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America’s version of Marie Antoinette’s dairy must surely be the grand Adirondack camps where the country’s East coast elite retreated to play at being back-woodsmen. Since the early 17th century, the Adirondack mountain range, north-east of New York City, had been colonized, mapped and exploited, first for beaver pelts, then for iron mines and finally for timber. But in the 19th century, as America’s population doubled and industry systematically destroyed the remaining wilderness, this region became revered as a rare example of unsullied nature within easy reach of the big east coast cities.
As the landscape was increasingly built on, blown up or dug into, the idea arose that God was manifest in nature, and thus the few bits of nature that remained unsullied should be preserved. And who better to preserve them than the socially prominent, politically powerful and extremely wealthy members of what was wryly dubbed The Gilded Age?
Driving private railway lines deep into the wilderness, these moguls created extensive compounds with separate guest, nursery and staff quarters, dining houses, boat houses, ice houses and games rooms, all designed in the rustic style that was America’s version of the Picturesque. By mid-century the log cabin – a simple woodland dwelling made of undressed logs – had become a national icon, suggesting hardiness, vigour, self-sufficiency, independence, strength, fortitude and every other virtue celebrated in the national psyche. No fewer than eight American presidents had been born in log cabins, and leading citizens who had been deprived of such noble origins created their own on the 3,000 lakes, rivers and streams of the Adirondack range.
Designed by the best architects and furnished by the most fashionable decorators, these cabins reveal the schizophrenia at the heart of their conception as local crafts – woven baskets, birch bark wall coverings and ironwork chandeliers jostled with Japanese screens, Chinese pots, elephant-foot umbrella stands and zebra-skin carpets. Here America’s politicians, financiers and industrialists would arrive each summer to commune with nature, attended by chefs, chauffeurs and secretaries, tennis, chess and singing coaches, barbers and butlers, nannies and house-maids.
In the – relatively – relaxed atmosphere of the camp, social proprieties were ignored as women shed their corsets and men bonded with the local guides who led them to the fish and game, rowed their boats, carried their guns and cleaned and cooked their catch. When they weren’t killing wildlife these campers tobogganed, skied and skated, canoed, cycled, hiked, played tennis and croquet and generally entertained themselves and networked with each other within the splendid conceit of their rustic compounds.
Gladys Montgomery provides a fascinating exploration of this curious phenomenon, examining the landscape, architecture, decor and lifestyle of these wilderness retreats. An introductory essay places the Adirondack camp in its social, cultural and environmental context, exploring the philosophical origin and assessing the enduring legacy. The rest of the book examines in detail 25 of the lavish compounds, describing the activities and aspirations of their owners, and recounting the later history as some were pulled down, others were sold to academic and civic bodies and a few that remained in private ownership.
Beautifully illustrated with poignant black and white photos from the Adirondack Museum’s extensive archive, this book offers a wonderful slice of social history: a must for the architectural or social historian or anybody interested in summer communities.
An Elegant Wilderness: Great Camps and Grand Lodges of the Adirondacks 1855–1935 by Gladys Montgomery is published by Acanthus Press, 2011. 264 pp., 231 mono illus, $75.00. IBSN: 987-0-926494-47-3
Media credit: Photographer unknown. Courtesy Adirondack Museum