The Lives of Barrytown: A "Privileged Envelope"?
by Cynthia Owen Philip

Editor's Note: This is the last in a series of four articles about Barrytown. In the caption for the front page photo accompanying last issue's article, we mistakenly omitted the name of the driver of the truck, and "boss" of the Sylvania dairy farm crew: Francis A. Rabbett. Apologies to Eileen Rabbett Mitchell and her siblings.

After World War II, Barrytown continued to be a place where everyone knew everyone else. Grownups worked for the railroad, the great owner-occupied estates, and at St. Joseph's Normal Institute on what once was the Aspinwalls' estate, Massena. In their spare time they fished or sat on their porches, minding babies and greeting friends. Children ran free throughout the settled area. Teenagers roamed the estates, where many were hired for seasonal farming work. The population had dwindled to about one hundred, not including around 250 at St. Joseph's which, in essence, functioned as a separate community.

Life passed by with an array of ups but, it seemed, more downs. The schoolhouse closed; pupils were bused to the new Red Hook Central School. The railroad carried fewer passengers and less freight. IBM, an employment godsend, startedup in the early 50s, first in Poughkeepsie and then in Kingston. Still, when old-timers died, their houses often remained vacant. Like most of Northern Dutchesss County, Barrytown had still not recovered from the Depression and the war. By anyone's standards, the hamlet was in a precarious transition period and, compared to its past heydays, run down. However, it still had its extraordinary site overlooking the river and a stock of well-built houses. Soon, an influx of newcomers would give it new life. Strongly oriented towards literature and the arts, they would gradually transform the character of the community.

Newcomers: Wave 1
In 1950, the young writer Gore Vidal bought the moldering but still beautiful and virtually pristine Edgewater. He paid $16,000 for it and a good deal more in making it a dazzling mecca for actors, writers and wits of national and international acclaim. That passenger trains roared by daytime and evening and freight cars, shunting into sidings, clashed and banged through the night did not disturb him. To his weekend guests — among them Norman Mailer, Joanne Woodward, Paul Newman critic Lionel Trilling and his wife Diana — the clamor was just one more of Edgewater's amusing quirks. Among the locals invited to join the party were political writer Richard Rovere, Henry James biographer Frederick Dupee, and Eleanor Roosevelt, as well as novelists Saul Bellow and Ralph Ellison, both of whom taught at Bard College.

In 1964 Vidal, who had been supporting this high life by writing for screen and television, decided it was time for him to decamp to Italy to resume novel writing. Edgewater was occasionally rented out, then sold. But, subconsciously, he remained attached. In one of the few pensive passages in his 1995 autobiography Vidal wrote: "I sometimes wonder if I should have given it up. The dream always starts in the same way. I have just bought the house back from the man I sold it to. Before I cross the railroad tracks to the house, I stop to say hello to Mr. Navins. He is postmaster and storekeeper in a one-room cabin opposite the small Barrytown station house. Though long dead, he is very much alive in my dream. 'Always thought you'd come back,' he says."

Peg and Buz Gummere also moved to Barrytown in 1950. She was a painter and violist, and he was in admissions at Bard, and a fine essayist. One cold winter night they were driving around the countryside looking for a place to raise their growing family. When they saw a For Sale sign by Edgewater's twin octagonal gatehouses, they could not resist their mysterious, derelict charm. They renovated the house on the south side of Station Hill Road with unerring Quaker simplicity. Friendly but not intimate with Vidal and his friends, they fashioned their own circle. They rented the octagon on the north side of Station Hill Road to Dustin Rice, a cane-wielding sculptor and art professor at Columbia University, who fixed it up with found architectural details and marvelous stones cast off by the Bard geology department. Daniel Pinkwater, who had recently graduated from Bard, where Gummere had taken him under his wing, spent the summer in a house on Dock Road. Pinkwater did landscape painting at that time. He is now admired for his funny and truly original children's books.

The Gummeres were also drawn to Chanler Chapman's vaudevillian personality, explosive use of language and extraordinarily broad frame of literary reference. And the Gummere children were utterly transported by the torrent of Anglo-Saxon expletives the herdsman streamed into their sleeping porch as, at the crack of dawn, he drove the straying bovines to the barn to be milked. In 1958, Chapman and his second wife Helen began publishing a monthly newssheet called the Barrytown Explorer. Its masthead motto was: "When You Can't Smile Quit." Containing sonnets and a stream of consciousness spiel by Chanler, biographical sketches of locals, observations about whatever came to mind by whomever took the trouble to put them into readable words, it was always fun to read.

Dickie Aldrich, heir to Rokeby, was another estate friend. His mother had given him half of the place for a wedding present, but as she had continued to live there — she would not die until 1963, well into her 93d year and two years after Dickie — he would often ride over the connecting road on his huge horse Winston, settle down to a comforting cup of morning coffee and join Peg for a canter through the fields.

In 1959 the railroad discontinued passenger service at Barrytown. The stationhouse was closed and the gates were made automatic, obviating the keeper's job. Only pick-up and delivery of less-than-carload freight and full-car freight delivery to the siding survived. The demise of the depot came as no surprise, as passenger traffic had fallen to less than one rider a day. Nevertheless it was a blow, especially to the old-time community. For over 100 years it had been a gathering place where, after work, the farmhands, fishermen and railroad men tossed horseshoes, drank beer, swapped stories and listened to baseball games on the radio.

The post office, however, remained. Still presided over by John Navins, a cigar-smoking old grouch who also sold a few groceries and dusty penny candies, it, too, was an important meeting place, for everyone had to go there to get their mail. In the mid-60s, he retired to his house up at the Barrytown Four Corners. His position was soon filled by the inimitable Gordon Baker; for a good chat laced with local gossip nobody could beat him. He gave up the groceries and filled the space with used books and memorabilia, mainly of an historical cast, some for browsing and some for sale. He also brought in two comfortable chairs where patrons could settle down to pass the time of day. At Christmas, the hamlet caroling party gathered round a bonfire there for cider and cookies while Peg Gummere and her students played their stringed instruments.

Newcomers: Wave 2
In the 1970s, a second wave of arts and letters people descended on the hamlet. The first was Richard Jenrette, the man to whom Vidal sold Edgewater. Although better known as a highly successful financier, he is also a seasoned connoisseur of Greek Revival architecture and decorative arts. With attentive care, he made Edgewater into a museum quality, but comfortable, residence. Not only that, he bought and remodeled Navins's hastily-built post office. (It now looks like a miniature Greek temple; its diminutive pillars are said to have come from Edgewater.) In addition, Jenrette integrated several waterfront properties into his Shangri-la compound.

George and Susan Quasha bought the Gummeres' octagon across Station Hill Road in 1974. George taught poetry and French literature at Bard and later added sculpture and photography to his repertoire, while Susan, through the years, has been a potter, painter and graphic artist. Together with Gary Hill, the internationally acclaimed originator of video art; David Arner, a jazz muscian; poet and arts critic Charles Stein, and theatrical director Larry Sacharow, they started the Arnofino Center in the Baptist church in Rhinebeck. Publicly funded, it offered residents of the area a chance to participate in the visual arts, music and theater. Although the Center as such lasted only two years, its impact carried on, spawning programs in the schools, a printing shop and the Station Hill Press. Alan Porter, curator of film at the Museum of Modern Art, spiced this mix by buying the Presbyterian Church built in the 1850s for Robert Donaldson.

The Estates
Leila Delano, who had presided with a firm hand over Stein Valetje since her husband's tragic death in 1920, died in 1966. Since her children had made their lives elsewhere, the contents of the house and the park statuary were auctioned off in a grand three-day event. The main property passed through various hands and is now owned by the Martin Sosnoffs who keep the land and buildings in mint order and have been great benefactors to the community through their substantial contributions to the new Performing Arts Center at Bard College; its splendid auditorium is named after them.

When St. Joseph's enrollments diminished significantly, the Archdiocese concluded it must give it up. In 1974, it sold the 250-acre property to Sun Myung Moon's Unification Church. At first the organization showed interest in opening its waterfront trail to townspeople, but soon frictions sprang up. Its origins and beliefs were foreign to many area people, who did not like that Moon regarded himself as a second Messiah and demanded total obedience from his followers, including immense mass marriages with partners he selected. Those who took the trouble to visit the campus found the students and the teachers of high quality, but a long period ensued when there was scant interchange between the community and the church.

When Chanler Chapman died in 1980, Sylvania Farms was sold, (except for Goodhap which was bought by Katharine Ryan Aldrich) to private owners who have exhibited little wish to become part of the community. Rokeby fared much better. Most of the fortune had disappeared, but Dickie's widow and children remodeled the outbuildings, until they had a dozen cottages and apartments for rent. Richard Jr. (Ricky) was the first to marry. He and his Polish wife, Ania, have lived full time in the family house since she arrived in the country in 1970. (Wint, the popular Town of Red Hook historian, and Rosalind Aldrich Michahelles also retain their own quarters and visit often, sometimes for extended periods.) A painter and graphic artist, Ania has made Rokeby an informal artistic center in the area. Early on, Lawrence Sacharow directed an unforgettable production of Chekhov's Three Sisters in the house and on its lawn. Since then there have been innumerable outdoor festivals, musical and dramatic performances, meetings and potluck suppers there. Jeanne Flemming, who rented the dairy cottage in the early 70s, masterminded the popular Dutch Christmas in the 80s, and for 30 years has produced the New York City Halloween parade. Alone among the great estates, the Aldrich heirs' dedication to keeping Rokeby in the family is as strong as it has always been.

Newcomers: Wave 3
A third wave of newcomers swept into Barrytown in the 1980s. It was not as easy to buy houses as it had been in the 60s and 70s, for only under extraordinary circumstances did anyone leave the hamlet. These newcomers tended to have more little children, some because of they were just setting up shop, some because they had entered into second marriages. Many, as before, were in the arts: two photographers, an architectural preservationist, a gilder, a writer and an inventor of extraordinary children's construction toys, for instance. Others were in the professions — two obstetricians and a massage therapist. Two Barrytown politicians from this group have served on the town board: Jean Bordewich and Marirose Blum Bump, the current town supervisor. Through their children and a shared point of view these families formed a spontaneous open-ended group that added a sparkling variety of festivities to which the entire hamlet contributed. Those that touched the most residents were the 4th of July fireworks and bonfire and the Halloween extravaganza, both of which took place down by the post office. Others involved simple get-togethers for strolling or informal play. For them it was a special time in their lives. For the hamlet they were a marvelous unifying force.

The Unification Theological Seminary
Not only people who live in the kernel of the hamlet, but those in the entire area were pleased when, after the millennium, the standstill with the Unification Theological Seminary radically changed. Last year, with the close cooperation of the Town of Red Hook, the Seminary made its waterfront trail part of the Hudson River Greenway. In fact, everyone is invited to enjoy all five trails and several picnic spots on the property and to use the community gardens north of the seminary buildings. Nearby is a labyrinth, also open to the public. Next year, the Seminary plans to open its the extensive library, its cafeteria and the basketball courts to the public.

In connection with this outreach, the Seminary offered the Hudson River Ice Yacht Club access to a launch site on the South Bay, which has long been a favorite locus for iceboating. Once a Hudson River obsession among great estate owners, its revival for a much broader community took place in Barrytown in the late 60s when Ricky Aldrich brought the ancient, but mighty Rip Van Winkle out of a Rokeby barn and put her on the ice. Friends followed suit, resurrecting their own boats or persuading descendants of the first owners to part with theirs. As the supply of antique wooden boats dwindled, 20th-century bow steerers joined in. As I write this, I have just returned from a sparkling blue afternoon on the ice. The lovingly maintained stern steerers were whizzing back and forth over the long narrow expanse — the Vixen, the Hound, and others — each recognizable even at a great distance by its length and its sail size and configuration. A fire on the ice offered welcome warmth to near freezing fingers and toes and kept chili and soup hot, too.

In Conclusion
Since its days as a shipping and railroad hub, Barrytown has changed fundamentally. In its blue collar days the hamlet was hardworking and relatively low paid, but bustling with energy. There is plenty of energy today, put it is more mute. As a group the newcomers are more educated, artistically creative and upper middle class. The newcomers care as deeply about their community as the old-timers did; they are simply not as deeply tied to the soil and the river for their work and recreation.

Many residents spoke to me of Barrytown's magical aura. The word paradise came up frequently; one early newcomer who moved away three times but always came back, referred to the community as a "privileged envelope." Right now fingers seem to be crossed in hopes the hamlet's off-the-beaten-track ambiance will last forever. At the moment, it is apparently not threatened by the development that is engulfing great sections of northern Dutchess County. Rokeby's vast acreage is protected by a preservation easement. But if the owners of Sylvania Farms or the Unification Theological Seminary should decide that subdividing is in their best interest, it is unclear how the Town of Red Hook, which governs the hamlet, or the hamlet dwellers themselves, would react. One warning break in the fabric has already happened. The Barrytown Post Office closed in 2002. For generations the public center point of the hamlet and, indeed, the source of its unique name, there is no one in the community that does not lament the loss of its convivial binding power. Peg Gummere expressed the lament of many when she sighed: "It is very lonesome without it."

Good luck be with you, Barrytown.