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The
history of Trout
Valley Farm will
be far from complete
without its early
chapters which
I hope may be
written by one
of the heirs
of the former
owners, Mr. and
Mrs. Jay Davidson,
from whom I purchased
the property
in the Spring
of 1922.
This
year of 1952
will be the 66th
year of continuous
operation of
this resort. I
believe that prior
to my purchase
the Davidsons
had operated it
for 35 years.
Before that it
was the farm home
of Mr. and Mrs.
Davidson's father
and mother.
My
first visit to
Trout Valley
Farm
dates back to
the year 1909.
As a boy I spent
many happy care
free days here.
My grandfather,
grandmother,
mother, father,
and aunt had
come to the BeaverKill
for many years
before that.
At the age of
sixteen I was
sent to BeaverKill
for a two weeks
vacation as I
had been home
in Newburgh all
summer in the
torrid heat of
the Hudson River
Valley. My father
was very ill,
that summer,
and the family
decided to send
me away and arranged
with Mrs. Davidson
to look after
me for two weeks.
Those two weeks
and the following
two summers on
the BeaverKill
made a very lasting
impression on
me. The natural
wonders of this
beautiful valley
and its stream
I will have to
admit now at
this date were
the prime reasons
for my purchase
of the property
some thirteen
years later.
I learned to fish
for trout and
in those days
the fishing was
the kind that
fishermen will
talk about for
generations to
come. Long walks
through the woods.
swimming in the
bridge pool,
straw rides, country
dances, good
times and parties
at some of the
neighborhood summer
homes and the
daily golf matches
on the BeaverKill
Golf Course occupied
my time.
The
BeaverKill Golf
Course was the
first golf course
in Sullivan County
by many years.
It was laid out
and built in 1897
on the river flat
of Trout Valley
Farm. The course
was originally
started and organized
by some of my
relatives from
Newburgh. Mr.
Davidson had always
been very proud
of the fact that
the first advertising
that he did was
to put a tennis
net on the north
lawn. This signified
a summer resort
in those days
and it brought
customers right
away. A group
of summer guests
in 1897 organized
a golf course
and talked Mr.
Davidson into
laying out nine
holes. A club
of charter members
was formed, a
golf cup trophy
was purchased
and played for,
and some funds
were raised for
the further improvement
and upkeep of
the course. I
do not know the
amount of this
original investment
but it was enough
to buy nine holes,
poles and flags,
build nine tees
of log framework
and mount boxes
on each tee with
sand and a sap
bucket in them
to make dirt tees
when driving off.
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The
golf links
as they
appeared
when the
sheep fence
was still
up. Main
guest house
hidden behind
the large
trees on
the right.
Enlargement |
Mr.
Davidson was of very shrewd Scotch
ancestry and he combined business
with pleasure and agriculture
and purchased enough sheep fence
to go around the entire river
flat. He built a sheep shed which
stood where the log cabin now
stands, and he purchased a flock
of sheep to take care of the fairway
cutting problem. I believe that
Sturgis Buckley was the first
greens keeper and cut the greens
with a regular lawn mower for
the nominal sum of $5.00 per month
or as often as they needed it.
Some years later a one-horse-drawn
lawn mower was purchased from
the Caldwell Lawn Mower Co. in
Newburgh , with which John
Clum mowed
the fairway making it uniform,
as the sheep clipped only certain
sections of the grass where it
was most tender. A most unusual
problem on the third hole was
solved by my grandfather. When
the golfers drove up the bunker
and went up the steps to the green
they would always leave the gate
open in the sheep fence. Like
all animals, out would go the
sheep right into Aaron Ackerley's
garden. My grandfather built a
most ingenious, lift- up folding
gate which closed by gravity after
the golfers had passed thru. Thereafter
the roving sheep problem was solved.
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"The
little white church
in the dale"
is
situated, in this case,
on the Banks property.
Enlargement
|
That
summer we rented the present Gordon/Sharpless
house and spent a most delightful
two months there. We were once
more getting sway from those hot
days in the Hudson River Valley
and had a number of our friends
visit us. We all would take all
day rides and picnics with the
three-seated buckboards drawn
by teams of horses. One all day
ride which I remember very well
was up to Lew Beach, up Shin Creek
and over to Flynns Pond to DeBruce
and home by way of Livingston
Manor.
A
very unusual foursome on the golf
course played their daily match.
It was the clergymen's foursome.
The Rev. Kirkland Huske and his
brother Rev. John Huske would
play Rt. Rev. F. B. Howden and
the Rt. Rev. Ethelbert Talbot.
Margaret and Elsie Huske used
to caddie for these matches.
 |
Fred
Banks cutting the grass
on the fairways with a new
machine. Up to then the
job had been done by sheep.
Note the Church in the background.
Enlargement |
We
had a BeaverKill Base Ball team
which became famous in the sports
history of Rockland Township that
summer. The team was made up from
the summer guests of Trout Valley
Farm, the Clear Lake Tobey House
and some of the native boys. Our
star pitchers were Arthur Wilcox
and Newman Wagner and our catcher
was Eliphalet Snedecor whose grandfather
owned the BeaverKill falls property
at that time. We won our games
with all of the local teams. The
Pepacton team over on the East
Branch of the Delaware heard of
our fame and challenged us to
a game. We all went to Pepacton
in two large straw rides, one
from Davidson's and one from the
Tobey house at Clear Lake. It
was a grand all day picnic. The
Pepacton team procured the battery
from the Binghamton Tri-State
League Team to play against us,
and we lost the game by the score
of 8-7. I was fortunate enough
to make a home run in the second
inning scoring two runs.
The
small fry went along on the straw
ride and a swimming incident resulted
that I will never forget. Mildred
and Edith Odell and their younger
brother Hiram B. Odell, nephew
of the Governor of New York State,
were along. We had a large picnic
lunch all laid out on the grass
under some shade trees on the
shores of the river just above
the Pepacton covered bridge. Several
of the boys were missing and the
two Odell Sisters went to look
for their brother. He was in for
a swim with some of the other
boys, all in their birthday suits.
On
this trip Jack Green and I heard
about the bass fishing over there
in the Delaware. Shortly afterwards
we went on an all-day bass fishing
trip to Rock Eddy several miles
up the river from Pepacton. We
walked from BeaverKill to Rock
Eddy, with our cans of fish worms
and our fishing rods, just twelve
miles each way, fishing all day,
and returned and went to a dance
that evening at the Clear Lake
casino. After resting up for a
few days we were allured by the
fishing in the Delaware again
and this trip included an over
night stop at a farm house in
the then prosperous hamlet of
Pepacton. I do not recall the
name of our over night landlady
and if I did I might not mention
it here for we slept in a large
double bed which became alive
shortly after we retired and we
spent the rest of the night sleeping
on the floor as far away from
the bed as we could get. The bass
fishing was marvelous and we returned
with two baskets full of bass
and pickerel. Enough to feed both
of the boarding houses. These
of course were the horse and buggy
days. Cars at that time had not
penetrated the valley of the BeaverKill.
Our next fishing trip was not
a walking trip as we rented a
horse and in my diary I have entered "we
rented Reeves race horse." I
do not recall who Reeves was but
we were supposed not to race the
horse up to Liph Snedecor's grandfather's
home at the Beaverkill falls.
We had our picnic lunch to eat
on the way and left BeaverKill
about eleven in the morning. Liph
was more of a horseman than I
and I know that we arrived up
there with a white lathery horse
and we were in time to eat our
lunch on the stream. In those
days the trout fishing was wonderful.
We caught twelve nice large trout
apiece that afternoon. There were
only native trout above the falls
and brown trout below. It was
not unusual for Liph's grandfather
to see a black bear on the stream
and of course we two boys had
one eye on the stream and the
other eye on the lookout for a
bear.
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Fred
Banks, when he first became
owner of the Trout Valley
Farm, holds a fair sample
of Beaverkill fishing.
Enlargement
|
The
bathing and swimming in the covered
bridge pool at Beaverkill was
of course a daily event for all
of the summer guests. It was not
considered proper in those days
to walk from the house down to
the pool in a bathing suit. In
fact it was unheard of. Mr. Davidson
had two bath houses, up on the
rock ledge on the far side of
the pool and guests would go there
and dress for their daily dips.
Sunday was church day and the
golfers were not allowed to play
on the golf course, and fishermen
had a hard time doing any fishing
unless they had a collapsible
rod. I recall that one Sunday
all the golfers and summer guests
were assembled in the BeaverKill
Church and the Pastor chose for
the text of sermon, "The
grass was long in the place." Of
course he was not referring to
the condition of the golf course.
My
days in BeaverKill between 1912
and 1921 were few and far between,
with college, service in World
War I, and a position in a large
steel plant in Youngstown, Ohio,
I only managed to get here on
several short vacations. In 1921
the steel industries were closed
down with a series of strikes
in steel making, railroads and
the coal mines. It was the advent
of the eight hour day. The steel
plant was closed down all summer
in 1921 and it did not take me
long to get to the BeaverKill
as I had a new Buick car. Mr.
Jay Davidson had turned over the
operation of Trout Valley Farm
that summer to his daughter and
son-in-law Bill Miller. I was
very fortunate in getting a summer
job with Mr. Davidson who was
in poor health at the time. He
was suffering with asthma and
had developed some eye cataracts.
He was not allowed to be around
the horses and cows on account
of the asthma and could not see
well enough to drive his new Dodge
car, so he hired me to drive him
around the countryside every day,
so he could attend to many of
his outside affairs.
Mr.
Davidson was a man with a very
keen mind and was very well known
in Sullivan and Delaware Counties.
At that time he was the oxen man
of the Catskills. With the largest
barn in this county and meadows
that produced tons of hay he would
purchase every bull calf that
he could lay his hands on. He
would raise them until they were
two years old or old enough to
become ox teams. At that time
I believe a team of oxen would
sell for around three hundred
dollars. In case a prospective
buyer did not have the ready cash
to pay down he would let him have
a team, to break, train, feed,
keep and use and pay 6% of the
purchase price for their use until
such time as the farmer could
pay for them. In case a buyer
came along with the necessary
cash to buy a team he had an agreement
beforehand that he could sell
any of these teams which were
farmed out, in this manner, and
supply the man with a new team.
So there were always some teams
available for the cash customers.
There were a great many of these
teams out around the two counties
and our time that summer was well
occupied in driving all over and
checking up on them, collecting
interest, and buying and selling.
It was a very remunerative business
and helped many a logging farmer
out even when he did not have
the necessary cash to purchase
a team outright. Mr. Davidson
told me that he made as much money
in his oxen selling as he and
his family did in the summer months
operating Trout Valley Farm. It
was on these many trips that I
talked over my purchase of Trout
Valley Farm from Mr. Davidson
and it was agreed upon in the
fall of 1921 that I should take
possession in the Spring of 1922,
April 1st. to be exact.
The
past thirty years of our operation
and ownership of Trout Valley
Farm I shall not dwell upon at
length, as I consider this span
of years too recent to be classified
in a historical light.
We
have operated the resort in keeping
with the good old days as much
as possible. With only a few modern
improvements and several summer
cottages we have kept it the same.
We have succeeded in doing this
to such an extent that many of
our present day guests come here
for the atmosphere of former days.
There are very few of this type
of resort left, in the country,
nowdays. Before many years pass
there will be none. The present
generations have not lived long
enough to remember the time when
whole families used to go away
in the summer for a two, three,
or four weeks stay at a summer
resort.
The
unique feature of Trout Valley
Farm, of course, was its extra
long season, due to the trout
fishing in the famous BeaverKill.
It is and always has been the
only resort where one can walk
out of the house and play on its
golf course or go trout fishing
in the BeaverKill. I have seen
golf matches played on the golf
course where the stakes have been a
trout a hole.
The
house register which we have dates
back to 1899. Every famous trout
fisherman from Theodore Gordon,
the dean of American fly fishing,
down to the present time have
stopped here. From the time before
we had the N.Y.O. & W.
R.R. and teams of horses used
to bring fishermen to the BeaverKill
from the Erie R.R. at Callicoon
the fishermen have come here.
Fishing
today is rated as the number one
pastime in sports in America.
More people fish than partake
in any other form of outdoor activity.
I believe we shall have fishing
in the BeaverKill for many years
to come. It may have its good
years and its poor years but New
York State has the facilities
to offset these poor years and
they are certainly not going to
overlook the famous BeaverKill.
John
Clum Footnote
John
Clum (1883-1947) lived in Beaverkill
and /or Lew Beach from 1901 until
his death. His obituary, in the
Walton Reporter (reprinted in
Beaverkill Valley, a Journey Though
Time, eds. Joan Powell and Irene
Barnhart, Lew Beach, 1999) describes
him as "one
of the best known men in Beaverkill.
His career can be sporadically
traced through the Powell & Barnhart
book, starting when he went to
work for Jay Davidson in 1901
at Trout Valley Farm, where he
mowed the fairways and drove the
stage and horses to take guests
to and from the Livingston Manor
railroad stop of the O & W
line.
Clum
later drove the mail stage from
the Manor to Turnwood and eventually
became the caretaker and much
loved de facto manager of the
Beaverkill Trout Club. He owned
and bred dogs, dabbled in real
estate, was a noted hunter and
storyteller, who would pause to
heighten the suspense at dramatic
moments, punctuating his narrative
by emitting a quick jet of tobacco
juice.
The
obituary does not exaggerate when
it says he " was
extremely popular with trout club
members and with the general populace." But
he became really well known because,
in the late 1930s, in a spacious
cage beside the Beaverkill Trout
Cub, he kept a big, handsome male
bobcat. Hundreds of people came
to see it. The Downsville News
reported (7/21/38) that one winter
the cat seemed lonely, so Clum
got some hunter friends to live
trap a female for its mate. The
pair lived together equably enough,
though the reporter may have gone
too far in reporting that they "seem
to be deeply in love and perfectly
satisfied to remain in captivity."
back
to text
A
Trout a Hole Footnote
This
would appear to be a reference
to a real match between fishermen/golfers
of the kind who often stayed at
Trout Valley Farm, both trout
and golf being splendidly close
to hand. If so, the match may
very well have inspired a short
story, entitled "A
Trout a Hole," by
Frederick White which appears
in The Spicklefisherman, a memorable,
often funny collection of stories
set in and around what appear
to be Trout Valley Farm and the
Beaverkill Trout Club in the years
just after World War I.
In
the story in question two men
bet a trout a hole. Both golf
and fishing to end at midnight
on the given day, all fish to
be taken on a fly from the Beaverkill--though
it is dead summer, the water low,
the fishing poor. Both contestants
have trouble getting fish, and
as midnight approaches, are driven
to desperate measures. The story
ends with one, skunked, finding
the other asleep beside the Inn's
icy cold spring (clearly off limits
but rumored to have trout in it).
The sleeper's fly rod is attached
to line and leader and a Light
Cahill, all right. But the Cahill
is affixed to the jaw of a tiny
frog. The sleeper wakes to hear his
friend's jeering comment: "I
suppose you call THAT fishing
wet!"
back
to text
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