Another dance on the edge

Last night, after another very long week (well, actually two very long weeks), I finally started work on the first part of a program to celebrate the 16th anniversary of my radio show. It was my intention to only work for an hour and then watch the Republican's performance piece. I got lost in my task and missed the debate. I just saw the first 15 minutes of it on the internet. I had great difficulty with the Fox News website (Fox News hosted the event), having to restart the debate webstream 3 times, watching a different commercial each time. I finally got the first section to play without crashing. Then it suddenly ended, and according to the website, the stream moved on to section 2 of the debate. The only problem was that it was section one repeated. These problems occurred at 7 something o'clock in the morning, on a major corporation's website, i.e. not a heavy traffic time. If ever there was a metaphor hanging the air like a bunch of over ripe grapes....

In the few minutes I got to see, candidate Marco Rubio played the role of attack dog. The general demeanor of the proceedings degraded so quickly that within the first five minutes the leading candidate was defending the size of his genitals. I suppose it was something of a victory that he didn't use crude language. The audience hooted and hollered with delight, similar to what one might hear from a group of children egging on the participants in a school yard brawl. Perhaps it didn't help matters that a couple of nights ago I watched a 1942 movie called "Hitler's Children". It was a wonderfully melodramatic and lurid account of life under the growing influence and strength of the Nazi regime. It opens with a schoolyard fight between freedom loving American children and heavily indoctrinated Fuehrer loving German children. It was based on a once famous book, "Education for Death", which was also the source material for a Disney short of the same name.

Here's a clip from the movie's opening (all that is available on the internet - there is a trailer on the Turner Classic Movies website, but its embed code doesn't work) just ignore the subtitles, please... (and yes, that's young Bonita Granville, who played Nancy Drew, wielding the baseball bat).



The Disney version (if you get the bothersome 'world's best' flag on the lower left hand corner, it can be clicked off. Oh, by the way, if you're going to watch this, I suggest using the full screen function.)



I had to remind myself that the alleged debate was a forum of candidates seeking to be the leader of the most powerful nation on the face of the Earth. Of course, it probably doesn't matter anymore - our Presidency is beginning to resemble a ceremonial leadership position not unlike the monarchs of Great Britain. The real authority and power lies elsewhere. Pun intended. Considering the consequences of electing any of the candidates in last night's entertainment (and the moneymen behind the curtain), I have begun to consider that Armageddon might not be that bad of an idea after all.

Last week's radio show escape didn't focus on a particular month and year. It was one of the jukebox style shows I've been doing lately, and took note of a number of birthdays. Thus, there are performances from singer Mildred Bailey (2/27), bandleader Jimmy Dorsey (2/29), singer Dinah Shore (2/29), bandleader Glenn Miller (3/1), and composer Kurt Weil (3/2). Sadly, I only fit in one piece (at the opening) for Desi Arnaz (3/2). And there was one song with a lyric by Dr. Suess (3/2). My 'senior moments' continued - a reference I made to a Lucha Libre mask came out as something on the order of 'leecha lubra'.

As the anniversary program is at hand, I'm wondering if it's time to give up the show. Perhaps it's time for a nice blowout and graceful exit while I can still manage it. I'm fairly certain that this rumination has more to do with other problems at the station, and the time I spend trying to keep everything there moving forward. Each week it seems I have less and less time for my own show, and a much harder time focusing on it. My work on it lately has left me feeling disappointed in myself. I'm not enjoying it any longer.  I realized some time ago that I was having a wonderful time when I wasn't the Board President, and wasn't managing the station. My work has rebuilt our show schedule and bank account to about the same place things were when I stopped for not quite a year and a half. It took not quite a year and a half to accomplish that feat. Well, enough of my whining. Here's last week's show.




As always, I hope any listeners enjoy my truly meager efforts.

A Webb ring.... (or, Camping on Lake Lila)

 

Where to begin? A couple of months back, in early July, I posted a few pictures from a visit to the Shelburne Museum which was the creation of Electra Havemeyer Webb. Her father in law was William Seward Webb, who was named in honor of New York State's onetime Governor, who was also Abraham Lincoln's Secretary of State. And the man who bought Alaska. He was a distant cousin of my family, a connection observed in the choice of my uncle's middle name.

William Seward Webb

Lila Osgood Vanderbilt

At any rate, William Seward Webb was from a wealthy land owning family. He married Lila Osgood Vanderbilt, the grand-daughter of railroad magnate Cornelius Vanderbilt. After some trouble with one of their holdings, the Vanderbilts asked Mr.Webb to take over one of their railroads, which led to its expansion and the opening of upstate New York to commerce and travel. The general area includes Lake Placid and Saranac Lake, famous for its tuberculosis treatment. My great-grandfather had TB three times. He went to Saranac Lake back when. There is a family rumor of his having smiled at one of the nurses, causing a bit of a row with my great-grandmother. Part of the holdings Mr. Webb assembled included a 1,400 acre lake he renamed in honor of the missus. It was there he built what they used to call a "great camp" on the shore of the lake, part of his private 7,200 acre wilderness park. The family compound had its own private railroad station, which still exists in a state of splendid abandonment. The land was acquired by New York State in the late 1970's. Part of the deal called for the state to remove the lodge. The lake is now a wilderness camping area.


The Webb's family vacation home 'Forest Lodge' at Lake Lila - a vacation home away from their vacation home in Vermont.

Not long after I moved to New York City (November 1972) I became friends with a co-worker at a bookstore. We understood each other. It turned out that he had spent several of his growing up years in a town very near mine in the southern part of New Jersey. Rich has been trying to get me to go camping with him for about 20 years. Now that I'm retired, I was finally able to do it.

The area surrounding Lake Lila is still privately owned, mostly by the Whitney's from what I gather. Access is by a 6 mile plus dirt road posted with numerous 'Private Property' signs which also state a warning to travelers to not get out of their cars. One arrives at a parking lot with various other signs, a registration book, and a .3 of a mile portage to the lake. No motorboats are allowed.

A mutual friend gave Rich a huge tent, big enough for a family of 5. We've both (ahem) grown a bit over the years ("expanded" might be more appropriate); this tent promised plenty of room. Rich had studied the campsites using maps and online satellite images and settled on one as our goal as it seemed large enough to host the tent. We hugged the shoreline looking for it, which made the initial canoe trip a long one - it's a very big lake. As we were approaching our desired campsite, Rich pointed towards an old dead pine tree on our left. Sitting at the top was a bald eagle. We reached our site, and after checking it out decided campsite 16 was indeed suited to our needs. As we began to unload the canoe, I looked back at the eagle. Something else moved. "What's that?", I asked. At that moment, the something else lifted its head out of the water. It was a huge bull moose. In rutting season. I grabbed my little digital camera, wishing it was my trusty old 35mm with my telephoto lens attached. Here's a detail from the larger photo:

I can not express how wonderful it was to be out camping again, away form the noise of modern life. My little studio apartment is on a very busy road. Even in winter the sound of cars going by can drown out the tv or the radio. Speaking of which, there were no sounds of someone else's tv or radio. There were no drunks or drugged outs arguing with colorful terminology. There were occasional sounds of airplanes, and one day a park warden's helicopter. Otherwise, it was the sound of windblown waves lapping against the shore, the rustle of leaves, the crackle of the campfire, geese flying by, one lone loon (which I saw one evening at twilight), an occasional songbird, and a rather angry red squirrel.

I forget if that is Mount Frederic or Mount Frederica. We never got to hike to the top. I hope to go back and do that one day.

A visitor to our camp's shoreline

There were many gloriously misty mornings.

 



The strip of beach at our campsite.

Canoeing on Single Shanty Brook - accomplished somewhat warily, as this was where the moose headed.
Sadly, we were so busy scrambling over a number of beaver damns that I didn't take any pictures of them.

Moose tracks

That little sliver of beach just right of the center of the photo was the site of the moose tracks above.
This was a very short walk from our campsite. 

My shoes drying out after scrambling over beaver damns and the like.
This was at our campsite - look closely and you can see the ropes we used to hang food so bears wouldn't get at it.

I posted several of these photos on Facebook, where people can click on a "like" button.
Based on that informal poll, the above was the most popular picture of the series.

Rich's selection of Lake Lila for camping had two main purposes - both concerned identifying and judging portage sites used for what canoeists call "the Whitney Loop". One was a right of way around a privately owned (and blocked off) portion of Single Shanty book. A recently opened access to Harrington Brook (above - flows into or out of Lake Lila) was the other - but the portage to access it is still under development and too much of a hurdle for aging gentlemen.

Saturday it rained. A lot. Sometimes quite hard. Made for some good idle time picture taking, though.

On Sunday the rain stopped and the skies cleared. Rich used his radio to get the weather report. On Monday and Tuesday (the day we expected to leave) more storms were expected. Crossing Lake Lila back to the parking lot would be too dangerous, so we decided to break camp while we could. While we were hiking one day, we met a group of guys who had arrived for a few days of camping. They were leaving at the same time. After our first trip to the parking lot, we were on our way back to the put in when they came by carrying our canoe and most of our supplies. Thanks again guys. 

 

The return to our modern world has been a bit disconcerting as I find myself once again engulfed by the sounds and the noise of other people's living. Thanks, Rich, for keeping after me for all these years to do it, and Thanks for all the trouble you took as part of the process of including me. Next time we've got to get to the top of the mountain, and find that railroad station.

I look at these photos now, sitting at my computer, cars whizzing by in the rain, and they seem a remote dream. A dream I long to dream again.


    

Those trees and etc.

Regarding yesterday's post, I wondered about the identity of a stand of trees on the Havemeyer Webb estate (the Shelburne Museum).  Those trees, by the way, line one side of Route 7 just outside of Burlington as it heads south towards the museum. We didn't find any of the gardening staff to ask about the identity of the trees. I'm sure they would know, but if they don't another short drive will get one to another part of the Webb family's estate which became the 1,500 acre Shelburne Farms, devoted to sustainable agricultural practices, which is also noted for its gardens.

As it happens, I took a few photos of the trees:

Geo may have identified the trees (Thank You, Geo!) They are possibly ligustrum japonicum. Whatever they are, I like them when they're in bloom.

Since I've gone this far, I might as well post a couple of the other pictures I took on the museum
grounds. As we entered the admissions building, it was impossible to ignore these haystacks which were standing outside. They aren't your everyday standard Vermont or New England haystack:

The reason for their appearance became evident a little later in the new exhibition gallery:

Monet - Haystacks in Winter




There are many gardens at the museum. This was one I walked by:

The following caught my eye. As I'll explain one day soon, I'm going to have to move some of my plants at Solar Hill to make more grazing area for the sheep. That includes moving my hostas. I used to have lady's mantle (with the chartreuse flowers) in my garden in Boston. I miss it and would like to have it again. I suspect I will copy this idea:

 

My heart goes out to those who volunteer:

 

 

The above garden was next to a building with an old wooden cellar entrance:

Which was (I think) across from this lovely old building, whose investigation is waiting for another time.

 

And that building was next to the giant chair. I suspect the chair came from nearby Gardner, Massachusetts - a mill town which turned out, you guessed it, chairs.





Well, Blogger is being a bit difficult again, the photos are either out of focus or I am (hey - it happens!) and I am way behind in the preparations for tonight's radio show. This seems to be the perfect place to leave off - a chair just waiting. I hope you get to sit in it one day.

Going fourth...

It's a rainy, cool July 4th morning here in Brattleboro. I used to really love July the 4ths. Until recent years, that is. A few years ago I had a job running a video store. It was a lot of work, but it was work that I more or less enjoyed, or to be more precise work I didn't mind all that much. I wasn't all that fond of the 12 to 15 hour days, and I recall a minor celebration when I actually got two days off one month. What I very much minded was not being fairly or properly paid, the promised raises that never arrived, etc. I quit that job on a July the 4th the owner made me work - it was going to be my first day off in two months. That impulsive action nearly destroyed my life; I was out of work for a long time. When I found work it was as a cashier in a supermarket where I was required to work on holidays, where I think I got one July the 4th off in five years. That company would schedule people to work for four hours on the fourth. I guess that had some kind of poetic ring to the Belgian corporation which owned the place. Three generations of my family had fought in the American Revolution; the day once held some meaning to me.

Thankfully, the rain this morning isn't another crazy thunderstorm. I like such storms, I like the call and response of streaks of lightning and replying thunder, the sound of the deluge of water cascading off the roof. Unfortunately, my vegetable garden is in a slightly flat depression partway down a hill, which puts it right in the path of rampaging runoff. It's a small veggie planting this year, but twice in the last week storm waters created havoc. (It has been several years since this last occurred.) Yesterday morning I spent a couple of hours fixing up the damage from the second storm. Last night there was another downpour. The rain will keep me out of the garden today, as will work on my radio show tomorrow. I must admit a certain nervousness regarding what I shall find when I get there on Sunday. I distract myself looking for July the 4th images to post from the mass media factories of America, trying not to think of the garden situation as a metaphor. 

Arlene Judge



Ava Gardner

Elizabeth Taylor

My thoughts turn to Americana. This past Monday, I became joyfully immersed in it. I talked a friend into driving two and a half hours upstate to the Shelburne Museum. It is not your everyday day museum. It was created by Electra Havemeyer Webb. Her parents, Louisine Elder and Henery Osborne Hevemeyer were wealthy. Very wealthy. Miss Electra Haveremeyer married Mr. James Watson Webb, a Vandebilt. They were very, very wealthy together.

Louisine and H.O. collected art. Louisine was touring the continent when she became friends with Mary Cassatt, who introduced her to a group of young unappreicateds who would soon be known as Impressionists. The Havemeyers became the first Americans purchasing their work. Most of the collection they acquired was left to New York City's Metropolitan Museum of Art, where their bequest became the foundation of the Impressionist wing. Some of the paintings, however, were left to Electra. They used to adorn the walls of the Havemeyer-Webb apartment at 740 Park Avenue. (If an apartment there becomes available, it is said that you must show a minimum worth of  one hundred million dollars before the cooperative will even talk to you.)

Electra and Louisine Havemeyer by Mary Cassatt

Mrs. Webb was 19 when she began to collect Americana. She loved the large summer estate the family had near Burlington, Vermont, and decided to turn part of it into a museum for her collections. That kind of space was needed. When the last surviving steamship on Lake Champlain went out of business, she bought it and had it moved to the estate. It sits near a lighthouse she purchased. She showed interesting attention to detail - the estate has many wonderful gardens; the plantings by the lighthouse are the kind of rugosa roses one finds at the sea shore near lighthouses (they have an ability to withstand salt air).


The Ticonderoga is the only surviving vertical beam sidewheel steamship.
It is 200 feet long, and weighs 892 tons.

Just past the steamship were these trees - neither my friend (a college professor) nor myself have any idea what they are - please let me know if you do:

 

Blogger has suddenly decided that I shouldn't use the "caption" function - if I try, it deletes the picture. So... just a few steps further and one finds this giant chair:

 

 

(And, in case you are wondering, yes, that is your correspondent taking a break and sitting down.)

 

Mrs. Webb saved one local old Shelburne building from demolition, moved it to the estate, and reused it for her collection of the contents of a circa 1840's General Store, Post Office, Barber Shop and Apothecary. (There is a similar era dentist office on the second floor.) She occasionally bought the collections of others. Next to the barber shop is a room with over 300 straight razors, the collection of a wealthy lawyer.  I didn't take any pictures of the store (I was often too overwhelmed to think of it) but I did take a few in the apothecary.

 

 

 

 

When I commented on the placement of a couple of objects amusingly displayed in the store, the docent noted that they were "right where Mrs. Webb put them".

 

She also saved a local meeting house and had it moved to the grounds. It houses a collection of Vermont music.

 

She had a small pond installed next to the meeting house:

 

Elsewhere on the property are an old train station (with a 10 wheel steam locomotive), a carousel, a sawmill, a covered bridge, collections of carriages, Conestoga wagons, stagecoaches, hand carved circus miniatures, a jailhouse, textiles (a huge quilt collection), weathervanes, hunting decoys, an  1840's smokehouse, a Shaker shed, a round barn, a worker's stone cottage, and much, much more.

On the property, as a tribute to Mrs. Webb, the family built a reproduction of a fairly un-Vermont Greek Revival Vermont building she admired. In it they put five intact rooms from the Park Avenue digs. The rooms are stunning. The library, for instance, utilized dark wood moldings and black leather wallpaper. (I think I swooned at that point.) Throughout the rooms are the paintings Mrs. Webb's parents left her. Two Rembrandts, Corot, I think there was an El Greco, etc. In a basement room are bronze sculptures by many artists including Degas and Frederick Remington. A number of painting are not in the apartments at present - and therein lies the reason for this trip.

A new building on the estate currently has a temporary museum styled exhibition of the Impressionist holdings, punningly titled "In a New Light". Five or six Monets, several Manets, Degas, Corot, Cassatt. Even the doorway to the exhibit held promise (the Monet which was the source for this image in on display):

The first thing visible upon entering was Monet's "Le Pont, Amersterdam". Just to its left and several feet back was a large photograph of the actual scene. It was very interesting to note that Monet moved buildings and objects a bit to paint what he saw.

One Monet in particular haunts me, not quite to the point of obsession. The reproduction of it does not catch the colors at all. What appears here as a sort of reddish haze was actually sort of, well, not quite chartreuse, not yellow, but definitely early morning light through fog. I think the problem may be that this "Church at Vernon through fog" (near his home at Giverny) is a view Monet painted many times. I wonder if the online reproductions of the painting owned by Mrs. Webb is the same as the one on exhibit.

Blogger and my photo program are both acting up, which may be a last gasp of Mercury retrograde, or the electronics' method of telling me this post is too long, or contains too many graphics, so to rush to a finish...

The Cassatt at the beginning of this essay is also on display, along with several other pieces which I recognized from books, and a few I'd never seen before. I must post this one more, simply because its colors were so stunning, a Degas (what was it with Degas and ballerinas anyway? Maybe he just wanted to try on a tutu?) :

The exhibit was clever, stunningly beautiful, and the works are still in my mind's eye four days later. There was so much to see...

I must go back there soon.