Little Falls is another fine example of Upstate New York’s formerly prosperous era, between the Civil War and World War II. Many of the Victorian grand dames lines the streets, some kept up while other decaying.

One of the claims to fame of the city is The Human Polar Bear. City resident and eye specialist businessman Professor Louis Sugarman was thus called the Human Polar Bear for his sensationalist plunges into the freezing cold waters of the nearby Mohawk River. The man apparently bathed “daily,” even in temperatures of 20 BELOW zero!

The day we visited, the Monday after New Year’s Day, was extremely cold and the wind whipped around the rugged cliffs. No baths for us! I originally hoped we could wander the streets a bit, snapping photos and admiring the architecture, but it was too cold. Instead, we sauntered into Ann’s Cafe and Deli Restaurant for coffee and sandwiches. The prices are outstanding and the food was tasty. The coffee was absolutely phenomenal.

After we’d thawed out, we wandered the canal area. Little Falls was one of the Erie Canal cities, and the city thrived from the commerce. Railroads and, later, the highways, replaced the canal. The city slumped from the loss but Lock 17 is here and is a popular tourist site for canal enthusiasts. According to Wikipedia, the lock here at Little Falls was “the highest lift lock in the world at 40.5 feet (12.3 m) in height” until recently.

The city has created a lovely park and visitors’ center in this area by the canal. We wandered the park.

In the center of the park stands an odd, modern sculpture. It clashes quite loudly amongst a backdrop of very old buildings and antique shops.

The park hosts a number of stores. I am not a fan of shopping, but it was so cold that we decided to wander in the building. What pleasant surprises we found!

The buildings were crammed full with quirky old stuff for sale. We delighted browsing through so many interesting tools, crafts, furniture and other objects that left us baffled. We spotted this very odd device. It is made from blown glass and is enormous- larger than a beach ball! We played a little guessing game. My son thought perhaps it was a huge Christmas tree ornament. I guessed it was a Victorian decoration for a garden, like those glass globes on pedestals.

I submitted the photo and asked my NewYorkTraveler.net Facebook friends. What a surprise! Three people answered and knew exactly what it is– a Japanese fishnet float! Fishermen once hung these glass floats on the edges of their nets to make sure the nets did not drop down into the water, lost forever.

I also spotted an old rotary phone. Oh this brought back memories! Remember how long it took, just to dial a number? And if you dialed the wrong digit, what a pain it was to start over!

We spent too long in the shops, looking at so many things. A storm was coming and we knew we must start the drive home soon… but there was always something incredibly interesting to see!

Finally, we made our way out. I took a quick diversion to the bridge over the canal. We were surprised to see extensive damage, still, from the August and September hurricanes and severe flooding that had hit the area. You can see that the floods washed away parts of the foundations of these buildings. Oh no!

The waterway was messy, full of piles of enormous rocks, fallen trees and some debris. I could tell that there had been some cleanup already. I wonder how extensive the damage was after the hurricanes?

The sidewalk was closed, for obvious reasons. You can see right down through the foundation.

We slowly made our way back to the vehicle. The streets were nearly empty and the clouds were beginning to darken. Next time we return to this little city, it will be in better weather to visit the Nicholas Herkimer Home just east of the city limits.

On our way, we passed by the Fairfield Windmill Project, a hotly contested “renewable energy” project that greatly divided the community.

A New Year’s Stroll Through Little Falls, NY

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From what I have been able to ascertain, the Oneida Stone was something akin to the Ark of the Covenant for the Hebrews. The stone followed the Oneidas to their new settlements (all by itself without human intervention– some say the stone rested on a glacier, hm); when the stone was heaved into the crotch of a tree, the Oneidas were victorious in battle. They used the stone as a council landmark, too.

Now I am wondering if there were not several stones that the Oneidas called sacred– one in Smithfield here and another smaller one elsewhere. Or perhaps there was one small sacred stone and it rested on some larger stones that have been confused as being sacred? Here’s a lithograph drawn by historian Henry Rowe Schoolcraft in his book, “Notes on the Iroquois.” That looks too large to be able to fit in the crotch of a tree, and it much too large to have been placed on the memorial table at Forest Hill Cemetery, which I took a photo of, below:

Guess what, we found the stone depicted in the old lithograph.

The uniqueness of the stone (or stones??) is that it is not indigenous to the Mohawk Valley– the stone is apparently of syenite, found in the Adirondack region. The Oneidas first settlement was somewhere near Oneida Lake, but they eventually moved to the area now known as Smithfield, NY. It is a beautiful area that commands a beautiful view of the valleys of Madison County.

The first white settler of Smithfield was an American Revolution patriot who fought that first battle at Lexington and Concord in 1775. He was given this tract of land for his military services. Oddly enough, he is my direct ancestor; so there is a personal interest in these stories. When my ancestor settled these lands, the Oneidas had recently left the area to settle in what is now known as Oneida Castle, NY– I blogged about it when I stopped to see the Skenandoah Boulder, which rests by the side of the road right outside the town limits.

Back to Smithfield here, it is said that the Oneidas first settled in this area as far back as the 1400s. They built a large village here, with Nichols Pond at the back and a swampy moat surrounding their village to protect the people from enemies (notably, the nasty Huron Indians from Canada).

Click the photo for ALL SIZES and choose “Original” to see it close up. You can see the pond at the back of the village, the moat on either side, and a fire in the entrance.

You probably also see some men with guns shooting at the village. What’s up with that?

Well, I’m glad you asked! If it wasn’t for this battle, you just might be speaking in French today! This scene depicts the famous battle of 1615 here on this spot. Samuel de Champlain, founder of Quebec and buddy to those nasty Canadian Huron Indians we mentioned, decided to travel to this Oneida village and provoke a fight. The Hurons and the Oneidas had a long-standing animosity. The Hurons thought de Champlain and his French buddies (and their amazing “iron arrows”– AKA “guns”) could wipe out the Oneidas.

It was the first time the Oneidas had ever seen or heard the “iron arrows.” They were absolutely floored, but they fought back viciously. de Champlain was wounded in battle, and the French and Hurons took off for Canada, leaving the Oneidas intact but badly wounded.

The Oneidas (and their tribesmen, the Iroquois League of Nations) never forgot that battle. They made the French their bitterest enemies. When things grew heated between the English and the French over North American territory, the Iroquois allied themselves with the English to defeat the French. And that’s exactly what they did, in the French and Indian War of 1754.

The area is a park now. If we had brought our shovels, we may have tried to look for some arrowheads or artifacts. but instead we roamed the vast acreage and explored the wooded area. There are trails that lead all around the pond. There were– amazing to me– hardly any insects.

The forest was strange to me, I don’t know why. I’ve been in all sorts of forests and have never been jittery, but this was eerie and forbidding.

And it was as humid as anything. We didn’t follow the trail for very long, but we did walk to the wetland overlook of the swampy end of the pond. It’s a huge pond!

Finally, across the park was another historical marker where some archaeology had been ongoing.

The pits were net extremely large– they were perhaps the size and depth of a kiddie pool. I do wonder how they stored squash and corn in soft soil pits, especially in the forest during New York’s steamy summers and wet autumns. But that’s another investigation…

As for the Oneida Stone, I’m still looking. From what I have been able to gather, “the” syenite stone was taken from the Oneidas in 1849 and set in Forest Hill Cemetery. The Oneidas were almost completely eradicated as a people. But they have come back to their ancestral lands, and the stone was returned to them in the 1970s. It is said that the stone now rests outside the door of their official council house, somewhere south of Oneida, NY. I hope to find it when I go out that way, soon. So the quest continues!

UPDATE: Since the writing of this article, I found the Oneida stone! Read about my story.

Oneida Indian Settlement, Nichols Pond, in Smithfield

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It costs the state $300,000 to operate the facility, but lawmakers say with a little help they could do it for less. One idea that would follow in the footsteps of other park sites around the state, entering into a public- private partnership to keep the home in operation.

…”We were very much surprised to learn that the plan is for a permanent closure and efforts are already being undertaken to move artifacts, furniture, looms, to remove those and take them to People’s Island and that would be the end of the Herkimer Home. Many of us think if those artifacts leave Herkimer County they are never coming back,” said [NYS Assemblyman Marc] Butler.

The Herkimer Home is one of the finest national parks in Central New York. I first visited the park during a field trip in seventh grade, and have adored the place ever since. Additionally, the site serves as a very important reminder of New York’s great past, a time of severe struggle and perseverance during the fight for Independence.

$300,000 is a PALTRY sum compared to many of the other expenses that New York has. The artifacts should NOT be taken from the site. If the state no longer wishes to support the park, then hopefully a private investor will rise to the occasion. Until then, the park should remain open and the artifacts untouched.

Do school children even visit this site anymore? I’m sure there is much more that the state can do to promote the park. We owe it to General Herkimer and all the men who laid down their lives so that we could even HAVE a New York State.

Don’t Close the Herkimer Home!

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In autumn of 2007, we drove up to the foothills of the Adirondacks, north of Utica. We wanted to visit and pay respects to Baron Frederich Wilhelm Augustus Steuben, aka Baron von Steuben, buried on Starr Hill Road in Remsen, NY. He is known as the “drillmaster of the American Revolution,” but affectionately known as “von Schtooby” to my history-buff kids. My daughter says (in a very good German accent) that any American desiring to learn the techniques of the bayonet must have asked himself “vhat vould Schtooby do.” Ha!

I thought the site would be just the huge burial marker that I have seen in brochures. I grossly underestimated the size, quality, and beauty of this historic site. Our jaws dropped open when we pulled up to the gate.

I cannot express with words the eye-popping grandeur of this site, and the spectacular view of the Mohawk Valley below. My lame photos only serve to dim the incredible landscape. Wow. That’s all I can say. What turned out to be a 10-minute visit rapidly became an hour of woodland exploration and historical reflection.

I’ll drop a few photos to aid in my inadequate descriptions. How I longed for a fancy camera to fully portray its beauty!

The site is very well kept. Although it was officially closed, trails were open and brochures were available from a waterproof box. We turned to walk down a heavily wooded trail to Steuben’s burial site. Walking into these woods is like walking into another world. Strange birds chittered to us from the treetops. Deep hoofprints of virile bucks heavily imprinted the soil. Crunchy layers of pine needles and the remnants of a gravel path urged our feet to go deeper into the forest. It was… primeval. Numerous historical markers were the only evident signs that someone had been here before us.

We paid our respects to the man so responsible for the success of our independent nation.

Steuben had requested in his will that he be buried in an unmarked grave. However, ten years after his death, a road was proposed to cut through his burial place (progress, you know). The body was interred and placed in its present-day site: a five-acre, heavily wooded area. The marker is enormous (as you can see) but very plain. A crown is carved on one side, and Steuben’s name on the other. A few stone plaques gave more details.

My daughter has written a brief history of this patriot:

Baron von Steuben (“Baron” was not his first name; Frederick was his first name, and he had several “middle names”) was a hardcore veteran from Prussia (now a part of Germany) when he came to America to aid the Continental Army in its fight for independence. He became known as the “Drillmaster of the American Revolution,” because during the harsh winter of 1777 in Valley Forge, Baron von Steuben taught the Americans how to perform bayonet drills. His services were invaluable, for until the Americans learned how to use this dreadful weapon, the British troops and Hessian mercenaries almost always won the day on the battlefield, for they knew how to use the bayonet. But when the American troops became more skillful with it, they could be more of a match against the British.

Baron von Steuben was well-liked by General Washington and his officers; however, communication with the Americans was at first difficult. Steuben did not speak English, and it became necessary for him to be accompanied by an interpreter when drilling the Continentals. There, too, was another problem– none of Washington’s officers spoke German! Thankfully, the language that Steuben and a few officers understood was French. So when Steuben drilled the Continentals, he spoke in French while his interpreters (Gen. Nathaniel Greene and Lt. Col. Alexander Hamilton) would translate itinto English for the soldiers. These two American officers, particularly Hamilton, were responsible for teaching Steuben the English language.

Not surprisingly, a close friendship developed between Hamilton and Steuben. After the war’s end, Steuben, who suffered great financial difficulties, found sanctuary in Hamilton’s home. Hamilton did everything in his ability to aid Steuben, who is reported to have once told some impatient creditors, “My Hamilton is my banker.” Hamilton was also responsible for helping Steuben secure land in Upstate New York that Congress had promised Steuben for his services. Hamilton helped Steuben secure the deed, and that piece of land became the place where Steuben spent his final days. He passed away in 1794.

In his will, Steuben requested that he be buried in an unmarked grave. But his services to his adopted country were far too significant to allow his fellow Americans to forget him. The Welsh-Americans who settled near his land, and the citizens of New York, erected monuments and memorials to him. A large monument was built over his remains.

It is easy for us Americans, especially in this present age, to forget those who forged the freedom which we enjoy, but freedom is itself a monument to those heroes. It ever reminds us of the debt of gratitude we owe to them.

“The world will little note what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.” Abraham Lincoln.

After leaving the burial site, we walked back to the open square and found means of entry to another area of the forest. It was like walking into another world.

Like I said, I wish I had a better camera to detail the glorious beauty of this land. It is stunning. Slivers of sunlight barely punctured the gnarly network of bottlenecked pine trees. Our presence startled a pair of eagles who had been nesting high in the trees. At first, we didn’t know what the earth-shattering rustling was. We looked up to see a couple of tremendously large birds stretch out their wings and flap through the dense pine boughs. The sound was terrifying and the birds were so large I feared they would swoop down upon my youngest (but not likely). I’d estimate the wingspan of the eagle I saw was about 6 or 7 feet.

Walking through the forest was a bit laborious for me (unprepared for hiking as I was), but nothing deterred the children from dispersing and disappearing behind enormous clumps of pines. I think they could have explored all day and into the night. I finally had to gather them up and pull them out of this place, as it was getting late.

Yet there were even more places to explore after this! Quickly, we picked apples from an apple tree (so tart but delicious), discovered a tiny toad and chased him down for a while, and attempted to begin another trail down a beckoning road.

I begrudgingly called to the kids to forsake this plan, and led them to Steuben’s cabin for a peek on our way out of the park.

The cabin is a replica (a very good replica) of the little house Steuben built for himself. It was locked up (the memorial site is only open from Memorial Day to Labor Day) but we could peer inside the glass windows. The interior looked incomplete. We saw a stone hearth and a lovely plank floor, but plywood and wood scraps were on the floor. A barrel filled with toy wooden muskets stood by a wall. The interior looked under construction still.

We longingly looked back into the woods, but we had to leave. The sun was going to set soon, and I had dinner to make.

What a lovely property for a great man. Rest in peace, Baron von Steuben.

On our way home, we stopped for a brief second to snap a photo of another historical marker. This one was dedicated to the Welsh immigrants who cleared the land and settled this area in 1795.

Baron von Steuben Memorial Site, Remsen, NY

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Before there was Utica, there was Fort Schuyler, built in this area by the British in 1758. It was a critical spot for the new American settlers. Fort Schuyler was “a chain of forts built to protect the northern frontier from the French and their Indian allies, and to guard the great ford across the Mohawk Valley.” Fort Schuyler was named for Colonel Peter Schuyler, the uncle of the famous Phillip Schuyler (who later became Alexander Hamilton’s father-in-law). There’s a bit of confusion about the naming of the forts. During the American Revolution, Fort Stanwix in Rome (another British-built fort and was named for a British officer during the French and Indian War of the 1750s) was renamed Fort Schuyler, after Philip Schuyler. This Fort Schuyler here near Bagg’s Tavern was renamed “Old Fort Schuyler.” After the Revolutionary War, both Fort Stanwix/Fort Schuyler and Old Fort Schuyler were dismantled. When Fort Stanwix/Fort Schuyler was resurrected in the 1970s as a memorial, it was given it’s original name Fort Stanwix. Got that? There’ll be a test tomorrow… whew!

In 1794, Moses Baggs built a small but comfortable tavern near the fort, to house the many settlers and military men traveling from the eastern to western ends of New York State. George Washington and Marquis de LaFayette stayed at the tavern, as well as Henry Clay and General Ulysses Grant. It also became a stagecoach stop for mail delivery. In 1815, Moses Baggs’ tavern was torn down and replaced by a larger one made of brick. That, too, is gone. This newer stone building and park remain as a memorial to the important part Utica played as intermediary for travelers and ideals of revolution and reconstruction.

If I remember correctly, this area is where a huge revival was sparked in the 1820s, under the preaching of Charles Grandison Finney. Utica was one of the most affected cities. It was reported that all bars and houses of ill-repute were closed, because there was no business for such promiscuous living. Everyone was “getting religion” and didn’t want to sin anymore! This area was buzzing with revival that it became known as the “Burned-Over District.” Imagine, this happening in Utica, New York!

And then this plaque at the top of the tavern made us stop in our tracks.

How great is thy fall, O honorable and patriotic city! Why do we wander your streets as strangers, left to peruse the mere remnants of such a glorious past?

The little tavern building is not open to visitors. We drew closer to peer inside the windows.

The surrounding park is nice, if a little odd. It’s strange to be wandering around such an historical and ancient (as far as America is concerned) fatherland and have roaring 18-wheelers coasting above you on a highway. The Adirondack Railroad and Amtrak trains are in the back, too.

We went to investigate the old train displays next to Utica’s Children Museum, which is on the other side of Bagg’s Square.

Utica’s Union Station (a beautiful building that we will blog about sometime) is next to Bagg’s Tavern and the Children’s Museum. I found a very nice article about Union station here.

The city of Utica is in deep decline right now, as are most other Upstate New York cities. Utica was blighted during the 1930s-60s with an Italian mafia organziation that brought “prosperity” to some, but drug abuse, prostitution, and scab-attacks to others. It is so ironic that Utica, that “honorable and patriotic city” became known as Sin City. It has never really recovered. But I believe better days await the city. Like Samuel Adams said, who tirelessly pounded America’s conscience with a clarion call for national virtue, “It does not require a majority to prevail, but rather an irate, tireless minority keen to set brush fires in people’s minds.” Utica needs to be the Burned-Over District once again!

Bagg’s Square and Old Fort Schuyler, Utica, NY

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The drive to Lake George was lengthy. We traveled through the familiar and little towns of Herkimer, German Flatts, and Little Falls before taking the Thruway. Tolls have certainly increased. We got off at Amsterdam and drove through the heart of the city. I’ve never been through Amsterdam before; it has a rusty, rickety aura of a gilded era long gone –like many Upstate cities– but it has a seediness similar to Utica. The hilly roads added interest (and traffic congestion) to the ride. It was an interesting city and I would have liked to see more of it, but Lake George beckoned.

Up we traveled, through Ballston Spa, Saratoga, and Glens Falls. Lake George, NY, (the city) is at the southernmost tip of this very long lake. The lake itself is about 32 miles long and 2 miles wide. Huge mounds of solid stone stand up in a stiff regiment all around the lake. Clouds of russet-colored oak and feathery green fir trees cover big chunks of the mountains in a futile attempt to soften its appearance. It was probably no easy thing for these trees to grow roots and grasp onto such massive mounds of stone. Even with the lush tree coverage, huge boulders the size of school buses loomed. I’ve never seen anything like it. At one point we could drive no further and had to stop to take it all in. No wonder Lake George is nicknamed “Queen of the American Lakes.” And it has a bit of mystery and adventure, too, being the location of America’s Oldest Intact Warship. But because the sky was so overcast, my little point-and-shoot Kodak couldn’t capture the striking beauty of the landscape.

I feel ashamed, treating you so unjustly to such poor photos when the sight of the scene was so spectacular. Oh well, I have a hunch we will return next autumn, so stay tuned. I am glad we came in autumn. The mountains were simply ablaze with color and were almost aggressive in showing it off. This is turbulently rugged countryside and nothing like the sweetly singing hills of the Mohawk Valley.

We continued on to Fort Ticonderoga. We knew we were taking a chance, driving so far with the possibility of not seeing much of the beloved fort. Most tourist places in Upstate close by October 31st–a stinky policy, if you ask me. Autumn is the perfect time for travel! Anyway, it was Veteran’s Day, and I’d read that even though the inside of the museums might be closed, the visitor’s centers remain open. We discovered we were wrong on all counts. Nuts. But didn’t someone once say that half the fun is getting there? So we made do with what we had and enjoyed the journey.

Fort Ticonderoga was a very important outpost during the American Revolution (which we lost to Burgoyne, by the way). However, the history of the fort and of the area goes back much, much farther.

Because this area is between Lake Champlain and Lake George, and thus the fastest route to Albany (NY’s capital city) and New York City (NY’s biggest harbor), the group who controlled Ticonderoga usually wound up controlling New York. This fort initially controlled the trade route before the French and Indian War. It later became a strategic outpost for the wars. My daughter promised me that she would (quickly) write a short and humorous synopsis of the historical aspects of this place. I’ll post it in an update as soon as I get it.

The road to the fort (which we walked, because the road was closed with a gate) was interspersed with monuments to the many, many men who died here. Talk about a world war– there were people from so many countries who fought here!

First the area was owned by the Indians, then the French. Then, the British took it over in the French and Indian War. Fighting with the British were regiments from Scotland. Then, the American Revolution came ’round, and it was French and British at it again, this time with American, Scottish, and German troops, plus more Indians. Monuments in English, French, and Latin recorded the hundreds of men who died here. Trenches were redug for posterity to see exactly where shots were fired, blood was spilled, and men were fallen.

The walk was mighty long. Because the fort was officially closed, I hurried everyone along. I wanted to get a quick view of the fort before we were kicked out!

The fort sits elevated on a cliff. It overshadows the strategic sliver of Lake Champlain where Lake George ends, and oversees all water traffic there. Across the lake is Vermont. In the summer a ferry takes passengers across to Vermont and Mount Defiance.

As we approached the fort, sounds of construction vehicles alarmed us that we were not alone. Apparently, laborers were working this day. It looked like they were clearing brush. Whether they saw us, I do not know, but they left us undisturbed. We veered off to the other side, and I rapidly made my way to the open fort entrance. Ah, so easy! Did the French and then the British enter so easily? Ha!

We came up to a “CLOSED. NO TRESPASSING BEYOND THIS POINT” sign. My husband, law-abiding citizen that he is, hesitated. I, on the other hand, had a camera in my hand that was literally pulling me toward the entrance. I walked boldly into the entrance and peered over the top. Before my eyes about 10 feet down was a red pickup truck, its engine gurgling, and two men hauling tools into the back. They were joking and laughing, so they had missed my son’s sneeze and my loud footsteps. I shrank back from the wall and motioned for the kids to be absolutely s i l e n t. I wanted to get in at least one picture before we were tossed out, or, God forbid, arrested! This is all I got.

Sorry! How I longed to enter the fort! I almost–ohh so close it was– did. But cooler heads prevailed. We turned our way back. I snapped a quick photo of Mount Defiance– that last, unexpected bastion of British ingenuity (story to come), and we left.

I was sad. Of course, I didn’t think we’d get in the fort– being past season as it is. But a girl can hope, can’t she? The kids were disappointed, too, but they recouped soon enough. Kids will be kids and they found something to do: play American Revolution in the forest:

On our way back to the van, I snapped a photo of this beautiful little stone house by the gate. The sign said it was a private residence, but it was on the fort grounds. A caretaker’s home, perhaps?

So all in all, we didn’t get to revel in the luxuriant history of the fort, but we can at least say that we have been there. All it does is gives us a thirst to return! Fort Ticonderoga, I shall return!

We continued on after Fort Ticonderoga. Read about our hike up Buck Mountain in Pilot Knob, NY!

Lake George and Fort Ticonderoga, NY

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The Herkimer Diamond is not really a diamond; it’s the name for a double-terminated quartz, a very rare kind of quartz found in “vugs” or clusters. They have six sides (18 facets) and two terminations. Some of these stones are cloudy, some are clear, and some have impurities (like water or another quartz) inside. Herkimer Diamonds are considered semi-precious, and people come from all over the world to mine it. I always believed the Herkimer Diamond to be absolutely unique to a few counties here in Upstate NY, but I recently read that these kinds of quartz have been found in Arizona, China, and Afghanistan! There’s even a page at eBay devoted to information about the Herkimer Diamond.

There are at least two “mines” in Upstate New York where you can pay a fee, enter a quarry, slip off your Asgi shoes for boots, and chisel away in search of Herkimer Diamonds. Or, if your search proves fruitless, purchase some Herkimer diamonds at the gift shop. I have a small bag of Herkimer diamonds in my keepsake box.

Herkimer diamonds were “first” discovered when workers were digging into the rock here in the Mohawk Valley, in the 1700s. I wonder if the Native Americans had found them before this, though, because the Mohawk Valley’s Indian name is “Kanyenka,” which means “Place of the Flint.” However, there is no abundant flint here. The late historian Paul Keesler wondered the same thing, and wrote in his book, Discovering the Valley of the Crystals:

I asked a number of students of the Mohawks where the flint was in the Mohawk Valley that was so plentiful and so unique. No one could answer that simple question. The fact is, there is no rock face or quarry in the Mohawk Valley where flint is abundant or unique.

As I discovered while researching Kuyahoora-Discovering West Canada Valley there are, however, a number of dolostone rock faces and quarries in the Mohawk Valley—from Middleville to the Noses—where a form of clear quartz crystal is abundant and unique. So unique that people from around the world come here to mine it.

Then I read Mohawk Valley Archaeology: The Sites by Dean R. Snow and In Mohawk Country by Snow, Gehring and Starna. In both books it’s noted that the “the place of the flint” was more likely “the place of the crystal”, referring to quartz crystals that are now called Herkimer Diamonds.

I contacted Charles Gehring and he referred me to Dean Snow. Dean is one of North America’s leading historical anthropologists and is currently Professor and Head of Anthropology at Pennsylvania State University. He was extremely helpful and suggested I read his book The Iroquois.

In that book, Snow writes: “They were known to themselves and to the other Iroquois nations as the Kanyenkehaka, the people of Kanyenke (also spelled Ganienkeh). This has usually been translated “Place of the Flint,” but the flint (or more properly chert) sources in Mohawk country were not particularly sought after. More important were the clear quartz crystals now called Herkimer diamonds, which could be quarried in a few local mines and abound on Mohawk village sites. These were highly valued by Iroquois and other nations. Kanyenke was more likely “Place of the Crystals.”

Crystals were symbolically important as amulets of success, health, and long life, artifacts more likely to inspire a name than a second-rate chert. The Mohawks were the main suppliers of quartz crystals up to 1614. After that they became primary middlemen for the Dutch glass beads that replaced them.”

Sometime the kids and I are going to go diamond-hunting. There are a variety of facilities around here: Herkimer Diamond Mines, Crystal Grove Campgrounds, and the Ace of Diamonds mine. They have some great photos here.

You can read more about minerals in New York State at the NYS Museum website, here.

The Herkimer Diamond

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The high point was seeing the Fort Herkimer Church. My children are descendants of the Palatine Germans that settled this area, who built this church, among others. Revolutionary General Nicolas Herkimer’s parents also assisted in the building of the church, and they are buried in the graveyard.

The Fort Herkimer Church is one of the oldest churches in New York State, begun in 1753. Made of stone, it served as an important fortification for area residents during the French and Indian War and the Revolutionary War. There are over thirty gunports in the walls, and thick buttresses project from the building’s four corners.

Because of the rain, the scheduled church tour was cancelled, but a very gracious lady allowed us to look in the church when she heard I research genealogy and local history. Inside the church, it looks like any typical Colonial American church: wooden floors, wooden pews with small swinging doors, and a wooden pulpit raised up several feet. It is a plain church, not as fancy as the Dutch Reformed Church we visited in Albany. It is similar in format if not in scale and style.

After seeing the church, we wandered into the reenactment Civil War camps for a bit. There was not a lot of activity and hardly any other visitors, because of the rain. We puttered around and took this cute shot.

The kids also bought some Civil War hats (Union, of course) and a few toy rifles.

The man who plays Abraham Lincoln, a local celebrity now, was not coming, due to a previous commitment. The events schedule stated that a parade drill and cannon firing was due now, but everyone was huddled in their tents. When the rain finally receded, we asked one of the Confederate soldiers if they were going to fire off any weaponry. A bugler was called to rouse the troops out of their warm tents and onto the soggy training ground.

The captain gave us a nice speech and some background on Civil War cannons, and soldiers were ordered to fired off a shot.

Some Confederate soldiers bravely geared up and did an army drill for us, complete with firing of guns.

It was all very low-key, however, and certainly not the big hullabaloo we read about in the paper. I’d say there were only four or five other families around. When I asked about the scheduled fiddler’s jamboree, we were informed that was canceled, too. This was very disappointing, and ruined the visit for me.

We meandered the site for a while. We stood at the banks of the mighty Mohawk River. How desperately beautiful it is–how I longed to hop in a canoe and paddle away (it’s the Indian in me).

The area saw tremendous damage during the June 2006 floods. The photos below show some of the debris field. The river gushed off course and surged through the area next to the camp- I’d say it surged a good 1/4 mile from its banks here. The gashed land was filled with tree roots, limbs, old roofing shingles, plastic tarps, etc. It was a disaster.

One highlight was talking to a genuine blacksmith. He made a beautiful iron hook as he chatted about iron works, historical ore mining in the Adirondacks, and the history of smithing. The Adirondacks used to supply great quantities of iron for the country. There are large areas filled with titanium there (used for airplane sheathing and such things as mineral makeup). However, the Adirondacks mines have been closed, due to over-regulation from New York State. Mining is now predominantly in areas of the South, such as North Carolina because the ore is easily accessible. The mining businesses down there also aren’t taxed arms and legs like they are in New York.

We didn’t stay for the scheduled reenactment of the “large-scale” battle. The kids wanted to, but everything on the schedule had so far been canceled, and I really didn’t want to hang around for three more hours in the intermittent rain, waiting for an event that might not even happen. Perhaps we’d visit again, when there might be more sunshine and more activity.

The Living History Weekend, German Flatts, NY

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Fort Stanwix, in Rome, NY, was built during the French and Indian War, to provide protection for “The Carry.” The Carry was a trail on dry ground between the popular waterways, Wood Creek and the Mohawk River. It was so named because settlers and traders had to hop out of their boats when they reached the end of one waterway and carry their boat and goods to the next waterway. The fort was built by the British, back when we were a British colony. It was named after British General John Stanwix. Americans renamed it Fort Schuyler, after the popular General Phillip Schuyler (who was Alexander Hamilton’s father-in-law, by the way). General Schuyler already had a number of forts named after him (including one in Utica), so the name was dropped and everyone called the place Fort Stanwix.

Legend has it that the first real flag of the United States of America was flown here.

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Fort Stanwix was one of the targets of the British “three pronged attack” during the Revolutionary War. The British planned to invade and conquer Albany, NY, our state capital. In doing so, the British would slit the 13 Colonies in half: the plan was a brilliantly devised one of divide and conquer.

Through the hand of Divine Providence, the British plans went awry. The British army led by General St. Leger coming from the west were stifled at Fort Stanwix. The British army led by General Burgoyne was sabatoged and captured in Saratoga, NY. And the British army led by General Howe that was supposed to come up from Philadelphia from the south never even got started. New York proved much more resistant than the British thought– after this event, the French joined the Americans and the British scampered down to the Southern Colonies to try to conquer there. You can read more about the three-pronged attack in what is considered the “bloodiest battle of the American Revolution” here.

After the war, the fort was abandoned. It fell into disrepair, and the city of Rome was built over it. A revival of interest in our historic heritage spurned the interest of people in the city. The Fort was declared a national historic park in 1935. The site was excavated and rebuilt in 1976, America’s Bicentennial Year.

This weekend, Fort Stanwix is celebrating her 75th birthday, with parades, reenactments, music, and more. This is one of the BEST national parks we have ever visited. We try to go every year or so. Unfortunately, I will miss my visit this year; we are renovating our home and are on a tight deadline. If you want to visit, see the official Fort Stanwix website, or call 315-338-7730.

Happy birthday, Fort Stanwix! You are an example of the tenacity and faith of our golden founding era.

Happy Birthday, Fort Stanwix!

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The event looks big– people are dressed to the hilt, sporting realistic artillery. I think they will even have a few battles in bateaux boats in the Mohawk River! We love things like this! The battle takes place today, from 2pm to 3pm.

Revolutionary War Re-Enactment in Mohawk, NY

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