"The Rhinecliff" Opens
by Cynthia Owen Philip

The Rhinecliff Hotel is open again! Now simply called The Rhinecliff, she is a beauty. Buttery yellow with bountiful white trim, she sits gaily on her sloping waterfront site as she has done, in a slightly different form, for over 150 years. Together with the Hudson River Railroad that made its first stop at the Rhinecliff depot in 1851 and the Rhinecliff-Kingston ferry, whose east side landing was relocated here shortly afterwards, the hotel has long made the foot of Shatzell Avenue a bustling transportation hub. And besides serving tourists and commercial men, it became an important social gathering place for hamlet residents.

In 2003 James Chapman, raised in England but by then a New Yorker, bought the hotel from the aging Ed Tybus, who had himself thoroughly refurbished the property when he acquired it in 1946. As steadfast readers of About Town well know, the deteriorating old structure's makeover has taken a bit of time and quite a few dollars. But now that it is open, there is no question that every minute and expenditure was worthwhile—especially to those not paying the bills.

The exterior is essentially the same as it was, although its paint is no longer white and the entire building has been somewhat extended. (I cannot wait to see the hotel when the snow flies. She will be like a sea of daffodils against the more somber Victorian green of nearby buildings.) The interior has been more dramatically reconfigured, the public spaces simplified and, of course modernized. When I came to Rhinecliff in the late 1970s, three smallish rooms plus a dank toilet cubicle occupied the ground floor. That closest to the door was dedicated to the bar. Adjoining it was a place for shooting pool. And tucked into the hillside was a performance space; its Sunday afternoon Irish music drew a steady crowd. Pete Seeger's appearances, needless to say, filled the entire ground floor and more; I can remember squeezing myself into a spot at the top of the second floor stairs just to hear him.

Today a welcoming dining room runs the length of the waterfront side of the building. At the end near the Shatzell Avenue entrance is the original great mahogany bar. Attractively arranged tables for diners fill the rest of the room, ending with a cheery fireplace. Outside, a spacious paved terrace beckons through glazed double doors. Up the old stairwell to the second floor is a similarly large room outfitted for special events such as weddings, annual meetings and gala parties. Its long balcony has fabulous views of the river and the Rondout. I recently attended an absolutely delicious capacity-filled Rhinebeck Historical Society dinner there. A never-to-be-forgotten Halloween extravaganza sponsored by the hotel followed. Four days later I was there again to watch the 2008 election returns, an epic evening.

The hidden heart of these two floors is the kitchen presided over by chef Rei Peraza. He trained at the Hyde Park Culinary Institute of America, then ventured to Seattle for an impressive stint as head chef for Microsoft's executive dining room. Always having wanted to return someday to the Hudson Valley, he answered Chapman's call when chosen to be the creator of The Rhinecliff's cuisine. He even came east early enough to help design the kitchen. I visited it. It is a miracle of efficiently and tantalizing aromas. Surprisingly, given such a master behind the menu and the stoves, the food is reasonably priced. The wine cellar, too, is very good indeed.

The nine guestrooms are on the two top floors. Each has a covered balcony with a spectacular river view. The luxurious bridal suite has a spacious deck. The rooms themselves offer inn-type comfort combined with every modern convenience!

I was astonished, but certainly should not have been, when James Chapman told me how many employees it takes to keep the Rhinecliff Hotel running. Fifty are now on the permanent payroll. This must make it one of the largest employers in Rhinebeck. Moreover, several employees live right in the hamlet, a great advantage to them as well as to the hotel.

All this is not to say that the Rhinecliff Hotel is completely free of problems. For some guests of the establishment, the proximity of the train tracks may prove annoying. The freight that barrels through in the middle of the night is perhaps the worst offender. The noise it makes is short lived, but for those whose sleep patterns are not geared to the clamor of a speeding train, it can come as a shock. And some 20 passenger trains stop at Rhinecliff on a daily basis, proceeding more slowly, if not entirely silently, as they enter and depart from the station. They too may bother some patrons. Nevertheless, we all know there are numberless railroad buffs in the country. Moreover, trains have long provided Rhinecliff men with a steady supply of good jobs as well as railroad passes and they remain a vital link to the hamlet's proud history.

The possibility of noise emanating from hotel parties—another perceived problem among some hamlet residents—can be nipped in the bud, I suspect, if it ever materializes. And traffic will undoubtedly increase on the streets. But perhaps it will be no more onerous than cars racing for the train at peak commuter times. Parking? That should be taken care of by the hotel's extended lease on a long strip of land on the railroad right of way below it.

The final "problem" on my list is of an entirely different order. A few preservationists have criticized the new owner for rebuilding the historic hotel instead of restoring it. That was actually Chapman's initial plan. But when the entire western wall began slipping to the ground during efforts to replace the unsafe balcony, it became abundantly clear that saving the entire building was not an option. The site is at the low point of the hamlet, and with ground water coursing down from three sides for over 150 years, the structure had rotted. Chapman was as disappointed as the naysayers. However, he set about saving whatever elements he could. The location of the old Shatzell Avenue entrance is the same and the arched doorway into the dining room with its pocket doors was lovingly preserved. So was much of the flooring. The guestrooms are decorated with panels of old pressed-tin ceiling; the bedsteads are made of resurrected beams. On Halloween, the downstairs restroom sported a dusty pull-string toilet tank. In fact, there are enough salvaged pieces of the old hotel to make discovering them a fascinating game.

Most important, Chapman is intent on maintaining the new Rhinecliff Hotel's strong ties to the hamlet community. It has already become a place where Rhinecliffers meet for a midmorning cup of coffee or a beer after the day's work. One resident has already booked her son's wedding reception there. The atmosphere is so outgoing that if no friend should spontaneously appear, you'll soon make a new one. And what could be better than that?