Temporary Tourist

Something for everyone at Sheep Hill

2008-09-03T14:09:37Z

Editor’s Note: This is the ninth in a summer-long series in which Advocate Assistant Editor Judith Fairweather, a Berkshire County native, explores the county as a tourist would (no special media accommodations) and visits places she has never been. Read about all of her visits at blogtheberkshires.com.

By JUDITH FAIRWEATHER
WILLIAMSTOWN — On a Saturday in early August, Sheep Hill, home of the Williamstown Rural Lands Foundation, was holding a concert and candle float event with Lui Collins. The information about the event said to bring a picnic and a blanket, and that dessert and drinks would be provided. So I packed the kids in the car, stopped at the Store at Five Corners for some chips and sandwiches, and we headed up, not really sure what we would find.
The sign on Cold Spring Road (a k a Route 7) marks the place well. We found parking right at the bottom of the hill, not realizing there was additional parking up top. We were met with a breathtaking view of the open space and hillside after our climb.
The farmhouse, dating back to the early 19th century, sat to our left. Now the Mary & Craig Lewis Center for Nature and Rural Heritage, it houses a lending library, local history and nature exhibit, classroom space and also has binoculars and field guides for loan while on the property. But perhaps more importantly with two kids in tow, it also houses beautiful bathrooms.

]]> Ahead of us was a small pond, with plenty of nets laying about for those who wanted to try to catch some frogs. To the left of the pond sat a gazebo with a fieldstone floor, where Collins was setting up. We plunked our chairs down right in front, so I would be in a good spot for pictures.
Besides the concert, there was also supposed to be a candle float. We wandered into the red barn to see what that was all about. We were invited to take a block of wood and decorate it any way we wanted, attaching a tea light in the center. Now, the only creative thing my hands can do is to use a keyboard. I felt a bit out of my league, but because my kids dove right in to the project, with no notions of how it should turn out or that it might not be “good” enough, I decided I had to be a good sport and give it a whirl. It actually didn’t come out half bad, even though it was far simpler in design than many of the others.
We set our floats aside and went off to explore further. The kids discovered a zip line — a wire, on which a handle was suspended, that stretched across an open space. They climbed a ladder to grab the handle, pushed off, and rode down the length of the wire. They were in heaven; I was having a heart attack. I was glad to hear the music start so I could have a reason to drag them away.
Collins, born in Barre, Vt., started her folk career in the ’70s. This night she played a mixture of adult and kid folk tunes, switching from an acoustic guitar to the banjo. Engaging and friendly, Collins encouraged all of us to sing, sometimes substituting “bah bah bahs” for the words in the song so we could join in.
And then it was time for dessert. We went into the farmhouse, which now also houses the WRLF offices, to find ice cream sundae materials. The ice cream was from Lickety Split (located in both North Adams and Williamstown). There were assorted sundae toppings, including fresh blueberries from Cricket Creek Farm, also in Williamstown. I had a small dish of the vanilla with some blueberries and hot fudge and can safely say I have never eaten any ice cream that was as good.
The big event came when it got dark. Everyone grabbed their floats and had their candles lit. Each of us then gave our boats a gentle push into the pond. The candle float, we were told, was to commemorate the recent anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima. Collins stood by the edge of the pond and played from there. The soft music and glowing candles created an incredibly peaceful scene.
It was just about 9 o’clock, but there was one more thing to be accomplished before leaving — we had to rescue our floats to bring home (the kids insisted). Using one of the ponding nets, we easily recovered Gwen’s and Caroline’s. But which one was mine? It was so dark, and some of the floats were so far into the middle, it was hard to identify which was which. We were sure we had spotted it, but now how were we going to bring it in? Caroline had the bright idea to use the ponding nets to create a current, and it worked like a charm. All the floats came in together, and except for a brief moment where I leaned out too far and almost took an unwanted swim (Caroline grabbed the back of my sweatshirt to save me), the operation was a complete success.
Driving home, the kids were chattering about the zip line, about wanting to try the trails through the property, about making the floats. I was quiet, thinking about the numerous birds that had swooped and swirled through the wildflowers around the pond while the music played. The adventure to Sheep Hill had apparently had something for everyone in my family. How could you ask for more than that?

Sheep Hill, the former 50-acre dairy farm with its restored farmhouse, is open year-round. The farmhouse is open Monday through Friday from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m.; the grounds are open daily from dawn to dusk. The next scheduled event is the first annual Williamstown Amble and Scramble on Saturday, Sept. 20. There will be guided hikes all afternoon, a raffle and potluck picnic. Events at Sheep Hill are by suggested donation of $5 per person or $10 per family, although no one is ever turned away for an inability to pay. Info: 413-458-2494 or wrlf.org.

Following history on the Upper Housatonic Valley African American Heritage Trail

2008-08-27T13:43:09Z

By JUDITH FAIRWEATHER
Humbled. Uninformed. Deprived. Enlightened. Engaged. Enthralled. These are words to describe how I’ve been feeling since my latest Temporary Tourist excursion.
Back at the end of July, I journeyed down to Great Barrington, ostensibly to take some photos of the preview of the W.E.B. Du Bois Boyhood Homesite and Memorial Park (I found it impossible to simply take photos and was compelled to write a story that my compassionate editor in her benevolence allowed to run). Once there, I discovered a memorial now getting off the ground after almost 40 years in the making. I also discovered something called the Upper Housatonic Valley African American Heritage Trail guide — a map of the sites pertaining to African Americans in our area who played pivotal roles in our state and nation’s history.
Looking at the 40 Massachusetts sites on the map (and an additional eight sites in Connecticut), I encountered names I had never heard in my 44 years of living here and 12 years of public education: Mum Bett, the Rev. Samuel Harrison, Agrippa Hull. I learned things that I never knew. For example, there was a Berkshire County chapter of the NAACP founded here in 1918, which sent residents to participate in the 1963 March on Washington, registered voters during the Freedom Summer of 1964 in Alabama and Mississippi, helped create affordable housing in Pittsfield and organized sympathy protests at the former Woolworth’s in Pittsfield to protest the refusal of the chain to serve African Americans at their lunch counters in the South.
Where was all this information when I was in school? How is it that I have lived here for so long and yet remained so unaware of this important facet of our history? I resolved to embark on a journey to change that.

]]> My first stop was to learn about a very prominent man, Col. John Ashley, who lived with his wife in Sheffield in the late 1700s. They owned five slaves, one of whom would come to be known as Mum Bett, Mumbet or Elizabeth Freeman, depending on the source. There, in their fancy parlor, Ashley hosted the great thinkers of the day, including Sam Adams and Ethan Allen. Ashley chaired a grievance committee of those unhappy with relations with England. They drafted the Sheffield Resolves, which predated the Declaration of Independence and contained the concept that all people are free and have certain rights.
Mum Bett was present, and silent, at these meetings, and heard and understood the language used. In 1780, the Massachusetts Constitution was read aloud in the streets. Part of that document states that “all men are born free and equal, and have certain natural, essential, and inalienable rights.” In 1781, when warding off a blow intended for her younger sister, Lizzie, Mum Bett had had enough. She believed the language in those documents applied to her, and to all slaves, as well. She decided to sue for her freedom, enlisting the help of Theodore Sedgwick, a lawyer and friend of the family.
On Aug. 21, 1781, Mum Bett won her court case. This, along other cases, helped to end slavery in Massachusetts.
On Thursday, Aug. 21, 2008, my daughters and I traveled through picturesque Sheffield under startlingly clear blue skies to sit in the yard of the Ashley house and hear speakers and others mark this important anniversary. Elaine Gunn and Bernie Drew, of the Friends of the Du Bois Homesite Steering Committee, spoke, among others, and the Youth Alive step dancers of Pittsfield performed.
The house has been lovingly restored, with furniture accurate to the period, although not original to the house, setting the scene beautifully. I was struck by the story, and my lack of knowledge of it. How sad that a writer, and a history teacher, could be so unaware of something like this in her own backyard.
Following the moving ceremony, the girls and I consulted the brand-new-off-the-presses Mum Bett’s Trail map, a companion to the broader map I first encountered at the end of July. We decided we would try and find her gravestone in the Stockbridge Cemetery.
The map told us she could be found in the northeast corner, in what is known as the Sedgwick Pie. Amazingly, I found the northeast corner on the first try, but actually went too far. We had to backtrack more toward the middle of the cemetery, where there was a section separated from the rest by a fence on three sides. Entering, we found Theodore and Pamela Sedgwick’s monuments in the center, with the rest of the family buried in a circle around them. There, in the front row, was the 1829 grave of Mum Bett, who, after winning her freedom, went on to serve as a kind of nanny for the Sedgwick family. She was buried right next to the Sedgwicks’ daughter, Catharine. We stood in front of the headstone, all three of us uncharacteristically silent, as we contemplated this important woman and the impact she had had on history.
On Friday, I was off to another site on the trail map, quite different from the three I had already visited. I went off to the home of the Rev. Samuel Harrison on Third Street in Pittsfield. The house is in a state of extreme disrepair, but the event of my visit was a joyous one.
In May 2004, Ruth Edmonds Hill, great-granddaughter to Harrison, traveled to Pittsfield with her husband, Dr. Hugh M. Hill (better known as Brother Blue) to meet with a group of Pittsfielders interested in saving Harrison’s home from the wrecking ball.
Harrison (1818-1900) was an African American minister born into slavery who was a pioneering civil rights activist, abolitionist, orator and writer. He served as the chaplain for the Massachusetts 54th, the all-black Civil War regiment that acquitted itself so honorably yet so tragically at Fort Wagner in South Carolina.
As just one example of his work, when he discovered that the black and white soldiers were not receiving equal pay, he appealed to the governor of Massachusetts, John Andrew, who brought the case to President Lincoln, ultimately resulting in the passage in 1864 of legislation requiring equal pay in the army appropriations bill. Harrison also served as the first minister of the Second Congregational Church in Pittsfield, founded in 1846, the first church exclusively for persons of color.
His house now is a National Register of Historic Places landmark, a National Parks Service “Save America’s Treasures” preservation project and a Massachusetts Historical Commission preservation project. Congressman John Olver secured a “Save America’s Treasures” matching grant for $246,000.
Friday saw the groundbreaking for the restoration and preservation of the property, which is slated to become a place to provide greater insight into African-American history.
Over the course of two days, I had unearthed a vast trove of history of which I have only scratched the surface. I am humbled that it has remained unknown to me all of these years, but am so enthralled by it that my journey of discovery will surely continue.
At the beginning of this column I mentioned four names to you: Du Bois, Mum Bett, Harrison and Agrippa Hull. I have only shared a smidgen with you of what I have learned about the first three, and haven’t mentioned the fourth. Why? Because I haven’t gotten to that stop on the map yet. Hull remains a mystery to me, a mystery to be deliciously uncovered as I follow the fascinating trail of African American history in Berkshire County. Won’t you join me?

For more information about the Upper Housatonic Valley African American Heritage Trail or Mum Bett, go to africanamericantrail.org. A virtual tour of the Du Bois home site is available at library.umass.edu/spcoll/duboishome/virtualtour.htm. The Col. Ashley house is a property of the Trustees of Reservations, thetrustees.org. To learn about Harrison, visit samuelharrison.org.

Guthrie Center just has that 'vibe'

2008-08-13T13:34:52Z

Editor’s Note: This is the seventh in a summer-long series in which Advocate Assistant Editor Judith Fairweather, a Berkshire County native, explores the county as a tourist would (no special media accommodations) and visits places she has never been. Read about all of her visits at blogtheberkshires.com.

It’s never a good sign when you set out for a journey and find yourself driving straight toward pitch-black clouds.
As I headed south, the claps of thunder rang in my ears, the heavens opened to let the rain fall down in straight sheets of water and the lightning bolts zigzagged their way to the ground. I nervously eyed the tree branches above me as I crept down Route 7, my windshield wipers working furiously, but to no affect.
Thankfully, the rain started to let up before I arrived at The Guthrie Center housed in the Old Trinity Church, and my trials and tribulations (including my soaked feet from the puddle in which I parked my car) were all worth it. It was much bigger and more imposing than I had expected. I had traveled down on this stormy Thursday night for the weekly Hootenanny. Sign-ups are between 7 and 8 p.m., when the performances start. I had arrived at about 7:15 so I could get the lay of the land.

]]> When I came into the entryway of the church, I was greeted by Chris and Trish, who welcomed me most warmly. I wandered about, snapping a few pictures. Chris then asked if I had ever been in the church; I replied I had not. We set off for a tour.
Entering what must have been the nave of the church, I saw tables with candles in heavy glass holders that were exactly like what my parents used to use in the backyard when I was growing up in the ’70s. Awesomely retro. The well-lit stage sat before us, sporting several mics as well as a Baldwin piano. The semicircular space was probably once the apse.
We made our way up to the second floor, where I discovered an unexpected surprise. The center currently has works by Robert Alan Hyde on view. The sculptures are created out of brass, steel and copper with the use of an oxygen and acetylene torch, according to the pamphlet on the exhibit I picked up. Originally from Utah, Hyde became a Berkshirite upon moving to Washington in 2006.
The sculptures are breathtakingly gorgeous, and all by themselves make the trip to Barrington well worth it. I was struck by a piece of a Native American in full regalia titled “Fancy Dancer.” There was also a carousel horse as well as a full-sized chair, among several other pieces.
The church was built in 1829 as a chapel for St. James Church. It was expanded in 1866 and renamed Trinity Church. An amazing feature is the massive round stained-glass window that Chris told me was original to the building.
The church was deconsecrated in 1964, when it was purchased by Ray and Alice Brock, who turned it into their home. It was from there on Thanksgiving Day 1965 that an 18-year-old Arlo Guthrie took some trash to the Great Barrington dump, which was closed. He and his friend traveled around, looking for a place to dispose of it, and finally found a hill in Stockbridge to throw it down. And the rest, they say, is history, forever documented in Guthrie’s famous song, “Alice’s Restaurant.”
Chris, who told me her last name was Borek upon my inquiry, told me that Guthrie purchased the property in 1991, creating an interfaith church. “Everyone’s welcome,” she said. “We do what we can to bring our community together.” I was concerned that I was receiving special treatment, as Chris knew who I was and the purpose of my visit, but she quickly dispelled my reluctance to “interview” her.
At this time of year, she said, they give anywhere from five to 20 tours of the space each day. Tours are not scheduled; as people wander in, whoever is available takes the visitors through, providing whatever information the visitors are looking for. She did point out that with the exception of George Laye, director of the center, the rest of the staff is made up of volunteers.
When asked why she chooses to volunteer there, Chris said, “I love the people who come here. We’re all really different, but we all have this centered goal of bringing the community together. We’ve become a family, like any church community, I guess.” The center does not have any actual services; instead, it focuses on community events like free lunches every Wednesday for anyone who shows up and free yoga classes on Tuesday mornings.
The Thursday Hootenanny, she said, is held “just as a fun thing,” but also as an “audition ground” for young performers. George, she said, tries out youngsters in the very accepting and nurturing venue, and then chooses some to open for the national acts that perform in the Troubadour Series. The series, in which concerts are offered on the weekends in the summer, is used as a fundraising tool, she said.
This summer, they are also hosting the Greta Garbage puppet shows (muchmore.com), generally on Tuesdays and Thursdays with an occasional Saturday thrown in. The shows blend a little “storytelling, a little magic, ballooning and song,” all with a reduce, reuse, recycle theme, according to the flier.
Before heading back downstairs, Chris told me that the Hootenanny, although primarily an outlet for musicians, could showcase any type of talent. “We’ve had people who read poetry, belly dancers, harp players,” she said. I was anxious to discover what talents would be displayed this particular night.
But there was still time to while away before the show started. I wandered back into the lobby to take a closer look at a guitar on display. Trish, one of the other volunteers, offered without me asking that the guitar was being signed by each of the Troubadour performers over the summer. George was hanging out in the lobby with us, so I asked him what the plan was for the instrument at the end of the summer. “We’ll probably auction it, probably in October, after Arlo gets back,” he said.
And then it was finally time for the show to start. The crowd was small; maybe a dozen of us, including the five performers, who all signed up using just their first names. First up was Kurt, husband to volunteer Trish as well as the sound man for the weekly Hootenannies. Kurt fulfilled my expectation of what the night would entail — he played the banjo, and exceedingly well. Next up was Steve, who started his four-number set with what sounded to me like a country three-beat waltz on the piano, titled “A Song for Two.” After another piano piece, which he had written, he played a guitar duet with Branch, while also playing the harmonica. Outstanding.
Before Branch took his own turn in the spotlight, George said one of the kids in the audience had requested “Alice’s Restaurant” — did anybody know it? Branch in fact could play it, but no one really knew the words except for the chorus. Kurt came striding forward to the stage, saying over the music, “And then you just keep going, telling a long boring story about some stuff that happened …” After a laugh, we all sang the chorus together.
Azim played acoustic guitar next, covering some classic tunes, and finally it was Tommy’s turn. Tommy played guitar and harmonica, starting his set “with the first song I ever learned to play on harmonica” — “Old Susannah.” Again, we all sang along. After Tommy’s four tunes, I received a great surprise, obviously a well-loved tradition on Thursday nights — all the performers took the stage together in a finale, leading us in a rendition of Woody Guthrie’s “This Land is Your Land.” Kurt introduced the song: “Woody wrote this as a response to ‘America the Beautiful,’ which had only the happy parts. We’ll sing the first and last verse, which probably never made it into the textbooks.” It was a superb way to end a really fun evening.
Or at least I thought my experience there had ended. Making my way to the car, I met Azim returning to the center with a large bag in his hand. “Would you like a loaf of bread to take home?” he asked. I chose a baguette, partly surprised and partly not at the offer. It just seemed appropriate for the evening.
Driving home in the dark, with the mist of the fog swirling over the road’s surface, I sang along to my favorite CD, thinking that Chris and Trish had really summed up the Guthrie Center for me. “There’s just a good vibe to the place,” said Chris.
“That’s why we keep coming back. We come each week from Poughkeepsie,” Trish added.
If Trish and Kurt can drive an hour and a half to get there, maybe I can find my way back down to the Guthrie Center again. I do have some poems I’d love to try out …

Thursday Hootenanny night is held year-round, with sign-ups starting at 7 and performances at 8. Cost is free for performers, $3 for members and $5 for nonmembers. The Troubadour Series runs through Aug. 31. Upcoming shows include The Highwaymen the weekend of Aug. 22-24 (visit guthriecenter.org for a complete list of upcoming shows). Greta Garbage shows are held on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 11 a.m. and 2 p.m. through Aug. 28. Cost is $4. The center is located at 4 Van Deusenville Road. Info: 413-528-1955.

Grace, elegance at Jacob's Pillow

2008-07-30T17:10:52Z

Editor’s Note: This is the sixth in a summer-long series in which Advocate Assistant Editor Judith Fairweather, a Berkshire County native, explores the county as a tourist would (no special media accommodations) and visits places she has never been. Read about all of her visits at blogtheberkshires.com.

BECKET — The late afternoon sun had dipped behind the trees, bathing the Berkshire hills beyond Jacob’s Pillow’s Inside/Out stage in a soft glow.
The wooden benches provided for seating were nearly full shortly before the recent 6:30 performance. Others chose to bring chairs or blankets. It was a glorious setting for a glorious adventure in dance.
My friend Sharon had agreed to accompany me to this free performance. The evening started with the easy trip up Route 20 east out of Lee. I could tell on the journey that Sharon, who knows me and my geographic/spatial/map reading difficulties well, had some trepidation about my ability to find the place in the wilds of Becket. (Never mind that I had successfully navigated us both to our favorite venue, The Dream Away Lodge, in even wilder parts of Becket, previously.)
I was happy to offer to Sharon that one can get to the Pillow with — gasp — no map needed. As we headed up the mountain, soon enough we started to see the vertical banners hanging above, guiding our way. Shortly thereafter, we came up the Pillow’s wonderful, huge, bright yellow signs, which heralded our arrival at George Carter Road to our left. We had made it, without getting lost. Yea me!

]]> I think it is important to note here that I had actually been to the Pillow a short five days earlier, when I had taken the kids to Community Day, intending to base my column on that experience. However, it was so brutally hot that we didn’t last long enough to see any actual dancing, and thus I had to make the second trip in order to have a full experience of the Pillow. Sharon knew this, but still did not have full confidence in my ability to find the place again, and rightfully so. I have been known to get lost in my house at night on the way to the bathroom.
We found parking immediately, fairly close to the entrance, and then started to make our way across the grounds. Another feature I love about the Pillow is the very clear, numerous signposts that point your way to any part of the facility, which is quite expansive. The signs made me smile, because they are the same type of signpost that was featured in my all-time favorite TV show, “M*A*S*H.” Remember how it pointed out the direction and distances to the homes of the residents of the 4077th, like Toledo, Ohio, over 6,000 miles away, home to Corp. Maxwell Klinger? But I digress …
The historic property, which bears the same name as the farm founded there by the Carter family in 1790 and was designated a National Historic Landmark in 2003, was purchased in 1930 by dance pioneer Ted Shawn and his wife, Ruth St. Denis. It is rumored that the property was also a stop along the Underground Railroad. On July 9, 1942, the very first theater in the United States created specifically for dance, the Ted Shawn Theatre, opened its doors.
The Inside/Out series, created under the tenure of Liz Thompson (1980-89), is held on the Marcia & Seymour Simon Performance Space. The free performances are held Wednesday through Saturday at 6:30 p.m. during the festival season. Lydia Johnson Dance was performing the night of our visit.
The company performed two different sets of pieces over a total of 40 minutes. The first set saw the women dancers in simple short shifts, with the men in white T-shirts and khaki pants. In the second series, all the dancers were clothed in short black shorts and sleeveless tops in shades of blue from royal to periwinkle. Sharon and I agreed we liked the women best in the ultra-feminine attire of the first set, but the shorts allowed us to see the incredible muscles of all the dancers more clearly in the second set.
The company uses a combination of classical ballet as well as modern dance; the lifts were beautiful to behold and the feeling overall was very sensual and intimate. I thought the 40 minutes passed far too quickly and was sad to see it over. We both said we were going to tell friends and family about this incredible opportunity to see such free performances.
But now we were at a loss. It was far too early to head to our second destination of the night, so how would we while away the time? We decided to head to the Coffee Bar; having been out late the previous night, we were already starting the evening a little bit wiped.
But we were distracted on the way to our coffee. Walking past the Pillow Store and the Tea Garden, we saw a group of people gathered in a doorway. Naturally, I had to know what they were looking at.
We found ourselves peering into the Bakalar Studio, where a rehearsal (of what I don’t know) was under way. Sharon and I stood with mouths agape as the dancers practiced their movements across the floor, with the clearly defined muscles in their legs rippling as they leapt in their grand jete and landed lightly on the floor’s surface. I felt like my now-9-year-old when she was but a preschooler, peeking in the door of one of the studios at Terpsichore on North Street in Pittsfield, spying on the “big girls” in their pointe class before heading into her pre-ballet session. I think I was just as enthralled this night as she was on those long-ago Saturday mornings.
We finally headed for our coffee, drinking it as we walked around the grounds past the Pillow Pub, the Doris Duke Studio Theatre and the Ted Shawn Theatre. It was a beautiful evening — the meticulously landscaped grounds, the surrounding trees with their chirping birds and the approaching twilight all contributed to a feeling of peacefulness. It was a sublime way to kick off a weekend evening with a good friend after a busy work week
The grace of the dancers and the beauty of the Pillow property contribute to an atmosphere unlike that of any other venue I have visited in the Berkshires. And as for being in the “wilds of Becket”? Sharon was amazed to find that it is, in fact, only a short 10 or 15 minutes from Lee. And if I can find it, then you should make it a point to find it, too. The adventure is worth it.

Jacob’s Pillow is located at 358 George Carter Road in Becket, just off of Route 20. The festival season runs from June 14-Aug. 24. Each week during the season, the free Inside/Out performances are held Wednesday through Saturday at 6:30. There are numerous other free events as well, including Pillow Talks and pre-show and post-show talks. Each year the Pillow also holds a Community Day with free events and giveaways, which this year was held on July 20. Info: jacobspillow.org or 413-243-9919.

Can crazy at Mass MoCA

2008-07-27T18:40:09Z

I can't tell you the number of times I have driven right past the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art in North Adams on the way to Ericka's house. Each time, I (or my oldest daughter) would say, "Man, we've got to get there!"
Thus, it was a logical choice for my next column, especially with the added lure of the annual Bang On A Can music festival. Ericka and her two kids were going to meet us there, but we arrived first. (Did you know that at your local library you can check out free passes to attractions, just like you would check out a book? No kidding. It's one of the best-kept secrets ever!)

]]> That gave us time to check out the Tall Gallery, where the 1:30 recital was going to take place. There was a tree projected on the wall. It swayed, as if in a breeze, and changed colors as if with the seasons - from green with pink blossoms to all green to orange to mostly bare. "It's so, so pretty. Wow," said Gwen, my 6-year-old. She was content to watch that for a minute, but in a big hurry to get to Kidspace, which I had already told her about. She wasn't thrilled about sitting on the floor at the other end of the gallery to listen to the music.
That changed, though, once Ericka and the kids arrived and the music started. The first piece, with Andy Akiho on the steel drum, Andrea Springer on the violin and Andrew Kozar on the trumpet, was exactly what I had envisioned the music would be like. The steel drum has such a beautiful, uplifting sound. I can't imagine a dirge being played on one of those.
The next piece was by Jeffrey Gauett, who sang an opera selection from a balcony above us. "The lyrics are kind of weird," said 9-year-old Caroline with a wrinkled nose. Her confusion abated when I explained he was singing in Italian. No, wait, singing in German. Oops! Now it's English. When he finally got to the English version and we could understand what he was saying, the words drew giggles out of our 6-year-olds, and many of the adults in the crowd, too.
The third piece was MoCA at its best. Sean Conway appeared, holding a trumpet. But rather than playing it, he shook it, twirled it and thumped it while making a sort of spitting noise. We watched, with mouths hanging open. We waited for him to play. He didn't. Caroline leaned over to me: "Maybe it's a comedy and he's trying to get it to work." Interesting, to say the least.
But it was the last piece that most enthralled me. Rose Bellini played cello, while Philippa Thompson played saw. Yes, saw. Caroline of course asked why the woman was holding a saw. I explained that she was going to use it as an instrument. That brought a smile, raised eyebrows and a nose wrinkled in disbelief.
The music was compelling - ethereal and alien sounding. How on earth could she know where to place the bow on the saw to produce the exact tone she needed? Fascinating. And at the conclusion, the inevitable statement: "I want to play the saw," Caroline said.
The four pieces were just enough to hold the kids' attention but not so long that they got bored. Now it was time to decide where to go next, so I pulled out the map. Uh, oh. This map made even less sense to me than the map I had tried to use at Williams College Museum of Art. If you read my column about that visit, you know that I have a serious spatial difficulty, particularly with things depicted graphically. This does not extend to road maps, however; they appeal to my concrete sequential nature.
When I saw what I was supposed to use to navigate myself through the museum, a light clicked on. People attracted to museums are visual people. (I am for sure a word, not a picture, person.) That's why these seemingly incomprehensible pictures made sense to the majority of the population! It all became clear.
I put the map away. It was rocket science as far as I was concerned. However, Isaiah, Ericka's 6-year-old, knew just where to take us. Good thing! We were off to explore The Miss Rockaway Armada, nirvana for kids. The space has been transformed in to a type of tree house, sans the tree, with trap doors and numerous doodads everywhere you look. The kids would have happily stayed there all day.
Caroline was most fascinated by the manual typewriters (apple
doesn't fall far from the tree there, does it?). Visitors take small piece of supplied paper and write profound statements or wishes and then post them. An example: "dear big mr. moster (sic) i come in peace. From maddy/hippo." That person must have had trouble figuring out where the shift key was, but I'm glad she was reassuring the monsters. And another: "I wish I could click my fingers and be anywhere I wanted to be. But here's pretty good for the time being."
And what did Caroline type? "hi. i like art. but i don't like working hard for it. c.e.f." How funny is it that Miss Nonvisual-has spatial-difficulties Writer Person would want to spend all day in that room reading every word left behind rather than looking at other stuff?
But we did drag ourselves away, finally, to Kidspace, where we saw Devorah Sperber's "Interpretations" exhibit. Sperber took famous works of art - "Mona Lisa" for example - broke them down into pixels of color, and then reproduced them with colored spools of thread. When you view the spools through special optical devices, the works become clear. I can't even imagine, with my spatial disability, how she could have figured that out. Astonishing. The kids had the chance to make some art of their own, too.
Ericka wanted us to see "Eastern Standard: Western Artists in China," but we both agreed that was something we would have to come back kidless for. The kids were antsy to return to Miss Rockaway and were not in a mood to dither with the moms as they gawked at stuff.
However, they were impressed when we opened the doors into the darkness that is Jenny Holzer's "Projections" - a massive space filled with even more massive bean bags in total blackness, except for the gigantic scrolling words that start at the far end and roll toward you on the ceiling, walls and floor. It is most impressive from just inside the door. "This is awesome," Caroline breathed as we stepped inside.
After leaving there, we stumbled into a room with terrariums that you could put your head inside - again, perfectly MoCA - and also saw the prototype for the tree turbine that stands in a courtyard. (I asked - yes, it does work, and does produce electricity. It was unknown if it would actually work when it was installed back in the spring.)
It was decided we would end the day back at Miss Rockaway with her trap doors and typewriter. It was not easy ultimately pulling the kids out of there.
Walking out, I told Ericka I felt like I had only seen a fifth of what was there, but that what we had seen had certainly suited a trip with kids. We were there for about three hours, had walked thousands of miles (or at least it felt that way), had heard some cool music and had given the kids the chance to climb and squeal and be otherwise kids. A successful trip to be sure.
And as a P.S., our day wasn't done yet. We continued on to Pedrin's for their famous onion rings (where I have been before) and from there to the Adams Town Hall lawn, where I haven't been and where we watched the free Friday night movie ("Enchanted" this week; check out The Advocate's calendar of events at advocateweekly. com for future listings). Because it was Community Day, South Adams Savings Bank supplied free hot dogs, snow cones, fried dough, popcorn, soda and water. The movie was great, the sound wonderful and the massive number of kids, for the most part, very well-behaved. We learned that there will be a special Saturday night movie on July 26, when Park Street will be closed off for a car show and "Grease" will be shown on the lawn. A pact was made not to miss that one!

Mass MoCA is open through Sept. 2 from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. Sundays through Fridays. Hours Saturdays through Aug. 23 are 10 a.m. to 7 p.m.; after Aug. 23, it will close at 6 through Sept. 2. Hours Sept. 2 though June 2009 are 11 a.m. to 5 p.m.; closed Tuesdays. Cost: $12.50/adults, $9/students, $5/children 6-16, free/children 5 and under and members. Bang On A Can music festival runs through July 26. Most performances are included with admission; two separate ticketed events will be held Saturday, July 19, and Saturday. July 26. Info: massmoca.org or 413-662-2111.

Advocate Assistant Editor Judith Fairweather can be reached at jfairweather@
advocateweekly.com.

WCMA: Feeding my history need

2008-07-03T13:50:02Z

WILLIAMSTOWN — As a former high school social studies teacher, I seem to invariably be drawn to places that “feed my history need.” That need is what drew me recently to Williams College Museum of Art’s “Manifestos: American Dreams and Their Founding Documents” exhibit.
Having never been to WCMA before, the first challenge was parking. The fates were on my side the day of my late-afternoon visit, because I was able to find a spot right on the circular drive by the building. There aren’t many spots there, though; a sign proclaimed there was additional parking across the street.
I grabbed a brochure and a white piece of paper that listed the exhibits and their accompanying exhibit halls and floors on the way in, but was momentarily stumped by the extremely discreet signage. Turning the paper over, I discovered a map on the back.
However, what you have to know about me is that I have something I have always jokingly referred to as a “geographic visual spatial disability.” For all I know, it could be a real thing. What this means to me is that with the exception of road maps, I have trouble figuring out schematics, particularly assembly instructions for kids’ toys.
I couldn’t make heads or tails out of the map of the galleries. What I did ascertain, from the front (which was in list form — phew!) was that the gallery I was looking for was upstairs.

]]> Up I went, and then tried the map again. Baffled. OK, so I decided I’d just walk into the nearest gallery, figure out what was in there, and then try and use that to orient myself. Using this method, I stumbled into, lo and behold, the right gallery (seeing as how it is called the Large Prendergast Gallery, I think my chances were pretty good of finding it, but then again, I’ve been called “Wrong Way Conway” when I couldn’t figure out a sea of construction cones placed by old men with too much time on their hands at a small town recycling center).
The exhibit is a mix of American art as well as astounding documents relating to the founding of our country. I wasn’t familiar with many of the artists, but perused the hangings briefly. What I was floored by, though, was the breadth of the documents on view.
Some of the documents, among others, included are one of the 26 known copies of the first printing of the Declaration of Independence, which preceded by a full month the ceremonial signed copy; a House of Representatives version of the Bill of Rights, one of only four known to exist, printed in 1789; the Definitive Treaty of Peace and Friendship ending the Revolutionary War signed in Paris on Sept. 3, 1783; the Constitution, a committee of style draft, one of only 14 surviving copies from an original 60 from the Constitutional Convention of 1787, which includes “Objections to This Constitution of Government” on the reverse by George Mason, a senior member of the Virginia delegation to the convention; and the British reply to the Declaration of Independence written by King George III’s official representatives in North America, Viscount Admr. Richard Howe and Gen. William Howe, one of only six copies known to survive.
Amazing. Incredible. Mind-boggling. My heart actually pounded (what a history geek I am) to think that these documents are available, free to anyone who wants to take the time to visit, right in Williamstown. Normally housed in the college’s Chapin Library, they are now at WCMA while the library undergoes renovations. And I had no idea.
I was drawn from there into the Small Prendergast Gallery, which also had some fascinating items, from World War I recruitment posters to a photo by Matthew Brady of Gen. Winfield Scott Hancock, taken circa 1865. Brady was the famous Civil War photographer I had taught my U.S. history students about, and here was one of his actual photographs. Wow. Perhaps the most intriguing item there, though, was a video, made in 1894 (yes, that’s the right date) by Edison Manufacturing Co. of a strong man posing.
From there, I spied what I learned was a polychromed wood Egyptian head, circa 954-525 B.C., in another gallery. I whipped through the Class of 1935 gallery, without pausing, to enter the small Stoddard Gallery and its “Specimens of a Higher Art Ancient Art from the Collection.” Of course that lured me — I also taught ancient and medieval history to freshmen, one of my favorite subjects. The collection there is very small, but the pieces, like the massive Assyrian reliefs, were incredible to behold.
My time was running short, so I made a quick zip around to the other side of the upstairs, where I stumbled upon what is the current featured exhibit — “Julie Mehretu: City Sitings” in the Class of 1954 Gallery. The 11 pieces are massive. According to the WCMA brochure, Mehretu “employs a dynamic visual vocabulary that combines maps, urban grids, and architectural renderings to articulate complex social and geopolitical structures.”
I am firmly in the realist camp when it comes to my taste in art, yet I could have parked myself on one of the benches in that vast space and looked at just one of the pieces for hours. They were fascinating in color and design and really urged me to sit and view each one for an extended time.
Because I had only a limited amount of time, I had to leave before I had the chance to visit the museum shop (a good thing for my pocketbook) or see the three exhibits on the ground floor (a bad thing for my “feeding my history need”). Those include a Sol LeWitt exhibit, the “Nick Zammuto: Laser Show Six Perspectives on a Chaotic Resonator,” and, sadly for me, “Masterpieces Ancient to Modern.” There’s that “ancient” word again.
It is astounding to remember that WCMA is, after all, a college museum with an institution like the Clark Art Institute right down the road, yet it filled my history need admirably, even if I had to leave without seeing that last ancient exhibit. But isn’t it always better to leave the table a little bit hungry? That, in itself, ensures for me a not-too-distant return.

The Williams College Museum of Art, free and open to the public, is open from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday and from 1-5 p.m. on Sunday. It is located at 15 Lawrence Hall Drive on the Williams College campus. Info: 413-597-2429 or wcma.org.

Naumkeag: A Gilded Age family’s life, frozen in time

2008-06-23T18:46:59Z

STOCKBRIDGE — It is an indescribable treat to have the chance to get a glimpse of the daily lives of the ultra rich who created the Gilded Age “cottages” in Berkshire County.
Naumkeag, one of the Trustees of Reservations’ properties, located in Stockbridge, allows just that.
The 44-room mansion, completed in 1886 by Joseph Hodges Choate and his wife, Caroline Dutcher Sterling Choate, houses the entire contents left when their daughter Mabel willed the property to the Trustees upon her death in 1958.

]]> Mabel Choate was somewhat of a maverick for her time. Unmarried, she frequently toured abroad, alone, amassing a vast collection of items from her travels in Europe and Asia. She enjoyed parties and children, hosting both frequently at Naumkeag.
The dining room is set as it would have been for a Victorian dinner party; Mabel’s room — the master bedroom once used by her parents before their deaths — features a breathtaking art deco light fixture installed by Mabel. From Chinese porcelain collected by Mabel to a 16th-century wall hanging, the house documents the lives of the Choate family from the late 1800s through Mabel’s death.
But the property is much more than just the house. The 46-acre property is a joy to explore. This year, that task is made easier through a new program for kids called “Look Closely with Kipper” as well as a new audio tour included in the admission price.
Kipper, one of Mabel Choate’s favorite dogs, leads kids on a scavenger hunt that allows an organized, self-directed tour of the gardens, which were expanded under the direction of Mabel with landscape architect Fletcher Steel from 1926-1956. Designed for 4- to 10-year-olds, my 9-year-old daughter, Caroline, willingly became my test pilot for the new program on a recent visit.
We started through the arched garden gate to the left of the main entrance of the house. “This is cool,” she breathed, as we stepped through to find the Afternoon Garden to our right, a panoramic view of the mountains before us and the South Lawn, graced by a towering 250-year-old oak tree, a favorite picnic spot for the Choate family and the reason they purchased the property, to our left.
We paused in the garden to orient ourselves to the backpack provided for the scavenger hunt, finding a three-ring binder with our directions as well as a clipboard with a map and other activities like a word find, a word scramble and a maze. Caroline was eager to find the things we were supposed to look for, like the glass pieces used by the builders between the bricks at the front of the house that were meant to shimmer in the sunlight.
We both marveled at the way the black glass used to create a pool in the Afternoon Garden gave the illusion of much greater depth and laughed at the photograph of the real Kipper, included in the binder, that looked like he was walking on water.
Our adventure took us to the famous Blue Steps, somewhat misnamed because the steps are in fact stone. The name is derived from the blue fountains, each set within an arch, found at the landings. They were breathtaking viewed from the bottom up.
We were both somewhat disappointed to find the fountain in the Evergreen Garden empty; Caroline, on the evaluation that came with the program, said, “Water in the fountain would make it more exciting and beautiful.”
Our last stop, and probably the most intriguing, was the Chinese Garden. We entered through the sharp turn of the “Devil’s Screen” — legend has it that the Devil can only go in a straight line, so the tricky entrance ensures the Devil cannot enter — to find a space filled with some of Mabel’s oriental treasures. It contained many fascinating elements, from a temple built of concrete and teak to a circular Moon Gate and Oriental trees and plants.
Part of the scavenger hunt includes activities at various points, from puzzle building to the chance to create a drawing or read a book. Each activity box was full and well housed in a sturdy plastic container. Because the day was so hot, we did no more than peruse the contents before moving on to our next stop. Even so, the garden tour took more than an hour.
The audio tour, which we sampled at various points on our journey, was provided by a small unit hung on a nylon cord you can wear around your neck. At each desired location, you put in a code number to access the information about the site. The presentations were very thorough, providing great detail, but I found it too much to deal with in conjunction with our Kipper backpack, binder and clipboard as well as my reporter’s notebook, pencil and camera. I would definitely return to try the complete audio tour on a less hectic day.
We headed off to the coolness of the guided house tour. Our guide, Emily, was friendly, approachable and very well versed in the history of the family as well as the house. We started on the back terrace, entering the main hall from the rear. It is incredible how well preserved the home is and the attention to detail that has been observed in any necessary restoration. For example, the tin ceiling in the dining room has been replaced, but Emily had a portion of the original ceiling to show us.
Downstairs we viewed the dining room, butler’s pantry (the kitchen is in the basement and is currently under renovation; Emily said it is expected to open next summer), the library opening on to the Afternoon Garden, the formal drawing room and Joseph Choate’s study, tucked in the northern corner of the house away from the hustle and bustle.
It was easy to imagine the women and men in their Victorian garb picnicking on the lawns or enjoying a formal dinner. In each room, photos of the Choate family allowed us to see them as they enjoyed their summers in the Berkshires.
The house is graced by two Norman turrets, inspiring the feeling of being in a castle. The best upstairs guest room, on the south front corner of the house, makes use of that turret as a sitting area. How wonderful it must have been to be a guest in that house — to awaken in the four-poster canopy bed, ring the button by the bedside and then relax on the divan while waiting for the staff to bring the breakfast you had chosen from your breakfast menu the night before. The guest room on the north side of the house makes use of the turret as well; Caroline and I both agreed we would surely have loved to have lived there.
The third floor contains rooms that were reserved for servants as well as visiting children, complete with a nursery and a room for the governess. Every room was completely furnished just as Mabel had left it.
Although the tour took about an hour, the time seemed to go by too fast. I could have spent hours there looking in detail at the fascinating items in each of the rooms.
Naumkeag is an incredible treasure for its completeness. What an amazing gift Mabel Choate bestowed on the Berkshires! And in addition to learning another piece of Berkshire history, I also became acquainted with another woman I could identify with — an educated woman who loved to travel yet didn’t conform to the expected norms of her day.
The Trustees own close to 100 properties in Massachusetts, including 12 others in the Berkshires that range from the Col. John Ashley House and Bartholomew’s Cobble in Sheffield to Mountain Meadow Preserve in Williamstown. It is heartening to know that such a group exists with the mission to protect and preserve historic properties and open space for future generations. I look forward to visiting more of the Trustees’ properties in the future and sharing the history of the Berkshires with my kids.

Naumkeag, at 5 Prospect Hill Road in Stockbridge, is open daily through Columbus Day from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m., with the last tour starting at 4 p.m. The cost is $12 for adults and $3 for children 6-12 and includes the audio tour of the gardens, a guided house tour and the Kipper backpack rental for the kids. Trustees of Reservation members are admitted free. Info: thetrustees.org or 413-298-3239.

All aboard Berkshire Scenic Railway

2008-06-06T16:04:56Z

LENOX — My oldest daughter, almost 10, fell in love with trains — specifically, Thomas the Tank Engine — when she was just over 2 years old. In light of that, it’s inexplicable to me why I hadn’t taken her for a ride on one of Berkshire Scenic Railway’s trains before now.
Last Sunday, on a picture-perfect Berkshire day, I rectified that by taking my two girls on a ride from the railway’s home station in Lenox to the Stockbridge station and back. The people at the Lenox station were very friendly and efficient, and the station itself is gorgeous in its new life, housing a small gift shop as well as an area that gives Berkshire train history.

]]> Passengers waiting for their trips milled about on the platform, cautioned by trainmen to stay behind the yellow line while they craned their necks for a glimpse of the engine.
While we waited, we chose to take a walk through a coach that now houses a very thorough exhibit of the Berkshires’ Gilded Age cottages, filled with fascinating facts and photos of such places as Tor Court, which eventually became the former Hillcrest Hospital, and Cranwell, now a resort and spa.
Although I could have tarried in there for quite a while, reading every word, my 6-year-old was more interested in the interactive map that made a buzz and lit up a location on a map that showed each of the home’s locations.
Right on time, we heard the engine’s whistle blow as it approached the station. We were assisted onto the train by trainman Fred Schroeder. The girls chose to sit in the last car, in a set of facing seats across the aisle and behind Conductor Bob Dupont. Dupont certainly looked the part, with his suspenders, white shirt, black tie and spiffy conductor’s cap. I was puzzled by the holster on his belt, until I realized it was designed to hold the ticket puncher gadget.
Our diesel-electric engine, No. 8619, was built in 1953 by General Motors Electro-Motive Division for New York Central, and was ultimately purchased by Conrail. It was bought by BSR in 1985 (the railway was founded in 1984). Our coach was significantly older. No. 310 was built by Pullman in 1925 in Worcester. Before being purchased by BSR in 1984, it had seen duty as a commuter car in Hoboken, N.J.
The seats on the old coach contained metal springs, which created an almost school-bus feeling as we rocked from side to side, a very soothing motion, really. Schroeder explained the line from Lenox to Lee is a sectioned rail, which was responsible for the motion. He assured passengers that the ride would smooth out after we pulled out of the Lee station, where the line is a welded rail.
While we traveled, Dupont used a microphone to let the passengers know what we were passing, most of which were, sadly, closed Lee mills. On the upside, the train makes three crossings of the Housatonic River, which flowed swiftly, sparkling in the sunlight. Canada geese on the river made my kids point and look out the windows.
Coming into Lee, I marveled that although I had crossed those tracks by Joe’s Diner more times than I could count, I had never seen a train there and believed these rails were now defunct. I would be proven more wrong than even I knew on the ride back north.
We paused at the Lee station, but no passengers came aboard, so we were soon on our way south again. We arrived at the Stockbridge station right on time, and were given the opportunity to go into the beautifully restored station to use the restroom if desired.
It was there that I got my first glimpse of the engineers, who of course had been already on the engine when the train pulled up in Lenox. They were dressed as I had imagined — blue and white stripped engineer hats, blue and white striped shirts, blue jean overalls.
When we reboarded the train, my girls were insistent that we keep the same seats, although of course we were now in the front car, as opposed to the last. It was fascinating to watch the engine move onto the siding, pass us, move back onto the main line and then back up to us with a massive thump.
Our return trip was more eventful than the trip south had been. The nonprofit railroad, staffed entirely by volunteers, uses the main line of the Housatonic Railroad. Dupont explained to the passengers that the railroad used to operate Mondays through Fridays, leaving the line free for the BSR trains on the weekends. The Housatonic operates between Canaan, Conn., and Pittsfield, picking up and shunting CSX freight cars between them.
With the increase in freight shipping, the railroad had too many cars to move in a five-day week, so the decision was made to add an additional trip on Sundays. The line is a single line, unsignaled track, which means that when two trains are on the line, the switches that move one onto a siding have to be, as in days past, thrown by hand.
On our way back to the Lenox station, the freight train waited for us north of the Lee station. When we arrived in Lee, the conductor had to leave the train, and the switch that would move us onto the siding was thrown. Once the all clear was given, the freight train could thunder by while we waited. Well, OK, maybe not thunder by, but it sure felt that way as the freight cars came by at about 25 mph. The maneuver caused us to return to the Lenox station a bit late, but I found the extra time on the train to be a bonus, rather than a hardship.
After disembarking the train, I asked Dupont if it was possible to take the early train into Stockbridge and the later train back. He assured me that was fine, and told me that a free trolley operates from the Stockbridge station to Main Street and the Norman Rockwell Museum. It runs from the Lee station to the Prime Outlets as well.
I think the next time I take this rockin’-and-rollin’ trip back in time, I will incorporate a visit to Stockbridge’s Main Street as well.

The Berkshire Scenic Railway operates Saturdays, Sundays and Monday holidays only. Trains depart the Lenox station at 10:10 a.m. and 2:20 p.m. for the 90-minute roundtrip to Stockbridge with a stop in Lee. A midday train leaves for a 45-minute roundtrip to Lee at 12:15 p.m. Cost for the Stockbridge roundtrip is $15/adults, $14/seniors and $8/kids 4-14. For the Lee trip, fares are $9/adults, $8/seniors and $5/kids 4-14. Info: 413-637-2210 or berkshirescenicrailroad.org.

The Mount sings a siren, not a swan, song

2008-05-22T13:37:01Z

Editor’s Note: This is the beginning of a summer-long series in which Advocate Assistant Editor Judith Fairweather, a Berkshire County native, explores the county as a tourist would (no special media accomodations) and visits place she has never been.

I have stood in a light spring mist at the top of the Eiffel Tower and surveyed Paris below me. I have been to a bull fight in Madrid. I have explored the Parthenon and Acropolis in Athens. I have been up close and personal with Michelangelo’s David in Florence and have rambled along the Mosel River in Germany. I have even basked in Aruba’s warm Caribbean waters. I have seen the magnificence of the buttes in Colorado and met Mickey at Disney World. I have also, like many Berkshirites, spent countless vacations in the York/Ogunquit areas of southern Maine.
Where haven’t I been? The answer is that I haven’t been to the most important places of all.
I haven’t been a tourist in my own backyard. At 44 years old, it’s about time I visited the jewels of the Berkshires that surround us all every day. This summer, I intend to do just that.
My first visit was to The Mount, home to the prolific American author Edith Wharton from 1902 until 1911.

]]> The Gilded Age “cottage” was purchased by Edith Wharton Restoration in 1997, and now faces foreclosure by Berkshire Bank if it doesn’t raise $3 million by Oct. 31, a deadline extended so The Mount can generate revenue during the summer season. This potential loss spurred me to make it my first stop on my temporary tourist visa.
Last Thursday, I pulled in the drive on a cool, gray day. A sign in the window of a booth in front of the as yet unrestored barn told me to proceed to the main house for a ticket, and encouraged me to go the quarter of a mile on foot, although more parking was available closer to the house.
I chose the walk, which proved to be the right choice for me. Surrounded by only the sounds of my footsteps on the unpaved drive and the chirping of the birds in the trees, I was struck by the sight of two massive trees serving as silent sentinels to passersby.
The house began to show itself through the trees, heightening my anticipation.
And then I saw it, to my left, in all its 17,000 square feet of glory. It was easy to imagine carriages pulling up to the front door, footmen scurrying to help the passengers alight.
I was helped by a very friendly woman, warm and sincerely passionate about the estate, something I found in every person I spoke to there. She directed me to start with a 12-minute video about Wharton, her writing, the home and its restoration.
Emerging from the synopsis, I headed to the original entrance, where I was met by a guide who gave me a brief overview of what I would see. She was patient and knowledgeable in answering my multitude of questions.
I then moved upstairs to the main part of the house, where the next guide, Tom, showed me the beautifully restored gallery. At my request, he shared several details with me but was not intrusive, simply offering me information based on my particular level and area of interest. Moving on to the dining room, drawing room, Wharton’s library (which now houses her collection of 2,600 books), as well as her husband’s den, I was struck by the view of the marble terrace beyond the massive windows and doors, and the gardens beyond that. Images of glorious garden parties with women and men drifting along the terrace, into the house and walking the paths of the gardens danced before my eyes. I could almost hear the lilt of their laughter.
The bedroom level, however, was heartbreaking. Not yet restored, the empty rooms and peeling paint only hint at the glories that could be. Standing in Wharton’s bedroom, where she did most of her writing, and looking out her windows to the gardens, I felt overcome with a connection to her — two women, two writers.
My feet itched to travel up the stairs to the topmost floor, which housed the female servants’ quarters, but the area is closed to public view. Instead, I used the servants’ stairs to return to the bottom floor so I could view the gardens.
Following a circuitous path around the back of the first garden area, I felt a thrill of familiarity as I came upon the stonework surrounding it. Standing within, the fountain splashing merrily, I looked down the straight path toward the opposite garden, feeling as though I was once again in the gardens of Versailles, the palace of kings and queens of France including Louis XVI and Marie-Antoinette, albeit on a much miniaturized scale.
Knowing that Wharton had traveled extensively in Europe, particularly in Italy and France, where she made her home after leaving The Mount, I can not help but think the resemblance to those French gardens was not simply a wish on my part to return to that time and place.
I was thrilled to discover I could actually mount the steps to the marble terrace seen from inside the dining and drawing rooms. Gazing out with the French doors of the drawing room to my back, I could see in my mind’s eye the gardens as they might have appeared at dusk, lit with lanterns, and could almost hear the whisper of music playing.
After taking my last picture, I turned, reluctantly, to leave, surprised to find an hour and a half had passed. I headed down the road back toward my car, stopping for one last glance over my shoulder.
The Mount, a place I had read about for years but never bothered to visit, had drawn me in with its beauty and possibilities. I felt a connection to its European design and flavor and to its owner, a woman and a writer like myself. And to think this could be the last summer, the last chance, for the public to visit it.
Perhaps Edith Wharton herself was with me in her bedroom as I gazed out the windows, whispering in my ear, “There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.” Perhaps my role is to be the mirror.

The Mount is now open from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. until Memorial Day, after which it will be open from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. daily. Admission through June 14 is $13/adults, $11/students with ID, free for children under 6. From June 15 through Sept. 1, admission is $16/adults, $13/students, free for children under 6. Sept. 2-Oct. 31, admission costs revert back to the spring fees. Guided tours are available June 15-Sept. 1 for $2. Contributions to save The Mount can be made at its Web site, edithwharton.org, or by mail to Box 974, Lenox, MA 01240. Info: 413-551-5111.

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2008-05-21T15:13:03Z

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