There are few places in this country where you can sip a beer in a Colonial inn, while chatting about the new Frank Gehry building just up the road. The Hudson Valley, in upstate New York, is such a spot – a region that straddles centuries as well as it straddles cultures. The area has been home to Algonquin Indians, Dutch settlers, British land barons, American revolutionaries and legendary East Coast industrialists. It has spawned a famous group of landscape painters, the Hudson Valley School, and classic tales, like the encounter between Ichabod Crane and the headless horseman of Sleepy Hollow.
An old friend had the good sense to get married in the historic town of Rhinebeck last fall, so my husband, Paul, and I planned a long weekend to explore Hudson Valley sights both old and new. We drove up from Washington, D.C., but to avoid hours of dreary turnpikes, New York makes a far better starting point.
Heading northward, we did have the uncanny sensation of traveling through time, with the leaves just starting to take on color in Maryland, and progressively glowing brighter and richer with ambers and crimsons as we flew by on I-95. We skirted New York City and headed up toward our first night’s destination, Fishkill, N.Y., about 300 miles from D.C. As we reached the New York State Thruway, the landscape opened up. The setting sun blazed off the steep hills, thick with golden trees. The only disconcerting aspect was the road signs.
“Kill…Kill…Kill.” Roads, towns, rivers, everything seemed to have “kill” in its name. It was starting to get downright creepy, until I remembered reading once that “kill” is Dutch for “creek.” So instead of being named for some horrifying past episode of fish genocide, Fishkill must simply have been built near a plentiful stream.
We’d chosen our overnight destination out of pure practicality, since we were eager to visit the Dia:Beacon museum, located about six miles away. And, because we’d be in Fishkill only to sleep, I’d booked through Priceline, which set us up in a nearly new chain hotel. It appeared the entire place was being gobbled by chains and malls, with only a few historic churches hinting at what Fishkill must have once been.
The next morning, we hustled over to Beacon, an odd little town that still seems astonished to have a major new museum on its doorstep. The Dia:Beacon was established by a New York City art foundation, to display contemporary art on a massive scale throughout 240,000 square feet of galleries. The building is a rehabilitated box printing factory, originally built in 1929, set along the Hudson River. Peaked clerestory windows flood the vast spaces with natural light – which is a good thing, because that’s the main source of illumination. When dusk descends, the museum closes.
The Dia:Beacon presents work by 25 artists, dating from the early 1960s to the present. Each gallery immerses visitors in a single artist’s work. From the entrance, Walter De Maria’s shiny metal squares and circles splay out across the floor, hinting at the scale of the Dia’s playing field. Stand-outs for us were looming steel sculptures by Richard Serra, wedged into surprisingly tight spaces that forced us to interact and discover the pieces; intriguing plywood boxes by Donald Judd; a wonderfully sinister giant spider by Louise Bourgois; and Michael Heizer’s negative-space sculptures, which plunge geometric shapes made of steel 20 feet into the floor.
These last works can only be viewed from behind a guardrail unless you make advance reservations for a 10:30 tour of the inner area. “Our curator thought it would be fun to attach bungee cords to people so they could climb down the sides,” one staffer confided, but for now, all that’s allowed is peering.
Fans of contemporary art could easily spend a day here, soaking up the detailed information printed on portable cards available in every gallery or puzzling over video installations on the lower level. An outdoor garden area provides a fresh-air break, while a café offers coffee, pastries, soups and sandwiches.
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Route 9 north became a classic country road after we hopped it outside of Beacon, tracing along the east bank of the Hudson River and swooping through glorious tunnels of trees. Fourteen miles later, we were in Hyde Park, which makes it very clear who their most famous citizen is: Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Springwood, FDR’s birthplace, home, sanctuary and final resting place, is now operated by the National Park Service; the nation’s first presidential library is also located on the grounds.
Roosevelt’s imposing family home is surprisingly modest inside. The house was built in the early 1800s, with a number of additions and renovations through the years. One of the first stops is a ground-floor room, where stuffed birds and other items collected by young Franklin rest in glass cases. Considering that FDR spent much of his adult life crippled by polio, dealing with crises like the Depression and World War II, it’s startling to think of him in more innocent days, romping through the woods gathering flora and fauna.
A tiny manual elevator and “wheelchair” are evidence of Roosevelt’s disability. The plain wooden chair fitted with wheels speaks to FDR’s highly successful attempts to conceal the fact that he couldn’t walk without assistance. His simple bedroom has one distinguishing feature: a bedside phone with a direct link to the White House.
With its spacious proportions, rich wood paneling and oriental-style rugs, the combination living room-library is the most welcoming spot in the house. Roosevelt worked at the corner desk and it’s easy to imagine the family gathered there for an evening of reading and conversation.
FDR had the foresight to establish his presidential library while he was still in office, and even broadcast some of his famous “fireside chats” from the nearby building. Today, it also houses a museum, which provides insights to Roosevelt’s pre-presidential life, and his comeback after polio struck at age 39. Never wanting to show the least weakness, he managed to be photographed sitting down – often behind a desk – and relied on those close to him for support if he had to stand or take a few steps. FDR’s most famous line, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself,” could easily be the theme for his own struggles.
Not far from Springwood visitors can also tour Eleanor Roosevelt’s retreat and cottage, Val-Kill, the only National Historic Site dedicated to a First Lady. As her husband told it, “My Missus and some of her female political friends want to build a shack on a stream in the back woods...” The so-called “shack” ended up with seven bedrooms, two living rooms, a dining room and a dormitory for young people – along with two live-in servants. Eleanor moved to Val-Kill permanently after FDR’s death, saying, “I felt freer there than in the big house.” Her guests included Nikita Khrushchev and Winston Churchill.
In 1895, a New York newspaper wrote about “the little colony of millionaires up the river,” referring to the lavish Hudson Valley mansions built by new industrial barons. It’s possible visit a ribbon of spectacular houses running up the Hudson River’s east bank from New York, as well as other historic properties. Among them are the opulent, 54-room Vanderbilt Mansion; the home of Samuel Morse, inventor of the telegraph and Morse Code; two Rockefeller family estates, one with an extensive collection of 20th century sculpture; the house where eighth U.S. president, Martin Van Buren, retired after his term in office; famed Hudson River School painter Frederic Church's Persian palace; and the home of Washington Irving, who penned the stories of Sleepy Hollow.
With darkness snuffing out the bright leaves – and not wanting to encounter any headless horsemen – we checked into the Belvedere Inn, just south of Rhinebeck. The inn’s main building is a circa-1900 neoclassical mansion that evokes the “gilded age,” with French antiques and trompe l’oeil paintings in the public spaces. Though there are several grand accommodations in the main house, our room in the detached carriage house was one of the tiniest I’ve ever occupied, with barely enough room to maneuver around the bed. Fortunately, the Belvedere’s grounds and public spaces provided a comfortable escape.
For dinner, we joined friends at P.J. McGlynn’s, a cozy roadhouse north of Rhinebeck. The restaurant has Irish touches in its décor, but the menu focuses on lamb raised by the owners and an assortment of steaks. Reasonable prices kept the place packed with a crowd that looked to be equal parts locals and escapees from New York City.
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We had barely recovered from the Belevedere’s complimentary, made-to-order breakfast when it was time to sit down for a wedding lunch of beef filet, tender as butter, served with spiced squash soup and a salad studded with fall fruit. The inn did such a superb job with this 35-person event that I have no qualms recommending their chef. At night, with candles, gilded mirrors, brocade fabrics and intimate rooms, the Belvedere’s restaurant glows with romance.
We had the late afternoon free to roam the heart of Rhinebeck. A town that boasts 437 sites on the national historic register. Though Rhinebeck was founded in 1686, its current architecture spans the late 18th through the early 20th centuries. Federal, Greek revival, gothic and elaborate Queen Anne-style buildings snuggle together beneath regal shade trees. A sharp visitor will spot old hitching posts and carriage stepping stones.
The streets are a stroller’s delight, with antiques shops, galleries, restaurants and A.L. Stickles five and dime, another delightful time capsule – this time from the 1950s. Art cinema Upstate Films adds an intellectual dimension to the town; we caught a Brazilian documentary at one of its two theaters.
We also stopped by the Beekman Arms, an inn that’s operated on this spot since 1766. George Washington slept here; so did Benedict Arnold and Alexander Hamilton. In fact, it’s said the quarrels between Hamilton and Aaron Burr leading to their fatal duel 200 years ago began at the Beekman. We entered and tumbled through time, into a lobby with low-slung beamed ceilings and a blazing fire. Old guest registers are on display, along with other artifacts, and a drink at the taproom is the perfect antidote to combat the autumn chill.
Sunday morning, bundled into sweaters, we paid a visit to the Rhinebeck farmers market, overflowing with fall bounty in jewel tones of garnet, gold and deep greens. We inspected pumpkins, looking for the perfect jack-o-lantern canvas. Crates of apples with names we’d never encountered tempted us to fill a bag with a batch that ran the gamut from rotund to delicate. We even found a farmer selling huge Honeycrisps, the latest “in” apple that had the market buzzing.
“Quaint Hudson Valley charm” wouldn’t exactly describe the new Richard B. Fisher Center for Performing Arts at Bard College, about 15 minutes from Rhinebeck. The Frank Gehry-designed building thrusts billowing stainless steel forms into the sky. As we approached from across a meadow, it mirrored the low, lead-tinged clouds and fractured the brilliant leaves of surrounding trees into a reflected fall abstract. The undulating roof is pieced together from 5,647 steel shingles, weighing over six tons, with a huge panel that swoops down to the entrance, evoking a Samurai helmet – or on a dark day, Darth Vader’s headgear.
We opted to take a 45-minute tour that visited the larger of two theaters constructed as “boxes” inside the structure. As we sat on seats stylishly upholstered with the names of the 2003 graduating class, our guide explained how even what seemed like purely decorative curlicue wall designs were part of the complex acoustics. We were fascinated to learn that 150 wells feed geothermal heat pumps to provide the building’s heat and air conditioning.
Munching crisp apples, we hit the road, wondering what Ichabod Crane would make of the Gehry building, should he encounter it in the moonlight of a Hudson Valley night.
© 2004 Gayle Keck
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HudsonValleyFall
By Gayle Keck
This story appeared in the Los Angeles Times travel section
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