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&**r#m We*fu*se#*re #r# Sfr*ep ffier*Yes, the Hudson is a two-way river, but not onlybecause of the tides. After serving as the front linefor American independence, the river was thepipeline fot commerce during much of the nexttwo centuries. Over the years, the Hudson became

a conduit for wealth, recreation and urban sophistication soaking into its valleys. Today, art, haute

cuisine and cosmo chic siphon up from the Big

Apple to spice the country life. True to the

nature of the river, antiques, fine wine andenvironmental activism also flow out.And, a little rock & roll flows both ways.

Explorer Henry Hudson is thewaterway's namesake. He sailed it first in1609, and it wasn't long until otherEuropeans followed, settling into theValley to coexist - sometimes unsettlingly

- with a confederacy, an "IroquoisNation" of Native Americans that also

included the Mohawk, Seneca and Oneidapeoples.

For a century and more, relative peace

was maintained between these Valleyresidents and the Algonquian to thenorth. Then the French and Englishgovernments imported their European

conflict and dragged the locals into the

t6

French-Indian Wars. And those pesky Americanswanted freedom.

The Revolutionary War was fought all along the315-mile Hudson. Here, General George Washing-ton educated the British about the effectiveness ofguerrilla warfare. One critical battieground was thebluff at West Point where cannons ranged over a

large S-turn in the river. Rebellious colonists even

stretched iron chains made of 300-1b. links across

the water here to stop British warships ftom attack-

ing up-stream. The Point remains a vitalpart of the U.S. Army's strategy today(please see page 18).

Robert Fulton steamed up theHudson advertising his invention around1800, and fired up a century of economicboom. The Erie Canal opened in 1825 and

stretched the river from Albany to Buffalo,and thereby to the Great Lakes, Chicagoand Quebec. Railroads then used the same

route to go west from New York CitY.

Factories sprouted along the artery andmost of the dozen or so bridges spanningthe stream were built. Brick-lined aque-

ducts under the Hudson constructed 75

years ago still supply drinking water fromthe Catskill Mountains to New York City.

If you're looking for the birthplace ofAmerican industry, you've found it.

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"I want to hear the whistles of the trains in the valley...

It is the sound of money."William Henry Vanderbilt said this of his

family's 55-room mansion on a 700-acre river-frontestate in Hyde Park. The Manhattan-bredVanderbilts controlled most of the steam ships andrailroads in l9th-century America. Of the string ofresidences the family built from Newport, Rhode

Island and Palm Beach, Florida to East Hampton,N.Y., the one at Hyde Park is probably the mostostentatious. Its Italian Renaissance and rococo

styling add up to pure Beaux Arts. Today, thisHudson property is a National Historic Site, dusted

with picnickers, even though W.H. Vanderbiit also

said: "The pubiic be damnedl"Near the Vanderbilt pile, another notable

American family, the Rockefellers, built a palace

and museum-quality sculpture garden, called

Kykuit. For the first time since it was built, it is nowopen to the pubiic. Others that have been restored

and can be viewed include the Mills mansion inStaatsburg, showing 83 rooms, the Van CortlandtManor, Montgomery Place, Cherry Hill, SunnySide, Lyndhurst and Olana - all Hudson Valleymonuments to assets and ego.

Rose gardens, orchards, nature walks, stocked

ponds with waterfalls and ducks - the wondersone might create if wealthy - adorn these estates

for ali to enjoy.Other preservations required more heroics.

Boscabel is a 1806 wooden residence saved fromthe wrecking ball by local citizens in the 1940s, andagain in the 1950s. Built by a British loyaiist withfunds from the war, Boscabel was moved andtotally reconstructed with donations from thefounders of Reader's Digest. Nowadays, costumed

volunteers explain the hardships of Federalism inthe newly formed United States, lead Christmascaroi sing-alongs in front of a gigantic basement

hearth and ofler classical music concerts on thelar.ryn overlooking West Point. Boscabel is a model

of culturai heritage, and of community activism at

work. The Hudson Val1ey is known for both.

#$qlwr3#m*sa'* & ryqry.qiPerhaps the most vocal of the activists in theHudson River Valley are members of Clearwater.

Since the mid-1960s, this environmental group has

led the call to clean up water pollution in this river

and beyond. Pete Seeger, the legendary folk singer

of "Where Have AII the Flowers Gone?" fame, was,

er, instrumental in early efforts. He acted as themedia spokesman and helped raise funds. Then, in1969, the group launched Clearwater, a 106-footreplica of the sloops that sailed the Hudson a

century ago, to educate citizens about the area's

natural history and ecology.

"Laws are only so good," says John Myiod,Executive Director of Clearwater. The U.S. CleanWater Act was made law in 7972, in part because ofmedia pressure generated by non-profit Clearwater.Water quality in the Hudson has improved dra-matically since: swimming beaches have re-openedand sea-going sturgeon are spawning all the way toAlbany.

But Clearwater's efforts can only go so far, andthere's a long way to go, as evidenced by the factthat no other river in America has more "endan-gered" sites under the egis of the national Environ-mental Protection Agency. Three of these are

drawing support from that Agency's "super fund"and are currently being cleared of their deposits oftoxic PCBs, healy-metal waste from batteryfactories and other pollutants. But plans to extendthis support to other sites along the river are beingcontested in the courts, and meanwhile, the abuse

continues."It is only public consciousness," says

Clearwater's Mylod, "that makes these laws en-forceable."

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back to 1802 and include: DouglasMacArthur, Dwight D. Eisenhower,Ceorge S.Patton, even Ulysses S.Crant.On a dozen Saturdays during the springand fall, the spirits of these by-gonegenerals still rattle their sabers whenPoint trad ition is on parade - d ress pa-

rade, to be exact.A row of white pants pierces the

shadows of an archway in the L-shapedcitadel across the vast immaculate

green. Brass music swells as the or-chestra-sized band thumps to themiddle of the parade ground. Coldentubas glimmer in the midday sun. Acolor guard follows right behind, theirgray tunics crossed with white braces.From five arches in succession moreblocks of white and gray bob into theopen. Then another wave. Throngs ofcameras whirl and click as the field be-

comes checkered with squadrons ofcadets. Finally, t'"vo regiments - morethan 2,000 soldiers in all - are in for-mation, perfectly still. All at once, theysalute, their white-gloved hands crest-ing in a tsunami. The commandant ofWest Point stands rigid, and salutes, as

the "StarSpangled Banner" soars acrossthe plain. The sounds of rifle drills thenfill the air-to the grounds, up, across,and slap.

One by one, the units file by the re-

viewing stand mechanically, precisely,

in time to the piccolo-piped "Stars andStripes Forever." Then they return totheir caves and the drumbeats fade.The generals are satisfied for the week-end.

That is, unless it's a home footballweekend. At West Point, it's not a game,

it's an event. Tailgate picnics begin atbreakfast, and range from champagnewith candelabras to pork and beansand beer. The sidelines show is just as

dedicated - only noisier. While twobands bless the bleachers, dozens ofcheerleaders do gymnastics and Armymules embed hoofprints in the endzone. Canons roar after each score, andThe Black Knight leads plebes in a

round of push-ups totaling the Armypoints * every time. Against arch rivalNavy, it's more intense still.

Yet even with all the virility, the dis-cipline and rules, this is, after all, col-lege; a time of romance and raging hor-mones. So after the game, couplesinvariably end up strolling beneath thestone fortifications by the river along"Flirtation Walk." Traditionally, a kisscannot be refused down this woodedlane, lest West Point slide into the water.

Ah, tradition. We salute you.

TIIE I;OilGCMYRATTLEff *o young men whoosh pass me as

E I wanderamong canons and monu-ments on the plain above the sharpbend in the Hudson River. They are

walking fast, very fast - two steps per

second fast. Their heads are locked for-ward, their backs are ramrod straight,their gray and black uniforms are

unwrinkled. Even in the distance, I can

see their shaved napes sweat."Pinking," it's called, and all the

"smacks," "bean heads" and "plebes" -that is, all the men and (since 1976,

women) who are freshmen at WestPoint - must do it.

"Hazing" like this is against the rulesat all colleges and universities inAmerica. ln fact, the United States Mili-

tary Academy's strict policy against itwas strengthened last fall. But hey, thisis more than college. This is The Point.

"Tradition here is more importantthan rules," as one upperclassman put

it. But official discipline is also meted

out corporally. Marching for hours in

the drab stone courtyard of the main

barracks in full uniform - and a heftyrifle - is the primary way to work offdemerits accrued from pinking, or forthat matter from such infractions as tar-

diness, chewing gum and so on.Craduates of this army grind are

called The Long Cray Line. They stretch

18

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"Pun'kins are my friends," says Trish, a sparklingchild who holds up three fingers on one hand totell her age lest she drop any of the five babypumpkins she's hoarding.

During Clearwater's annual Pumpkin Sail, thesloop visits 15-20 ports along the Hudson to raise

their $1.5 million annual budget and heightenenvironmental awarenbss among busioads ofschool kids through skits and songs. Pumpkins are

sold, folk music concerts are held and a "stonesoup" is prepared (a pot of water and some stones

are provided by the Clearwater and the locals

contribute the other ingredients).Trish squeaks as she lifts a basketball-sized

pumpkin, and nudges her friend to leave. "Say

good-bye to river!" she urges. "River is our friend."Another Hudson environmentai success story is

Iona Island. It's about 40 miles north of New YorkCity, near Bear Mountain, where the HudsonValley becomes steep and City drivers slow down.Iona Island was a munitions dump during W.W.IIand berthed dozens of mothballed Nar'y ships

afterward. The base was closed 20 years ago and theIand was rehabilitated. Wildlife was reintroduced.Wetlands surrounding it were flushed and spawn-

ing grounds were grooqled. Recently, a campsite

was opened on Iona called Pioneer. During a dawn

stroil, I saw scores of deer, a pair of beaver, a tbx,

and either a bald eagie or the largest turkey r.ulture

on the Hudson. One fisherman on the reed-spiked

bank had an eel and two shad in a bucket, and toldme about a whopper sturgeon that iust got away.

"100 kilos!" he cursed with a Baltic accent.

"More!"

The natural splendoi of the Hudson has inspirednaturalists and artists for centuries. The HudsonRiver School of painters - with Frederick Churchin the lead - depicted the 19th-century Valley insyrupy tones of romantic realism. Church'sMoorish hilltop mansion (Olana) set every windowas a frame for a landscape scene.

Washington Irving used the Hudson as thesetting for his "Legend of Sleepy Hollow" and "RipVan Winkle" tales. John Burroughs philosophizedabout the conservation of nature here beforeJohnMuir or environmentalism was heard of. RichardWright, the Art Deco designer, spent 30 years inthe Hudson foothills sculpting an S0-acre arbore-

tum called Manitou, Algonquian for "Place of Great

Spirit."Nature and art couple most grandly at the

Storm King Art Center. More than 100 majorsculptures - the BIG kind - by Calder, Noguchi,Armajani, Liberman, David Smith and others, are

scattered over an undulating 400-acre park. Sum-mer concerts of jazz, classical and folk music iuIIaudiences into the art, the land, and the conscious-ness in between.

F**-ss*d* *h*€sPerhaps the Hudson Valley's best synthesis ofhistory, activism and nature is the birthplace ofFranklin Delano Roosevelt at Hyde Park. As theonly U.S. president to be elected four times, FDR

lifted the country out of the Great Depression withsocial welfare initiatives and led the nation duringW.W.II. Archives, political memorabilia and filmsof his era are here in a huge presidential library.

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His sprawling-yet-cozy home became the"Summer White House." It is criss-crossed withramps for FDR's wheelchair and its walls are full ofCurrier & Ives prints, political cartoons and familyportraits. Roosevelt loved to gather people alongthe crest of the hill behind the house to absorb thebeauty of the Hudson River and the hundreds ofdifferent ffees he planted on the 188-acre estate.

And FDR often broadcast his "fireside chat"radio speeches from here; today, recordings ofthem are aired on a side porch outdoors. A fewyards from the porch, while standing in the rose

garden before the simple tomb that holds thepresident and his wife, I overhear the recording ofhis first inaugurai address: "...the only thing we

have to fear is fear itself."

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Michelle Dremann, a boomer businesswoman, is

part of the Valley's "ner,.r gentry." This former NewYork City resident didn't have a driver's license

when she started visiting the Valley, so she'd come

up by Amtrak train and take taxis all over theRhinebeck region. Then, about eight years ago, she

fell in love with and started renovating a9O-year-

)6

old carriage house and barn on the oldMansakenning estate. Her aim was to turn it into abed-and-breakfast inn.

She laughs: "Me, in my high heels, puttinglumber into taxis... The locals thought I was crazy ."

It took her four years of hard labor to transformthe historic site. But now, the 1Z-roomMansakenning Carriage House - with its gabledroofs, plank-wood floors and well-worn antiques -offers several suites with baiconies, firepiaces and

Jacuzzi's.Gourmet brunches by Culinary Institute of

America chefs offer the iikes of "Pecan and CreamCheese-stuffed French Toast with Warm Orange-Maple Syrup." Two yellow Labrador retrivers -Franny and Zoe, no less - serve as amiable rent-a-pets for those needing a dog fix.

Dremann says it takes New Yorkers a while toget used to the peace and quite of the Valley, tohaving no locks on the doors and no jackhammers

tearing up the streets. But eventually they begin torelax - and even get some work done: Mansaken-ning is popular for shooting films about murdermysteries for TV, and for, among other things,getting married.

Gentrification like this during the "go-go" '80srenovated scores of historic buildings, and drewtourists to discover Hudson Valley's past. AtCromwell Manor Inn, a 2O0-year-old Quaker homein Cornwali-on-Hudson now crammed with perfect

plumbing and style, you can read a teenager's diaryfrom a century ago. (She was bored with a suitor,but thdlled by new ribbons.)

Other bed-and-breakfast inns with names likePink House, Pig Hill and the Bird & Bottle Innflourish as well. Rhinebeck's traditional BeekmanArms now presents gourmet cuisine by a Manhat-tan culinary star, Larry Forgione, who puts theemphasis not on fancy French fare, but on good ol'American dishes.

,&, Yms€c d *k* &rmp*Several of the local wineries are promoting "Ameri-can traditional" as well - even though the revivalof the industry here was sparked by European grape

imports.Wine has been made in the Hudson Valley

since the 17th century, and Brotherhood Winery is

actually the oldest one in America. But until theIast few years, the wines of the 20-some Valleyvintners were, well...undistinguished. Then, NewYork State's Agricultural Department and privateinvestors began importing European vinifera grapes

- the species that yields chardonnay and cabernetsauvignon wines - and the wine business cameout of its deep, deep sleep. Millbrook Winery was

one of the first to wake up. It started its "money-no-object viniculture" more than a decade ago andnow makes the best wine in the state.

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;sS,.+ ontact!" shouts the pilot behind

"1F me. A pair of arms reaches uP

from suspendered shoulders and yanks

the wooden propeller. The engine sput-

ters, belches a cloud of smoke, thenthunders to life - the entire plane shut-

tering to the drone.Built of wood, canvas, and hope,

this 1944 De Havilland feels like an

over-sized model airplane or worse -a go-kart with wings. The whole thing,including the massive exposed motor,weighs less than I ,000 lbs. lt's a plane

built for stunts and it's called a TigerMoth.

As we bound down the rolling grass

runway, the soft leather helmet slaps

against my cheek, reminding me

the runway grandstand. The audience

boos the scoundrels on command fromthe master of ceremonies, warming tothe melodrama as if they were watch-ing - or a part of - a Keystone Kops

film.Every weekend from April through

September, weather permitting, a

troupe of volunteer pilots scores ofvintage contraptions and skits in thisold-fashioned air show. Buildings ex-plode in puffs of corn-oil smoke, dum-mies get thrown out of planes, and ahero always saves the day.

"No director, no actors," says Palen,

perhaps the zaniest one of all, ' justfun."

Spectators can also ride in an open-

ln 1958, when Palen began thismuseum-of-the-sky on a "level-

enough" runway at a clearing in thewoods between two farms, not much

else was here. Now, the Aerodromeflies - and that's the amazing part -a world renowned collection of WorldWar laircraft including three Fokkers(tri-, bi-, and single-winged planes, re-

spectively), a Sopwith Camel, a

Nieuport, an Avro, and a I9l I Bleriot(which could barely fly when it wasnew!). Model-T Ford automobiles,hand-pump fire engines and lndianmotorcycles round out the props forthe show. To house all these heir-looms, New York State recentlygranted funds to build real hangars on

the site.Palen who suffered a stroke recently

and is no longer flying, pushes back his

beret, rubs his head and tells me, "The

young types will carry it on. They can'tget enough of flying." He looks skywardas another antique craft baarrrroooomsoverhead, making a sharp turn and div-ing almost to the ground before zoom-ing skyward again.

I duck and Palen smiles. "That's

what barnstorming is all about," he

says. "Cet it?"

Even though there's no barn in

sight, I get it. Now all I need is a longsilk scarf and goggles.

there's no cockpit. Even though the twocloth-covered wings are wired to each

other and to the fuselage, theY are

twanging and bending and swaying as

if they are trying to flap. I turn back topoint this out to the pilot, but he's lean-

ing out the fuselage to steer. And we'vejust lifted offl

Up, up we go, up like a fast eleva-

tor. The acceleration drives me downinto my seat as the 1 00-mph winds peel

back my cheeks and lips into a forcedgrin.

This is Rhinebeck's Old Aerodrome,a living museum and community the-

ater all in one. And it's the result of one

man's vision: when Cole Palen went toinspect one World War I biPlane at amilitary auction in 1951, he was the

only bidder. So he bought six.

Now 70 years old, wearing an eye

patch and a black beret, Palen couldpass for a Hollywood director of the1920s. ln fact, he's too down-to-earth,too full ofgap teeth and laughter to be

a DeMille, though he does like his the-

atrics.A charcoal dust bomb exPlcdes in

the air as two antique biplanes stage a

mock dogfight in the air and the "Black

Baron" menaces "Trudy True Love" by

cockpit 1929 mail plane (a New Stan-

dard D-25, to be precise). Four goggledpassengers cram into two front seats fora low-altitude look at the Hudson. This

big plane rides like a classic Cadillac -smooth, stable, almost comfortable.

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Millbrook is in a converted dairy barn atop a

hi11ock. Because it's smail, most of the processing is

done by hand, and visitors can see fermentationbubbling in stainless-steel barrels which oncestored milk. The tasting room is in the loft whichoverlooks 100 acres oi vines.

Our group of two dozen strangers stafied our tast-ing session with a sparklingntethod cltampenoiseblendof pinot noir and chardonnay. Like the first fast danceat a prom, that tasty tasting broke the ice, and soonwe were sipping a splendid 1991 Estate Chardonnaythat had us spinning. From there we sashayed into a

lruity Claret, and by the time we hit the Merlot, wewere dancing on the baicony.

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Horses graze across white-fenced fields and deer are

seen on the roads at dawn. Pass by just about anyorchard and you'll see apples for sale - not some-one selling apples, iust a stack of apple crates and a

tin can with a sign that reads something like "Justput your money here - keep that doctor away!"

North of Bear Mountain, life gets simpler. Thecounty fairs feature livestock shon,s, competitionsbetween various 4-H Clubs, craft bazaars and evenbaking contests. Depending on which weekendyou happen to visit the Dutchess County FairGrounds you can gander at collections of classic

lnnon"'ff hereareboattoursthatwill takeyoufromNewYorkCityuptheHudson-atleastpartoftheway.Butto? get a better look at the lifestyle enjoyed here - today and in the past - it's best to drive, and these country

roads are meant for driving, and rent-a-car companies are rife. You can ofcourse motor up from the City, but a more leisurely (and cheaper) way is totake the Amtrak train from New York Central, with local stops all the way toAlbany; alight at any of lhese, then rent your buggy.For details, schedules and suggestions:. New York Tourism: ln the U.S., call: I -800-CALL-NYS or 518-474-6950.. Dutchess County Tourism: call: 9l 4-229-0033 fax: -6276. Orang€ County Tourism: 91 4-294 5151

cars, shop for antiques or duck decoys, listen to folkmusic hoedou'ns, join in a square dance or do just

about any of the things you might have thoughtAmericans didn't do any more.

The fairs draw a lot of visitors - mostly NewYorkers - and flood nearby Rhinebeck with a

flavor-of-the week coating that doesn't really sinkin. But the prosperity does. Intimate four-stareateries like Le Petite Bistro are down the street

from a church converted into a rock & roll bar.

"Rhinebeck is changing nicely," says Cole

Palen, a 7}-year old barnstormer. It's still a smalltown and "looks the same as 50 years ago."

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The main intersection in Rhinebeck, where the OldAlbany Post Road meets Sepasco Trai1, is home toAmerica's oldest inn, The Beekman Arms. Hun-dreds of finches tweeter in the oak out front.

Down the street is Schemmy's, a drug-store

soda-fountain which dispenses only calories now.

Joe Curthoys, a son of a son of the founder, says

their business was built by "treating people withrespect. "

While admitting that city folks have educated

the locals about business, Curthoys says thebackiash has begun, with demands for stricterzoning and slow-growth policy. "Nobody wants

gridlock," he says.

Other towns are also feeling the heat. "The last

thing we need is another antique shop," said an

antique-shop owner in Cold Spring, across fromWest Point. Sundays during the summer and fall,

crowds of pokers, sniffers and "how-old-is-this-thing?" casual shoppers do their thing at the 40-

some antique boutiques that line the town's steep

main street.

Some visitors overnight in the antique butcharmhg Hudson Inn right on the river. But these

days, most take the train up from the City, strollaround, grab a bite to eat then catch the returntrain, loaded down with mementos.

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Zealous antiquers go north, to Tivoli, Saugerties orHudson - tiny towns, river towns, towns that maylack some of the gosh-all-mighty quaintness ofRhinebeck but who are seriously into reaping theirshare of the back-to-America avalanche.

Here, antiques, replicas and hand-me-downs are

stacked in converted supermarkets. Chippendale,Shaker and Empire furniture cascade out of shops

onto the streets. After I looked at one well-oiledcedar chest in Saugerties, a leather-iacket man.andhis hungry wife lifted its lid and asked the price.

"We'11 come back after brunch," he said, leaving.

With a nod to the shop owner, I returned to thechest as if interested. The man rushed back with$200 in hand. "We want this piece of country byour bed," he said. The shop owner just smiled, and

winked.Saugerties, by the way, has the notoriety of

rejecting a certain music festival back in 1969,

rescinding the permit only a week before theconcert was to have taken place. That's why theconcert's promoters ended up on Max Yazgur's

farm in a nearby town - a town called Woodstock.But now, 25 years later, Saugerties has the

chance to redeem itself: Woodstock II is scheduled

for this August in the town. The tickets, it is said,

will cost a minimum of $100 each. This revenue -inflated by TV and movie deals, CD recordings andother perks - could fill Saugerties' coffers for thenext generation or two.

Meanwhile, as the Hudson flows on, plans are

already in place to make sure the surge of visitorsfrom the City won't swamp the little town: crowdcontrol for the concert will begin some 50 milesdownstream. I