A Walk to Doodletown – Doodletown Overview

I’ve always found Doodletown to be a fascinating place. Even the name is, to me, charming.

According to a site devoted to Doodletown (unfortunately I originally gave the wrong url, and now almost 6 years later I can no longer remember what it was):

Doodletown has been lived in continuously since at least 4-10-1762, and possibly before, when Ithiel June purchased 72 acres, and settled the picturesque valley. There are several theories as to how Doodletown got its name. One is that the words “dodo del” mean dead valley, perhaps because of fire damage, or of dark shadows. Another is that logging in 1700’s was called “doodling”. Doodletown had extensive logging, hence the reference. Another more romantic notion states that during the Revolutionary War, the British troops that marched through the hamlet on their way to attack Forts Clinton and Montgomery in 1777, played Yankee Doodle Dandy to antagonize the residents. The former is probably correct as maps of the time already indicated that Doodletown existed. An historic event occurred during that march. Patriot scouts encountered the British and there was a brief skirmish in Doodletown.

Beginning

Early life for the townsfolk was hard, yet they prospered. They found employment logging, mining, ice harvesting, at Iona Island, West Point, and later, the Interstate Park. Some had small farms. The first church, which was also used as a school, was built in 1851. A second church and a second school were built in the late 1880’s. Slowly, the town grew.

Early Life

In its peak in the 1920’s, Doodletown had a new, larger school, the finest building in the town. There were three primary roads, a lane connecting to Seven Lakes Drive, several dead end lanes, two working cemeteries, and approximately seventy homes. Many families like the Junes, Herberts and Weyants had lived there for generations.

Beginning ca 1917, and throughout the following decades, the Park began to expand its borders by slowly purchasing the settlements properties. Many of these properties were then rented out to Park employees. In 1962, the Park planned to build a ski resort where Doodletown was located. The residents were to be bought out. Some were relieved to be able to sell. At the time, homeowners were unable to secure home improvement loans, and buyers were unable to obtain mortgages, since the lenders felt that the town’s demise was inevitable. Others, strongly resisted, and were threatened with condemnation through eminent domain. In early 1965, the last of the Doodletown residents had moved out. This included the June family, whose members had lived there continuously since 1762. Ironically, the ski resort was never built. The Park now owned all of the land, except for the two cemeteries. In 1966, the buildings were demolished and the debris was buried. The town was left to revert to its natural state, wild and largely overgrown.

Unfortunately there’s not much left. Some of the locations, such as the one above, have markers. However, over time many of the markers have fallen apart and/or been destroyed by vandals. This particular marker reads: “Second Schoolhouse. This was the site of the second schoolhouse circa 1887-1926. It was then used as a community center.”

A stairway to nowhere. According to its marker: “Horace Herbert Home. These steps lead to the Horace Herbert Home, Build Circa 1900. It had an open porch with commanding views. Note the large well cover just across the street and a few steps up the road, was Horace’s garage.”

According to its marker: “Gray’s Barn. These barn walls are one of the best examples of Doodletown’s remains. It was part of the Gray family property, and is suggested (sic) a Mr. Green lived here ca. 1920. He grew corn and strawberries on the hillside. It was later used by William Herbert, whose home was adjacent up the hill. The dead end lane behind the barn lead to William’s blacksmith shop.”

Taken with a Sony RX100 M3.

A Walk to Doodletown – The 1776 Trail

While digging in the garden one day I managed to do something to my right calf muscle that made it painful for me to walk. I was still able to take out the dog on the flat roads around the lake, but I didn’t want to risk taking him into nearby Fahnestock State Park where the trails are more rugged: sometimes hilly, always rocky and root bound. My leg continued to hurt and I was beginning to wonder if my days walking in the woods were over. Then one day the pain started to ease and I thought I’d try again.

My wife was going to the spa at the Bear Mountain Inn (see also below):

So I decided to go along and try some of the trails there. Specifically I chose to follow the 1777 trail, which a nearby sign describes as follows:

You are walking part of the 1777 historic trail that retraces as nearly as possible the routes taken by the British army during the Revolutionary War.

The 1777 trail represents the route taken by British General Sir Henry Clinton’s forces on October 6, 1777. After landing 2,100 men at Stony Point, he marched north to capture Forts Clinton and Montgomery. At Doodletown, the trail splits. The east branch of the trail follows the march of forces under Sir Henry Clinton and Major General John Vaughn that captured Fort Clinton. The west branch follows the route of Lieutenant Colonel Mungo Campbell’s forces, which captured Fort Montgomery.

All told the walk took about 2.5 hours, so I guess I’m back in business.

Taken with a Sony RX-100 M3.

October Film Camera – Vivitar 35ES

When I first started collecting cameras I decided to start with 1970s vintage compact rangefinders. This was because my first serious camera (given to me by my wife) was a Minolta 7sii (which bears more than a passing resemblance to the camera above. In fact the half case in the picture in from the Minolta and it fits perfectly). This is now the ninth in my series of “Monthly Film Camera” posts and looking back I was surprised to find that so far non of them have been 1970s vintage compact rangefinders, and only one (the very first: a Fuji GS45S was even a rangefinder). So to rectify this omission here’s a compact rangefinder from around 1978: the Vivitar 35ES.

There are already a few good reviews on the internet:

So I’ll try not to duplicate the information found in them.

The consensus of these reviews seems to be that this is a well built camera with a great lens, but which is otherwise uninspired. So why did I get get it?

It all goes back to my beloved Minolta 7sii. I loved this camera, but since I like black cameras I would have preferred it in black. At that point I didn’t even realize that there was a black version of the 7sii then one day I bumped into a picture of one. Wow! Unfortunately it’s quite scarce and rather expensive so I decided I’d have to get along without it. Then I came across this camera. It looked very much like the 7sii and offered a similar feature set (except for the fully manual operation of he 7sii, which I don’t recall ever using in any case) …and it was black and much less expensive. So I decided to get one.

My first attempt was a failure. Although advertised as being in working condition, in fact it wasn’t. I did much better with this, my second attempt. Cosmetically it’s in good shape and everything seems to be working. In fact the viewfinder is significantly clearer than that on my Minolta. The leather is lifting up in a couple of places, but that’s an easy fix.

I’m eager to give it a try. Results to follow.

Picture taken with a Sony Alpha 500 and Tamron A18 AF 18-250mm f3.5-6.3.