Hi everyone and welcome to another exciting and thought provoking issue of this bi-weekly newsletter, The CORNERSTONE TRAVELER.  Also available online at www.cornerstonetraveler.com.  I’m sorry if this issue is a week late, but I spent six days driving to Bar Harbor Maine to visit with my daughter, son-in-law and grandson, Booker for his third birthday,

 

mid-Hudson Valley news:  There was the sidewalk chalk art festival this past Saturday on Water Street here in New Paltz.  There were at least twenty artists from all over the world.  It was quite impressive, believe me.

There was the Disney film Beauty and the Beast shown at the Woodstock Playhouse on Saturday.

I have decided to write this newsletter sooner then I usually so I can inform my readers of upcoming events in the mid-Hudson Valley.

There will be the Ulster county Fair at the Ulster County fair grounds on Libertyville Road in New Paltz on August 2 – August 8.  I have to admit I was never impressed with the Ulster county Fair in past years.  Mainly because I always envisioned county fairs to showcase local arts, crafts and history which is short at the Ulster County Fair. I have been looking for angels to adorn the headstones at the family plot at St. Charles cemetery.

 

observations:  I have noticed since cell phones have become so prevalent telephone books can’t be found.  I guess telephone companies (cell and land) expect you to use directory assistance.  Unfortunately unless the person you are trying to get directory assistance is either Smith or Jones you are stuck with whatever name the computer voice determines you want.  I have AT&T on my cell phone service provider.  When I asked for the telephone number of a friend I worked with when I was the plant manager at Gare, I got telephone numbers for pizza joints.  Needless to say I was frustrated.  I even asked the hotel where I was staying if they had a telephone book.  No luck.

 

sports:  The Russian track and field athletes are out of this year’s Olympic games in Rio because of state sponsored doping at previous Olympic games.  I feel bad for those athletes who had nothing to do with the doping cheating, but can’t compete in the Olympics.  Kind of sad don’t you think?

 

MLB: Yankees: They are 40-41 in the American League East and are 7 games back and are in 4^th place.

Mets:  They are in 2^nd place of the National League East and are 5 games back.

 

other:  As with all previous issues of this bi-weekly newsletter, everything published here is either copyright protected or copyright pending.

The history of P&G’s follows this newsletter from about the mid 1930’s to almost the present.

For the past several years I have included a short story I wrote that is prevalent to Independence Day, July 4 th.  I forgot to include this story in the last newsletter.  It is included in this edition, called what else?  INDEPENDENCE.  I hope you like it.

 

Thank-you  -  Rik McGuire

 

                         History of P&G’s continued to the present

 

From 1925 – 1945 a number of diverse businesses occupied the building.  These included Carols Clothing Store (1937), Atkins Drug Store (1938), Schaffert Real Estate Office (1943), Marie Shop (1960) and Dicks Bar and Grill among others.

In 1947 Dicks Bar and Grill was purchased by two Lake Mohonk employees, Pat Cafferty and George Jayne.  Legend has it that neither told their wives of their intention to purchase the business.  They immediately changed the Grills name to Pat and Georges.  Among it loyal customers it was simply P&G’s.

One of the best things to happen to P&G’s occurred in 1961.  An ex Dodger player named Stormer Nickerson became a bartender.  Stormy as he was affectionately known became something of a legend.  His heart, quiet good humor and generous spirit made P&G’s the one place that welcomed all from the harsher outside world into a refuge for college students, business people, local characters and even for a while, in the 1960’s, bikers.  According to one source.  “They weren’t as rowdy a crew as you might expect because although he was quiet, Stormy commanded and got respect.”  His professional baseball background made him a natural to pitch batting practice for the New Paltz College teams and he did so for a number of seasons.  One college fraternity considered P&G’s their private domain.  The scene of everything important, news, views, camaraderie and especially humor was always evident at P&G’s.

After the St. Helens volcano erupted and news reports discussed the possibility of ash fall out across the U.S., Stormy came to work to find the staff dressed in garbage bags and metal kitchen colanders on their heads.  Since no ash was reported on anyone Stormy reasoned the attire had been affective by making everyone laugh their ash off.

 

In June 1991, after 30 years, Stormy retired from P&G’s.  He died in June of 1994.  From his casual humor that lingers, to his Chile recipe that is still served and the kind memories often repeated by his many friends, Stormy is still here.

In 1969 Edwin Beck bought P&G’s.  His first weekend as owner was completely successful.  The following weekend, however, the place was deserted.  A disheartened Beck couldn’t understand what he had done to alienate everyone so quickly.  He was relieved to learn it was simply a matter of poor timing.  Everyone was away and wallowing in a farm in Bethel NY.  A music festival or something.

Ed Beck never spent time worrying.  He looked across Main Street and up Platekill Avenue, seeing thousands of thirsty college students who, for the most part remained on campus.

Taking a good supply of liquid refreshment, Beck went to the campus and gave the students (all legal in those days) a new place to call home.  He transformed P&G’s from a neighborhood bar into a local institution.

The face of Beck’s personality had much to do with the continued success of P&G’s, the place was fun.  One oft quoted story about Beck concerns a young P&G’s enthusiast who wanted to be just like Beck when he grew up.  It is reported that Beck in all humility replied.  “Well you can’t do both.”

The name Pat and Georges was officially changed to P&G’s in the 1980’s by Ed Beck and his son Mike.  In 1985, Mike bought out his father’s interest.  In 1994, he undertook extensive renovations, making the building exterior appear as it did in 1900, when it was the Casino.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                      INDEPENDENCE

 

It was a few minutes before midnight, July 4, 2006 and Martin was wiping down the bar for the last time for the night.  It was a raucous night, especially when all the customers went outside on the deck to watch the fireworks.

The Buckhorn tavern had been the watering hole for locals for over two hundred and thirty years.  The outside was almost identical to the original building those many years ago.  It had the same weather worn clapboard though the clapboard had been replaced countless times.  The windows were with the same weather worn trim.  Even the slate covered roof was the same as it was two hundred and thirty years ago.  The current owner wanted to keep the building’s exterior the original flair and looks just as it was when it was first constructed.

Though the outside had the original look of the building, the inside had to be remodeled to accommodate the modern customers.  With restrooms, a gas burner stove and refrigeration, it was completely comfortable for the present day clientele.

Jessie, who helped behind the bar, was busy wiping down the tables.  Mitch another bartender was sweeping the floor.  They all hoped to be done by midnight so they could rest and sleep after a busy night

Martin locked the door as he, Mitch and Jessie left for the night, promising to see each other the next day.

As they walked to their respective homes, the building, The Buckhorn Tavern, came aware and remembered those nights two hundred and thirty years ago.

 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

 

 

July 5, 1776

 

Cleland Vanderhood had opened his tavern by four that afternoon though he usually didn’t open up until past six at night because it was a farming community and most of the farmers couldn’t tear themselves from their farms until six or later.  But today, Cleland knew that the tavern would be a celebration for a new countries INDEPENDENCE.  A rider had ridden all night from Philadelphia to the Catskills to shout the 2^nd Continental Congress had signed a Declaration for Independence.  The thirteen colonies that had been under the intolerable British rule had decided to sever ties the hated British in the declaration.

He knew almost everyone in the small village would be celebrating their INDEPENDENCE.  Cleland also knew there would be a few who would not celebrate the declaration because they called themselves Loyalists and didn’t want the colonies to separate from the British.

By four, thirty farmers and merchants were straggling into his tavern shouting and hollering their INDEPENDENCE from British rule.  And Cleland was ready for them.  Before the first reached the bar, he had already started pouring the favored stout and ale into ceramic mugs.  Within fifteen minutes, the tavern was packed with shouts and cheers from all comers.

 

While everyone was celebrating their supposed independence from British rule, the tavern became aware and followed the conversations of all in the building.

The tavern heard Patrick warn.  “The British will not allow our independence without a fight.”

“You think there will be a war?”  Another reveler asked,

“Most definitely.”  Patrick said.  “Think about Scotland and Ireland.  Two peoples who fought for their independence.  Scotland almost got theirs, but Ireland didn’t and they still battle the British occupation of the Emerald isle.”

“But we will prevail and beat the British.”  Another voice shouted.

“Only in your dreams.”  Came another voice.  Everyone turned to the man of the voice and they all knew he was Jacob Black, a fervent loyalist to the British crown.  Jacob Black was an importer of British tea, tin and other necessary goods for the colonies.  And everyone knew he over priced the goods he sold.  They also knew he skimmed from the top on the taxes the colonies paid to the British on his products.

Not only did the colonists know this, so did the tavern.  The tavern became aware of its existence through the deaths of those who died in the Hudson Valley, whether naturally or unnaturally.

Jacob Black, the Loyalist, stood up and shouted.  “You can never war and beat the British.  They are a formidable force with a superior army and navy.  You could never defeat such a force.”

Everyone in the tavern shouted him down.

 

The Henry spoke up.  We can and will defeat the British because we have a soldier in our colonies called Rodgers who has befriended the Indians in this land and learned from them on how to wage a war.  Most of you know that the British battled the French for control of this Land and the French forced a stalemate with their use of the Indians.  All we have to do is enlist the Indians to fight with us and that should not be a problem because the Indians favored the French over the British.”

“You must be kidding.”  Jacob Black roared.  “You think those savages will help you defeat a power like the British?”

Henry smiled.  “We alone can defeat the British.  We only have to fight like the savage, or Indian and the British could never defeat us.  They fight too European and have never encountered fighters like the Indians.”

“I will never support your rebellion!”  Jacob Black shouted as he stormed out of the tavern.

Everyone laughed loudly at the retreating back of Jacob Black.

“We have to be careful of him.”  Patrick warned.  “He will try and gain British favor by spying on us.  He knows the British commanders will reward him financially for spying on us.  So we have to careful what we do and say in his presence.”

Henry agreed.  “Yes. We must be careful of him, but we will have our own courts and if he is found spying for the British, he will be tried in our courts and hung if found guilty.”

“That would serve him right!”  A voice shouted.  “Everyone here hates him with his greed.”

 

The essence of the tavern heard all of this, but knew that Black could be instrumental in bringing about deaths of many in the tavern.  The tavern had seen the outpouring of grief when a starving villager was caught stealing food from an army garrison and hung for his theft.  And the British made certain the thief was hung at high noon in the village square for all to see.

The tavern knew of another man the British hung for importing goods to the colonies without payment of British taxes.  In both cases, Jacob Black was the one who informed the British commanders of their transgressions.

 

July 5, 2006

 

Martin, the manager of the Buckhorn Tavern, came into the tavern by seven in the morning to do the daily bookkeeping of the previous day’s sales.  He was still tired from the previous night, but he had to do the daily Bookkeeping.  He decided he needed to make a pot of coffee to wake him up.  He went into the main room of the saloon and made a pot of coffee.  As the coffee perked and dripped, he thought he heard hushed voices in the saloon.  He turned around and saw no one.

Martin was stunned because he knew he heard voices though he couldn’t make out what the voices were saying much less see the people with the voices.

Martin was unsure what to think, hearing voices of unseen people.  He could only pour a cup of coffee and retreat back into the office.

But before he left the main room of the saloon, the tavern whispered in his ear.  You are hearing the voices of people who were fervent supporters of the American revolution.

“Who are you?”  Martin had to ask.

 

 

 

     I am the essence of this tavern that was built those many years ago.  And I will explain the radical liberal thought of those framers who wrote the Declaration of Independence and the American Constitution.

“So this will be a history lesson?”  Martin asked.

     Yes, but first I want you to read up on the history of this village.  Learn of Cleland Vanderhood, who constructed me. The tavern, and of the other local villagers like Patrick, a potato farmer, Henry, a corn farmer and Jacob Black, a Loyalist who was hung from the Oak tree in front of this tavern.

“I’ll go to the local library and look up all you told me of.  When should we talk again?”

     Only when you are ready.  The tavern whispered.

Later that day, Martin went to the local library to find books on anything about the early years of the village.  It wasn’t hard because the library had already dedicated one six shelf bookcase to the early years of the village.  Her checked out as many books as he could carry and asked the afternoon bartenders and wait staff not to bother him unless it was absolutely necessary.

He perused book after book taking notes of everything he learned.  He learned that Cleland Vanderhood, the original owner of the Buckhorn Tavern, died in 1786 a few years after the colonies defeated the British.

Martin was still in the office reading when the night shift started.  Both Jessie and Mitch knocked on his door to ask him, what he was doing all day in the office.

Martin only smiled, lifted his coffee mug and said.  “Just reading and drinking coffee.”

 

 

 

“What are you reading?”  Mitch asked.

“The early history of this village.”  Martin smiled.

“Why?”  Jessie asked.

Martin pointed to Mitch.  “Close the door.”

With the door closed, Martin began the tale.  “This morning as I did the bookkeeping, I walked into the saloon when I heard all these voices from unseen people.  Naturally I was confused until I heard the building whisper to me.  It said it want to teach me.  But first I must learn the history of the tavern and village.  That is what I have been doing all day in this office.”

“What did you learn?”  Jessie asked.

“The original builder and owner of this tavern was Cleland Vanderhood.  He died in 1786 a very happy man when America gained its independence from the English by defeating them.  A potato farmer Patrick O’Malley died in one of the final battles with the British.  Another farmer Henry Barnes was captured by the British for hiding needed arms for the colonies in his barn and was sent to a prisoner ship in New York harbor where he died.”

“Did you learn anything else?”  Mitch asked.

“Yeah.  The man who told the British of Henry’s stash of arms was caught by the villagers, tried, found guilty and hung by the neck in that old Oak tree in the front of this tavern.”

“Will you talk to the tavern again?”  Jessie asked.”Because I would like to be there and hear the voice of the tavern.”

“Me too.”  Mitch agreed.

“Okay.  I started the bookkeeping at 7:00 a,m. And didn’t go back into the saloon until

 

 

 

7:15 or 7:30 and that was when I heard the voices and the tavern whisper to me.”  Martin explained.

“7:00 it is!”  Both Jessie and Mitch piped.

 

August 7, 1780

 

The British learned and found the many muskets, pistols and other weapons in the barn of Henry Barnes.  They bound him and took him to New York City then moved him to the prisoner ship in the New York harbor.

Henry was ill just from the smell of all the unwashed bodies, horrible sanitation and even the decomposing bodies of dead American prisoners.  He would die three months later from a disease on the ship.

Meanwhile the villagers learned it was Jacob Black who told the British of the arms being hidden in Henry’s barn and caused Henry to be taken to that prisoner ship.

A hasty court was formed and Jacob Black was found guilty of treason against the colonies of the newly formed America.  And he was sentenced to hang by the neck immediately from the oak tree in front of the Buckhorn Tavern.

 

July 6, 2006

 

When Martin was at the front door of the tavern, he was met by Mitch and Jessie.  They all went inside together and waited for the tavern to speak.

They didn’t have long to wait because after they had perked a pot of coffee and each had a warm cup in their hands, they heard the tavern whisper.

     You have brought friends with you.  The tavern whispered.

“Yes.”  Martin said.  “I hope you don’t mind?”

     Not at all.  The more who hear what I have to say the better.  Came the whisper.

“I don’t believe this.”  Jessie almost shouted.  “I can hear a whisper in my mind.”

Martin nodded.  “Yes.  You are hearing the tavern talk, whisper to us.”

“I can it hear it whisper too.”  Mitch said.  “And I am not a believer in the unbelievable.  Yet now I believe.”

Martin motioned with his hand.  “Shh.  Listen to what the tavern wants to say.”

They all stood silent for less than a minute before the tavern began to whisper.

     You’re all here.  Whispered the tavern.

“But of course.”  Martin said.  “We want to hear what you have to teach.”

     It will be at least two hours.  The tavern explained.

“Right.”  Martin said and turned to Mitch.  “Mitch pull down the shades in the windows and make sure the front door is locked.”

“Right away.”  Mitch said as he turned to the windows and the door.  Then Mitch came back and stood with Martin and Jessie.

They heard the tavern whisper, explain. You will now see and hear echoes of the past with my walls..

They all waited eagerly.

 

 

 

Echoes from the past  – August 7, 1780

 

Martin, Mitch and Jessie found themselves in a room that was totally unfamiliar to them, but at the same time familiar and they couldn’t explain this.

The tavern whispered.  This is the Buckhorn Tavern, me, as it , I was in 1780.  You are about to witness the trial of Mr. Jacob Black, who spied for the British for personal financial gain.  Don’t worry about the people you will see and hear for they cannot see or hear you, for they are echoes of the past.

They all gasped when they saw the thirty foot long, four inch thick slab of Maple that was obviously the bar of the tavern for there were at least ten stools in front of it and behind it they saw large kegs positioned upside down with taps at the lower ring of the kegs.  And all around the larger room were at least ten small Maple top tables with stools around each.  But against the back wall was a large Maple bench and behind the bench was a stern faced man with a wooden gavel.

When they looked closer they saw at least thirty or forty people seated around the small tables and by the maple bar.  They all appeared to wait anxiously for something.

“What’s going on?”  Jessie asked Mitch.

Mitch shook his head.  “No clue.”

The tavern whispered. Like I explained, these are the echoes from the past.  And you are about to witness the trial of Jacob Black for informing on Henry of the arms he hid in his barn to aid the colonists in their fight against the British.

 

 

After the tavern finished whispering they heard the man behind the bench rap his gavel down sharply three times and commanded.  “Bring the prisoner in.”

And from they knew was the Buckhorn Taverns front door, two burly, bearded  men dragged a struggling, scrawny, black haired man who vehemently screamed of being treated so unfairly.

The trial of Jacob Black started with Black screaming his innocence because he was only acting on the true authority of the new world, the crown of England.

The trial of Jacob Black took less than an hour.  Jacob Black was found guilty of treason against the newly formed nation of America.  And his sentence was death by hanging.

Martin, Mitch and Jessie saw Jacob Black dragged outside to a three foot bench with a rope tied at the front legs, attached to a horse.  A specially wrapped noose was draped around his neck and a few seconds later the horse was slapped on its hind quarters and the horse galloped away, causing the bench to tumble and Jacob Black hung from his neck and his feet lashed back and forth as he died.

“Oh God.   That was awful.”  Jessie cried as the three of them looked out the front window of the tavern.

     That was justice.  Whispered the tavern.

“But was it fair and just?”  Jessie had to ask.  “That man was hung by his neck and died horribly.”

     Actually his death was less horrible than Henry Barnes who died on that prisoner ship in New York harbor.  Henry died slowly and painfully.  I know this because I could see him die in the lower bowels of that damned ship.  The tavern whispered.

“Is that what you wanted to teach us?’  Martin asked.

They could almost feel the tavern shake its head and hear it whisper again.  No.  I Have seen how the American people have changed from the thoughts of those framers of the American Constitution.  I know the framer stressed that wealth should not be the goal of the Patriots.  They stressed that everyone has the right of Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of happiness. Not: Life , Liberty and the Pursuit of greed.

“Times have changed.”  Mitch said.

     Yes they have.  The tavern whispered.  Think about it.  How many of the wealthy can do such mundane jobs as carpentry, farming, masonry etc.  And god forbid that they should ever think to clean a toilet.  That’s the problem.  Fewer and fewer people are learning the basic skill needed to keep this nation alive.  I remember how Jacob Black turned from his friends, neighbors and community to satisfy his greed with financial gain by informing on those people for the British commanders.  I witness the same happening in today’s America.  Too many of these people will turn from their friends, neighbors and community for financial gain.  Too many of these people have lost their sense of community with their greed.  And this is unhealthy for America.  You have all seen or read how personal financial gain, greed , has destroyed nations.  Witness the Roman Empire, destroyed by greed.  The French monarchy, destroyed by greed.  Nazi Germany, destroyed by greed of ego.  The Russian Soviet Union became too top heavy by greed.  A few of the Soviet leaders lived in opulent dachas while the rest of the population lived in misery.  And there are

 

 

probably a few dozen other countries or communities that were destroyed by greed.

And there I will finish my history lesson and hope you learned what you have seen from the echoes of the past of this country and the others I have taught you.

“Will we hear you whisper to us again?”  Martin asked.

     Only if I think it is necessary.  The tavern whispered.

“I hope you do.  Because I want to hear and learn more from you again.”  Jessie almost cried.

“The same goes for me.”  Mitch echoed.

After the tavern finished whispering, Martin, Mitch and Jessie saw the echoes from the past fade.  The echoes from the past became dimmer and dimmer.  Then they were back in the recognizable saloon of the Buckhorn Tavern.

It was if by magic they all became more aware of the American Revolution and the toll it took on the colonists.

Their eyes were opened and they saw America under entirely new and heretofore a new light.

 

8:36 p.m.

9/17/11

@ P&G’s

 

 

This story is dedicated to everyone who works at P&G’s