DUANESBURG — This Tuesday, Sept. 25, we gathered at Chris’s Chuck Wagon Diner in Duanesburg. That is kind of confusing to some of us because right across Route 20 is the Princetown Evangelical Presbyterian Church. Maybe Route 20 is the boundary between Princetown and Duanesburg.
If you think that is a little confusing, how about Gibby’s Diner, also in Duanesburg, or is it in Quaker Street, just next down the street on the Duanesburg Road (Route 7) from the Quaker Street Volunteer Fire Department?
Not a problem; the OMOTM know where the good food is and we never make a mistake as to where we are supposed to be.
When we entered The Chuck Wagon, we were greeted with our usual cups of coffee. Sometimes the coffee arrives at our seats before we do.
Ron knows where we sit because we are creatures of habit and pretty much sit at the same table, in the same chair, every time. At any rate, this week, we were also greeted with a couple of birthday cards to sign.
Another young man is celebrating his birthday! This particular young man was probably in the Army when I was born, and I am 81 years old.
Elwood Vanderbilt has had “Happy Birthday” sung to him 97 times, but never as poorly sung as what occurred this time! The OMOTM are a lot of things, and we do many of them very well. Singing, however, is not one of them. We are awful.
Number one, we can’t find the right note with both hands; number two, we don't even start at the same time. No, this is not a 30-part harmony, and for those who can find the right note, it is hard to sing it on key with a mouth full of delicious pancakes.
But three things in our favor: one, we are enthusiastic; two, we know the words (we all have heard them just a few times); and we are sincerely happy for one of our own. Happy birthday, Elwood!
In addition to all that, Chris, the owner, and Ron, the coffee man, and the rest of the crew at the Chuck Wagon provided us with a birthday cake to help with our celebration. Of course, we were alone at the time because all the regular customers at the Wagon fled in terror when we started to sing.
One of our OFs, when asked about his singing abilities, replied that he must have “missed school the day they taught singing!”
Raising cane
We did welcome back another one of our own, who just had a hip-replacement operation and is looking good. In fact, he was insisting that his cane was, in fact, really the hind leg bone of an ancient and now extinct sub group directly related to today's llamas.
He claims he found this old leg bone while on safari in Africa, which is a good trick since llamas are found in South America. That’s OK, because this particular OF is a politician and sometimes is known to mix up his tall tales.
Besides that, his cane looked a lot more like the bone from the right front leg of an alpaca that died of old age from a ranch in Colorado in the 1700s.
Doodlebugs
Last week, we talked about “doodlebugs” — what they were, why they were, how they were made and by whom. Well, that story sort of continued down a couple of different paths this week.
To refresh last week’s information about what they were: They were homemade farm tractors made from just about anything that ran with a combustion engine. Regular farm tractors were in short supply so the farmers took any old car and modified the heck out of it and created a serviceable farm tractor.
That’s the short version of what they were, who made them, and why.
This week, some stories about some of the fun and games that developed around these doodlebugs were passed around. They indeed were used for the purpose they were made for, and did a good job of it.
Just about every OMOTM who grew up on the family farm here in the Hilltowns had a doodlebug or knew all about them. Regular readers of this column know full well that this scribe didn’t grow up on a farm here in the Hilltowns and therefore certainly didn’t know anything about a doodlebug.
As y’all also know, he has a tendency to ask his friend, Mr. Google, about nearly anything. So he did.
The first thing he found out is that there is a bug that, when it crawls around, leaves a trail behind it that, when observed, looks pretty much like someone’s doodles. Thus, the doodlebug.
This wasn’t what this scribe was expecting and he dug a little deeper and found the slang version of the doodlebug described last week. OK, that was better. This week brought forth some tales of some of the other uses and experiences having to do with the bug.
One of these was really just an extension of one of the jobs on the farm that the doodlebugs did, and that was pulling or carrying stuff from here to there. Not too surprising, somebody would say that his bug was faster, or stronger, or whatever, so naturally some friendly competition was initiated, complete with rules and everything.
How much weight could your doodlebug drag? Your front wheels couldn’t lift off the ground; you could only go fast; etc. Wintertime sports involving ice and snow, these men knew how to work hard and they knew how to play hard as well.
Not much has changed, except there are not many doodlebugs around anymore, except for the kind that leaves a trail behind, like a doodle.
Time to doodle over to the attendance list for this week: Wally Guest, Harold Guest, George Washburn, Pete Whitbeck, Jim Austin, Frank A. Fuss, Wm Lichliter, Wayne Gaul, Ted Feurer, Marty Herzog, J. Darrah, Jake Herzog, Roger Shafer, Mark Traver, Joe Rack, Warren Willsey, Russell Pokorny, Gerry Chartier, Paul Guiton, Rev. Jay Francis, Lou Schenck, John Dab, Jack Norray, Dick Dexter, John Jaz, Gerry Cross, Elwood Vanderbilt, Bob Donnelly, Dave Hodgetts, Herb Bahrmann, and me.
DELANSON — In spite of the fantastic run of great weather we all have been enjoying lately, there are signs that are hard to miss about what time of the year this is.
It is dark when I get up in the morning; in fact it was dark as I drove to Gibby's Diner on Sept. 17 to meet with my fellow OMOTM for breakfast. The sunrise on Tuesday occurred at 6:30 a.m., sunset will be at 7:02 p.m.
The leaves are starting to turn and some are ready to fall. Vacations are over, and school buses are everywhere.
The lakes are getting quiet. Many boats have been pulled out and some docks have been pulled out in preparation for, and in anticipation of, end-of-season work to close down the camps on the area lakes.
It is not like the rush of the springtime when we can’t wait for the summer season to start. This is a much slower time; some may even call it the annual resistance to face the inevitable.
These resistance fighters will point to the 80-degree bright sunny days we have had and say, “See? Summer is not over! This is the best part of the year!”
OK, OK, I get it, but the school buses are still running, high school football games are being played, college and pro football games dominate the weekend TV. It is still dark when we wake up and it gets dark shortly after we get home from work.
I think the new drop-dead time to acknowledge Yogi Berra’s famous line from last week, “It ain't over till it’s over,” is probably Oct. 14, Columbus Day. Three weeks after that is when Daylight Savings Time ends, a hard freeze can happen anytime, and our peak foliage is starting to fade.
From fruit flies
To DoodleBugs
One of the tables on Tuesday got to talking about fruit flies. An OF asked out of the clear blue, “How long do fruit flies live?”
Instantly, another OF fired back an answer, “Forty-two days.”
This was accepted and a further discussion followed as to how to get rid of them and where do they come from. Your scribe, who is a curious sort, checked Google when he got home about the life span of the fruit fly.
Sure enough, he found out that life span was 40 to 50 days, depending on several factors, so 42 days was an absolutely correct answer!
From fruit flies, the conversation moved naturally to DoodleBugs.
Again, I had to check with my friend, Mr. Google. I found out that DoodleBug is a slang name for a homemade tractor during World War II when tractors were in short supply.
Larry Kosilla of Autoweek says, “The DoodleBugs of the 1940s were typically made from Model As or Model Ts. Conversion kits were $300 back then so farmers just did it themselves.”
Does that frame of mind or attitude sound familiar? Do you think the OMOTM, when young, would watch their fathers “just do it themselves?” You better believe they did.
So, moving ahead a generation, to the current OMOTM, they, too, built their version of a DoodleBug. These young men searched out the junkyards, or “boneyards” as some were called.
One OF at the table recounted that they would get permission to search around the yard until they found an old car that still ran, paid the junkyard $25, and drove it on the back roads until they met some friends and then towed the junker home and went to work. Presto, one DoodleBug was born!
Junkyards
This led to a general discussion of old and current junk yards in the area. Turns out just about all of us have used the junkyards to find that old car part we need.
In the old days, the OFs said you would bring your own tools, find what you needed, remove it, and bring it to the junkyard owner, pay for it, and be on your way.
Another OF wanted to know where he might find a certain radiator, just in CASE, he said. When asked about the word CASE, he said it stood for “Couldn’t Afford Something Else.”
Another OF said he knew of a place but two of you better go to it, one to stay with the car, or at least lock your car if you were alone. About this time, another OF came to the table with a suggestion of yet another boneyard our OF might want to consider.
You just never know who is listening to which conversation when you are having breakfast with the OMOTM. We do talk sort of loud, because none of us can hear worth a damn.
Well, from resisting the passing of the seasons, to fruit flies, to DoodleBugs, to boneyards, the time flew by and another great Tuesday breakfast was had by all of us at Gibby's Diner. Those who were there included Frank A. Fuss, Pete Whitbeck, George Washburn, Michael Kruzinski, Ted Feurer, Wayne Gaul, Jake Lederman, Wm Lichliter, Jake Herzog, Ken Parks, Joe Rack, Glenn Patterson, Mark Traver, Gerry Chartier, Marty Herzog, Warren Willsey, Roger Shafer, John Williams Lou Schenck, John Jaz, Jack Norray, Dick Dexter, Gerry Cross, John Dab, Paul Guiton, Elwood Vanderbuilt, Dave Hodgetts, and me.
MIDDLEBURGH — It’s after Labor Day, and the early morning temperature is in the 50s, the lake water is much warmer than the air, fog lays in the valleys, some leaves are falling. School buses are rolling in large numbers, and what’s that in our rear-view mirror?
Summer.
I’ve been warning you for the past two weeks that this was coming; now we will just wait for a frost and then we can settle in for what we hope will be a nice long Indian Summer. With any luck, it will be a month or more before that first frost happens.
The average first frost is Oct. 3 — I looked it up. I am sure that we have some more 80-degree days left to enjoy. I looked that up too; the last 80-degree day is a month later, on Nov 2.
Enough of the weather. The OMOTM gathered this fine crisp morning, Sept. 3, at Mrs. K’s Kitchen in Middleburgh.
Soon our ranks will thin out a little as a few of the OFs depart for warmer parts of the country. But not yet.
One of life’s puzzles is the huge number of birthdays in the month of September. One such birthday, a very special one, takes place this week; it is number 90 for Jack Norray! Congratulations to Jack — Happy Birthday!
Muscle car
One of our OFs showed up on Tuesday in his 1958 Pontiac Catalina, which was parked directly across the street so we all could see it. Remember a couple weeks ago when I wrote about some of the OFs talking about how the cars of today all sort of looked the same?
Well, just about every one of us knew that this car was a late ’50s Pontiac, and most of those knew it was a Catalina somewhere close to a ’58.
It had chrome, it had two colors, and it was a picture-perfect muscle car. We all knew that from across the street! I hope the OF brings it next week, ’cause I’ll take the time to check it out.
If all the OFs who have classic cars, and motorcycles, all brought them to the same breakfast, from the Model T to the muscle cars, it would be quite a sight.
Nude vicissitude
Last week, an OF brought an article he noticed in the Times Union newspaper to this scribe’s attention. Last week, the scribe didn’t have room in his column to give it the proper attention it deserves.
But this is a new week and this is time sensitive, so time is of the essence and the scribe had to figure out how to properly write about this rather sad subject concerning the demise of a six-year tradition at the popular tourist attraction, Howe Caverns, while not offending some readers of The Altamont Enterprise.
The scribe is not at all worried about offending the OFs because, as we all know, they are unoffendable (that’s one of the rules to become an OMOTM; I believe it is # 7.) We get mad, we get upset, we get angry, but it is nearly impossible to offend us.
In any event, here goes. The lead headlines went like this, “Naked in a Cave to Bare All One Last Time” and “Howe Caverns to strip event out of its annual lineup.”
(Newspaper people just cannot resist writing headlines like that! But not The Altamont Enterprise! They would never fall for such an easy play on words. Absolutely not! They would never use the word strip. They would use words like “discontinue” or “cancel.”)
The article goes on to say it is a self-guided tour in which attendees stroll au naturel through the cavern — and that this all started on July 14, 2018, on National Nude Day. Who knew?
I’ll tell you who knew: Each year about 250 to 300 people stroll along for about 1.25 miles in 50- to 55-degree temperatures; that’s who knew.
Precautions are in place to ensure privacy. First, and foremost, the cave offers an extra layer of privacy because all this takes place 156 feet underground in the cave. You gotta have a ticket; there are no other people wandering around except maybe a stray bat.
A keyboardist will play music, and hot chocolate and cookies are provided halfway through the stroll and a towel (I hope it is hot!) is provided to sit on if you take the boat ride.
I don’t know about anybody else, and I love hot chocolate and cookies, but 50 to 55 degrees gets pretty cold for this OF in a very short amount of time! A lot less time than it takes for a 1.25 mile stroll au naturel.
It would take at least one-and-a half days for this OF to stroll that far! I’m a slow stroller, and the colder I get, the slower I stroll. Anyway, this is it. It’s all over after Sept. 28. A sad day for those of us who enjoy a good cup of hot chocolate and cookies.
Those of us making plans for the 28th while enjoying breakfast at Mrs. K’s included, Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Ed Goff, Wm Lichliter, Pete Whitbeck, George Washburn, Kevin McDonald, Gary Schultz, Jim Austin, Mark Traver, Glenn Patterson, Joe Rack, Ken Parks, Jake Herzog, Roland Tozer, Gerry Chartier, Marty Herzog, Frank Dees, Ted Feurer, Wayne Gaul, Jake Lederman, Russ Pokorny, Warren Willsey, Alan Defazio, Lou Schenck, Herb Bahrmann, Gerry Cross, Jack Norray, Dick Dexter, John Dab, Paul Guiton, Bob Donnelly, Elwood Vanderbilt, Dave Hodgetts, Dave Wood, and me.
MIDDLEBURGH — The Middleburgh Diner was the meeting spot for this week’s edition of the OMOTM breakfast. In a continuation of last week’s column with regards to the end of the traditional summer, the OF’s were heard to be talking about the speed of the passing of yet another summer.
It really does seem as though the Memorial Day Parade was just yesterday. Many colleges and some high schools are already open, and the rest will open in one week. This weekend is Labor Day weekend for goodness sake!
Vacations really are winding down and our visiting relatives and friends are heading home, except for one last party with family and friends over the weekend to celebrate the end of a great summer. September looms before us with its own bucket list of things that must be done, or some things that have been put off until after the fun of summer is over which now must be done.
A proud moment
On Sept. 12, a very important event, and a very proud moment for the family of an Old Man Of The Mountain, Frank Dees, will occur. Frank’s older brother, First Lieutenant Timothy Roy Dees, was severely wounded while fighting in battle and a year later, to the day, after much rehab, he received his honorable military discharge.
There is an organization that honors a group of these men and women from their geographic area, by providing an expense-paid flight to Washington, D.C., then taking them on a tour of the Vietnam Wall, Korean War Memorial, World War II Memorial, Navy, Air Force, Lincoln, and Iwo Jima memorials, as well as the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknowns, all this and more, before heading back to the plane for the flight home.
While in the service, all soldiers always looked forward to “mail call.” In that spirit, the OMOTM of the Hilltowns around Albany, New York would like our member, OF Frank, to make sure that his older brother Tim gets this column along with our heartfelt thanks for Tim’s service to his country.
Many of the OMOTM also served, or have family members who served, many suffering wounds and some even paid the ultimate sacrifice. The Old Men of the Mountain know all about this, they lived it, and they appreciate what the Dees family will be feeling on Sept. 12.
The real deal
Also heard and seen on Tuesday morning, Aug. 27, was a show-and-tell discussion about a local man and friend of one of our OFs who makes cannons! Our OF had several pictures of some of the cannons his friend has made.
He also makes the two-wheeled trailers to mount the cannons on.
It all looked exactly like what I see in old photographs from the Civil War or on the ships of that era. Those cannons, with the cannons mounted on them, were towed behind horses when the armies moved to the next battlefield.
And these cannons work! They are the real deal. They are full size, not toys . He even makes the cannon balls! All by himself.
No big factory here, just him and his small shop. Fascinating. You just don't know what you will find up here in the Hilltowns.
Memory Lane
Your current scribe has mentioned before that, on occasion, he will dig back in the archives and see what was going on way back when. So here we are.
Looking back with John Williams, Scribe Emeritus for the OMOTM:
This part of John’s column on March 12, 1998 dealt with the wives’ response to a question posed to them by the Old Men as to why they were not joining them for breakfast:
“We can't afford it.”
“I don't get that much of a kick out of waitresses. They don’t sit on my lap.”
“Why would I want to go out with a lot of old women and talk about old times?”
“That’s my day to go shopping without him following me around saying ‘Aren't you done yet?’ or ‘Do we need that?’”
“Who's going to run the business? He spends more in a week than we make in a month.”
“That's my morning to sleep late. I don’t have to get his breakfast.”
“I use that day to pick up and put away what he has dragged out all week.”
The Old Men decided they better let well enough alone.
John’s list of members present that morning in March in 1998, included Herbie Wolford (Founding Father), Mike Willsey, John Williams, Gerd Remmers, Myron Filkins, Harold Murphy, Ivan Baker (Founding Father), and George Washburn. They all met at the Alley Cat Diner in Schoharie. (Yesterday’s Alley Cat Diner is today’s Your Way Café, located in the same place.)
And that’s it for this week’s column from the Middleburgh Diner. Those enjoying breakfast on this fine morning in August 2024 were Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Ed Goff, Wm Lichliter, George Washburn and John Williams (both of whom were here today and on March 12, 1998), Miner Stevens, Gary Schultz, Roland Tozer, Bradley and Bruce and Brian McLaughlin who were family guests of Miner Stevens, (welcome guys), Marty Herzog, Jake Herzog, Waren Willsey, Frank Dees, Jack Norray, Gerry Cross, Dick Dexter, Lou Schenck, John Jaz, and me.
DELANSON — Tuesday morning, Aug. 13, had the feel of a little coolness in the air, plus the fact that the thermometer on the porch was reading less than 60 degrees. OK, long pants it is, maybe even a long-sleeved shirt
When we got to Gibby's Diner and were standing in the parking lot waiting for the doors to open at 7 a.m., the long pants and long-sleeved shirts easily outnumbered the short pants and short-sleeved shirts.
While still outside in the parking lot, one OF was seen approaching another OF and inquiring about what was written on his T-shirt. The T-shirt in question read this way, “There's no Place Like So & So’s Cabin, East Berne”
The questioning OF said he has lived in East Berne forever and has never heard of “So & So’s Cabin” and he asked what and where it was. The OF wearing the T-shirt laughed and promptly told him, “That’s my house; it's where I live.” And so starts another OMOTM breakfast.
Many questions and concerns regarding the scribe’s Boot and foot were expressed. No more jokes. The scribe reported that, one week later, the Boot was obviously gone and so was the pain.
The scribe did hear in the background some OF mutter, “Wait until he gets stomach ulcers.” The scribe didn't need to hear that.
Electric blankets
Along with the cool morning came a discussion about electric blankets. That really comes as no surprise although it is a bit early to be talking about it.
It is also no surprise that it is also part of the age-old, forever ongoing battle of the sexes. Too hot vs. too cold, and vice versa. No, I'm not going to go there in this column, or any other column for that matter.
Just be yourself
Another comment heard in passing at one of the tables was, “Waste time productively.”
To many of us OMOTM, these three words just don’t belong together in the same sentence. It is just flat-out a contradiction of terms.
Back in the 1930s and ’40s, there was a popular author and lecturer who talked and wrote about salesmanship, public speaking, self improvement, interpersonal skills, and corporate training.
Something tells me that the OMOTM didn’t have any of those topics on their minds when they were getting up at 4 a.m. to go milk the cows. A hot cup of coffee in their hands as they walked to the barn on that cold winter morning in the 1930s and ’40s, thinking about the work that lay ahead of them that day is what was occupying their minds.
Remember, this was the 1930s, it was the Depression and the world would be in a war in just a few years. Tough times like those do not leave too much time for thoughts like wasting time productively.
This column has talked about the “The Greatest Generation” before. They were the generation, who, like their forefathers, just went to work and got the job done.
They were the “Doers.” They saw what needed to be done, and did it.
“Waste time productively?” Wasting time was wasting time; it was not being productive.
The Old Men of the Mountain had little patience with people who wasted their time. They were too busy working and getting calluses on their hands.
Your current scribe is not suggesting that getting involved in an educational program that you like, or that you need, in order to make your life better for yourself and your children is a bad thing; it isn't. It is a good thing.
It is a natural thing. Even if it just results in allowing you a couple of hours a day to relax, to calm down, to read a book, or like our own Scribe Emeritus, John Williams, those calloused hands can now pick up a paint brush and create a picture.
All I'm suggesting is, just because you listen to someone else’s theory or thoughts on how to become a salesman, or public speaker, or how to be a successful farmer, doesn't make it happen.
Just because someone else says you would be great at doing this or that, but you just do not want to do this or that, you, with your fabulous hands, you can really make a piano sing, or paint a picture, or carry on the family farm — then stop trying to become someone you are not, and start making that piano sing or paint that picture!
So, for some, learning which end of a screwdriver to pick up is a complete waste of time. It is not productive.
For others, it is absolutely the most productive use of their time. It is what they want to do.
We all are what we are, and someone else really should not try to change us into something else altogether. Like what Texas Governor Ann Richards once said, “Well, you can put lipstick on a hog and call it Monique, but it is still a pig.”
We are what we are. I am not saying we are pigs; what I am saying is: Just be yourself.
Just because we take a course on farming or whatever doesn’t make us a farmer or whatever, and certainly does not put calluses on our hands. Only doing the work, whatever that work is, or walking the walk, will do that.
Ask any Old Man of the Mountain; he will tell you that. He will also tell you that wasting time is wasting time. It is not productive.
Among those being productive this morning at Gibby's Diner were: Wally Guest, Harold Guest, Jim Austin, Gary Schultz, Ed Goff, George Washburn, Wm Lichliter, Pete Whitbeck, Peter T. Parisi, Gerry Chartier, Frank Dees, Frank A. Fuss, Jake Herzog, Glenn Patterson, Mark Traver, Joe Rack, Lou Schenck, John Williams, Paul Goiton, John Dab, Dave Hodgetts, Bob Donnelly, Jack Norray, Dick Dexter, John Jaz, and me.
SCHOHARIE — The OMOTM gathered at the Your Way Café in Schoharie on this cool, cloudy Tuesday morning, Aug. 6. Your current scribe, not the Scribe Emeritus John Williams, arrived sporting a rather large “boot” covering his left foot, ankle, and almost all the way up to his knee.
As he hobbled out to the car that was picking him up with three other OFs in it, he just knew that he was probably going to hear some real concern and then the jokes would start regarding why he was wearing the boot.
Sure enough, the first thing out of their mouths was concern. “What happened to you?” “You OK?”
This was followed by my answer of, “I don't know. I just woke up a couple of days ago and my foot hurt like crazy. I can hardly walk on it, it hurts so much.”
That was the end of any serious questions and answers!
Then it started. “What did you do? Fall out of bed while celebrating married life?”
Now remember, these are OFs talking! Sixty years ago, it is just possible that my wife and I may have celebrated our new marriage somewhat enthusiastically, but at no time was I ever remotely in danger of falling out of bed!
(However, I do have to wonder about the several OFs who asked that question or thought it was funny.) I'm lucky to even remember 60 years ago.
Another popular question was, “Did you shoot yourself in the foot practicing your world class Quick Draw?”
It didn’t matter that I am right-handed and the boot was on my left foot. Oh, and the last time I practiced my right-handed quick draw, it was with my old trusty Roy Rogers cap gun six-shooter that was held together with electrical tape.
That joke did spark some real-life memories at more than one table of some Roy Rogers wannabes that did manage to shoot themselves. Not the OFs themselves, but rather, people they knew.
This being the Olympics and all, I was asked if I injured myself practicing my floor routine (or beam) in preparation for my competition with Simone Biles.
The one question I was not asked was, “Do you want to race?”
I think one of the more humorous aspects of the whole thing was the number of OFs who got up from their table to walk over to where I was sitting to ask their questions. I will say in their defense, they universally did express concern for me, right before asking if I shot myself in the left foot while practicing my right-handed quick draw with my Roy Rogers cap gun.
I just can't leave this segment without one last hilarious visualization. Imagine, if you will, the ultimate machismo man of all, Tarzan.
Me Tarzan, you Jane. And they are celebrating — and Mr. Machismo Man falls out of bed! Now, that is a mood changer! I’m still chuckling with that visual. My ankle doesn't even hurt anymore!
Different models in different times
At a table last week, I got word that a discussion was had about old vs. new cars. Imagine that, a discussion about old cars by the OMOTM at breakfast. I bet that has never happened before
This discussion centered around how similar the cars look these days. Cars today show no originality; different makes and models basically look all alike. During the week, I checked it out. It's true. They are the same.
One OF at the table commented about how he was in traffic the other day, waiting at a stoplight, and there were several cars ahead of him. He said almost all of them were black, from the top to down to the road, or at least very dark.
All were four-door; all had basically the very same lines. No more chrome these days, and sometimes even that trim that looks like chrome now is nothing more than aluminum foil glued to a plastic strip that is in turn glued, not screwed, to the car.
Any and all of OMOTM can tell you what a ’55 Chevy looked like vs. the classic ’57 Chevy, and same goes for the Fords and Chryslers. They were all very different, and they all came out with new designs each year.
Remember when the car manufacturers would hide the gas-tank filler caps behind the license or tail lights? How about two-tone color schemes for some models. Real wood on the sides of some station wagons?
How about the catchy songs that came out about the cars from the manufacturers? Like “See the USA in your Chevrolet,” or “Going for a ride in my merry Oldsmobile.”
Those are good memories about a different time. Maybe a somewhat more innocent time, but I, for one, am glad I can count those times among my memories and have a smile on my face every time.
The OMOTM who showed no taste with their sense of humor at the Your Way Café last Tuesday morning, but still enjoyed a great breakfast were; Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Ed Goff, Frank A. Fuss, Kevin McDonald, Miner Stevens, Gary Schultz, Roger Shafter, Joe Rack, Duncan Bellinger, Lou Schenck, Gerry Cross, John Jaz, Jack Norray, John Dab, Paul Guiton, Paster Jay Francis, Elwood Vandererbilt, Dave Hodgetts, Bob Donnelly, Wayne Gaul, Ted Feurer, Jim Austin, Wm Lichliter, Paul Whitbeck, Peter Whitbeck, Marty Herzog, Jake Herzog, Russ Pokorny, Warren Willsey, Frank Dees, David L. Wood, Gerry Chartier, and me.
MIDDLEBURGH — Temperature was climbing, humidity/dew point was climbing as the OMOTM descended on Mrs. K’s Kitchen in Middleburgh on Tuesday morning, July 30. We even had a potential new old guy join us for breakfast.
How does that happen? The “new old guys,” I mean. Well, it is a little like “I know a guy who knows a guy” type of thing.
We all know people or places, who to ask for anything about anything or anyone. There are three of these places people can pick from, and they are all extremely knowledgeable in their respective areas of expertise.
For instance, if you are looking for info on which kind of drill bit you should use and how to use it for a particular job, you would head to your local hardware store. Those guys know everything about every tool or widget ever made!
Then there are the bartenders; they know about people and places and politics and who is who. And most of all, they remember you and what you drink. The two most important things about them: They listen and keep their mouths shut.
Barber shops for men, and hair salons for women rival each other for people information and form the third leg of my information-gathering system. So, with all that in mind, I was getting my hair cut (what I have left) the other day and got to talking about the OMOTM when my barber all at once said she wanted to give me a name of a customer of hers who has been reading about the OMOTM for years and years.
He knew all about our Scribe, John Williams, having read his column for all of those years. My barber, MegN’s in Slingerlands, checked with her customer to get his permission to give me his name and number. I called him and we met this morning and had breakfast.
I don't know how it happens, but motorcycle guys can just sense when there is another biker in the room. In no time at all, my new barber-shop OF was talking motorcycle stuff with other OFs and I have no idea what was said.
Those guys talk a different language altogether. Sort of like me trying to understand First Cut and Second Cut in the hayfield.
Ancestral roots
Remember a couple of weeks ago when I was talking a little about the ancestral roots of so many of the OMOTM and suggested that many of them would have no trouble tracing their family lineage back to the Revolutionary War and before, right here in the Hilltowns?
Well, the general topic of genealogy came up at one of the tables and sure enough, one OF said he could take us back to the early 1700s with his family tree.
Another OF told the story of searching for a particular relative’s headstone with no success. It had to be around here in the Hilltown area someplace.
Time passes and things change. Some farms change hands or just get sold for whatever reason, and other uses for the land take their turn. In this case, a small golf course was made on some land. I didn’t catch the name or the exact place, but that is not important to this story.
One day a duffer like me hit a ball into the woods and believe it or not, he found his golf ball right next to a gravestone marker that had fallen over. That marker held the name of the relative the OF had been searching for for a very long time!
It was not the relative himself who couldn’t hit the golf ball straight, who found the gravestone, but a friend who knew our OF and his family and told him of his discovery. This was out in the woods. Not a church cemetery; there were no old farm houses close by.
There has to be a fascinating story connected as to how this came to be. So many questions. So few answers. A lot can happen in 250 years. Nature has a way of taking back her land when we are done with it.
Time warp
With that thought in mind, one OF told the story of climbing Mt. Grippy in East Berne as a young teenager and when he and his friends reached the top they found an open field where they could look down on Warners Lake and see the boats going around.
The bigger kids got some rocks and an old tree and made a flag pole and raised it up. Someone must have tied a towel or something to the top and that served as a flag.
Again, the years go by and the OF took his grandsons and drove around back of Grippy and with permission, walked out to the field to show his grandsons the view of the lake he had a long time ago and where the flag pole used to be.
Mother Nature had reclaimed the field with a forest of big trees over the period of some 50 years. There was no view, no pile of rocks. In his mind, it was yesterday; in real time, it was two generations.
Those joining our prospective new OF were: Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Ed Goff, Wm. Lichliter, Pete Whitbeck, George Washburn, Kevin McDonald, Gary Schultz, Roland Tozer, Jim Austin, Frank A. Fuss, Glenn Patterson, Joe Rack, Mark Traver, Ken Parkes, Paul Whitbeck, Gerry Chartier, Jake Herzog, Russ Pokorny, Frank Dees, Warren Willsey, Bob Donnelly, Dave Hodgetts, Jack Norray, Gary Cross, Herb Bahrmann, Lou Schenck, John Williams, Henry Whipple, and me.
MIDDLEBURGH — A little cool and wet this morning, July 23, which means a little dark, and all that adds up to fewer OFs in attendance at the Middleburgh Diner. We still had to add a table to the long table down the middle of the room however.
Today’s weather notwithstanding, we avoided some nasty weather this past Wednesday and had moved the OMOTM picnic to the next day, Thursday, and as a result we enjoyed a perfect day of low humidity, mid-70s for the temperature, sunshine, and fine fellowship.
Music, barbecued burgers, dogs, and a bunch of great food brought by the OFs. There were rides around the lake courtesy of our host, Bill Lichliter. A great day with great friends.
“Looking Back”
Since our Scribe Emeritus, John Williams, loaned me his first volume of columns and pictures used by The Altamont Enterprise since at least 1998, it has occurred to me that it might be interesting and fun to occasionally have a “Looking Back with the Scribe Emeritus” feature and share what was going on some 25 years ago.
Spoiler alert: Get ready to smile.
Today’s “Looking Back” doesn’t show a byline but whoever it was certainly displayed a fine sense of humor. I will not copy word for word the whole column, but you will certainly see a similarity from the past to the present.
The OMOTM met at the Alley Cat Diner in Schoharie on Jan. 15, 1998 and decided they should elect officers. (I think this may have been the only time in the history of the OMOTM that some kind of election was held.)
Herb Wolford, charter member, was elected president because it was his idea to meet for breakfast. Right away, Herb felt that, because of the age of the members, they should have a chaplain. Ivan Baker, another charter member, was elected chaplain because he knows the right words and where to use them.
Joe Farkas, the third and last charter member, was elected vice president with emphasis on vice. Paul Giebitz is head of transportation. He decides whether to drive or fly, but he decides just for himself. He decided to leave for Florida (I don't know if he flew or drove).
Gerd Remmers is to do some research and to report back to the group his findings on etiquette and moral behavior while away from home. George Washburn was appointed liaison officer because of his calm and agreeable nature.
I already told you that future scribe John Williams, being the youngest, has permission to keep a record of jokes and stories told and after the third time he can say, “We have heard that before.”
And last, but not least (I can identify with this), Mike Willsey was appointed reporter because he is a little hard of hearing and will miss a lot of the conversation, and as a result, most of what he does report is lies or he makes it up. (I thought that was a little harsh, possibly true, but harsh).
Later, on Feb. 9, 1998, two short paragraphs sort of caught my eye. The first one was, “In a recent discussion, the old women decided the old men were having too much fun and should only meet twice a month.”
The second short paragraph appearing right below said, “The old men decided if they can find another Tuesday in the week, they will go to breakfast twice a week.”
Ah yes, the eternal battle of the sexes. Some things absolutely never change, but past or present, funny is funny.
Good neighbors
By the way, The Alley Cat Diner in Schoharie, mentioned above, was decimated by the flood created by Hurricane Irene in 2011 and went out of business. It was replaced with new owners who called their place The Blue Star Café in 2014, which went through one more change of ownership before becoming today’s Your Way Café.
The OMOTM are creatures of habit if nothing else, and we enjoy our breakfast at the Your Way Cafe every five weeks. Same place, different name, great food.
In addition to Your Way Café, another of the OMOTMs favorite breakfast stops, Mrs. K’s Kitchen in Middleburgh, suffered similar devastation with some five feet of water from the Schoharie Creek on the inside of the restaurant as a result of Hurricane Irene. It took them until the following spring to open their doors again.
On the south side of Middleburgh you will find yet another favorite breakfast restaurant of the OMOTM, called the Middleburgh Diner. They had the good fortune to be on somewhat higher ground and did not suffer flood-water damage.
In fact, they, like so many people that found themselves in a position to help their neighbors, opened their doors 24 hours a day for several days in a row. They cooked food for their neighbors who were flooded out of their homes.
Their diner became a shelter for many people, some of whom slept right there in the diner because they had no place else to go. The diner did their best to provide what they could for the first responders.
This is an absolute example of neighbors helping neighbors. I won’t ever say that this kind of reaching out to lend a helping hand is unique to the Hilltowns. It’s not.
This is just the way all good people act toward other people in their time of need. If they didn’t, that would be news.
This? This is normal and this is what happened at the Middleburgh Diner as they opened their doors in late August of 2011 after the floods of Hurricane Irene caused so much destruction.
Those OMOTM who joined together at the Middleburgh Diner were: Harold Guest, Walley Guest, George Washburn, Wm Lichliter, Ed Goff, Pete Whitbeck, Gary Schultz, Frank Dees, Jake Herzog, WarrenWillsey, Russ Pokorny, Frank A. Fuss, Roland Tozer, Minor Stevens, Lou Schenck, John Williams, Jack Norray, Dick Dexter, Gerry Cross, Herb Bahrmann, and me.
DUANESBURG — A special Tuesday at Chris’s Chuck Wagon Diner awaited the OMOTM when they arrived for their breakfast on July 16. The first thing we noticed was a “Happy Birthday” banner stretched across the far end of the room.
Word spread quickly around the room which OF among us was celebrating becoming an octogenarian. This short-lived mystery was solved as we all signed a birthday-card poem for a certain John Dab, current age octogenarian. Happy Birthday, John!
The OMOTM have our own pastor who said a few nice words about John. Even John’s wife, Barbara, joined us and had some nice things to say about her husband. Enjoy this day, John; it is an unbelievable trifecta to have all the OMOTM; a man of the cloth, a pastor no less; and your wife all praising you and saying nice things, all at the same time! Amazing. Congratulations.
I can remember when a certain drinking establishment in Albany would breathe a sigh of relief when yet another customer would celebrate turning 18, the legal drinking age long, long ago. Something tells me that most of the OMOTM can absolutely remember where they were when they turned 18.
Now, 62 years later, we turn 80 and we are not so much glad that we can legally have a beer (Hedrick’s beer if you were in Albany), we are just glad we are still here to toast our OMOTM friends with a cup of coffee and enjoy some special homemade cupcakes and cookies provided by Chris at The Chuck Wagon Diner and listen to a special poem written by our own Poet Laureate, OF Jake Herzog.
By the way, the Hedrick’s Brewing Company had a good long run in Albany from 1891 to 1965 with time out for the 18th Amendment (Prohibition) from 1920 to 1933.
History lives
Also special today was seeing the Scribe Emeritus already sitting at his regular normal place when I walked in. He had emailed me that he had something to show me but I was not expecting to see him this week. I thought it was next week.
After breakfast, I followed the Scribe to his car and he handed me a three-ring binder labeled OMOTM: Book 1. What a treasure!
I now know who the Founding Fathers were. There were three of them — Curly, Moe, … — just kidding. All will be revealed in due time.
A quick glance answers some other fun facts, like all the places where they have been well fed on Tuesday mornings.
There used to be officers of the OMOTM, and to demonstrate how the OMOTM have been a serious organization for all these years, our Scribe Emeritus wrote, “John Williams, being the youngest, has permission to keep a record of jokes and stories told and after the third time he can interrupt and say, ‘We have heard that before.’”
That was taken from an OMOTM column dated Jan. 15, 1998.
I guess this suggests that I may be writing this column for a bit longer. I used to worry about running out of things to write about (not to worry about with this bunch) but with this binder I am good to go forever! Here is a quick example.
Some, or all, of the OMOTM were getting a little confused as to where they were all supposed to meet for breakfast on a particular Tuesday, which resulted in these few paragraphs appearing in The Altamont Enterprise on May 28, 1998, under the heading of “Old Mountain Men,” headlined: “The Old Men of the Mountain are back together.
“This week they met to try to solve the problem. Their business meeting consisted of having John Williams (future scribe) draw a circle on a napkin with the locations of the restaurants they frequent around the circle. A discussion developed on whether to follow the circle clockwise or counterclockwise.
“It was noted that the left-handed old men said counter-clockwise and the right-handed men said clockwise. Herb Wolford (Founding Father and first president) is looking into a government grant to study this further. Is this a medical discovery or just a brain malfunction?
“Paul Giebetz (Paul is head of transportation. He decides whether to drive or fly, but he decides just for himself) will make copies of the napkins for each old man, with arrows pointing clockwise around the circle so the left-handed old men will end up at the right restaurant.”
Those OMOTM who came to the birthday party were: Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Miner Stevens, John R. Williams, Ted Feurer, Jake Lederman, Peter Whitbeck, George Washburn, Wm Lichliter, Frank A. Fuss, Kevin McDonald, Gary Schultz, Jake Herzog, WarrenWillsey, Russ Pokorny, Roland Tozer, Paul Guiton, Roger Shafer, Glenn Patterson, Joe Rack, Mark Traver, Pastor Jay Francis, Jack Norray, Dick Dexter, Lou Schenck, John Jaz, Herb Bahrmann, John and Barbara Dab, Dave Hodgetts, Bob Donnelly, Frank Dees, Henry Whipple, and me.
DUANESBURG — On a hot muggy morning, July 9, the OMOTM were more than a little pleased to feel the cool air inside Gibby’s Diner. The weather was one of the prime topics of the day; isn’t it always?
It is either too hot, too muggy, too cold, too snowy, too dry, or too rainy, but the good news is there are a few days when the weather is perfect. Today is not one of them. Thank goodness for all the lakes to be found scattered about the Helderbergs.
At one table, the conversation turned to “The Dog Days of Summer!” with the ending comment of “We are there right now.” No argument there.
As is usually the case, the memories of past Dog Days started to stir and the good-time stories would usually start with the phrase, “When we were kids ….”
The places to go to cool down were the Helderberg Mountains and Thompsons Lake & Hotel for a weekend get-away. It made all the difference in the world to be up in the mountains and sit in the shade of the trees with the ability to jump into the lake.
No motorboats in those days, maybe a row boat or canoe, but people driving up to a boat launch with their boat just wasn’t happening for another decade or two.
Remember the OMOTM column from a week or two ago about opening up the summer camps on the various lakes and the issues that the owners faced each year? Well, this past week’s weather is exactly why those folks did what they did.
When you had a great holiday weekend with hot weather and no rain, your extended family would be there for the family get-together, enjoying hamburgers, hot dogs, cold salads, soda for the kids, beer for the old guys, lots of kids running around jumping in the lake (only after our folks made us wait one hour after we ate lunch, remember that?)
Another lake that is close by was Warners Lake. At one time, there were three public beaches on that lake. One was at the north end of the lake at what is now the Maple on the Lake restaurant. Early on, it was a German restaurant called Zwickelbauer’s Hofbrau, and even earlier, the building also housed another restaurant operated by the Mattice family; I am sure several OFs can fill me in on the particulars of that establishment.
As an interesting sidebar, in 1906, a family called Tompkins ran a boarding house at the north end of the lake called Lake View Cottage. They owned a small, 22-foot long, or so, covered steamboat, or launch, as it was called in those days.
This boat was called the Sarah E., after their daughter. The boat was available for sight-seeing rides around the lake for 10 cents. There are a couple of pictures of it on display at the present-day restaurant called the Maple on the Lake.
The folks at either end of the lake would raise a flag if they had customers who wanted a ride. The Sarah E. would come and pick them up for their ride. Who needs cell phones, anyway? Just raise a flag.
Halfway down the lake’s east side we come upon the second public beach. It started out life being known as Engle’s Fur Trading Post. I think the main claim to fame was that the owner had a pet bear and was known to spin a yarn to two.
About 1940, Mr. and Mrs. Pangburn bought the property and that public beach was born. In 1970, the Osterhouts purchased the property.
Willard Osterhout and his book, “Life Along The Way,” is my main source of information for this section of the OMOTM column.
Another source is an Old Friend, and neighbor, Lee Jones. Lee is one of those guys of whom people often say, “Lee has forgotten more about this or that than we will ever know.” This causes a problem now and again because sometimes he has forgotten more than he has ever known! Think about that; it will grow on you.
To complete the trip from the north end of the lake to the south end, we find the third of the public beaches, and it was also the first. This establishment went through several owners, not the least of which was a family called Roberts.
They had several small cabins at the southwestern end that they rented out, probably to the same people each year, and the whole place was called Roberts’ Pine Grove. My family would drive up from Clarksville to go for a swim and cool off.
That is where I learned how to swim in the late 1940s. By that time, the beach area was owned by the Vunck family in 1946 and then the Cocca family in 1950.
Today there are no longer any public beaches or boat launches on Warners Lake, but ask the OMOTM, they will tell you a few stories about a lot of the lakes in the Hilltowns from the simpler times when inner tubes, with a bunch of patches on them, ruled the waters.
The OMOTM who enjoyed another breakfast together were: Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Ed Goff, Frank Fuss, Kevin McDonald, Duncan Bellinger, Warren Willsey, Russ Pokorny, George Washburn, Wm Lichliter, Josh Buck, Peter Whitbeck, Glenn Patterson, Mark Traver, Joe Rack, Ken Parks, Marty Herzog, Jake Herzog, Ted Feurer, Jake Lederman, Wayne Gaul, Lou Schenck, Greg Hawk, Gerry Cross, Dick Dexter, John Jaz, Paul Guiton, John Dab, Elwood Vanderbilt, Dave Hodgetts, Bob Donnelly, Henry Whipple, Herb Bahrmann, and me.