Blenheim-Gilboa Hydroelectric Station Visitor’s Center

The Blenheim-Gilboa Hydroelectric Power Station is a scenic half hour drive south from the small city of Cobleskill, New York, in Schoharie County. The area is absolutely beautiful, and the power station and visitor’s center are well nestled in the rural setting. The visitor’s center is in a remodeled 19th century dairy barn (red!) on a small hill, between Brown Mountain and Schoharie Creek. It overlooks the hydroelectric power station.

The visitor’s center is very modern inside, with dozens of hands-on displays for curious schoolchildren and adults. We perused the labyrinth of hallways, stopping to flip switches, push buttons and learn about hydroelectricity.

The plant uses the force of running water to spin magnetic turbines and generate electricity. I wondered how this can be, seeing the Schoharie Creek is so languid and sluggish? One of the ladies overseeing our visit said that the water from the creek is pumped up into a large reservoir at the top of Brown Mountain. There are enormous pipes within the mountain that channel the water from the creek. When energy is needed, the reservoir is drained. The rushing water that spills down through those pipes spins the turbines and creates the electricity.

Wow! I was astonished by the pipes inside the mountain. The idea of using up energy to make more energy seemed counter-intuitive to me, though. And it is. According to the information I saw, the Blenheim-Gilboa plant is an “emergency” power station. It provides energy only when electricity generation levels are low elsewhere, and helps to prevent brownouts and blackouts.

All the power generated at this plant is sent to New York City.

The visitor’s center also has many displays about the surrounding land. I loved the history! The center has an open sunroom type of room filled with stuffed animals native to New York State and other displays. This is a portion of an ancient tree fern. In it are bits of branches and seeds! These stumps were discovered in the 1920s when the land was cleared for the Schoharie Reservoir.

The view is beautiful.

Admission to the visitor’s center is free. It’s a wonderfully educational experience and the ladies we chatted with were so hospitable. We had a great time.

Venturing outside again, I was quite taken in by the view. Even though it was cold and windy, we spent some time exploring the grounds.

Next to the visitor’s center is a beautiful home and a yard filled with curiously-wrapped arbor vitae.

This is Lansing Manor! Sadly, the house was not open for visitors today. I was sorely disappointed. Curtains hung across the windows so I couldn’t even get a peep inside.

The view from the front porch is beautiful.

Lansing Manor is named for John Lansing, Jr., who represented New York State at the Constitutional Convention in 1787 and also at the state’s Ratification Convention in 1788. He was a contemporary of Alexander Hamilton. Lansing built this house in 1819 for his daughter, Mrs. Jacob Livingston Sutherland. The house is in excellent shape. It has been owned by only four families from 1819 to 1972, when the last private owner donated the house and grounds to the Blenheim-Gilboa Visitor’s Center.

We roamed the grounds, reading the many informational plaques in the yard.

Look! John Lansing’s air conditioners! They are in excellent condition.

One of the most interesting plaques told the story of the Anti-Rent wars that roiled through Upstate New York in the mid 1800s. Before the American War for Independence, New York State was a royal colony, ruled much like England with “feudal lords.” With such a system, one very wealthy family owned and controlled large swaths of land. Small tracts of land were parceled out into farms, maintained by tenants. These tenants had very few rights and were practically enslaved to the land on which they worked. They were required to pay taxes on the land they worked. They had no rights to any of the land’s natural resources such as lumber or minerals.

Even after the War for Independence, New York State still held to this strange, European feudal system. By the early 1800s, the impoverished farmers had endured enough. They organized into protest groups, storming farms about to be confiscated and electing sympathetic politicians. The protests led to violence. Stephen Van Rensselaer, a very wealthy landowner in the Albany area, was murdered in 1839.

The angry farmers dressed up like “Indians” when they went on their tirades. This kind of disguise was declared illegal in 1845.

In 1846, incumbent Governor Silas Wright lost his election to a newcomer, John Young, because Young had promised to pardon all farmers imprisoned for their Anti-Rent activities. The New York State Legislature eventually forbid landowners from taxing their farmers’ rental income and also forbid the confiscation of farmers’ possession to pay rent. This led to a tremendous increase in individual land ownership, as many farmers purchased the land their worked. Feudalism had been eradicated from New York… well, at least in name. The entire “rent” system is strikingly familiar in this day and age. Today, landowners “own” their land but it is ownership in name only, because if the landowner does not pay his exorbitant property taxes, the government can confiscate the land and all the equity with it. Very unjust, in my opinion.

You can read more about the Anti-Rent Wars at the College of Oneonta website. It’s very enlightening.

John Lansing never lived at this house and his death is shrouded in mystery. On December 12, 1829, he left his New York City hotel to mail a letter. He never returned. No one ever found his body nor knew what became of him, and his disappearance was described as similar to the fate of William Morgan, that same year. Morgan was probably kidnapped by Freemasons in Upstate New York, as he threatened to reveal the secrets of the cultic order. As for Lansing, it was later suspected that he was murdered by some political opponents who felt he was “in the way.”

According to Wikipedia:

There has been only one major clue to Lansing’s disappearance that has appeared since his death. After his death in 1882 the memoirs of Thurlow Weed, former Republican political leader in New York State, were published by Weed’s grandson T.W. Barnes. Weed wrote that Lansing had been murdered by several prominent political and social figures who found he was in the way of their projects.

Weed was told this by an unnamed individual, who showed him papers to prove it, but begged Weed not to publish these until all the individuals had died. Weed said they were all dead by 1870, but he found that their families were all highly respected, and upon advice of two friends he decided not to reveal the truth because it would hurt innocent people. And that was the last anyone ever heard of a possible resolution to the mystery. It is unknown if Weed actually received the truth.

Good heavens. Who knew what sordid stories we’d encounter, just visiting a hydroelectric plant in rural Upstate New York!

Trinity Church, New York, NY: Part 1

If walls could talk. Located in lower Manhattan near “Ground Zero” from September 11, 2001, Trinity Church has seen a lot of action.

Built in 1698 when Manhattan Island was still a rural countryside just beginning to burgeon into a small town, Trinity Church received its charter from King William III of England in 1697.

Trinity rented the land upon which it was built, in a contract supposedly from the descendants of a Dutch widow who had removed to Albany in Upstate New York after the death of her husband. The land has a history of contention. I own an old newspaper clipping from 1935 in which litigants sued Trinity Church for ownership of the land. According to what I have read (and there seem to be many versions out there, depending on who you ask!), the plot of farm land originally belonged to Anneke Jans, a wealthy widow who had emigrated to Manhattan Island from the Netherlands. When she died, she bequeathed the property to her children and grandchildren, who leased the land to Trinity. After a few centuries and numerous owners, Trinity Church considered the land theirs. Jans’ descendants sued Trinity several times over the years to acquire the rights to their property. Every time, New York courts sided with Trinity Church. I think the final lawsuit was the suit in that 1935 newspaper clipping. Imagine if the litigants had won– the land is worth millions!

Anyway, the first Trinity Church was a small, barn-shaped building. Legend has it that infamous pirate and church member Captain Billy Kidd loaned the builders his equipment to build the church. The building burned during the American Revolution, when fire raged through New York City.

After the war, a second church was built. President George Washington attended the inauguration service at nearby St. Paul’s Chapel (post and photos coming soon!) while the building was under construction. Unfortunately, the building was razed in 1839 when it became damaged by heavy snow. The current building — the third Trinity Church built here — was completed in 1846. At the time, Trinity was the highest point in New York. Today, the building is far overshadowed by the massive cityscape.

The church is a wonder. It’s open to visitors, but is still an active church with services held regularly. The grounds are lovely. People snacked on their midday meals under canopies or enormous trees. Many others, including us, perused the graveyard in search of familiar names.

We paid our respects to our beloved Alexander Hamilton and wife Eliza.

Hercules Mulligan was buried here. He was a spy during the American Revolution, a true hero. Read more

A Visit to the Empire State Building

While in Manhattan a few weeks ago, I made a visit to the Empire State Building. I plunked down the $20 to get up to the 86th floor Observation Deck. It’s a self-guided tour, but multitudes of jacketed escorts direct the lines of people (and lines and lines and lines of them) through corridors and up elevators.

The Empire State Building was constructed (completed) in 1931. It was the tallest building in the world, until the World Trade Center was built in 1972. It’s designed in the glamorous Art Deco style.

I was surprised at the crowds in the building. It was Wednesday morning, and yet there were hundreds of people waiting to get up to the Observation Deck. Most of the time was spent waiting in line to get up there.

Midway through the journey of walking down long hallways and taking elevators up, we had to have our bags scanned through an x-ray machine and we had to pass through a metal detector. It was chaotic. I haven’t been to an airline since 9/11, but the experience must be as or more confusing and noisy. Yuk.

A large family ahead of me caused a small ruckus with the guards. Read more

Trip To New York City: On the Train

I pulled away from the plaster dust from our home renovation, and took a short business trip to Manhattan. I hadn’t been to the city in 22 years, since I was a young drama student in the 1980s. And New York is just as fabulous and exciting as it was then. This is the first essay in my short series Trip to New York City. It was my first time taking the train (Amtrak, from Union Station in Utica), too. A marvelous experience! I can’t wait to do it again. This is my travelogue written while on the journey…

Going to the Big City

Travel by train is, generally, pleasant. The speed is moderate, the rails bumpy in a jostling, cradle-like motion, the scenery very rural (at least on the Northeast corridor). Cell phone service is spotty and I found no wireless capability at all. These ingredients make for an unusually contemplative and sleepy experience which is strange and foreign to our interconnected and frenzied modern lifestyle. I miss my Internet connection; but then again, I do not miss it. I’m happy soaking in the environment and spending the next four hours in quiet solitude. I suddenly realize that I forgot to pack my book, and I do sorely miss that.

The train I’m on must have been constructed in the 1980s or thereabouts. It’s pleasant, but slightly older, like a favorite old coat that is just starting to look a little outdated and worn from much use. I’m pleased to see tiny buttons above my head that activate small reading lights. I’m traveling in the daytime and most likely will not need lights, but it’s comforting to know they are there if I want them. An electrical outlet is nestled on a strip below the window, and again a bubble of gratitude rises up: I can power up my small netbook, if I desire.

Railroads are usually built just outside the town or city limits, situated between a thick corridor of trees to shield residents from the clatter and appearance of train traffic. The scenery outside the windows is usually desolate; running alongside the rails are numerous swamps and other algae-laden river depositories, and rusty iron rail yards, and cornfield-rimmed highways, and the occasional decrepit farmhouse sitting forlornly on a hill. In the zenith of summer, the scenery is one of constant green.

Yet every once in a while, the dense populations of trees open up to reveal an impressive Gothic or Greek Revival mansion, perched on a rocky pedestal. The house looks like a yellow-frosted cake on a hilly green dais, bedecked with sugary ornaments of white or pink architectural icing. Upstate New York experienced massive growth in the 1830s to the 1850s, and the multitudes of glorious Greek Revival farmhouses testify to its prosperity. Unfortunately, New York’s heyday has come and gone; and as if in chorus, the graying Greek Revivals of the cornfields reflect the decay. Still on occasion, a restored old grand dame rises up from New York’s green and rocky peaks. That, in its stubborn resistance to defeat, is testament of the endurance and perseverance of Upstate New Yorkers amongst a climate of high taxation and government meddling.

My route leads me eastward toward New York’s capital city. This route runs alongside the mighty Mohawk River (of Drums Along the Mohawk fame). Upstate has experienced a deluge of rain so far this summer (7 inches for the month of June 2010), so the Mohawk has raised its muddy head, and laps ominously close at the edges of its banks. I did notice on the news (before abandoning my precious Internet capability back home) a flood watch in effect for today.

The vista suddenly opens up as we enter the city of Schenectady, New York. There is nothing terribly notable about Schenectady for non-New Yorkers, other than the curious pronunciation (Sken-NECK-tah-dee) and its proximity to Albany. Still, the scenery has finally changed from leafy walls of green to scrubbed brick buildings and industrial ruins. Now that we have re-entered civilization, cells phones start buzzing and children’s voices rise with questions. Only twenty-odd people fill my train car, but within sit some of the noisiest twenty-odd people with whom I’ve ever traveled.

A group of young families in the back talk very loudly, laughing and discussing the glories of the latest music and improved technology of Huggies versus Pampers. A young Chinese traveler, situated in the seat before me, sniffles and coughs loudly with an aggravatingly dry, constant cough. His elderly father, who I assume he escorts, sits very quietly beside him. Perhaps the young man is taking his father to see relatives in New York City. How sweet of him. The young man is meticulously watchful of the older; when we boarded the train and I somehow managed to come between them in the line, the young man was constantly looking back to the older. And when the train lurched to a brief stop to pick up passengers, the older man tottered to the restrooms; all the while, the younger looked back, waiting for his elder’s return.

Across the aisle from me, an older woman sits quietly. Her hand is always over her mouth or under her chin. She spends much time looking out her window; sometimes her eyelids droop closed. A loud clatter from the train’s wheels, or a shout from the two loudly bickering children in the back, cause her eyes to pop open again. Her face is extremely wrinkled, giving her the appearance of being much older than she probably is. She wears the uniform of a busy, upper-middle income woman: a dressy, purple sweatshirt with a white polo shirt collar, sweatpants, crisp white sneakers, and a Macy’s shopping bag. Our eyes meet briefly. I smile; she turns away. She’s going to her sister’s in New York City, who is ill and needs a nursemaid (I heard her confide such to the conductor as he punched our tickets). She must have a lot on her mind. (Later, she asks me to escort her out of the train into Penn Station, because she tells me: “You look like you know where you are going.”)

We stop in Albany. I know it is Albany because we have crossed over the behemoth—a wide-mouthed, very deep, and agate blue river. It’s the Hudson. We say our goodbyes to the brown and tempestuous Mohawk, and turn our attentions to its sparkly and livelier sister, Henry Hudson’s namesake. I settle in for some good sight-seeing, as I am unfamiliar with this more prosperous portion of the state.

…to be continued…

Aerial Virtual Tour of Manhattan

Wow. This is amazing. It’s an aerial, virtual tour of New York City. Stunning.

You can choose a few locations to “fly”: Times Square, Empire State Building, Chysler Building, Downtown, Brooklyn Bridge, etc. VERY cool. The photography is beautiful. So, if you’ve been wanting to see Manhattan but can’t really get there, this “virtual” tour may tide you over.

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