CT-112                                    CORNERSTONE TRAVELER                             JUNE 25   ‘13

 

Hi y’all and welcome to another exciting and thought provoking issue of this bi-weekly newsletter, The CORNERSTONE TRAVELER.  Also available on the web at cornerstonetraveler.com

mid-Hudson Valleynews:  I know I have written of the history of New Paltz and the mid-Hudson Valley before in this newsletter, but I feel a need to do so again.  Mainly because my son, Justin, visited me last weekend.  We had a great time exploring the mid-Hudson Valley.

First we went to the Roundout Landing at the Kingston waterfront.  The nicest part of Kingston to visit.  We checked out the old tug boat “Matilda” on dry dock near the river.  That tug had a propeller at least eight feet in diameter.  The Matilda was built in the 1930’s.  The only problem with the tug is that you can only view it from the outside and from below.  There is no way to get onto the deck or into the pilot house or even see the engine room.  This probably is because it is being held upright on the dry dock by tension rods on both sides of the hull.  There is probably also a fear of people falling off the deck which is at least fifteen feet up.  But it would be nice to see the deck, the pilot house, the engine room and other parts of the inside of this tug.

On Sunday, Fathers Day, I took Justin to Huguenot Street.  The oldest street in America with the original homes still standing.  Almost all of the homes on Huguenot Street were built with stone.  When you see the workmanship of these stone houses, you appreciate the labor that went into their construction.  I have learned that many of the stones that were used to build these houses were dredged by hand from the Wallkill River.  Probably during the late summer and early fall.

We then went to the covered bridge in Esopus, a national landmark.  This bridge was constructed in 1844.  When you realize there were no power tool to use in the construction of the bridge, you appreciate the labor intensity and craftsmanship that was used to build this bridge.  What bothered me was seeing the graffiti on the inside of the covered bridge.  Scrawled there by non-thinking, brain dead bozo’s.  How dare anyone mar the craftsmanship and beauty of this old, ancient bridge.  It bothers me that much!

observations:

I have to ask: how did Edward Snowden manage to get a job with a sub-contractor who contracted with NSA?  He never graduated from high school, was kicked out (discharged) from the Army only four months after he enlisted.  Why?

You have to ask how he got a position with such high government contractor dealing with the secrets of the United States?  I am pretty certain that a person with Snowdens resume would have a had a hard time being employed as a bank teller.  Would he have even been considered for a job at McDonalds?  Yeah.  Probably at minimum wage and not at between $120,000 and $200,000.

Most people who shared the secrets of the United States with our enemies would be executed by firing squad.  Is it any wonder he is hiding out in China?  How much has he told China about the secrets and computer systems of the USA?  Is this why China letting him hide out there?  He recently move4dc to Russia with his ultimate destination Ecuador.  The government has issued a warrant for arrest on the charge of espionage.  Could get ten years if convicted of espionage.  Julius and Ethel Rosenberg were electrocuted for treason in the mid 1950’s

When snowden speaks he claims he was only thinking about the people of America when he revealed the NSA secrets to the world.  To this statement I have, but one vulgar word.  Bullshit!

The UK doesn’t trust him.  So the officials in Britain have already said that if he tries to enter Britain, he would be denied entrance and sent back to where he came from (China).

Contrary to what Snowden claims, the NSA is not spying on American people unless an American is having regular contact with known terrorists.

The officials at the NSA claim that if they had this data mining capability prior to 9/11, they would have been able to brief the FBI of the terrorists plans.  Could this knowledge have prevented 9/11?  I don’t know and neither does anyone else.

Just think about it.

sports:

The Yankees are struggling with the Orioles for second place in the AL East, but are still nipping on the heels of the Red Sox with a record of 41-34  and 21/2  games back.

The Mets are still stuck in fourth place in the NL East and are 111/2 games back with a record of 30-42.

The Heat won their second NBA championship by defeating the Spurs.

The Boston was defeated in the Stanley Cup playoffs by Chicago when Chicago scored two goals in seventeen seconds with about a minute and a quarter left in the game.

other:

As with all previous issues of this newsletter, everything printed 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.

The story I have included following this history I deliberately include on or about every July 4^th (Independence Day) for obvious reasons as you will read.

                           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, Atkins Drug Store,  Schaffert Real Estate Office, Marie Shop 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’s 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 fathers 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 buildings 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 of Independence.  The thirteen colonies that had been under the intolerable

British rule had decided to sever ties with the hated British in the declaration.

He knew almost everyone in the small village would be celebrating their INDEPENDENCE.  Cleland also new 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 it’s 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.

Then 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 days 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 himself 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.  He 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 it’s 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 barm 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 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 echos of the past within my walls..

 

They all waited eagerly.

Echos 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 echos 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 echos 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 innocense 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 dropped around his neck and a few seconds after 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 it’s 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 framers 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 skills 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 todays 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 hoped you learned what you have seen from the echos 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.  Theg 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 echos from the past fade.  The echos 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