Martha Rebentisch fell sick with the same disease that killed her mother. She dropped out of high school and left home in New York City to fight for her life at sanatoriums, where clean country air was the only hope for survival from tuberculosis, rampant at that time.
Robert Garrow was on the run. The 37-year-old who grew up in the Adirondacks hunting, fishing and trapping had left a trail of terror in the wilderness. Hundreds of police officers, guided by forest rangers and tracking dogs, swarmed the Hamilton County woods trying to find him.
There were times during his retirement to the Adirondacks when my grandfather, the 20th century’s greatest classical percussionist, Saul Goodman, fell silent behind the helm of his large automobile. With a half-smile on his lips he would take in the sweep of the Great Range while his fingers drummed out something specific on the rim of the steering wheel.
As of early April 2012, Peter Fish, of Keene, had hiked 5,344-foot Mount Marcy 763 times. The 76-year-old retired forest ranger, who’s still a High Peaks fixture after working there from 1975 to 1998, chats about how to appreciate this place; why he sports a kilt; and where he’s planned his terrestrial exit strategy—not on what he calls “the Big M.”
After 12 hot, buggy miles, split by a night at Seward lean-to, they arrive at the über-rustic compound of iconic hermit Noah John Rondeau, who, though known to be irascible, welcomes and “confabs” loquaciously with them.
There were seven protesters from Greater Adirondacks Bioregion Earth First! at Little Green Pond that day. Three of them were floating in inflatables in the middle of the pond, one shaped like an alligator, the others a whale and a dolphin.
Harry Greb was one of the world’s greatest professional fighters. He is still regarded as among the most accomplished pound-for-pound pugilists to ever lace up a pair of boxing gloves.
Adirondack chronicler and biographer Maitland De Sormo described Seneca Ray Stoddard as “gentle, easy-going, (and) unassuming.”
The North Country nukes became front page news, their fearsome firepower aimed at the Russian motherland, but also at the American psyche, which had been bruised by our perceived nuclear shortfall in comparison with the Soviets.
It needs winding twice a week, if you can get to it and know how. And frankly, it’s not that easy. You’ve got to be in shape for this job. You might ask, Really? Certainly a clock, even in a tower, is electric by now, with a switch by the door and some gizmo to reset it if the power goes out. Nope.
Spotlighting regional characters—a movie star, an angler, a 46er 25 times over—and the Adirondack landscape at the time of America’s birth. Plus stunning photographs, where to find exceptional BBQ, and more.
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