On Oct. 28, 1897, five men from the Turkey Hills section of Granby started out for the Hubbard River (the old name for the East Branch of the Farmington River) in Hartland Hollow to hunt coons. Why they didn’t hunt the several good hunting areas in and around Granby nobody will ever know, but they nevertheless made the decision to hunt in Hartland. They hired a local Hartland Hollow resident, Lowell Humphrey, to accompany them with his dog. They then followed the Hubbard River several miles north, well into West Granville, Mass. It was during their return trip that Humphrey walked too close to the top of some ledges and fell to his death. This tragedy served to establish the first exact hunting date for the men who were to become the charter members of the club that was to be known as the Old Newgate Coon Club.It is doubtful that the original group continued annual hunts in Hartland Hollow for a few years following 1897; however, they continued to hunt closer to the Granby area.There are no written records until the purchase of the Barnes place in Hartland Hollow in 1910. The original group had been joined by several others who joined in on the annual week-long coon hunts. These were truly horse-and-buggy days. It was an annual sight to see these fellows start out with horses and wagons, blankets, horse feed, roast chicken, ham, potatoes, salt pork, gun and shells and any other supplies they could not readily buy “over in the Hollow.” (Incidentally, the local dialectal pronunciation was “Holla.”)After making camp in barns and houses for 10 years, the group organized and bought a vacant property at Hartland Hollow, which had been built in 1796 as the original Red Lion Inn on the old Hartford to Albany stage coach route, at the crossroads of the Granville-Winsted route. Time was when this area was quite a business district with a post office, school, inn, spoon mill, four corners and several farms all within a stone’s throw, but this was destined not to last for long.Before the Civil War, the inn had moved to Stockbridge, Mass., the spoon mill had been absorbed by a more thriving mill at Spoonville, down river, and the remaining families struggled to retain their school and post office.What a beautiful location that Hartland Hollow property was. The Hubbard River — tumbling along about 75 feet in front of the door, which in normal flow gave the music of gentle rain, hemmed in by the Hartland Mountains rising 600 feet high on each side of the valley — made for short days and long nights so much the better for coon hunters; and then, the mammoth elm tree at the corner of the house, 22 feet 6 inches in circumference, with a 172-foot limb spread in 1930. There was also the schoolhouse meadow with its acres of white and yellow daisies and fringes of red raspberries, and the swimming holes, one just above the bridge and “old black water” up at the gorge.Here it was that the pioneers of this club, and those who were to follow, inspired by the grandeur of nature and the power of nature’s God, laid the foundation of a fraternity of good fellows which, after more than a century, goes forward in the principles of brotherhood of man and the fatherhood of the Almighty.The certificate of incorporation was drawn up on Feb. 15, 1910. The name of the corporation is to be “The Old Newgate Coon Club, Inc.” The nature of the business to be transacted and the purposes to be promoted or carried out by said corporation are as follows: “For the promotion of social intercourse, recreation and mental improvement by such means as shall be expedient and proper for that purpose; and also to purchase, hold or lease any real or personal property to carry out the purposes of the corporation.”On June 13, 1910, a committee formed for the purpose reviewed three pieces of real estate as a potential home for the young organization, and the Barnes property in Hartland was eventually chosen. This consisted of the old inn, 100 acres of land and several tumbled-down out buildings. The purchase price was $800.The annual game suppers were started about 1908 and were mostly held at member’s homes until 1915, when for three successive years they were held at Old Newgate Prison. Starting in 1918 the game suppers climaxed the week-long annual hunt, a strictly stag affair, which has continued uninterrupted. In January 1937, the original property, with its homey improvements was sold to the Water Bureau of the Metropolitan District of Hartford for $24,500, and immediately factions arose among the members, with some leaning strongly toward an offer from the Water Bureau to build a clubhouse up Valley Brook, which they could use for 10 years and then vacate. This offer was in lieu of any payment for the Hartland real estate.Three potential sites were considered, two in Hartland, the other in Norfolk; it was this last property which was agreed upon. The purchase price was $11,500. After essential remodeling, a beautiful clubhouse was completed, but the corporation found itself $5,000 in debt, and instead of being almost 100 percent a hunter’s club, they were immediately forced to find sources of additional revenue to maintain a $30,000 piece of real estate, including 560 acres of land. Various avenues were considered, and in 1940 it was decided to have a licensed bar and a vigorous membership drive, which sought to add ladies to the membership. No longer could the club be maintained strictly as a man’s club. It was obvious that there must be regular, frequent meetings of the officers and directors, an active house committee, a similar bar committee and other special committees. The result of the membership drive was to increase membership from 64 to 135; the annual dues were increased to $40. Perhaps the high point of the club’s illustrious existence occurred in the aftermath of the 1955 flood. The facilities were made available to the American Red Cross, and for two months non-residents were sheltered and fed during the period of emergency.As The Old Newgate Coon Club embarks on its second century, its members can look to the future with pride and satisfaction, recognizing that there is still a close adherence to those principals set forth in their certificate of incorporation — for the promotion of social intercourse, recreation and mental improvement by such means as shell be expedient and proper for that purpose, and that the duration of this corporation is unlimited. Bob Grigg is the town historian in Colebrook.
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Dick Hermans in the Oblong Bookstore on Millerton\u2019s Main Street in 1985.
Provided
For Hermans, the award has prompted some reflection about why he has spent so much of his life involved in community projects.
“I was thinking about it this morning: Why do I do what I do?” he said. “And I think no matter what I’ve done, whether it’s been school board or rail trail, I’m trying to be useful to the communities I’m associated with.”
Hermans is perhaps best known as the longtime co-founder and steward of Oblong Books in Millerton, a business that began almost by accident. He and his former partner, Holly Nelson, were living in Millerton and looking for something to do during the winter. They had been painting houses, including the Grange Hall in Millerton, a job Hermans got through his aunt, who belonged to the Grange.
At the time, Hermans was also working in insurance for his father, doing collections.
“It was fine except I was doing collections, and it really kind of left me cold,” he said.
He and Nelson began thinking about what they might do together. Nelson was an avid reader, while Hermans had studied journalism and had worked in a record store. They noticed a chain of book and record stores operating elsewhere in the Hudson Valley and decided to follow that model.
And so Oblong was born.
Dick Hermans in the Oblong Bookstore on Millerton’s Main Street in 1985.Provided
“We really learned it by the seat of our pants,” Hermans said.
The business would eventually become a beloved and integral part of Millerton’s commercial life. But although Hermans may have learned the book business as he went, his affinity for retail — and for the connections that happen across a counter — had begun much earlier.
As a child, his second-grade teacher operated a little cardboard pencil shop in the classroom, and Hermans still remembers the satisfaction of selling a pencil for a nickel.
“I really liked selling somebody a pencil for a nickel,” he recalled. “I can remember that experience, and it was so pleasant.”
Later, while living in Arizona, he helped establish a food co-op and worked at the counter.
“I kind of knew that I liked doing that kind of thing,” he said. “It’s a nice way to be pleasant with people, but without making too much commitment to them.”
His relationship with Millerton also predates Oblong. His grandparents lived in the village, and he first came to Millerton as a baby. Over the years, he has watched the town change through several generations.
He remembers a Millerton with a much broader array of businesses, when stores such as Delson’s, the Main Street department store that stood for nearly 40 years in what is now Millerton’s Antiques Center, seemed to carry almost everything a resident might need.
“You could find everything from a set of dishes to a shotgun,” he recalled.
The rise of shopping malls changed that kind of downtown retail, he said, but Millerton has remained a lively commercial village.
“For us, it’s been a great place to have business,” Hermans said. “It’s a busy village.”
For Hermans, running a store was never simply about selling books and records. It was a way of being part of a place.
Music has remained another constant. Hermans continues to sell music at Oblong and hosts the radio program “New Harmony” on WKZE. The business of selling music has changed dramatically over the years, particularly with the rise of streaming, but Hermans has adapted.
He was initially reluctant to bring vinyl records back into the store because of their expense. But about four or five years ago, he began stocking LPs again, and they have become the main form of music the store sells.
He finds that many of the customers buying them are reconnecting with music they loved years ago.
“I do best with classic albums that people may have had when they were young,” he said. “And now that they’re retired, they want to hear it again.”
Hermans still reviews between 700 and 1,200 new music releases each week through the store’s distributor, Alliance Entertainment, carefully deciding what belongs on Oblong’s shelves.
That same commitment to place has led Hermans into a wide range of community projects. His work with the Harlem Valley Rail Trail is among the efforts he mentions when reflecting on his years of civic involvement. He has also served on the school board and has been involved with the Millerton Business Alliance and the Irondale Schoolhouse. He is now involved with The New Pine Plains Herald, which he sees as complementary to the work of The Millerton News and The Lakeville Journal.
“I really think that the important thing about this award is that people understand what a newspaper does to connect them to their community,” he said. “And if that means anything to their lives, they gotta support it.”
Hermans knew Mary Lou and Robert Estabrook and remembers them as people who were deeply conscious of their responsibilities to the community.
“They were really nice folks,” he said. “They were very conscious of what their role in the community was.”
There is, in fact, still plenty on his plate. Hermans admits he needs to scale back because he has taken on more than his current abilities can comfortably accommodate.
“To be given this award is very special,” he added. “But I don’t feel like I’m done.”
This article has been changed to reflect that Hermans and Nelson were partners. A prior version states that they were married.
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Adamah Farm crew members planning out the day’s tasks on a late September day.
Janna Siller
Over my 15 years of growing vegetables in Falls Village, I’ve exerted my will over all kinds of conditions, from drought to humidity to crows with a taste for cantaloupe. That’s what farming is all about. You zip around the field, hopping on and off tractors, moving hoses and chasing weeds, all in an effort to arrange conditions in favor of your crops. It is the crops’ job to gulp up sunlight and move water through their stems, to transform solar energy into your next pesto or ratatouille or butternut squash soup. It is the job of the farmer to irrigate just enough but not too much, to slice dandelion leaves without damaging delicate cabbage roots, to pander and pamper and stay in tune with what plants need to thrive.
The easy part of farming is trusting plants’ resilience. I have seen bright green shoots barrel ahead out of a plant torn to shreds by hail. I’ve watched wilty, heat-stressed seedlings turn rigid overnight and greet the next morning with vigor. The hard part is letting go of what you can’t control. As our crops lapped up Friday’s gentle sunshine and I considered the weekend forecast, I imagined roots holding tight to wet earth and branches supporting each other in sideways, pelting rain. I made sure all of our storage crops were already harvested and tucked away. I battened down the sides of our greenhouses and wished the remaining field crops good luck.
The nor’easter didn’t materialize too dramatically in our corner of New England. A few broken branches and debris blown about, nothing like the July Fourth storm that sent half a tree crashing onto the deer fence and left crates of fresh veggies in coolers without power.
Fall storage crop harvests amid soil building cover crops at Adamah Farm in Falls Village. Janna Siller
Farming is an exercise in acceptance. To do it well and return year after year, you have to balance hubris and humility. The prize can often be a certain equanimity, a training in the art of moving into the next day even when the last one scrambled all your plans.
Epic change is not always about the unexpected. It also comes like clockwork on the seasonal calendar. As I type, the last of summer’s watermelons wait naively on the vine for a few hot days to finish ripening. Broccoli are holding their leaves wide as they did in June and July, only to find that the hours of sunlight decrease with each earlier sunset. Plants can’t pick up and go south or call the manager to order a bonus round of sunshine. Their growth slows and they get a resigned look to the hue of their leaves, so different from the frenzied growth of summer.
The release of fall is not tragic or gloomy. It is not an ending because so many fall tasks are about setting up for the new beginnings in spring.
We turn the vines that yielded thousands of pounds of fruit into the soil, where healthy microbes feast on their rotting stems. Then we plant cover crops — a mix of cereal grains like rye and oats and legumes like peas, vetch and clover. Cover crops hold the soil and its nutrients in place over winter, feeding the soil food web and adding organic matter that next season’s crops will need to grow.
We sort sprinklers and repair hoses. We inventory tarps. We take notes about which plants did well where and how we might try a new approach for this or that. We stack crates of cured garlic and onions and winter squash in a cool, dark room.
We save seeds from tomatoes and beans and lettuce, carefully labeling each variety for next season’s long, sunny days.
Janna Siller is the farm director at Adamah, a community farm in Falls Village offering CSA shares, educational programs and a food access program.
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