent Millay, a Vassar graduate; and nature writer John Burroughs, who in the late nineteenth century galvanized this country into the conservation movement, a forerunner of the modern environmental movement. We wrote of his friendship with Teddy Roosevelt, who began our national park system.

We told the tale of the sea captain hired to fight pirates along the Hudson and beyond. On such a mission to Madagascar, he couldn’t find any pirates, he began to run out of food, and his crew became mutinous. What’s a guy to do but turn into a pirate himself? His name was William Kidd–Captain Kidd.

Thomas Cole and Frederic Church, who lived northwestnorth of here, immortalized the Hudson Valley with their oils and helped create America’s first school of painting, the Hudson River School.

Importantly, we wanted to cover the hidden stories as well, like that of John Mack, a judge who stood up to Ku Klux Klan members who managed to get themselves elected to the 50

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Arlington Board of Education in the late 1920s, or the Rev. H.H. Garnet, an African American who was a fiery speaker in the 1870s and whom Frederick Douglass called “the ablest thinker on his legs.”

We wrote about the Red Hook Society for the Apprehension and Detention of Horse Thieves, which was founded in 1796 and still exists. It does a great job; there are very few horse thieves left around here.

We also had a conversation with eminent presidential historian Doris Kearns Goodwin about FDR among other leaders and about where the institution of the presidency is headed.

And did you know that Stanford was the place where the game, Scrabble was invented? Or Dutchess County was where America’s first lawnmower was developed? Or that, long before there was a Nebraska, the Hudson Valley was the nation’s breadbasket? In 1836, more than one third of the grain produced

by New York state—one million bushels—came from Dutchess County.

Did you know that Poughkeepsie was a major whaling port, with carcasses brought here by ships for rendering into lamp oil and whalebone for corsets and other accessories? This was where “software” once meant Queen Undermuslin made at the Poughkeepsie Underwear Co., and this was where the only chips were at the poker tables in the basement at the Nelson House, a grand hotel on Market Street in Poughkeepsie.

The great thing about this history project was that we found so many surprises we didn’t know about. Some of you may have seen the movie Amistad, which was the true story of fifty-three Africans who were illegally taken as slaves by ship to the United States in 1839. They mutinied and were put on trial. They were represented by former President John Quincy Adams, who defended their right to fight to regain their freedom. The case went all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court. In 1841, in a landmark decision, the Court decided in favor of the Africans.

Eighteen had died at sea or in prison while awaiting trial. But most of them—thirty-five of these free men—were returned to their African homeland.

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And one of the eminent justices who made that remarkable Supreme Court decision was Smith Thompson of Stanfordville in Dutchess County.

Later, in 1862, in what was then known as the War of the Rebellion, 1,000 men from Dutchess County joined the 150th Regiment. After nine months of training in Baltimore, they were baptized in war at a place called Gettysburg. Captain Joseph H. Cogswell of the Town of Poughkeepsie wrote, “The enemy was near enough to be within easy range of the infantry, and our thousands of rifles mowed them down by hundreds and hundreds. Still they came on, until they reached the stone wall, behind which our thin line met them in a hand-to-hand conflict.”

On July 3, 1862, the men of the 150th held sway over the intense attack of Confederates under Gen. Richard S. Ewell at Culp’s Hill. They took 200 prisoners, then had to reinforce Northern lines at Cemetery Hill, hit by Gen. George E. Pickett’s desperate but futile charge.

The Union was badly hurt but prevailed. The 150th Regiment, well protected by breastworks (mounds of dirt), lost only seven men in a campaign that left more than 50,000 on both sides dead, wounded or missing. Even after Gettysburg, there would be no rest. They soon would be headed through the Shenandoah Mountains, packed in train cars so tight there was no room to sleep. They would cop a nap by lashing themselves to the roof of the cars with canteen straps and gun slings.

These soldiers, some of whom joined at age 15, would be tormented by flies, dysentery and typhoid. And a surprising thing to find in their diaries, which you can still find in local libraries, is that sometimes the two sides—the Union Northerners and the Confederate Rebels—would not be so far apart, as they thought at night of their homes north and south. They would trade songs, with the Yanks singing the “Battle Hymn of the Republic” or the Rebs, within earshot, countering with “Dixie.” As young William Wile, a private from Pleasant Valley, wrote: “Then, for a time, the two lines would exchange ditties of love and war, and finally close with some grand old sacred hymn, known to us all.” Then, of course, the next day they’d be back trying to kill each other.

One irony of that war was that it had 294 Union generals and 150 Confederate generals who were all graduates of the same school—the U.S. Military Academy at West Point. They included 52

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Ulysses S. Grant, William Tecumseh Sherman and their former colleagues, Robert E. Lee, Stonewall Jackson, and James Longstreet: people who had been college roommates and even comrades in the War with Mexico were fighting for different sides. Of the sixty most important battles of the Civil War, fiftyfive were commanded on both sides by graduates of West Point.

We wrote about West Point in The Hudson Valley, but as the academy approached its 200th anniversary in 2002, we wanted to write about it in more depth and developed another special section on its history, which we later developed into another book, West Point: Legend on the Hudson.

You have to be made of stern stuff to get through the academy. Some who didn’t make it were Edgar Allen Poe, who probably learned about midnights dreary from winter guard duty at the Point, and James A. McNeill Whistler. Later, he became a famous American painter, known particularly for his “Study in Black and Gray,” which is better known as “Whistler’s Mother.”

Whistler, whose father was an exemplary graduate of West Point, was impertinent. In a drawing class at West Point, he was supposed to draw a bridge over a river, as engineering students learn to do. He did, but he had two boys fishing from the span.

Get those boys off the bridge, the instructor said. The next drawing showed them fishing from the riverbank. Get those boys out of the picture, the instructor ordered. The final attempt showed two little tombstones by the river.

In 2005, we put out a special publication marking the Journal’s 220th anniversary. That can still be found online with more historical information and photographs at www.poughkeepsiejournal.com/220.

The slogan over the gate leading to the Journal’s front door reads “Here Shall the Press the People’s Right Maintain.”

Newspaper people—reporters and editors, salespeople and clerks, paper carriers and press operators—we are all just caretakers, stewards of a public trust. The Poughkeepsie Journal covered the passage of the Bill of Rights and hopefully, with your support, it will be around another two centuries to help see those rights—your rights—preserved.

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54

Two Hundred Years of the Full Moon Lodge Patrick Higgins

The room was illuminated by the afternoon sun finding its way

through the slightly parted curtains. The rays shone on a small altar in the center of the room. A dark drape covered the altar on which rested a Bible that has served for two centuries. The room is simply furnished with seats north and south walls, the master’s chair at the east end of the room, and a chair each for the junior and senior wardens at south and west walls. The scene is the Warren Masonic Lodge No. 32 in Schultzville, New York. The lodge is a piece of our history that almost silently slid into oblivion.

James Smith, present master of the lodge, recently gave me a tour of the building and told me the history of the lodge. Jim is a very active mason; he is also a member of the Henrick Hudson Masonic lodge in Red Hook. He held several posts in the Henrick Hudson Lodge before becoming master of the Warren Lodge.

He spoke of the history of Masonry and the part it played in the history of the United States. Most of the founding fathers were masons, as were many of our past presidents.

The Warren Lodge is one of the oldest Masonic Lodges in New York State, dating back to the beginning of the nineteenth century. It is affectionately known as the Full Moon Lodge. The history of the lodge goes back to 1807, a time when people traveled by horse and buggy. To accommodate its members, meetings were scheduled on nights of the full moon so they would have the benefit of moonlight to light their way. The lodge, in keeping with its tradition of the past, still schedules its meeting according to the full moon.

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The lodge is part of our history, and for a time it was in danger, like many other artifacts from our past, of being lost to the ages. Fortunately, through the dedicated work of the Clinton Historical Society and Masonic Brothers from neighboring lodges, it was rescued and the building restored to its original splendor.

When the Warren Lodge received its charter on June 10, 1807, it was located in Millerton. In 1860 it relocated to Pine Plains, and in 1865 it moved to its present location in Schultzville.

The land was donated and the building erected by Samuel Schultz after whom Schultzville is named.

The lodge is named after Joseph Warren, a physician and a general in the Revolutionary Army. He practiced medicine in Boston, and it was he who sent Paul Revere on his famous ride on April 18, 1775. He served as president pro tem of the Provincial Congress in 1775. He was killed at the Battle of Bunker Hill on June 17, 1775. There are many historians who speculate that if General Warren had not died at the Battle of Bunker Hill he might have been our first president rather than George Washington.

The Warren Lodge was a focal point of the community. It sponsored Boy Scout Troop 101, which no longer exists. It was noted for its dinners and picnics; at its prime it had 160 members.

It flourished in the 1920s and 1930s. Then came World War II, and our society changed as a whole.

When the soldiers returned from the war, their interests were less on fraternities and brotherhoods than when they left. They wanted a home, a family, a car, a television set; they wanted to make up for lost time. Fraternities such as the Elks, the Grange, the Masons and others suffered a decline in membership. This decline in fraternities brought a change in our society. The helping hand of brotherhood that was part of these fraternities did not seem as important as it did before the war.

As we move into the 21st century, society has become less interested in rituals. Television has kept people at home and is responsible for the silent family interaction. Rather than engage in family conversation, they sit silently watching the tube. The electronic media is the present ritual of our society. The only rituals families are engaged in outside the home are trips to the movies, a ball game, or church.

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Societies have always depended on rituals for survival. We can trace rituals back to the caveman from drawings on cave walls. The Hopi Indians are noted for their rain dance. We know that they can dance until their feet fall off and it would not rain unless the atmospheric conditions are just right. The ritual of the dance is what keeps them together as a community.

Warren Lodge is part of a 600-year-old fraternity with a 3,000-year-old tradition.

Many other fraternities have modeled themselves on Freemasonry. The fraternity of Free and Accepted Masons is the oldest and most widely-known fraternity in the world. It is a fraternity that brings men together for fellowship, integrity, and good citizenship.

With the closing of one lodge, we are losing some of that good citizenship. Some years ago the lodge in Hudson closed and many others have fallen on hard times. Tradition and rituals are what binds our society together; the few places they can be found now are in churches and synagogues.

The Warren Lodge in Schultzville, after going through a period of decline where it was almost forced to shut its doors, is—like the phoenix rising from its ashes—enjoying a rebirth.

Next year, the lodge will be celebrating two hundred years of Free Masonry, and plans are already in the works to make it a memorable year for the historic Warren Lodge.

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History of Dress at Vassar College Holly Hummel

A common theme concerning manner of dress, still very much evident on the Vassar campus in the twenty-first century, can be documented throughout the history of the school. Two years after the opening of the college, Hannah W. Lyman, the first lady principal, wrote to parents on July 23, 1867, enlisting their aid in ensuring that “Vassar College should not become a hot-bed for extravagance in dress.”1 Later in the century, a May 1870 student letter included the observation: “In the truest sense it is not what you wear but what you are that makes for honor here.”2 After fifty more years, the 1920-21 Students’ Handbook advised: “The standards of dress at Vassar are quite a matter of individual taste; we wear anything and everything.” The 1945 edition of the pamphlet So You’re Coming To Vassar included: “College life at Vassar is informal, and elaborate clothes are inappropriate and useless.” These statements and changes in campus fashion can be explored and illustrated through information concerning health, social influences, college traditions, the exigencies of climate, and athletic clothing.

During Vassar’s first years, hoop skirts, corsets and sausage curls were fashionable. Student Helen Seymour Sylvester wrote in a letter home about needing to rework her green silk dress: “I want to put… another breadth in the skirt for it is too narrow to wear with the large hoops they are wearing.”3 Within a short time, however, a concern by some to explore healthful 1

Vassar College Library Special Collections, Subject File #24.1.

Letters From Old Time Vassar: Written by A Student in 1869-70 (Poughkeepsie: Vassar College, 1915) 134.

3 Patricia Campbell Warner, “It Looks Very Nice Indeed,” Dress 28 (2001): 30 2

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fashion alternatives began to be seen at the college. One of the leaders in this movement was Dr. Alida C. Avery, Vassar’s first physician. In another letter of March 1870, the student quoted in the paragraph above wrote: “Dr. Avery lectured against tightlacing Tuesday morning. She never wears corsets and does not want us to.”1 Elements of The Rational Dress Movement of the late nineteenth century, which stemmed from concerns about emancipation of the mind as well as the body, were reflected several years later when a college yearbook, The Vassarian, became an annual publication. The 1890 edition included an advertisement for “Dress Reform Garments” and two years later, in addition to several for traditional corsets, an advertisement was included for “the Equipoise Waist… the natural substitute for all corsets.” By 1894, the Equipoise Waist was the only “corset” advertisement in the yearbook. Although abandoned by some, others were less daring and it took several more years for the corset to disappear completely. A student, who wrote on February 1, 1911 of wearing a corset with only two stays in front and two in back, followed that confession with a request: “Don’t tell the girls at home—they’ll think I’m becoming a sufferagette [sic].”2 Her concern is particularly interesting in light of the information that by 1911 more than 57 percent of the Vassar seniors had declared themselves in favor of suffrage.3 By 1917, in the February issue of the Vassar Quarterly, Frances Fenton Bernard ’02 was making a plea for “A Standardized Costume For Women” and the need for a simpler and more rational style of dress.

Clothing establishments in New York City as well as in Poughkeepsie also advertised in the yearbooks of the 1890’s, often including accessories such as millinery and gloves. Typical of most cities in that era, several dressmakers were available in Poughkeepsie when Vassar opened. In a letter to her brother on October 17, 1865, Annie Glidden Houts, class of 1869, wrote of 1

Letters From Old Time Vassar 100.

Constance Dimock Ellis, ed., The Magnificent Enterprise (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1961) 44.

3 Elaine Kendall, Peculiar Institutions (New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1975) 146.

2

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going to a dress fitting that fall in Poughkeepsie.4 Nevertheless, student letters of both the nineteenth and twentieth centuries described traveling to New York to purchase clothing, thus explaining the advertisements in The Vassarian. In fact, in the 1939 yearbook, Saks Fifth Avenue was listed as the favorite department store of the Senior Class.5 Some of the purchases probably included clothing needs for formal traditions, such as dressing for dinner, which continued to be a part of campus life for many decades. Miss Lyman also wrote to parents in July 1867 concerning dress expectations: “…nor would you want to find your daughter at evening in the same dress in which she had all day been at work.”6 Almost one hundred years later, the 1950 edition of So You’re Coming To Vassar included a similar reference: “At night we change to a skirt or dress for dinner.” Although, by that time, pedal pushers, blue jeans, or ski pants were all mentioned as possible choices for leisure activities. In America Day by Day, published in 1952, Simone de Beauvoir described clothing she observed during a visit to Vassar: “Others were dressed in… blue jeans rolled up above the ankle, and a man’s shirt…The shirts are bright, but the jeans must be worn and dirty.”7 Nevertheless, the 1963 edition of So You’re Coming To Vassar continued to advise, under “Helpful Hints”: “Skirts or dresses are usually worn to classes and… required for dinner, conferences with administration and faculty, and scheduled college functions.” By the time male students became part of the student body six years later, dress code regulations such as these had essentially disappeared, a development to which Commencement 1983 speaker Meryl Steep referred as part of her address, when recalling her student days.8 The denim fashion staple, worn daily by a majority of Vassar students in the twenty-first century, was already being mentioned in the February 1, 1937 issue of LIFE magazine: “blue jeans, introduced by Mrs. Hallie Flanagan’s D.P. (drama) course, have 4

Vassar College Library Special Collections, Student Letters, Box 70.

Agnes Rogers, Vassar Women (Rahway: Quinn & Boden Company, Incorporated, 1940) 19.

6 Rogers, Vassar Women 26.

7 Kendall, Peculiar Institutions 196-197.

8 Vassar Views, spec. graduation issue 74 (1983): 2.

5

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spread throughout the college.” Hallie Flannigan, later the director of the WPA Federal theater Project, came to Vassar in 1925 and one of the students whom she directed in an early drama class, recalled: “We all wanted to be vivid…I wore a piano shawl to class for one whole winter.”9 This was the same decade that saw students wearing fashionable “frocks”, exposing much more of the leg than had been seen in centuries. Over seventyfive years later, drama students doing similar rehearsal and production assignments favor the popular contemporary bare midriff styles, continuing to push fashion’s limits.

Traditional college events are an important part of campus life and white has long been the color worn for special occasions at Vassar. In a letter of May 8, 1887, Louisa Poppenheim, class of 1889, wrote to her mother of plans for Class Day: “Kitty Knight is going to have a white-watered silk with a long train and she is going to look oh so swell.”10 Throughout the first half of the twentieth century various college publications including The V.C. Students’ Handbook, the V.C. Freshman Handbook and So You’re Coming to Vassar contained advice for new students about what kind of clothing to bring. In each one, the need for at least one white dress or outfit was mentioned. In the 1920’s, it was “for debates, ice carnivals, ushering and Founder’s Day.” By 1950, a single need was mentioned: “A white dress is required for convocation.” In the Winter 1995 issue of the Vassar Quarterly, Professor of History Benjamin Kohl recalled his early teaching years at the college: “I’ll never forget the first convocation I marched in…there were 1500 young women in white dresses…It was like a room full of angels, a kind of paradise.”

During the first years of the twenty-first century, those female members of the sophomore class who carry the traditional floral chain of daisies at graduation continue to wear white dresses for the occasion. Several photographs of Daisy Chain members throughout the history of the custom are preserved in Special Collections at the Vassar Library. A 1925 photograph includes Kathryn Keeler Sherrill, class of 1927, whose dress was handembroidered with white daisies. That batiste dress is now part of 9

Kendall, Peculiar Institutions 169.

Joan Marie Johnson, ed., Southern Women At Vassar (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2002) 166.

10

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the Vassar College Costume Collection, a collection of over 400 actual garments, a large proportion dating from the second half of the nineteenth century and early twentieth century. The collection includes other traditionally white garments with a documented Vassar history, notably the ivory silk taffeta bustlesilhouette graduation ensemble of Sallie Tucker Blake, class of 1879, with its matching fringed cape.

Special Collections, Vassar College

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A small card included when the dress was donated, notes that she carried Jacques Minot roses. Flowers as part of the ensemble were apparently very important. A small green card, also preserved in Special Collections, was issued by Saltford Flower Shop for the Class Day celebration in 1912 and advertised: “These prices… include… ribbon or chiffon in any shade either to match the gown or the flowers.”11 Class commencement photographs continued to feature many white graduation dresses until academic caps and gowns were first worn by the Class of 1914.12 Poughkeepsie weather was also a concern when discussing clothing. In an 1873 article in the Vassar Miscellany, titled “Keep Warm,” Dr. Avery recommended to students that winter dresses “be made at least an inch larger about the waist [to allow] plenty of space for extra underclothing.” 13 The 1923/24 Students’ Handbook advised: “A raincoat, rubbers, and galoshes, especially galoshes, are indispensable.

When the campus is wet, it is very wet!” Overcoats were necessary as well and a contemporary military influence was illustrated in a woman’s overcoat advertised on the first page of the November 1918 Vassar Quarterly: “The Dolly Hibson Coat, sister to the Major Hibson,” the official army officer’s coat. In 1944, conditions during a later war prompted the following advice in that year’s edition of So You’re Coming To Vassar: “Because of the coal shortage, the college buildings are kept at 65 degrees in winter, and sensible clothes will keep you from catching cold.”

When Vassar opened, essentially the same style garment was worn for both public sports activities and classes, although in 1867 “the ladies of the faculty” apparently approved bloomers worn under skirts as an appropriate “gymnasium costume” which could be worn for calisthenics.14 Mathew Vassar himself spoke of his belief in “daily exposure to the pure air in joyous unrestrained 11

Vassar College Library Special Collections, Subject File #24.1.

Marion Bacon, ed., Life At Vassar (Poughkeepsie: Vassar Cooperative Bookshop, 1940) 119.

13 Raymond, Cornelia. Memories Of A Child Of Vassar (Poughkeepsie: Vassar College. 1940) 40-41.

14 Bacon, Life At Vassar 80.

12

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activity.”15 In the 1925-26 Freshman Handbook, Burgess Johnson wrote an article praising Matthew Vassar for the choice of clothing: “In a day of exaggerated female modesty in dress and demeanor, he advocated a “bloomer” costume for students in his college.” However, members of the 1876 Vassar baseball team, the Resolutes, were pictured wearing corsets, high-necked bodices, and long skirts. More than a decade later, photographs and yearbook sketches illustrated Vassar students playing lawn tennis or Tandem Club members riding bicycles in corsets, bonnets, and all the layers of contemporary bustle fashions. By 1890, yearbook sketches depicted tennis players wearing middy blouses and simpler, although fashionable, floor-length skirts, no longer encumbered with bustles. Students golfing on campus in 1899 were photographed wearing skirts at least three inches off the ground, a “daring” innovation, worn only for sports, although with them they wore jackets with full leg-o-mutton sleeves and heeled high-button shoes.16 Clothing worn at the college for more active sports activity gradually became less restrictive, allowing more freedom of movement. Photographs in Special Collections show students in the late 1890’s participating in Field Day activities such as foot races, high jumps and broad jumps, wearing long-sleeved dark bloomer suits with middy collars and no overskirts. Their hair, usually arranged fashionably piled on top of their heads, was worn hanging in a single long braid down their backs and they wore heavy dark stockings. Although surrounded by spectators wearing leg-o-mutton sleeves, floor-length skirts and widebrimmed hats, the participants themselves were bareheaded.

Early in the twentieth century, white middy blouses were worn with the dark bloomers and even shorts appeared for Field Day events in the later 1920’s. As the twentieth century progressed, clothing and sports activities became swiftly more informal, as illustrated in a 1962 newspaper article including a picture of Vassar girls wearing sweatshirts and Bermuda shorts playing informal touch football against Yale students on a campus lawn.17 15

Elizabeth Hazelton Haight ed., The Autobiography and Letters of Matthew Vassar (New York: Oxford University Press, 1916) 1.

16 Bacon, Life At Vassar 80.

17 Vassar College Library Special Collections, Subject File #23.92.

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The formality of clothing worn for almost any activity in the twenty-first century has all but disappeared and Vassar students can truly echo the description of students nearly a century earlier: “we wear anything and everything.�

Special Collections, Vassar College

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The Palatine Farmstead at Rhinebeck Nancy Kelly

The Palatine Farmstead is a historic site being restored and

interpreted in Rhinebeck, New York. It provides a unique opportunity to highlight the story of Palatine settlement in New York. The property descended through generations of Palatine families until the last family descendant died in the year 2000.

The house was not altered by modern plumbing or heating installations and retains many original characteristics. Rhinebeck Equine, who acquired it from the estate, gave the house, barn, and three acres of the property to the non-profit group the Quitman Resource Center in 2002. The Palatine Farmstead Committee was organized to oversee the restoration and interpretation of the property through the QRC. As the initial step in conserving and understanding the property, they were awarded a Preserve New York Grant to prepare a Historic Structures Report. The property was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 2002 as the Neher-Elseffer-Losee House.

The 1710 arrival of 3,000 Palatines in the colony of New York marked the largest single migration to the colony during the colonial period. It nearly doubled the population of New York, an English colony struggling to compete against the French and to maintain a hold on the land England had claimed. Largely ignored in accounts of New York State history for two and threequarter centuries, the emigration was first seriously recognized after Henry Z. Jones wrote his important study, The Palatine Families of New York -1710.

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EMIGRATION BACKGROUND

Although the story of the 1710 Palatine emigration has already been told, a summary of the events bears repeating. The emigration from Germany apparently resulted from difficulties encountered by rural inhabitants in the Palatinate and surrounding areas. These included plundering, which occurred during the Seven Years Wars with the French and a particularly severe winter in 1709. Coupled with severe taxation, this placed the population in a desperate situation. Queen Anne of England, whose sympathies were aroused through her German husband and whose colonies were in need of settlers, offered assistance, encouraging the emigration of many more prospective settlers than had been anticipated.

The emigrants traveled down the Rhine to Rotterdam, where the English provided ships to transport them to England. They were encamped for long months before arrangements could be made to send nine boatloads to America. Some of the others were returned to Holland, while more were settled in Ireland.

The ships arrived in New York harbor in October 1710 after a grueling voyage. Many were ill, about 400 having died during the crossing. They were quarantined on Nutten Island while land was secured about 120 miles up the Hudson River at the Livingston Manor on the east shore and from extravagant grants on the west shore.

In payment for their passage and rations, the settlers were required to work, preparing naval stores for the Queen. Their first settlements were called camps. East Camp was in the area now the town of Germantown, NY while West Camp on Route 9W on the opposite shore, still retains its original name.1 DISPERSAL FROM THE CAMPS

By the fall of 1712, several factors combined to result in the termination of the naval stores project and the dispersal of the Palatine families in various directions. The production of tar and naval stores had not been successful. Probably a lack of the 1

Walter Knittle’s book, Early Eighteenth Century Palatine Emigration, written in 1937, provides excellent background.

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correct variety of pine for the production of pitch was the major factor, but this was coupled with inept management. The death of Queen Anne changed the political climate in England. The English refused to continue providing rations and support for the project. With winter approaching, the families began to consider ways to provide for themselves and secure lands for the future.

Some left immediately for the Schoharie, a fertile valley that had great appeal. Others settled in a variety of convenient locations.

RHINEBECK SETTLEMENT

Thirty-five

families from the 1710 group were settled in Rhinebeck by 1718. They are listed on Dutchess County North Ward tax assessment lists. The inhabitants of the Farmstead and many of these Palatine families supplied generations of Rhinebeck residents, their names still familiar in the Town today. (see Appendix) SITE BACKGROUND

The

property on which the Farmstead is located has a significant history. It was part of thousands of acres Henry Beekman, Sr. obtained from Native Americans. Beekman obtained the final patent for this property from the crown in 1703. Henry wished to settle this land and encouraged the Palatines from East Camp (now Germantown, Columbia County, NY) and West Camp (Ulster County, NY) to take property in his patent. Some located on Henry’s land by 1712, as shown in his early account books.2 His property was surveyed and lots laid out

by John Beatty in 1714. Records show a log church was constructed about 1715. The present cemetery near the corner of Wey Road and Route 9 is located to the rear of the church site.

The church used by both the German Reformed and the German Lutheran congregations was formed when the early settlers took up residence. Their community became known as Rhynbeck, or Rhinebeck, and was based around the church. The site of the 2

Valuable information about Henry Beekman’s Palatine tenants may be found in the Edward Livingston Papers, housed at Princeton University. They include many of Beekman’s original rent books and account books, together with original leases and other documents.

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Farmstead, near the original church, puts it at the center of the original settlement. The name Rhinebeck was later given to the precinct and then to the town that encompassed Beekman’s land and also the earlier Roosa & company patents in the area.

In the nineteenth century, Rhinebeck Flatts, a community two miles south, assumed the name of Rhinebeck when the town clerk located there. Most current residents are unaware that the original settlement was in a different location.

Henry Beekman died in 1716, making it necessary for his son Henry to make formal arrangements with the Palatines who settled on his Rhinebeck land. Deeds were issued in 1718. Several of the originals survive. They were actually indentures or leases, requiring the settlers to pay an annual rent of bushels of wheat, fowl, and days riding (work for the landlord).

By 1738, Henry Beekman’s land was divided between Henry Jr. and his two sisters, Cornelia Livingston (Mrs. Gilbert) and Catharine Rutsen (Mrs. John, who later married Albert Pawling).

The land on which the church was located as well as the property for the Palatine house fell to Cornelia and her husband Gilbert.

Cornelia died in 1742 while her husband Gilbert died in 1746, at which time his eldest son, Robert G. Livingston, inherited the land. He began a rent book in that year. This book is now in the manuscript collection at the New York Historical Society.3 The page showing Frans Neher’s account is headed by a symbol, indicating that the property was originally a lot in the division of Catherine Rutsen Pawling’s land. Adjustments called the Splitz were made during 1736, sometime before its acquisition by Robert G. Livingston. The record shows that Frans Neher (Near) lived on this land. He and his father, Carl Neher, were among the original Palatine settlers in Rhinebeck.

THE FARMSTEAD SITE

The Farmstead (National Register of Historic Places listing as

the Neher-Elseffer-Losee house) is probably the earliest frame house now standing in the town of Rhinebeck. It is located on Route 9, north of the old Rhynbeck cemetery and the Route 9 & 9G intersection.

3

Robert G. Livingston Rent Book, New York Historical Society.

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THE PALATINE FARMSTEAD

The first building known to have occupied the site is pictured on a map of the area, c.1750. It is shown as an el shaped building.

The basement of the current structure conforms to the shape of that early building. Many of the timbers from this building have been identified in the current structure.

Map c. 1750 showing home of Frans Neher, now known as the Palatine Farmstead

An additional bonus on the site is an early barn located behind the house. This early barn has hand-hewn oak rafters 1822 inches thick. One of the barn beams contains initials M.D. carved with date 1770, probably indicating the builder was Martin Diel/Teal. On the bottom of the beam N. Tipple is written in the harvest script typical of the nineteenth century.

Before beginning a discussion of the occupants of the house and the resulting changes over the centuries, it is important to understand landholding patterns in Rhinebeck. As discussed earlier, the original Beekman patent in Rhinebeck was divided among the Beekman children after their father’s death.

Apparently, the division did not meet with everyone’s approval since there was a further settlement in 1736, referred to as the Splitz. A listing of property transferred from Catherine Beekman Pawling to Cornelia Livingston included the Farmstead property.

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This is important because rents were required for most land transferred in Rhinebeck and the Farmstead property was annually expected to provide a certain number of bushels of wheat, two fat hens and one day’s riding to the landlord.

Unfortunately, rent books for Catherine Beekman Pawling’s land and for Cornelia Beekman Livingston, wife of Gilbert Livingston during this period have not been located.

FIRST PERIOD

The Neher name, first associated with this property, was among those listed as one of the original 1710 Palatine settlers who came to Rhinebeck. Karel Neher, b. 1671 in Birkenfeld, Germany and his son Franz, born 1703, were naturalized in 1715 in Kingston, NY. Karl married his third wife, Anna Constantia Richart (Reichert/Rikert) Jan 11, 1715. His name appears on the North Ward tax rolls in Rhinebeck from 1717/18-1733/34. He was a constable of the North Ward in 1721, an overseer of the King’s Highway, and also a representative of the Lutheran congregation in 1729. He died in 1733 and was buried in the Lutheran cemetery. At present, we have no primary documentation that Karl resided on the Farmstead.

We do have documentation that his son, Frans Neher, lived there. He appears on the Rhinebeck tax rolls from 1727-1778.

Frans married Rebecca Kohl at Rhinebeck in 1724. In the rent book begun by Cornelia’s son, Robert Gilbert Livingston in 1746, after his father’s death. Frans is listed in the on Lot 3, farm 9 through 1762. It was during this time his house appears on the undated map showing the Rhinebeck Reformed Dutch Church Lands. This map is mislabeled since the Dutch Reformed Church was never located here. The church shown was German (Deutch) Reformed and replaced the first church which had been shared by the Reformed and Lutheran Congregations. The Lutherans relocated in 1730 to a site a short distance north, where the Stone Church currently stands.

From the bits of information and general age of Frans Neher, a circa date for the initial construction of the first house appears to fall around 1727, at the time Frans Neher first appears 72

THE PALATINE FARMSTEAD

on property tax records. He had a total of ten children. In 1729 at the age of 33 he was elected constable and was requesting land from Robert G. Livingston for the Lutheran Church. In 1736 his name is found in the Beekman account book as purchasing 2,500 shingles.

Dutchess County Deeds Book 2 refer to him as a cordwainer (shoemaker) in 1755. The records of Beekman’s miller, Henry Denker, show that between 1752 and 1755 he made brass shoe buckles for the miller’s slave and also mended brass kettles.

Records show that his lot was only 7 acres in size, indicating that he earned his living as a tradesman, not as a farmer. In 1755, he took a slave census of those in his district of Rhinebeck.4 He is recorded as Captain since he served in the militia during the French and Indian War. In 1762, Lodwick Elseffer, a later Palatine emigrant came into possession of the property that was formerly Frans Neher’s.

Although he had trained at a cordwainer, similar to his predecessor, he also took surrounding land to make a parcel of forty-eight and a half acres in total.

In 1762, he appears in Robert G. Livingston’s lot book on this site with the notation, “Frans Neher’s Old Farm.” By implication, it would appear that Frans Neher and family are no longer living there, that Lodowick Elseffer has assumed obligation for the property, and that the existing house was still in use.

According to family tradition, Ludwig had been orphaned at approximately age four while on the trip here from Europe. The ship Two Sisters from Rotterdam landed in Philadelphia September 9, 1738. A half brother, Hendrick Shop, was his guardian until he came of age. They resided in Philadelphia.

Ludwig learned the trade of saddle and harness maker in Philadelphia, but both he and Henry Shop came to Rhinebeck, probably because of a connection to the early Palatine settlement here.

In 1758, Ludwig had married Susanna Reichert, a descendant of another of the 1710 Palatine settlers, Joseph Reichert/Rikert.

Lodowick Elseffer would have been about 28 years old when he 4

O’Callaghan, Documentary History of New York p. 852.

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came into possession of the property and already married four years. They had eight children born between 1759 and 1774.

Ludewick served in the American Revolutionary War as a Private in the Dutchess County Militia, Sixth Regiment, Land Bounty Rights. His descendant, Mary Cotting Lossee was a member of the DAR. In 1786 he served as Clerk of the Rhinebeck Precinct.

A memorial window in the Old Stone Church and his 1809 gravestone on the hillside near the church are relics, attesting to Ludwig’s importance in the community. His descendants kept the house continuously in the family until the recent death of Catherine Losee who was his great-great-great granddaughter through marriages with the Cotting and Losee families.

CHARACTERISTICS OF THE FIRST HOUSE

As shown on the early map, by circa 1750 the house was an ell-

shaped building. Foundation and framing timbers remain from this house. Cabinets around the south fireplace and the front stairway also probably date from the early period. A door and shutter were reused and were found in the rear of the building.

THE SECOND HOUSE c 1786 THROUGH PRESENT (FLOORPLAN)

In 1786, when Lodwick’s son George married Anna Maria

Neher5, it appears the house was renovated and enlarged to accommodate the two families. Such a generational transition between Lodowick Elseffer and his son George Elseffer was not uncommon in the late 18th century. It was customary for sons to marry and move into the family homestead with their parents. It was also at which time alterations and improvements to homes were often undertaken to accommodate more family members and the new family tastes and needs. By 1786, the existing house as built by Frans Neher would have been about 60 years old, probably very much out of fashion and archaic in terms of efficiency and use. It appears that construction of the second

5

Elseffer Family Bible, March 5, 1786 74

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house on the site occurs commensurate with the generational change from Lodowick to George Elseffer, circa 1786.

George Elseffer and his sister Susanna both married into the Neher family; George married Anna Neher, a niece of Frans Neher, and Susanna married David Neher, a nephew of Frans Neher. Lodowick Elseffer lived in the house from 1762 through 1786 (he would have been about fifty years old) with his wife and family, including one child as young as 14. The 1786 date is significant because his son, George, was married at the age of twenty-five and appears to have moved in and shared the property with his father and family.

The second house is the basic house that survives today and is presently known as the Palatine Farmstead. Through generational changes in ownership and occupancy of the Elseffer family and descendants, the house has seen many changes; however, the basic character and plan of the house were little changed. Changes that affected the historic character of the house mostly occurred during the nineteenth century, with a few in the early twentieth century.

The Historic Structure Report prepared by Ted Bartlett of Crawford & Stearns, and information from site director, Marilyn Hatch, enable us to piece together the following chronology and characteristics of the building. The four building campaigns attempt to define generally the periods and construction chronology of the character-defining changes to the second house.

FIRST BUILDING CAMPAIGN (GEORGE ELSEFFER)

Architecturally,

it appears that the second house was constructed in the last fifteen years of the eighteenth century, which is consistent with the time of George Elseffer’s marriage.

While the new house was constructed for George Elseffer and family, Lodowick Elseffer appears to have remained in residence until his death in 1809. Records indicate that his son George and wife (Anna Neher) took title to the property in 1813 after the elder Elseffer’s death. As noted, George Elseffer was married in 1786 when he was twenty-five years old; they had six children with Henry, the third child, born in 1797.

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Stylistically, the surviving early features from the second house certainly are appropriate for anywhere between 1775 and the early nineteenth century. The main house consisted of a twostory three room main block with one story three-room rear shed annex. Both sections had Dutch framing systems. The main block had Federal-style stairs, paneling, doors, trim, and fireplaces, all consistent with what was being constructed in the region during this period. The rear annex appears to have been more utilitarian and employed many reused features from the earlier house. The new house was stylistically and technically more up-to-date, more comfortable and more efficient to operate and live in for the newlyweds George and Anna Neher Elseffer.

However, it was not a luxurious or large house; it was of simple plan and efficient construction. Likewise, many elements of the earlier Frans Neher house appear to have been judiciously reworked and reused in the construction of this house, including major portions of the stone foundation. The rear shed timber frame contained the kitchen, rear entry and an undefined utilitarian space.

The first campaign extended from the construction of the house, c 1786 by Lodowick and son George Elseffer, to 1831 after the death of Anna Maria (Neher) Elseffer, George Elseffer’s wife.

Photo: Detail from 1798 Alexander Thompson map of “Rhynbeck,” showing Elseffer House on the right of the Post Road, between the two churches.

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SECOND BUILDING CAMPAIGN (HENRY ELSEFFER & WIFE LYDIA COOKINGHAM ELSEFFER)

George Elseffer and his family appear to have remained in the

house with the property passing to their third son Henry and wife Lydia Cookingham in 1831 after George’s death in 1829. Henry and Lydia Elseffer lived in the house during the mid-nineteenth century. They had only one daughter, Eliza Ann. The property was transferred to Henry’s wife Lydia in 1863, then after his death in 1872 Lydia deeded the house to their daughter Eliza Ann. Again as customary with generational changes in ownership, it appears that Henry Elseffer undertook several improvements to the house after he took over in 1831. The improvements altered its style, visual appearance, efficiency, and detailing; however, the plan remained basically the same. Most notable were the changes in detailing to the more popular Greek Revival style including windows, doors, trim, fireplaces, alterations to the stairway, and improvements to the rear kitchen.

The second campaign of Henry Elseffer’s occupancy extended from 1831 through Henry Elseffer’s death in 1872.

THIRD BUILDING CAMPAIGN (ELIZA ANN ESEFFER COTTING & HUSBAND JOHN COTTING)

After

the property was transferred to Henry and Lydia Elseffer’s only child Eliza Ann Elseffer Cotting in 1872, Lydia continued to live with her daughter and son-in-law until her death in 1891 at the age of 91. Eliza Ann and John Cotting had one surviving child, a boy, Addison Cotting, born in 1861. It is during their occupancy that more improvement appears to have occurred to upgrade the existing house. The house was enlarged with a south bedroom for Lydia and other late nineteenth century improvements, in particular the rear area, wood stoves, and exposed ceiling timbers.

The third campaign extends through Eliza Ann Elseffer Cotting’s occupancy from 1872 until 1899, when she deeded the property to her son Addison. Addison and his wife Louisa were living in the house with his mother at this time.

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FOURTH BUILDDING CAMPAIGN (ADDISON COTTING & WIFE LOUISA K. COTTING)

Addison Cotting received title to the property in 1899. There were four Cotting children, Harry, Anna, Mable (May) and Mary (Babe) raised in the house. Addison Cotting died in 1944, and his wife Louisa continued to live in the house until her death in 1952.

Louisa became an invalid, and her daughter Mable Himes moved in to care for her mother. Mable’s husband the Rev. Elder Himes died in 1951. They had no children. After Lousia’s death, both Henry and Anna transfer their interest in the house over to their sisters Mary Losee and Mable Himes. In 1950, Mary, her husband Harvey and daughter Katherine Losee lived in the house, occupying the northern section of the building. Mable continued her residency in the southern portion of the house.

During this period of time, some modernization of the house appears to have been undertaken, including the replacement of a small front (stoop) porch with a larger one (1910), the opening up of timber framed ceilings, new finishes, space heating systems and significant reconstruction of the east rear wall of the house.

Over the next twenty-nine years, transfers occurred among the Cotting siblings and one Cotting granddaughter. Upon the death of Mable Himes in 1963, her sister Mary Losee gained title and the next year she shared title of the property with her daughter Katherine Losee. Mary Losee died in 1981 and left the title to Katherine Losee, who died in 2000 at age 68, thus ending the extended 238-year Elseffer family ownership.

After the mid-twentieth century, the house started on a period of decline with deferred maintenance and no further architectural improvements. There was minimal maintenance and up-keep and the house began to steadily decline. In 1999, one year prior to Katherine Losee’s death, an extensive fire damaged the north end of the main block of the house. Minimal repairs were undertaken and she lived mainly in the north two rooms of the first story of the house until she died on December 26, 2000.

The property was sold by her estate to Rhinebeck Equine. In 2002, title of the house property was transferred to the Quitman Resource Center for Preservation, Inc. for use as an interpretive center for the Palatine immigrants who came to America, raised families and established communities.

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Archeological work is an important component to understanding the site and the lives of its former inhabitants. Test pits were dug near the barn and more extensive archeological work has been done near the back wall of the house, extending into the crawl space under the rear rooms. More digs are anticipated as finances and weather permit.

Work at the site is currently focusing on the rear or east wall of the building where the foundation had encountered severe water damage. Work is now progressing to rebuild the kitchen fireplace and bake oven on the north. The committee hopes to develop the site to interpret the story of the Palatine settlers and their life in America.

Restoration funds have come from many sources. Grants have been received from: the Preservation League, the NY State Council on the Arts, a Legislative Initiative Grant, a NY State Environmental Protection Fund Grant and the Dutchess County Industrial Developmental Agency. Many of these grants have required matching funds from the community. A volunteer workforce has provided over 2,600 hours of their time.

Stevenson Millwork, Inc. of Connecticut has reproduced and donated the rotted and missing moldings. Several fund raising events have been undertaken, including a donor program that awards construction hats to contributors.

Photo showing rear of Palatine Farmstead as it appeared when first acquired for restoration.

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APPENDIX: THE PALATINE FAMILIES OF RHINEBECK IN 1718

Traditionally, Rhinebeck was settled by thirty-five Palatine families, but how those thirty-five were counted is uncertain.

The listing provided here includes thirty-eight families, but in several cases there were several households with the same family name. The heads of these households were related either as brothers or father and son. Some of those included settled on land, later part of Albany/Columbia County and so might have been considered not truly Rhinebeck. At least one, Georg Saltsman, has not been found among the 1710 emigrants settled here by the English government. His name does not appear on Governor Hunter’s List of the families who received sustenance from the crown, but he was here by 1718 and did originate from Germany, as shown by his marriage record.

We are fortunate to have the benefit of the extensive research that Henry Z. Jones conducted on the 1710 families, locating the origins in Germany. It is also useful to refer to the work of early Rhinebeck Historians such as Edward Smith and Howard Morse for information about where the individual families settled.

Several original 1718 deeds/leases have survived. All follow the format as published in an Appendix to Morse’s Historic Old Rhinebeck. They provide for rent during the first seven years of the lease of two fat hens and after this period, the annual rent will be one and a half pecks of wheat per acre plus the two fat hens.

Although the settlement may have originally been focused about the church in the original Rhinebeck, by 1718 the families appear to have acquired land in widely separated areas of the town.

There was a cluster of farms in the north along the river. This land is now in Red Hook and became the property of John Armstrong and his wife Alida Livingston, a Beekman heir. A large plain, south of the present village of Rhinebeck, was known as Bocke Bos (Beech Woods) and contained several of the farms.

Others were scattered south of that location.

Many of the remainder was located along the Post Road north of the present village and north and south of the original Rhinebeck. The Palatines were settled on the better farmland in Beekman’s tract. Unfortunately, the map, said to have been made

by John Beatty who conducted a survey for Beekman in 1714, has 80

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not been found. Rent books refer to lot numbers, but the location of the lots is unknown. The farms were generally about fifty acres with annual rents required on May 1 each year. Henry Beekman’s rent books and some account books have survived in the Edward Livingston papers housed at Princeton. Dutchess County Tax records, extracted by Clifford Buck, cover the original political division, the North Ward, and the later Rhinebeck Precinct and Town of Rhinebeck. Records of Naturalization of the settlers have been noted. Circa 1717 an informal census was recorded by an enterprising Palatine, Ulrich Simmendinger who published the Simmendinger Register to inform readers back in Germany about the situation of the families.

Some families may have arrived 1712-17 but did not remain to be recorded on the tax list. Others from the 1718 tax list remained less than ten years, leaving Rhinebeck for land Beekman offered on his patent in southern Dutchess County or for areas of other Palatine settlement such as the Tulpehocken area of Pennsylvania and the Mohawk Valley of New York. Many lent their names to Rhinebeck for generations and may still be found on today’s tax lists.

1. ACKERT [Eykert] (Eckardt), Adam, 1671-1744 m. (1) Elisabetha Catherina Geib, 7 children (2) Anna Raw (Rowe), 5 children 2. BACKUS, John Reitz, 1677-1742 m. Elizabetha Catherina, 7 children 3. BENNER [Penner] (Bender), Valentine, 1682-1727 m. Anna Margaretha Stoppelbein, 5 children 4. BUCK [Bock], Martin, ?–1743 m. Maria Gertrude Schmid, 8 children 5. CAPONTSIER [Kapontsier], Jacob, c.1668-1717 m. Anna Magdalena Eckelmann, 7 children 6. COUNTRYMAN, Andreas Franz m. (1) Sibylla Scharrmann, 3 children 81

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(2) Cornelia Keyser, 5 children 7. CRAMER [Cremere], Anthony, ?–1722 m. Gertrude, 5 children.

8. DINGS [Denkes], Jacob, ? –1737 m. Gertrude Ax, 4 children 9. DOBB (Topp), Peter, 1667-1755 m. Anna Margaretha Bernhardt, 6 children 10. EIGHMEY [Eemeig], Nicholas, ?-1761 m. Anna Catharina Muller, 9 children 11. FELLER, John Philip, ?–1768 m. Catherina Elisabetha Rau (Rowe), 10 children 12. FRALEIGH (Frederick, Frohlich), Stephen m. Anna Elisabetha Wohlleben, 5 children 13. FREDERICH [Fredrich], John Adam, ?–1725 m. Regina Maria 14. HENDRICKS, (Henrich), Lawrence m. Anna Regina Halm, 5 children 15. KARNER, [Körner] Nicholas m. Anna Magdalena, 3 children 16. KELLER [Kelder], Frantz m. Barbara Adam, 6 children 17. LAMERT [Lambert], (Lamet), John m. Elisabetha (Vogel), 1 child 18. LAUNERT [Loonart], Philip, 1693–1768 m. (1) Anna Margaretha Kuhn, 4 children (2) Catharina 19. MELIUS, Jacob Jacobse 82

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20. MEYER, John Frederick, 1662 -post 1732 m. Anna Barbara Scheurmann, 6 children 21. NEHR [Neaher] (Near), Carl, 1675-1733 m (1) Louisa Hornberger, 4 children (2) Maria Apolonia Matthies, 1 child (3) Anna Constantia Reichert, 9 children 22. NOLL, Barent, ? –1753 m (1) Anna Margaretha Rudig, 11 children (2) Catherina (Penhamer) 22. PRIEGEL (Briegel), John George 23. ROWE [Rou] (Rau, Rauch,) Nicholas, ?-1748 m. (1) Gertrude Steinkopf, 7 children.

24. REICHERT [Reykert], Joseph, 1663-1748 m. (1) Anna Vogel, 6 children (2) Anna Maria Hoffmann, 2 children 25. REISDORF [Risdorph], John, 1675-1734 m. (1) Anna Margaretha Friederich, 1 child (2) Anna Margaretha (Coert?), 5 children.

26. SALTSMAN, Jurian m. (1) Amelyn Herty (2) Anna Margaretha Capontsier (3) Christien/Christina 27. SCHAFFER [Shever], John Henrich, 1674-1742 m (1) Maria Margaretha, 3 children (2)Susanna Agnes Siebel, 8 children SCHAFFER, John Valentine, eldest son of Henrich m. Maria Barbara Meyer, 14 children 28. SCHREIVER [Schriver] (Schryver), Albertus, 1683-1759 m. Eva Catherina Lauermann, 9 children 83

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29. SCHAURMAN [Scheerman], (Showerman, Sherman), Hendrick, ?-1737 m. Anna Catharina, 4 children 30. SHUFELT [Toefelt] (Zufeld, Toefelt), George m. Anna Catherina Zaam/Sahm, 9 children 31. SIPPERLY [Sieperell] (Zipperly), John Bernard, 1669-1734 m. (1) Christina, 7 children (2) Anna Maria Reichard 32. TEAL (Diel, Tiel), Ananias, 1673-1733 m. (1) Maria Catharina Schmid, 2 children (2) Elisabeth Finck, 3 children 33. TATOR [Teder],(Däther, Teator), George, ? –1761 m. Anna Maria Meyer, 9 children 34. TIPPLE [Typell] (Dipple), John Peter, 1689-1757 m. Anna Catherina Krost/Kroest, 8 children 35. UHL [Ohle], (Ohl, Oel), Carl, ? –1725 m. Anna Agatha, 8 children 36. WEGELE, John Michael, ? –1748 m. (1) Anna Catherina 4 children (2) Anna Maria 37. WHITEMAN [Whitman], (Weidman/Weytman), Martin, ? 1753 m. Anna Ursula Schmidt, 4 children 38. WOLLEBEN [Woleven] (Woleven), Peter, 1676- post 1749 m. (1) Agnes Odenheimer, 5 children m. (2) Anna Rosina Forster, 5 children WOLLEBEN [Woleven] (Woleven), Valentine, 1679-1755 m. Susanna 3 children 84

Captain H. L. Barnum: An Enigma Harold Nestler Fishkill, in southern Dutchess County, New York, was the main depot for the Continental Army during the American Revolution. The Van Wyck House, now known as the Wharton House at the southeast corner of the present Routes 9 and 84, was the headquarters for the officers of the encampment. This house figures prominently in that classic novel The Spy by James Fenimore Cooper. Published in 1821, it became an astounding success soon was dramatized on the stage, and through the years it has had many printings. The chief figure in the book is Harvey Birch, who was a spy for Washington’s army, and whose activities took place mainly in the southern Dutchess/Westchester County area.

“Who was the model for Harvey Birch?” This question has been asked times without number; historians have debated it, and it has been discussed in many newspaper and historical magazine articles. It is known that Cooper talked with John Jay in the early 1800’s, and that Jay, chairman of the Committee to Detect Conspiracies during the Revolutionary War, had told him about an effective but unnamed spy. A detailed discussion of this question can be found in Volume 1 of John Jay – Unpublished Papers edited by Richard B. Morris (1975). It is generally accepted that the source for Harvey Birch was Enoch Crosby (1750-1835) of the town of Southeast, Dutchess County.

In 1828, a book was published in New York with the title The Spy Unmasked or Memoirs of Enoch Crosby, alias Harvey Birch, the Hero of Mr. Cooper’s Tale of the Neutral Ground…(Taken from his own lips, in short-hand)… by H. L. Barnum.

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We now have a more intriguing enigma: Who was H.L. Barnum? In the late 1930s, Herman Dean, the knowledgeable historian of the Village of Fishkill, told me what little he knew of Barnum and this was it: “It was said that he was a captain from Connecticut, and that about 1827 he visited the Wharton House especially to see the room in which Crosby was said to have been confined. He asked me to try to find out more about Barnum. I could find nothing in searching the available records. But one day while browsing through some old Poughkeepsie newspapers, I accidentally spotted a small article that said Barnum belonged to a Corps of Engineers and that he had surveyed an excellent road at reasonable expense with no grades over three degrees through the Highlands below Fishkill.” This paragraph records almost all that was known about him by the 1930s, and that certainly wasn’t much.

A major addition of knowledge about Barnum was made in 1975 when Professor James J. Pickering of Michigan State University wrote the “Introduction” to the edition of The Spy Unmasked issued by Harbor Hill Books of Harrison, New York.

His assiduous research turned up much information: Barnum’s official dealings with the federal government, his activity in Ohio agricultural circles, and his extensive publishing career. He appeared about 1830 in Cincinnati and began issuing a number of books and periodicals and opened up the Ohio Bookstore.

Pickering lists a great many of the titles he published. About 1836, he disappears forever. Pickering does note that Barnum was in Baltimore in 1824, Washington in 1830, and took a trip to Boston in 1833. He also notes that Barnum was called “Capt.” and “Col.” and quotes from an 1835 newspaper article that said he once spent the summer months in Fishkill Village and described his supposed reception there.

Over the years I have spent a considerable amount of time trying to dig up Barnum’s background, activities, and demise.

Here is the record of my findings: Historical societies in the Cincinnati area do have several of his publications, but none of his business papers. The largest cemetery in the city, Spring Grove, has no record of him. I sent queries to twenty-nine historical societies in Ohio and did not receive one reply. He does not appear in Stern’s Antiquarian 86

H. L. BARNUM: AN ENIGMA

Bookselling in the U.S. in 1985, which has a twenty-one page chapter on Cincinnati booksellers.

I have checked the indexes of many hundreds of genealogies and did not come up with even one reference to an H.L. Barnum.

The Genealogies of the Town of Stratford, Conn. (1886) did note that a Samuel Barnum of Danbury, Connecticut was born in the mid1700s, became a physician and settled in North Salem in Westchester County, New York. One of his sons, Reverend H.L. Barnum, D.D., went as a missionary to Constantinople, Turkey.

According to the Patent Office records, an H.L. Barnum on July 8, 1829, took out a patent on a “Flax and Hemp Machine” with a partner named M. Stephenson of Washington County, New York. There is no mention of Barnum in Stone’s History of that county. The Patent Office records also state that an H. L. Barnum patented a light- and heat-generating device on June 2, 1837 giving his address as New York.

Williams’ New York Annual Register for 1835 lists “Business Reporter and Merchants and Mechanics Advertiser H. L. Barnum, Publisher. Daily Morning and Semi-Weekly.” This periodical is not in the Union List of Serials and Gregory’s American Newspapers… Union List located only the issue of February 12, 1835. Barnum does not appear in Williams registers for 1833 and 1837. Sutton’s The Western Book Trade: Cincinnati as a Nineteenth Century Publishing and Book Trade Center very briefly mentions him.

An article in the Historical and Philosophical Society of Ohio’s Bulletin No. VI titled “Early Money and Banks in Cincinnati” mentions a bank note sold by H. L. Barnum and H. S. Barnum.

(Pickering says that H.S. may have been a son or brother of H. L.) I have heard that there was an H. L. Barnum in Colorado in the 1900’s. The New York Telephone Company Directory 1912 lists a Dr. H. L. Barnum as living at 20 Second Street in Newburgh.

All of the bits of information noted in this article do add to the story of Barnum’s life, but they do not tell us some important things: his full name, his career in the Revolutionary War, and the dates and places of his birth and death. It seems incredible that a man who wrote and published at least fifteen or twenty books and periodicals, had a book store, worked for the federal government, and was active in Ohio agricultural circles left no personal or business papers. He must have had considerable 87

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correspondence, sent out advertising, kept account books, and turned out a number of business papers. But such seems to be the case. The author of an important book in the history of the Revolutionary War in Dutchess County, New York, remains a mystery. H.L. Barnum! Arise from the grave and tell us about yourself!

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Ten Mile Reservoir John Quinn

John Quinn retired to Dutchess County after thrity-five years in New York City working for New York Telephone. A member of the Amenia Historical Society and the Indian Rock Schoolhouse Association, his interest in the history of the area has led to several local newspaper series including “The Doctor’s Bag,” recollections of Amenia Physicians of the Past; “Veteran’s Gallery,” profiles of World War II service men and women; and “Memories of a Country Schoolhouse,” stories about one-room schools that served Amenia and North East.

Two towns will be wiped out of existence if the proposed plan to get water for New York from the Ten Mile River is carried out. Should this supply be decided on, the thriving villages of Dover Plains and Wassaic must both be destroyed. (The World as reprinted in the Amenia Times, Jan. 12, 1901) The peace of the valley was obviously disrupted by word of New York City’s designs on the Ten Mile River. While city newspapers like The World and the New York Times had been reporting the unfolding story of the City’s need for water in considerable detail, local citizens’ awareness of the situation was pretty much limited to rumor and hearsay.

According to The World’s story, carried in the local paper, the Ten Mile River reservoir, eighteen miles long and four miles wide, would wipe out the thriving villages of Wassaic and Dover Plains with some 5000 made homeless.

Upstream from the proposed dam were a number of gristmills, the Dover marble quarry, and several large manufactur89

HAROLD NESTLER

90

ing plants in the Wassaic valley. A large section of the New York Central’s Harlem Valley tracks would have to be relocated.

Today, with the waters of the Ten Mile flowing freely— ultimately into Long Island Sound—we know how the story ended. But for a while the prospect of a large portion of the Harlem Valley filled with water was a frightening uncertainty.

A look back at the history of New York City’s water supply is part of the story.

In 1842, when water had begun flowing into Manhattan through the new Croton Aqueduct, it was the occasion for the Great Water Celebration—parades, concerts, fireworks and magnificent fountain displays at Union Square, Bowling Green, and City Hall.

The more than forty million gallons brought daily by this amazing engineering feat was truly a reason to celebrate, for the expanding city had long been plagued by inadequate water supply.

Its population growth had outrun the water provided by wells, pumps, cisterns, and rain barrels.

In 1798, a privately-owned enterprise, with Aaron Burr among its backers, had organized the Manhattan Water Company empowered to supply the city with fresh water.

A seemingly incidental clause in the charter permitted the company to also establish a bank. Unfortunately, the Manhattan Company’s efforts to deliver water were a lot less driven than its interest in running a bank. The water company never fulfilled its promise and was eventually taken over by the city; the thriving Bank of the Manhattan Co., on the other hand, was the forerunner of today’s Chase Manhattan Bank.

As the city’s underground water sources became more contaminated there were outbreaks—at times epidemic—of typhoid, yellow fever, and cholera.

By 1837, when the city took over the assets and water rights of Aaron Burr’s failed venture, the Croton Water project had been authorized and work was under way on the forty-one-mile aqueduct. The Festival of Connection, October 4, 1842, appeared to have solved the problem of supplying water for fire protection, health, and sanitation in the city.

But fifty years later, the problem was back. Despite continued expansion of the Croton system—by now delivering 145 million gallons daily—the city was again threatened with a water famine.

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Recognizing the tremendous potential for profit in the numerous watersheds around the city, in 1887 a group of businessmen incorporated the Ramapo Water Company. By 1895, the company had successfully lobbied the New York Legislature to grab land and rights along the Ramapo River and other waterways with authorization to sell the water to municipalities or corporations. Within an astounding eleven days of the legislature’s vote, the company had filed the first of an extensive series of maps covering their prospective areas of operation.

This high-handed opportunism quickly stirred newspaper cynicism and inquiries. Ramapo Water Company was seen as the questionable offspring of the State Legislature controlled by boss Thomas Platt’s Republican machine and Tammany chief Richard Croker, whose Democratic henchmen pretty much ran the City.

With the water situation becoming more and more acute, in 1889 the Ramapo Company submitted a proposal to the Board of Public Improvement, which was responsible for the city’s water supply. Ramapo offered to supply 200 million gallons per day at $70 per million gallons. Source of this water supply was to be the Esopus Creek west of the Hudson River. Among other possible plans discussed by Ramapo was a dam and reservoir south of Dover Plains to be fed by the Ten Mile River.

A tragic fire in March 1899, which destroyed the Windsor Hotel on Fifth Avenue with forty-five lives lost, dramatically heightened public concern about the city’s water shortage.

Pressure for some solution to the problem grew among merchants, hotelmen, and insurance companies. This provided a timely opportunity for advancing the Ramapo scheme. So, in August, two Tammany-controlled members of the Public Improvement Board, President Holahan and Water Commissioner Dalton, called for action on the Ramapo-Esopus Creek proposal.

An important and independent member of the Board, Comptroller Bird S. Coler, opposed the plan and was able to stave off a vote. This delay gave Ramapo’s opponents time to rally public opinion. The New York Merchants’ Association labeled the Ramapo state charter the first step toward a “water trust.” They said approval of the proposal would, in effect, give Ramapo monopoly control of electric power, light, and water 92

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supply in a large part of Eastern New York State. As part of their campaign, the association sought commitment from all candidates in the upcoming legislative election to revoke the company’s “wrongful powers” granted in 1895. The public was alerted to the “Ramapo octopus.”

Eight days after blocking a decision on the Ramapo proposal, Comptroller Coler commissioned a well-known engineer, John Ripley Freeman, to study the city’s water supply situation and its potential for expansion.

Freeman, a graduate of MIT, came to the job with impressive credentials. He had been a consultant on the Grand Canal in China, the Panama Canal, and had developed water systems for Mexico City, Baltimore, and San Francisco.

Coler’s charge to Freeman was to investigate present sources, current and future consumption, amount of waste, the best means of adding to the city’s water supply, and the whole question of the Ramapo proposal.

The fact that Freeman delivered his report to Coler in seven months is amazing. Within that time, he and his engineering crews had reconnoitered vast areas of farmland and wilderness, covering numerous watersheds on both sides of the Hudson. The only way to get to some of these remote locations was by horse and buckboard; but they came back with detailed maps and surveys of possible sources for additional city water.

Freeman’s report opened with the statement that the city’s consumption of water, 246 million gallons daily, would soon be “uncomfortably close to the safe limit.” He went on to point out the alarming fact that more than half of the water delivered by the Croton system was being wasted. Freeman observed that implementing only the simplest measures to curb this waste problem would extend an adequate supply for five years— sufficient time to develop additional sources.

According to Freeman, the most immediate and promising solution to New York City’s problem lay in the waters of the Ten Mile River—a bright finding for the city but hardly one for Dover and Amenia.

Freeman’s findings shook the citizenry of the Oblong Valley: “The cheapest and most available source, by far, if the 93

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Connecticut Legislature will cooperate in permitting it to be obtained, is the Ten Mile River combined with the Upper Housatonic, which with no expense for pumping and with comparatively short aqueducts, will deliver 750 million gallons (and possibly 800 million gallons) per day by gravity flow, in the very driest years.”

As to Freeman’s assessment of the Ramapo proposal, he called their price “exorbitant” comparing its $70 per million gallons to the Ten Mile-Housatonic plan’s $10 per million gallons. In addition, the Freemont proposal would provide a supply four times that of the Ramapo plan.

According to Freeman in the first stage of his plan, the Ten Mile River alone would add 150 million gallons, extending the city’s supply another ten years. The proposed dam would be west of Webatuck village with a sluice gate at Pawling and the new water supply would run into Croton Lake and then on to the city through the Croton Aqueduct. The Ten Mile reservoir would also have a head equivalent of three hundred feet above sea level, providing the city system much needed pressure.

The proposed Housatonic dam, a second and much larger phase of Freeman’s plan, would be located in Connecticut, about a mile south of Gaylordsville, Connecticut, where the Ten Mile River joins the Housatonic.

Maps of the two watersheds clearly illustrate the interstate ramifications of Freeman’s proposal but his report optimistically cited precedence of “neighborly spirit” that had resolved similar cases. He pointed out that waters of the Nashua River in New Hampshire had been diverted to add to Boston’s water supply and Worchester, Massachusetts, was getting water from the Blackstone River watershed in Rhode Island.

Discussing the New York-Connecticut jurisdictional situation Freeman, perhaps naively, contended that “constitutional authority” could be found for resolution. He wrote: “Possibly also, terms could be arranged, fair and advantageous to both States, by which a transfer of the boundary line could be made, such that the proposed Housatonic Reservoir would lie within New York.”

Ultimately it was the interstate hurdles that led to the defeat of the Ten Mile-Housatonic proposal. It was discarded on the counsel of city attorneys who became convinced that legal 94

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challenges to the interstate issue would be upheld. But before this decision, plans for damming the Ten Mile River had been worked out in frightening detail.

Commenting on the Ten Mile River proposal and the costs, Freeman wrote: “No other source of supply found on the map equals this in directness, cheapness, simplicity of operation or facilities for quick construction.”

The area of the water surface of the Ten Mile reservoir was figured to be fifteen square miles with a watershed of 200.4 square miles. The initial survey of the land that would be impacted in Amenia showed some 3,330 acres valued at $234,000—cultivated land at $100 per acre, pasture acres at $30—and some 159 dwellings and other buildings with an estimated cost of $369,000. The condemnation cost of the buildings that would be affected was put at a value that had fifty percent added to the probable fair market value.

In the Town of Dover, some 10,950 acres were involved, value figured at $911,000, 336 dwellings and other buildings priced at $689,000.

A large stretch of the Harlem Division of the New York Central Railroad would have to be relocated from the river valley to higher ground on the west. The marble works in Dover and several large Wassaic manufacturing plants, including the Borden Condensery, would be wiped out by the waters of the dammedup Ten Mile River.

Other condemnation costs included moving five or possibly six cemeteries, removal of muck from three millponds and reimbursement to four working mills. One was a small gristmill at South Dover grinding corn for nearby farmers; another grist and cider mill at Dover Plains which also served as a small electric plant. A second power plant in Dover, owned by Adolph Reimer of Brooklyn, provided lights for the village, although in the drought of 1889 there had been a power blackout several nights each week. The last working mill that would be affected was a small gristmill at South Amenia.

The World reported that already property owners in the affected area had engaged lawyers and planned to fight seizure of their land and any move to flood them out.

Recognizing the possible problems arising from disturbing the status quo, Freeman offered this remedy: “Deal generously 96

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New York Central RR Harlem Division Freight and Passenger Station at Dover Furnace with agent apartment on second floor. Photo taken about 1915.

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and give each owner enough to build himself a new and better house and something besides. The city can well afford to do this to secure so favorable a location.”

Remains of small hydro-electric plant on the Swamp River in Dover Furnace. Photo taken in 1984

As noted before, the Ten Mile River plan never materialized.

Later proposals to tap watersheds of the Fishkill Creek and Wappingers Creek were blocked when the State Legislature’s passed the Smith Dutchess County Act of 1904. This ended any further city designs on additional water sources east of the Hudson.

The Ramapo Water Co.’s charter was revoked by the state in 1901 and the city began development of its own new water sources across the river in the Catskill and Delaware systems.

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Back from the Dead: Pleasant Valley’s Old Mill Store Thomas E. Rinaldi

In 2001, Pleasant Valley celebrated the completed restoration of

one of its most important historic landmarks: after more than fifteen years of neglect and abandonment, the old mill store on Main Street has finally been resurrected. Closely tied to the adjacent mill since its construction, the stone store is now the last standing remnant of the industry that inspired the establishment of the village of Pleasant Valley—known as Charlotte when this building was built more than two centuries ago. Appropriately, it now houses the office of Pleasant Valley’s Town Historian and the collection of the town’s Historical Society.

The exact date of the store’s construction is unknown. While the hamlet of Charlotte (today’s Pleasant Valley) was settled as early as 1710 and a mill is known to have operated there by 1757, the first reference to the store comes in 1763, when Hendrick Schenk ran a dry goods store in the building. Schenk also ran the adjacent mill; ledgers from the store’s operation survive today in the collection of the New York Public Library and the Daughters of the American Revolution.

Architecturally, the store is similar to other buildings built in the mid-Hudson Valley by descendants of the region’s first Dutch settlers. It is unusual among these, however, as a rare surviving example of eighteenth century commercial architecture.

It is of fieldstone construction, with gable ends of brick.

Measuring twenty-two by forty-four feet with walls two feet thick, it stands two stories tall, with basement 99

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and attic levels in addition to the two main floors, a steeplypitched roof atop the whole.

Its builders employed brick trim around all window and door openings, a somewhat rare practice that can also be seen at the Van Cortlandt Manor House at Croton-on-Hudson, and at the Van Cortlandt House in the Bronx, both of which are open to the public. One unusual architectural detail at old mill store is a wide window in the rear elevation, originally the only opening in this façade. Though later converted to a door, the window’s original dimensions are evidenced by its brick trim, which survives. This is the only window in the building where evidence of shutter hinges can be found; they are embedded into the masonry. Probably this would have been a casement window, which were favored by the Hudson River Dutch before the English double hung window became dominant in the eighteenth century (casement windows are still favored on the European continent today). Originally this opening may have been built with a segmental arch above; it was probably similar in appearance to a window at the DePuyster House at Beacon (now demolished), which was illustrated in Helen Wilkinson Reynolds’s Dutch Houses in the Hudson Valley Before 1776.

Inside, hand-hewn beams supported wide-plank floorboards.

Hammered metal “S” shaped anchors that held these beams in place can still be seen on the building’s exterior today. Wooden structural members were joined together by dowels and mortise joints, and by hand made square-cut nails. Originally the building’s interior was probably very plain, perhaps with whitewashed plaster walls trimmed only with a baseboard molding. The ceiling was probably given the same plaster treatment as the walls, but may have been left untreated, with joists exposed. All told, it was a rather attractive structure when completed, more than 230 years ago, its utilitarian Hudson River Dutch appearance typical of a style that would be revived nearly two centuries later with the Dutch Colonial Revival and the architecture of Franklin Roosevelt’s Works Progress Administration.

Originally, the building had two front doors, which could indicate that it was built for more than one purpose. Segmental arches supported the wall above each door. It was not unusual for early Dutch houses to have twin entry doors in the same 100

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façade, which simply allowed access to individual rooms (several examples can be found in Reynolds’ Dutch Houses in the Hudson Valley). It is possible that one part of the building served as a store while the other accommodated living space (perhaps on the second floor) for an agent who managed the store and/or operations at the mill. Even so, the building’s primary function appears to have been commercial. This is further evidenced by the loft door opening onto the attic level, which would have been used to bring supplies and merchandise into the building.

The mill store is particularly similar in appearance to a number of period buildings in Dutchess County, including the Westervelt House on Spackenkill Road in the Town of Poughkeepsie, and the House at Farmer’s Landing, overlooking the Hudson River just south of New Hamburg. The latter building is thought to have been built c. 1750 as a residence for an agent who ran the store at the nearby landing.

Though the store’s exact date of construction is unknown, it is thought to have been built c. 1763, when Abraham Schenk purchased the water rights at the hamlet of Charlotte, including an existing mill and farm. The mill was not sited to take advantage of a naturally occurring falls, but instead was located where the main east-west road between Poughkeepsie and New England (now US Highway 44) crossed the Wappingers Creek. A dam was constructed to harness the power of the creek. The store may have been operated by Abraham Schenk’s son Hendrick; ledgers from his operation show that goods were traded for wheat. Customers included Zaccheus Newcomb, whose home several miles east of the mill store still stands and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places, and Henry Filkin, Jr., son of one of the Nine Partners, after whom a stretch of present-day Route 44 was once named.

The Schenks retained ownership of the mill only until 1770, and the property changed hands repeatedly for the duration of the eighteenth century. Reference to the store building comes again in February of 1796, when executors of the estate of John Duryea published a detailed account of the mill property in a sale advertisement (Duryea had purchased the site in 1789).

“Adjoining the mill,” they wrote, “is a large and commodious store for dry goods and groceries, at which place business has been done for many years.”

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The following year, Daniel Dean, Maurice Shipley, and Robert Abbatt purchased the mill and store and formed the Pleasant Valley Manufacturing Company. This company built a large, mechanized cotton mill on the old mill site. Abbatt bought the company outright in 1803. During Abbatt’s ownership, the stone building is thought to have been used as the company’s store and mill agent’s office, where an advertisement indicated that “yarn and manufactured goods” were sold. In 1813, Pleasant Valley’s first Post Office was established in the stone store, with one Amassa Angell serving as postmaster.

Few references come to the mill store over the next halfcentury. Abbatt’s mill burned in 1815; although other investors rebuilt the factory by 1816, the property changed hands repeatedly in the decades that followed. Probably the building continued to serve as a dry goods store. Later accounts indicate that part of the store served as a meeting space for a local chapter of the International Order of Odd Fellows during this period.

Along with the adjacent cotton mill, it went through a succession of ownership changes until 1859, when the property passed to Thomas Garner and Company, a large textiles firm that also ran the bleachery at Wappingers Falls. In Beers’ 1867 Atlas of Dutchess County, the old store is referred to as a “Store House.”

The earliest known photographs of the site show the store’s first floor windows boarded over, which corroborates with Beers’ Atlas to suggest that the Garner Company used the building simply for storage.

The Garner Company left Pleasant Valley in 1910, and for three years the mill property remained unused. In 1913, it was purchased by the Yazoo Cord and Twine Company, which operated the mill until 1916, when it was sold again, this time to William Ritchie for use as a buckram mill. It is in these years that the former mill store seems to have been permanently converted to house the mill’s administration. New two-over-two pane windows were installed on the first floor, while the second floor’s older (and possibly original) twelve-over-twelve window sashes remained in place. The old store’s interior underwent an extensive modernization at this time, with the installation of bead-board wall paneling and chair rail moldings. New hardwood floors were laid over the original wide plank floor surface.

Plumbing and electricity were probably also added at this time.

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The building underwent further alterations in the 1930s, when under new management the Ritchie Company changed its name to the Pleasant Valley Finishing Company, and went over to the dying and printing of fabrics made elsewhere. In the old store, new windows were installed, while an additional window opening was cut into the building’s west façade on the first floor.

The company made extensive modernizations to the former store building in the 1950s, perhaps as a result of flood damage in 1955. These alterations included the installation of acoustic ceiling tiles and asbestos floor tiles on the first and second floors, modern plumbing and lighting fixtures, new fiberboard wall paneling, and knotty pine wainscot trim. The floor plan was reconfigured to create two large rooms for receptionists on the first floor, with a bathroom, a large office for clerks and two offices for senior managers on the second floor. Existing stairs and a vestibule along the south wall were retained from the earlier renovation on the first floor. By the 1950s, modern industrial additions to the adjacent mill abutted the old store on three sides.

An opening was cut into the building’s east façade on the second floor level to provide passage to and from the new manufacturing space.

Although the roof was probably surfaced originally with wood shake shingles, early photographs show a slate roof, which was replaced with asphalt shingles during the 1950s alterations.

With heat now provided by the mill’s central steam plant, the outof-use chimneys were both cut down below the roofline at this time. At about the same time, the construction of an additional factory building onto the building’s south façade required the large window added in the 1930s to be filled with concrete blocks. New, metal sash windows were meanwhile added to the second floor, which looked conspicuously out of place in the eighteenth century Dutch building. One of the building’s two front entry doors was filled in with a window during this period, which was built to match the other windows, and the segmental arch of the remaining door was flattened.

As the mill’s administration building, the old store also functioned as the dispatch office for the Pleasant Valley Fire Department. The Finishing Company’s management worked in cooperation with the Fire Department, situated just across Main Street, and roughly one-fifth of the mill’s staff doubled as 103

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volunteer firefighters. The Finishing Company and the Fire Company shared the same telephone number; when word of a fire was called in, secretaries in the store-turned-administration building activated a fire siren located in the mill’s old belfry and called firemen to duty over the mill’s public address system.

By the time the mill closed in 1984, the old stone store which for so long had been a prominent landmark was almost completely enveloped in twentieth-century industrial additions.

Old adding machines, Dictaphones, and miscellaneous office furniture remained scattered about the empty building. Vandals spray-painted graffiti throughout the its interior and damaged some of the fiberboard wall paneling—revealing a second floor fireplace in the process. The mill’s owners were cited for code violations when the deteriorating complex was found with doors left open, but these violations went largely un-addressed, leaving the historic structures vulnerable to vandals and the elements.

On July 21, 1994, the 1815 mill was gutted by fire on the very day town officials moved to apply for state grant money to purchase and restore the site’s historic structures. Earlier proposals for commercial reuse had come and gone without success. Coincidentally, a new proposal to build a McDonald’s fast-food franchise on part of the property had come earlier that month.

The 1815 mill and all industrial additions were razed in 1995, leaving behind only the deteriorated stone store and the arched entryways of the 1815 mill (town officials authorized the demolition of the mill ruins in July 2001). In spite of the destruction of the mill, the town government continued to pursue the purchase of the stone store and the eastern half of the site.

The western half was subdivided and sold separately; a McDonald’s restaurant opened there in December 1995. The following year the town received a state and federal matching grant of $388,000 for the purchase of the eastern portion of the mill site and the restoration of the former mill store.

On January 29, 1997 the town government finally acquired the mill property through eminent domain proceedings after the property’s owner refused to sell for its appraised value of roughly $100,000. The town hired Tinkelman Architects of Poughkeepsie to oversee the building’s rehabilitation. That summer, a remediation firm was contracted to strip the building’s interior of 104

PLEASANT VALLEY’S OLD MILL STORE

all added fittings. Unfortunately, the architects directed the removal of lath and plaster found beneath the 1950’s era wall paneling, which was believed to be original to the store’s construction and could have yielded information on its early uses.

The full restoration of the store was undertaken in the spring and summer of 2001. As work began, it was found that the original beams supporting the first and second floor had deteriorated and were in danger of collapse without reinforcement. Unfortunately, it was decided to replace rather than reinforce them. In the process of their removal the original wide floorboards, as well as both brick chimneys and the second floor fireplace were also taken out, destroying forever any clues they may have held as to the building’s original construction and use.

The old store’s reconstruction came to completion in August 2001. While the original hand-hewn roof rafters remain in place, a new balloon-framed interior was erected within the original exterior walls to support the first and second floors. A small front porch was added, designed to resemble one that stood at the north doorway for a short time in the 1930s. The opening cut into the west façade in the 1930s was meanwhile filled with fieldstone. A flagstone-paved patio was added to the rear, for which a large new opening was cut into the rear of the building and a rather anomalous set of French doors installed to provide access to a meeting room inside.

Because little was known of the store’s historic interior arrangement, the building’s original floor plan could not be replicated. The new plan called for three rooms on the first floor, including a pantry and main meeting room, and three more on the second floor, with a central staircase. Rather than employ interior architectural details typical of eighteenth century Dutch buildings, the architects based their design on nineteenth century American residential precedents, using elements such as wainscot and window trim with bull’s eye details. These interior details are almost certainly more elaborate than what would have originally been found in the building.

The old mill store now houses the office of Pleasant Valley’s Town Historian, the venerable Olive Doty. It is also home to the collection of the town historical society, including information on historic buildings and on local genealogy. A small exhibit space is 105

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also maintained inside, which can be visited by school groups or by individuals during weekly open hours or by appointment. The rest of the old mill site has now been transformed into a town green, complete with an ersatz ruin of the 1815 mill (the construction of which unfortunately required the destruction of the building’s actual ruins).

Today, the stone store stands restored as a historic focal point for the hamlet of Pleasant Valley. While its construction date is uncertain, it is one of the town’s oldest surviving buildings, and its existence now spans four centuries. Throughout the twentieth century, as many other historic structures in the area were restored, celebrated and even replicated as rare remaining examples of the Hudson Valley’s colonial past, Pleasant Valley’s stone store somehow slipped through the cracks.

Only in the twenty-first century has this building finally received the recognition it is due. Though its reconstruction can only be described as insensitive, and sadly nothing remains of the 1815 cotton mill that stood on the site until 1995, the mill store project is nonetheless a great success in that it has ensured the future of this landmark’s place in the village streetscape. It demonstrates not only the potential of a proactive local government, but also for a historic building to be brought back to life after years of abandonment. In a village which continues to lose historic landmarks to parking lots and strip malls (including in recent years an 1825 Greek Revival church and the c. 1815 former Quaker Meeting Hall), one can only hope that the restoration of the old mill store will inspire a greater appreciation for other historic buildings in Pleasant Valley when they too become threatened with demolition.

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Contributors is a former member of the Theater Historical Society Board of Directors and serves on the Editorial Subcommittee for Marquee. The Juliet was her neighborhood theater, and she remembers Pete Bergamo when he was the theater’s manager. This article could not have been written without the unstinting and generous help of Mr. Bergamo.

ANNON ADAMS

is a member of the theater Historical Society of America and is the former manager of the Juliet Theater in Poughkeepsie.

PETE BERGAMO

is the Historian of Trinity Episcopal Church in Fishkill, New York. Her essay in this issue is an edited version of a history of Trinity Church she wrote and published in 1994.

SHIRLEY B. BERGMANN

MEG DOWNEY,

the former executive editor at the Poughkeepsie Journal, was at the newspaper for 27 years. She is a Pulitzer Prize finalist and winner of the Dutchess Award, presented by the Dutchess County Historical Society. She also was editor of two history books published by the Journal: The Hudson Valley, Our Heritage, Our Future and West Point: Legend on the Hudson. Historic images and more information about the Journal’s history can be found at: www.poughkeepsiejournal.com/220. was the Town of Milan’s historian for ten years. He has written articles on Milan and Dutchess County history and has lectured on American History in various communities. He is a columnist for the Taconic Press.

PATRICK HIGGINS

HOLLY HUMMEL has

been a designer and faculty member in the Vassar College Drama Department for 25 years. Her interest in the history of Vassar fashions began in 1981, when she found unbelievably beautiful antique garments abandoned and thrown heaped into boxes at the bottom of Drama Department costume closets because they were too small for students to wear in plays.

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NANCY KELLY

has been a DCHS member since the late 1940s. He was born in Poughkeepsie and lived here until he returned from service in World War II. Since then he has lived in New Jersey. For the past fifty years his work has involved buying and selling out-of-print books and manuscripts.

HAROLD NESTLER

Before he retired, JOHN QUINN was a journalist for the Journal American in New York City, the last Hearst newspaper, and worked in public relations for New York Telephone Company.

He moved to the Amenia-Sharon area and currently serves on the Amenia Historical Society board. He is a member of the Indian Rock Schoolhouse Association.

THOMAS E. RINALDI

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Dutchess County Historical Society 2006 Anonymous Steven A. A. Mann Bill Jeffway

Scott Baright Robert P. Carter Michael Christophedes Joseph Emsley Kenneth Folster Barbara V. Frost

Millennial Circle Mr. and Mrs. Nigel Widdowson Patron

Benjamin and Eileen M. Hayden

Benefactor Mary Ann Lohrey Joseph D. Quinn, III Hon. Albert M. Rosenblatt James Storrow Duane A. Watson

Sustaining Mark Adams Dennis J. Murray Rudolph and Catherine John J. Mylod Albanese E. Richard O’Shea John Winthrop Aldrich John R. Pinna Ronald Atkins Alexander Reese Irene W. Banning Lorraine M. Roberts Hon. Charles Breint Elizabeth and Roger Smith Thomas Cervone Joan and James Smith Carol Dean Joan Spence Frank Doherty Werner and Christine Steger William J. Egan Mark C. Tallardy Delynn E. Flinn Barbara VanItallie Jeanne Goodwin Norma W. VanKleeck Clyde and Sally Griffen Holly Wahlberg Shirley and Bernard Handel Everett K. Weeden V. and R. LaFalce Elizabeth M. Wolf Colette Lafuente Margaret Zamierowski Marian Liggiera Leonard Zimmer Cora Mallory Davis 111

Contributor E. Sherrell Andrews Timothy Holmes Robert M. Angorola Marguerite Hubbard Stephen Aronson Elizabeth Johnson Phebe Banta Norma Johnson Carol Beck Donna Kinnear Richard Birch Larry Miller Norman Bohrer Richard Reitano Mary M. Brockway Andrea Reynolds John Cirincion Fred W. Schaeffer David Dengel Peter Seeger Kevin Denton Edward C. Shaughnessy Andrew and Barbara Effron Clairmont Spooner Karen Ehlers Ann B. Strain Mary Flad Gloria Trezza Stephen L. Friedland Thomas Usher John J. Gavin MaryJane VonAllmen Joyce C. Ghee Sylvia Watkins Martin Gross Eleanor Weidenhammer Michael and Virginia Elma Williamson Hancock DCHS values the contributions of Associate, Individual/ Household, Organization and Life Members.

Millennial $1000 and above Patron $250 Benefactor $150 Sustaining $100 Contributor $60

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Now Available FDR at Home features in-depth studies of FDR: his first foray into politics, his lifelong pursuit of local history, his plans for the nation’s first presidential library, and personal recollections of the man in his element.

The essays record with wit and clarity his abiding love for Dutchess County. $20.

ALSO AVAILABLE: Hollow Oak Chronicles: The Van Vliets of Dutchess County. Edited by Nancy A. Fogel. $15.

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