Rhinebeck, New York

Sometimes it is fun to rewrite history. Lots of my freinds live in Rhinebeck and they are students of its history. I have heard lots of their stories so I decided to write one of my own. It is a blend of history and fiction that fooled some of them at the time. Try this for fun.

Rhinebeck, NY

In the late 1600’s immigrants came to the area and formed a settlement, pushing aside the Indians of the gentle Sepasco tribe, but it was not till 1834 that the village was incorporated. Life was rough as they carved their farms from the forest and planted their fields. It was like a new frontier and the first crime came in 1836 when Carl VanMusen set fire to the barn of his neighbor John Reilly after Reilly had poisoned four of his sheep. John Reilly died as he rushed into the burning building trying to free his livestock and was struck by a falling beam. The rumor was that VanMusen was sleeping with Reilly’s beautiful red headed wife. Carl VanMusen was pilloried in the town for four days and then sent away for four years for arson. When released he returned to the area and took Reilly’s widow for his wife. Together they raised three fine red headed sons who became highly successful farmers developing many new and profitable concepts of farming. It is said that the village of Red Hook was named after Randy “Red” VanMusen who had a crippled left hand from a haying accident and for his lifetime of community service in the area.

As the Robber Barons moved up the Hudson building their mansions many of the sons and daughters of the early farmers were drawn into their employ. Working in the kitchens, living spaces and fields they learned of a totally different style of life from their own. They met European craftsmen, artists, furniture dealers, and were taught the social patterns of the rich and famous. A small tavern in the village of Rhinebeck “The Workman’s Arms“ became a gathering point for all the workers on these grand estates. This was the start of the cosmopolitanization of the area, a character that remains strongly a part of the town to this day.

In the thirties a lay poet wrote a poem about Rhinebeck. Emily Russell was a beautiful secretary who worked in a liquor warehouse in Hoboken, NJ. A friend of the Genovese family she was invited many times to their 100 acre estate in the area. She watched them turn the rich soil as they planted flowers over their old enemies and learned to love the simple scenic beauty of the area as she frolicked naked in the fields with their guests. Her piece was a lyrical ode to the bucolic nature of the village. It was originally written with each line on a separate Cuban cigar wrapper that were arranged on a green velvet background in a daisy pattern around a china plate with a Hudson River scene and placed under glass in a gold brushed wooden Rococo frame andt was presented to Bufano Genovese (uncle of “Fat Tony” Salerno) as a gift. By some stroke of luck, influence and kindness the “New Yorker” published her piece bringing much attention to the area. A picture of the original appeared in Life magazine after proper vetting. Emily Russell was not included in the picture.

In the middle 40’s Helen Turner, the Rhinebeck librarian started a book reading group called the “Page Turners”. They began to focus on the architecture of the area and were not pleased by the look of their village. As a couple of the elders had invested wisely from tips they heard around the tables at the estates as they did their jobs, they had money they wanted to give for the purpose of improving the village. They hired the renowned architect Charles Beekman. A highly arrogant man and a poseur he refused to sit at the table with the elders, but paced the room as he spoke. He demanded that “The Workman Arms” be sold to him for one dollar and that it was to be destroyed and replaced by a magnificent inn that he would own. He went on to proclaim a set of standards for store fronts and house renovation and demanded that they comply “No matter the cost.” The elders were stunned by the amounts of money necessary to do the job and the size of the commission he demanded. Totally swayed by his authority and reputation they agreed and the village was shaped into the beautiful image that we see today.

In the fifties Jerome Depew, a Vassar Geology professor, wrote a paper on the geology of the Hudson Valley. The paper was picked up by the National Graphic and then abstracted in the New York Times. It reinvestigated work by Prof. Chadwick in the early 1900’s which showed New York on the edge of an old quake line, “Logan’s Line” and predicted the possibility of further quakes along the Hudson River. The line was named after Sir William E. Logan, Director of the Canadian Geological Survey, and was applied to a belt of old earthquake activity that ran through the lower St. Lawrence Valley to Central Alabama by way of the Champlain and middle Hudson Valleys. It ran through Rhinebeck’s current position. The geology of the area was defined as: “The land to the east of the Hudson River steadily rises to the highlands of the Taconic Mountains, a region noted for its great decollements (allochthonous masses of rock associated with great thrust faults formed during the Taconic Orogeny, and later reactivated during the Acadian Orogeny. Outcrops along the New York Thruway provide many tantalizing views of folded Paleozoic formations which, unfortunately like all interstate road cuts, are off limits for casual examination”. This report caused quite a stir and brought many tourists to the area.

All the changes made to the village pressed the coffers and many who had made their money from overheard stock tips had died off so their funds were no longer available. In need of funds they considered building a fairground on the outskirts of the village. The possible advent of the fairground was fought by the elders for years for fear that it was plebian and would lower the real estate values, but the presentations made for the concept so glowingly described the revenue that it would provide that they were soon swayed. The first few years were difficult and they decried the traffic and noise that filled the middle of summer, but as the treasury filled they came to love this annual invasion. This is proof that even in the most enlightened communities concepts and ethics can be adjusted to meet practical needs.

And thus this small village has grown to be a golden medallion on the landscape of the state of New York. It is well thought of throughout the country and around the world. This is truly a highly successful story of city planning and architectural standards!


Editor’s note:

This article, originally printed in the Gazette-Advertiser of Rhinebeck, was picked up by “Architectural Digest” and then made into a brochure by Urban Insights Press that can be found in the Library of Congress under the ISBN of: 0-941580-20-X. Nominated for the history division of the Pulitzer in 2008 it came in behind a collection of erudite essays collected from members of “Writing is Our Nature”.

I must repeat this is largely fiction including the Editor's note so take it as tongue in cheek and go along for the ride. I enjoyed it.

Rowing poem

This was a piece I did after a trip where I joined some kayakers off the north shore of Long Island. It was something to give the feeling of the wonderful day on the water.

From the shore, mirror smooth water

lies velvet flat in the early day.

Settling my scull down sends a ripple

expanding concentrically across the bay.

It is early so the air is cool and clear, noises
dampened by the remoteness of this space
I ease the riggers and oars down,
slide the seat back and settle myself in place.

Sandals off, feet secured now I move
for balance with oars at rest on the water
I breathe the pure air; relax my hands,
arms, my mind clears of all other matter.

It is time to start, knees bent, arms straight,
the oar blades twisted ready for a first bite
Legs straightening I feel the water resist,
the movement starts, balance to keep the pull right.

Now back for the second stroke, less resistance,
the boat rising on a plane, increases speed
Glassy water below, images sliding by,

sand, shells, the cool green of seaweed.

The continuous flow, body, oars, scull,

soft water sounds make a water dance

Concentration focused on the purity of the motion ending in an encompassing trance.

Glancing over my shoulder, I see a solitary

light house, cormorants balancing on a fishing weir

The flat blue of the water stretches

on for a mile, the view open, clear.

But I am with friends in their kayaks

who are moving behind at a slower pace

Drawn back, I am now aware of their image,

bright color, water bottle, paddle, a face.

Now we move as a body, past the weir,

the lighthouse, into the Sound,

Enjoying the massage of the waves,

conversation, letting nature surround.

We pull off the water after a while,

breaking the trance when we touch the beach

Comfortable on the sand we eat our lunch

with the water still within our reach.

Water is in my genes.

When I ride with it, it fills my soul

I move with it, I respect its strength,

power, the alignment is whole.

It was a beautiful day and this brings back good memories. Keep writing.