Until they had homes of their own, our vacations were governed by the needs of our children. Their earliest summers were spent on the Jersey coast, where they could play in the sand and breathe the sea air, and wade in the shallows.
Beginning with 1897, however, we spent three summers in the Catskills, the first at Lake Liberty, and the two following at Lake Kiamesha. The Jews have since completely appropriated the Catskills (at least Sullivan County), but our summers there were much earlier. Aside from the altitudes and the coolness, the main advantages over Montclair consisted in the variety of wholly new scenes and experiences. The lakes gave them bathing and endless play in the water. We always had a carpenter shop and tools. A dam at Lake Liberty afforded a small water-power for which the boys made a suitable wheel, to which they attached a small churn, and actually made butter from the cream saved from their morning cereal. Many happy hours spent in frogging supplied our family table with frogs’ legs. At Kiamesha there was much to interest them besides the lake. There was endless berrying with several varieties in succession, steep hills down which they could slide on “skids” made of barrel staves, an unused barn in which the little girls fixed up elaborate rooms and made formal calls on one another, at fashionable hours. Miss Everett, our violin instructor, spent one summer there and little Frederick sawed away an hour or more daily. “Cousin Florence,” then a girl of seventeen, entertained the little girls while “Uncle Willis” added to the happiness of the boys. We had been assured that there were no poisonous snakes, but our most memorable adventure was with a big rattlesnake. Frank and Russell, about twelve and ten years old, suddenly ran upon the serpent in an unused road. It was a mutual surprise. The snake instantly coiled and struck at them, landing between them as they jumped apart. The little fellows fought back with stones and wounded the snake which, however, finally escaped.
The spring and early summer of 1901 we spent in Europe, taking Frederick, then fourteen, with us, as advised by Dr. Brown, to promote his convalescence from a severe pneumonia. In 1902 and 1903 we were detained in Montclair in the planning and construction of our Mountain Avenue House, but in the summer of 1904 we found release again and spent a delightful vacation at Cape Vincent, on the St. Lawrence, a charming place with many new and interesting experiences for us all.
A good-natured farmer nearby threw open to the boys the novelties of his dairy and its calves, his horses, his poultry yard, and his farm implements. The boys in turn helped him materially with his haying.
It is at Cape Vincent that the St. Lawrence enters on its long course from Lake Ontario to the sea. The lighthouse marking the entrance for vessels was only a mile up the river from our rented summer home. This home was a commodious brick dwelling facing the river, with a road only between. It had its own dock, enclosing a diminutive bay and making a little harbor with a narrow entrance for a small boat. Into this we brought a one-cylinder motor boat which Fred soon learned to run.
The river at this point abounds in black bass. We employed a professional French-Canadian guide, Anton by name, and spent nearly every suitable day in fishing. The law permitted us to catch twenty fish before lunch, then to cook and eat as many as we could, and then fill up our quota to twenty again, which we were permitted to bring home.
Black bass are fierce fighters and we had great sport, never failing to bring home the full allowance. Anton was an ideal companion for the boys, humorous and playful, and withal an excellent cook, and the lunches he served were delicious. Our most exciting adventure was with an enraged bull, which charged on our lunch party and drove all to cover but Anton, who finally routed him. I can hear now the hollow bass drum of Anton’s big cobblestones as they rebounded from the ribs of the bull. The rest of us did our fighting behind a nearby fence—except Russell, who fought from the danger side, but near enough to the fence to escape any charge of the bull.
At Cape Vincent, as always elsewhere, we had an excellent carpenter shop, and spent many happy hours in making and flying box- kites, then just coming into vogue. At length we determined on a grand experiment. I sent to New York for a series of balls of twine of gradually increasing strength. We made seven, big, strong box-kites. On a day with a good South breeze we stationed ourselves on an elevation overlooking the St. Lawrence. We let out the kites tandem, each with its ball of stronger twine, until the first kite was almost out of sight in the sky, a mile or more away, while the thick cord of the last one was wound around my body. It took my full strength to brace myself, with heels in the sod, against the pull. At length the cord broke and we saw our seven kites disappear in the distance towards Canada. Of course we pursued them with our motor boat, and finally did recover some of the string, but other boatmen had captured most of our outfit.
The summer of 1905, when Frederick and Franklin were eighteen and sixteen, was spent by me on a trip with them to Europe, with Sam Harper as business agent, and for the boys, tutor in French. The boys read several French books under Sam’s tuition. We visited France, Switzerland, and England, but as nearly all our sons and daughters have since visited the same scenes, I will not further describe the trip. We returned in time for Frederick’s entrance into college. He had been admitted to Harvard before we left home, but preferred to enter the University of Chicago.
All these early vacations were arranged by us on the modern theories of education, to give our children fresh interests and experiences in the greatest possible number and variety. Summers in Montclair could not have afforded these advantages in equal measure.
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Our Summer Home and Lake George
Chapters In My Life 