In the northeast, Romanesque style train stations were mostly associated with the Boston and Albany Railroad, which designed most of their main line stations in the style (for example, Chatham, which was a joint Harlem Division station), and many by pioneer architect Henry Hobson Richardson. However, the New York Central did have a few – Richardson proteges Shepley, Rutan, and Coolidge designed the Dobbs Ferry, Irvington, and Tarrytown stations located on the Hudson Line. The railroad also hired Robert Henderson Robertson to design stations at Canandaigua (extant, but heavily modified), Schenectady (demolished), and most notably, 138th Street.

R.H. Robertson was born in Philadelphia in 1849, and graduated Rutgers College in 1869. He started his architecture career working in the office of Henry Sims in Philadelphia, later moving to New York and working in the office of George B. Post. By 1871 he established his own architecture firm in New York City, designing a wide array of buildings from libraries to churches, as well as banks, train stations and private homes. Over the years he worked in various styles, including Queen Anne and Victorian Gothic, but by 1880 became heavily influenced by Richardson’s Romanesque revival style. Robertson was, however, described as “[taking] up the style in his own way.” His prolific New York City career led him to design various buildings that are today designated landmarks, including the Lincoln Building at Union Square, and Fire Engine Company 55‘s firehouse in Little Italy.

    
138th Street Station shortly after construction. Original photos from the Andrew Dickson White Architectural Photograph Collection, Cornell University Library. Photo restoration work by HarlemLine.com

Constructed in 1886, Robertson’s design for 138th Street was a 2 story brick building with peak tile roof, at a cost of $65,000 (about $1.6 million today). Typical of the Richardsonian Romanesque revival style, the building featured various arches, squat columns, cylindrical towers, and rusticated stone. Adding to the character of the building was a large clock tower, 80 feet high, and catching the eyes of all who passed by. Originally the station was at grade level, with two tracks crossing 138th Street, however upgrades were soon needed.

With the railroad’s steadily-growing service, and new requirements set forth by the US Army in regards to clearance for ships around New York City, significant upgrades were made to the right of way in the south Bronx and northern Manhattan in the 1890s. Primary among the changes was a viaduct raising the tracks above 106th Street to 149th Street, a new bridge crossing the Harlem River, expanding the tracks from two to four across the river and allowing better clearance for ships passing below, and adjusting the track curvature in the Bronx. The 138th Street Station was unfortunately in the way of these plans, and dealing with the station became an additional part of the project. Then was, of course, a rosy time, with railroads at their height and what appeared to be a never ending stream of profits. New York Central brass gave the go-ahead to draw up plans for the nearly insurmountable task of moving the large station without harming its delicate brickwork and intricate terra-cotta designs.

 
The moving of the great station, images published by the Scientific American in 1894.

Diagram of the station after moving, with new platforms.

The railroad hired B. C. Miller, who was no stranger to moving the near impossible – having relocated the 5000 ton Brighton Beach Hotel a few years previously. Despite being lighter than the hotel, the station posed more difficulty as its weight was very unevenly distributed. The tower alone – 19 feet square and 80 feet high – was estimated at 500 tons, and the entire station about 1200 tons. Using a series of fourteen jack screws, nineteen men gradually turned them in unison, timed by the sound of a bell. With each turn the station very gradually moved, taking an entire week to be situated in its new location. Not everyone was impressed with the move, however. In an article discussing the work of Robertson, the author described the changes as “[having] been carried out with a quite ruthless disregard of or insensibility to the merits of the work, and have destroyed or mutilated the dependencies that were integral parts of the composition.” Likely the author refers to the new porches and walkways erected around the building, allowing passengers to access the newly elevated track platforms from the second story of the structure.

 
 

New York City’s staff photographer Percy Sperr captured these images of the station, circa 1935. From the collection of the New York Public Library.

By the late 1950s, the cash-strapped New York Central looked to sell many of its passenger stations, and 138th Street station was one of several on the Harlem Line to be put up for sale (most prominently, Mount Vernon was sold in 1959). By 1964 a buyer – Golden Eagle Inc – had materialized. A real estate development company run by John A. Dilliard, Golden Eagle found value in the 56,517 square feet of land attached to the sale, but not the station itself. (Dilliard attempted to buy land on both sides of 138th Street near the station, which later led to legal battles with the bankrupt Penn Central and the City of New York) New York Central’s employee magazine Headlight paints a rosy picture of the sale of the “historic landmark” in its June 1964 edition, calling the depot “the finest and most complete way station in the country” upon construction. The more realistic depiction, however, made the front page of the New York Times on Sunday, April 26, 1964: “Picturesque Depot to Be Razed in Bronx.” For reportedly $170,000 (approximately $1.3 million in today’s dollars) the New York Central parted with the old station, and it was torn down shortly thereafter.

 

Trains at 138th Street in 1958.

 
138th Street in photo and in paint – Alfred D Crimi painted this rendition of the station circa 1950.

 
Alfred C Loonam photographs of 138th Street, circa 1955. Photos from the Museum of the City of New York.

Whether anyone mourned the loss of this great station is unknown. Its destruction came right on the heels of the loss of the great Pennsylvania Station, though it was a year shy of the establishment of the New York City Landmarks Preservation Commission. Though there is no doubt that had the Commission existed they would have bestowed this noteworthy station with a Landmark title, it is uncertain if anyone would have truly fought the railroad if it pressed for sale and demolition, as many did for Grand Central. Even with the loss of its grand depot, 138th Street remained a stop on the line, with a small replacement station constructed by the Central. Eventually all stations were to receive high-level platforms to accommodate the line’s new “Metropolitan” MU cars, and the station’s curvature and tight space deemed it not worthy of such an upgrade. The November 28, 1972 timetable is the last to list the 138th Street, and shortly after even the small replacement station was demolished. With a subsequent track realignment, little trace of a station ever being here remains. It seems that although 138th Street could survive one major landscape change, it couldn’t survive a second.

Other than among the biggest rail buffs, 138th Street station has been largely forgotten, with information about it hard to come by. Several name changes over the years no doubt adds to the confusion and enigma surrounding this place. Although the architect always knew it at 138th Street (it was this name that was designed in terra cotta on the station’s front), many (including the railroad) referred to the station in the 1800s and early 1900s by the surrounding neighborhood’s name, Mott Haven. The IRT established a subway station across the street which also went by the name Mott Haven, but a local businessman petitioned the subway in 1921 to change the station name due to confusion between it and the next stop of Mott Avenue (today’s 149th – Grand Concourse station). Following suit, the name Mott Haven fell out of favor for even the New York Central’s station, but the railroad was also known to simply call it The Bronx. After spending long hours searching all three names of this station (including examining rolls of microfilm for property records at the Bronx Business Center) and slowly gathering an array of tidbits, I was able to weave what seems to be the most complete history to date of this lost station. Although the station itself might be gone, there is still a story to be told – one of 138th Street’s current state and future.

In Bill Volkmer’s widely-forwarded slideshows of NH locomotives, you’ll find this shot at 138th Street

Over its 184-year history, the New York and Harlem Railroad has certainly seen stations come and go. Much of the railroad’s abandoned former right of way in Columbia County, for example, has reverted back to wilderness. However, it is hard to imagine any part of New York City proper reverting back to the wilds. In some ways, though, 138th Street did return to that state. After the great depot was knocked down in 1964, nothing else was ever constructed on the land south of 138th Street. Once the station itself was finally eliminated in 1973, and the underpass covered up, the slices of land next to the tracks on both sides of 138th sat dormant. Abandoned, to become slowly reclaimed by nature (and at some point reclaimed in property ownership by the City of New York). Around 2008, however, various individuals and groups including For A Better Bronx and More Gardens! noticed the land on the south side and worked to create a community garden there. By the winter of 2009, La Finca del Sur was founded on the site of the former station platform and exit, and the garbage and high weeds were gradually removed from the lot. In their stead came planting beds and trees. Largely led by Latina and Black women, the farm has plots open for members to grow their own plants, and occasionally holds farmers markets and events for the community. Members have the ability to further their knowledge through practical applications in the garden, as well as taking classes at the NY Botanical Garden in subjects such as soil testing, composting, and pruning.

You’ll find a wide and varied amount of things growing in La Finca: sunflowers for phytoremediation, plums, apples, pears, peaches, grapes, marigolds for attracting insects, roses, strawberries, onions, mint, garlic, cilantro, lavender, basil, tomatoes, potatoes, peppers, and more. Metro-North trains rumble by every few minutes, and the ground underfoot vibrates with the passage of a subway train below. Among the planting beds are various grates that lead directly down to the subway tracks, and the occasional message from the platform’s PA speakers can be just barely heard. The grates serve as an emergency egress from the subway, but are old and rusted, and now surrounded by protective orange fencing erected by the MTA.

While the loss of such a monument as 138th Street is quite heartbreaking, from the ashes has slowly risen this farm – something that the people of the South Bronx can be proud of. Many of the people I met at La Finca were unaware of the grand station that once stood there, but perhaps now that the history of this place is known, the legacy of 138th Street will live on.

  
 
  
 
   
  

Special thanks to Marilyn Ibach from the Prints and Photographs Division at the Library of Congress and Nancy Ortiz-Surun, Gloria Weiss, and Wilfred Gonzalez at La Finca del Sur for their contributions to this post and my research.

La Finca del Sur is always looking for donations and volunteers – if you can spare a hand, drop them a line at infosbufc@gmail.com.

I had been planning to photograph the railway in the snow, but the lack of trains cancelled those plans. Instead I visited in April, catching the Spring thaw along the line, with just a few bits of snow remaining along the banks of the Hudson. Although minimal freight operates on the line, I didn’t see any, only capturing the two passenger trains that operate each day.

Tourist trains have operated on this line since 1999, but the Saratoga and North Creek has only been running since 2011, operated by Iowa Pacific Holdings. They’ve only been carrying freight since 2013, a business they’d like to expand, as they’re losing money on their tourist trains (no doubt the harsh winter and cancelled trains did not help). Historically, the Delaware and Hudson Railway acquired this line in 1871, and ran on it until 1989 (an abandoned portion of the line, including a bridge, can be seen in a few of my photos).

                       

This wasn’t the only survey that the HVTA carried out – another survey was directed specifically to employees of the Harlem Valley Psychiatric Center in Wingdale, and the Wassaic Development Center. Distributed to around 4,000 employees with their paychecks, the HVTA wanted to know whether employees would take the train to work if the schedules coincided with their shifts. Both locations did have their own station stops on the line – State Hospital, and State School – so it stood to reason that many employees would take the train if they could.

Below is a copy of the general survey put out by the HVTA, and the HVTA’s October newsletter, detailing the results of the two surveys:

As we know today, passenger trains to Millerton were never restored. At the time the tracks were still in place, and although they needed maintenance, it was not estimated to cost more than $2 million to restore the 16 mile stretch between Dover Plains and Millerton. For reference, when Metro-North rebuilt six miles of track in 2000 from Dover Plains to Wassaic, the cost was far greater – about 1 million per mile. As we lament that missed opportunity, let’s continue our tour of the Upper Harlem’s abandoned stations, starting with the one that was never restored – Millerton.

Named for railroad contractor Sidney Miller, Millerton station is just over 92.5 miles north of Grand Central Terminal. Much of the Upper Harlem had various industries that used the rail, and just north of the Millerton station was the Irondale Furnace, which processed the ore from a nearby mine, and shipped it along on the Harlem. An attractive downtown area popped up around the station, and more colorful local lore states that dancing women could be found just across the street from the station (though this is potentially true in many locations).

Millerton Today

 
While a few of the communities surrounding Harlem stations fell off the map in the years that the railroad has been gone, Millerton is certainly not one of them. The village is a bustling hub of activity, with a collection of cute shops, and a trailhead for the Harlem Valley Rail Trail. Many local towns are lucky if they have just one of their former railroad stations still standing, but Millerton has two. The older Harlem station, which was moved away from the tracks and westward is home to a florist. The more modern station is visible right at the end of the rail trail, and houses a realty company.

The village itself, formed by the railroad, has been without trains since the early ’80s when the Harlem track was removed (the Central New England, which also made its way through Millerton, was removed at least 50 years prior to that). Despite that, Millerton is a testament that not all former railroad towns die when the track disappears. The village thrives – and Budget Travel has even recognized Millerton as one of the 10 coolest small towns in New York.

Unlike the Hudson Line – part of the New York Central’s famed “Water Level Route” – the Harlem Division is hardly flat, and steadily increases in elevation along its route. Mount Riga was the highest point on the line, just shy of 800 feet above sea level. The station here was technically a Union Station, as it was jointly shared with the Central New England railroad. Alongside the station was a siding that had a 53 car capacity, generally used for freight.

By 1949 the station was eliminated for passenger use, and the depot itself was one of the first Harlem Division stations to be dismantled.

Mount Riga Today

The area where the Mount Riga station once was is for the most part now farmland. A small unpaved street called Mount Riga Station Road, which contains a single house at the end of it, is the last memory of the railroad here.

The first stop in Columbia County, Boston Corners was previously a part of Massachusetts. The area was once considered lawless – separated by mountains from the lawmen in Massachusetts, illegal activities were aplenty, including several boxing prizefights. After a particularly rowdy fight, which led to a riot, the hamlet was transferred to New York’s jurisdiction.

Boston Corners was also at one point the home of three different railroads, including the Harlem. Like many nearby stations, there was a spur from Boston Corners serving a nearby iron mining company. The Harlem’s longest passing siding was also located here – with a capacity of 85 cars. The station’s importance waned over the years, and it was relegated to a flag stop before being abandoned in 1952.

Boston Corners Today

These days, Boston Corners is occasionally remembered for the historical prizefight that happened there – like this article in Sports Illustrated. Appropriately, the article makes mention of the Harlem, and how many took the train up to see the brawl. Besides the infrequent mentions in the media, Boston Corners station is but a memory – though Boston Corners Road is a reminder of what was once here.

Approximately 105 miles from Grand Central Terminal is Copake Falls station, formerly known as Copake Iron Works. The Taconic State Park, and Bash Bish falls are both nearby the station. Several spurs from the Harlem led to various nearby industries, including a mine and a foundry.

Copake Falls Today

 
The former Copake Falls station is today a small convenience store called the Depot Deli. With the proximity to the Taconic State Park, the deli is an oft frequented stop by many campers. According to the owner of the Deli, when he purchased the building a requirement of the sale was that if the railroad was ever restored, he’d have to provide a place for passengers to wait. Unfortunately, that was never necessary.

Above right photo shows the final Harlem Line train to ever cross the Black Grocery Bridge, photo by Art Deeks. Above left photo is the only known image of the Black Grocery. Lower right photo by Bob McCulloch.

Although not a station along the Harlem Division, Black Grocery was a hamlet that the Harlem ran through, and its existence is largely due to the railroad. In the early 1850’s the New York and Harlem Railroad made its final northward push through Columbia County, finally reaching Chatham in 1852. Many of the men that were on the construction teams were Irish immigrants that were paid 75 cents a day, as well as their board. Boarding was in several shanties that were constructed along the route, which usually housed between 25 – 50 men. A man by the name of Hezekiah Van Deusen sensed an opportunity, and opened a grocery store not far from the workers’ shanties, just north of Copake. Although the store stocked the normal staples like sugar and flour, its big sellers were “chain lightning” whiskey at 25 cents a quart, and tobacco at 3 cents a plug.

The origin of the name Black Grocery is not definitively known, but it generally references the color that the grocery had been painted. One account states that Van Deusen wished to paint the store red, but only had black paint in stock. Another account states that no paint was in stock at all, and Van Deusen asked the Irish laborers if they would paint the store. They were said to have painted the store black with the paint that was leftover from a railroad bridge they had just completed. Either way, the name caught on – not just for the store – but for the entire community that grew up around it and the railroad. The railroad bridge that crossed the Roeliff Jansen Kill (or as it was later called, Black Grocery Creek), about halfway in between Copake and Hillsdale and through Black Grocery, became known as the Black Grocery Bridge.

Black Grocery Today

 
  
  

The hamlet of Black Grocery has been lost to time – the only reference to in now is Black Grocery Road in Copake. Both the railroad and the road bridge that crossed here, which shared the name Black Grocery, are also gone. Remnants of the railroad bridge are clearly visible from Route 22, on the west side of the Roeliff Jansen Kill. The bridge was rebuilt several times over the years, but date markings from 1899 and 1905 are both visible on the ruins. Though the final train to cross over the bridge was on March 27, 1976, the bridge itself lasted at least up until the 1980s. The removal of the bridge makes continuation of the Harlem Valley Rail Trail into Hillsdale a bit more difficult – the original railroad bridge crossed over both Route 22 and the Roe Jan Kill. The HVRT is looking to go underneath Route 22, and purchase a pre-fabricated bridge to cross the Kill.

Hillsdale is a quaint little area considered one of the more noteworthy places along this stretch of the Upper Harlem – at minimum its name was found on the front of Upper Harlem timetables. It was also another stop for freight on the line – besides a milk processing plant, Hillsdale also had a large cattle pen and barn used when shipping livestock was necessary.

As I once mentioned on the blog before, poet Edna St. Vincent Millay was a Harlem Division rider that boarded at Hillsdale. Trains were occasionally mentioned in her poetry, and I like to think that she was writing about the Harlem Division (as opposed to the Hudson, when she studied at Vassar, or any other railroad she might have been a passenger on).

Hillsdale Today

Although Hillsdale seems to have a tiny Railroad Lane on the map, the road is barely visible in real life and has no street sign. Unfortunately, that is one of the few vestiges of the railroad here in Hillsdale – there was also a Depot Place, but that road has been completely wiped from the map.

For today, our journey ends. We’ll take a look at the remainder of the Harlem Division stations in Part 3.

As someone has taken offense to this post, I must of course remind you all that much of what we know about the Upper Harlem Division comes from Lou Grogan’s book, The Coming of the New York and Harlem Railroad, which has been cited numerous times here, and is listed in our historical sources page.

Map of the Harlem Division’s abandoned stations north of the Harlem Line’s current terminus in Wassaic.

On this day 41 years ago the very last passenger train on the Upper Harlem Division departed the line’s terminus, Chatham station, bound for Grand Central Terminal. The cancellation of service north of Dover Plains was abrupt and in the middle of the day – no one, from the riders to railroad employees – knew that this would be the final run. But also, it was hardly a surprise. The railroad had threatened to close the line for years, and only the courts prevented the Penn Central from doing so.

Another fact that was hardly a surprise was that ridership on the Upper Harlem had severely dwindled over the years. The New York Central operated five weekday southbound trains from Chatham to Grand Central throughout the early 1900′s, and during the busy World War II years increased that number to six. But after the war had ended, and train travel steadily began to lose favor, many of these Upper Harlem trains were eliminated. By 1950 only three southbounds departed Chatham every day, and by 1953 only a single train left the station every weekday. This single southbound was the norm until the Upper Harlem was finally closed.

The final timetable of the Upper Harlem Division from Chatham to Grand Central Terminal.

Throughout all these events, an organization called the Harlem Valley Transportation Association had been founded to not only improve service, but to ensure that the full route of the Harlem Division – all the way to Chatham – would stay in service. The HVTA’s fight against line operator Penn Central was like David versus Goliath, and they had no qualms about taking it to the courts. By the end of 1971 a service shutdown on the upper Harlem had been delayed by the courts no less than seven times. As part of their campaign, the HVTA distributed posters to local businesses to display, all in the efforts to encourage rail ridership and prevent a shutdown. Industrial designer Seymour Robins, also the HVTA’s treasurer, created these two-color silk-screened posters, with nine variations in all. Each variation referenced a specific point the HVTA wished to improve: Service, Ecology, Stations, Windows, Track, Cars, Schedules, Toilets, and Roadbed.

The above HVTA posters, in nine different variations, were mass printed in 1971. They were designed by Seymour Robins, the treasurer of the HVTA, and an industrial designer.

The HVTA brought together over a hundred riders from not only New York, but Connecticut and Massachusetts as well – all people that depended on the Upper Harlem. One of the most charismatic personalities involved in the fight was HVTA Vice-President (and later President) Lettie Gay Carson. Although the long intertwined history of the Upper Harlem and Columbia county was certainly in her mind, the shrewd Carson fought to save the line not for nostalgia purposes, but for both local economic and environmental reasons. She recognized that it wasn’t passenger service that paid the bills, and besides looking to attract new ridership, Carson also focused on attracting local businesses to use rail freight.

But to truly save the line and make it profitable, Carson even attempted to create an industry from scratch. This new industry, handling sewage sludge, would not only operate on the Upper Harlem’s rails, but also benefit the environment – two causes important to Carson and the HVTA. Instead of dumping sewage sludge in the ocean, which contaminated fisheries and beaches, Carson proposed that it could be carried by railcar up the Harlem where it would be composted and spread onto the many farms in Dutchess and Columbia counties. Although the concept may be off-putting, the sludge could greatly improve the fertility of farmland naturally, without the use of chemical fertilizers. Carson’s ideas were often deemed “years ahead of [her] time,” which is quite the truth. People today are slowly realizing (a bit too late) that replacing trains with cars and trucks only furthered our dependence on foreign oil – one of Carson’s many reasons for fighting to save the Upper Harlem.

Labor Day 1971 in Millerton: Lettie Carson of the HVTA holds a sign that reads “Trains will run indefinitely” in this photo by Heyward Cohen. The sign Carson holds in the photo – a true museum piece – has been preserved and still exists today.

Though the courts ordered the Penn Central to keep operating trains, mostly due to the HVTA’s efforts, they were by no means obligated to provide any customer service whatsoever. Because of Penn Central’s lapse, the Harlem Valley Transportation Association took over many of their duties to prevent losing passengers. When the Penn Central failed to distribute timetables, the HVTA mailed them out to riders instead. When the Penn Central failed to pay the phone bill for Millerton station, the HVTA set up their own answering service. And just two weeks before passenger service was eliminated, the HVTA was again in the news – for getting the station platforms cleared of snow, because the Penn Central refused. Ignoring the Harlem Division only began a vicious cycle – lack of maintenance led to late and slow trains, and this unreliable service only resulted in a loss of customers – but perhaps that was Penn Central’s goal all along.

The Harlem Valley Transportation Association’s valiant efforts increased the Upper Harlem’s lifespan by a few years, but the line met its inevitable end on March 20th, 1972 when passenger service from Dover Plains to Chatham was eliminated. Freight service on the Harlem from Chatham was also eliminated several years later. On this 41st anniversary of the end of passenger service, we’ll be taking a tour up the abandoned line to all thirteen former stations, and to see how these areas fare today. Our tour starts at Amenia, the first abandoned station north of Wassaic, the current terminus of the Harlem Line. Wassaic itself was abandoned in 1972, but service there was restored by Metro-North in 2000.

As we travel north beyond the Harlem Line’s terminus at Wassaic, the first abandoned station we come to is Amenia. Around 85 miles north of Grand Central, the area surrounding the station is attractive and rich in farmland. Besides the obvious farming and dairy production, Amenia also had a steelworks and several iron mines, all of which used the Harlem for freight.

Amenia Today

 

The obvious vestige of the railroad in Amenia is the Harlem Valley Rail Trail, which runs from Wassaic station to the former station in Millerton. The old Amenia station building is long gone, and likely forgotten. But similar to many towns with abandoned stations, Amenia has a few street names reflect the once important railroad that traversed the town. Depot Hill Road, and Railroad Avenue cross near the rail trail, and are a small reminder of the Harlem.

Named for nearby Sharon, Connecticut, Sharon station on the Harlem Division predominantly served riders from that state. A station building was constructed in 1875, and consisted of two floors, with the ground floor being separated in two sections – one for freight, and one for passengers. The upper floor consisted of living quarters for the station agent or other railroad employees. Not far from the station was the Manhattan Mining Corporation, which had its own siding and used the Harlem for freight.

*Upper right photo of Sharon station by Art Deeks.

Sharon Today

 

As a station serving mostly Connecticut riders, there was never much of a community around Sharon station. The station building itself, however, is one of the few Upper Harlem stations to still exist today. After being damaged in a fire, the old station was restored and turned into a residence. Several years ago the building was placed on the market, and I just happened to get a tour of it. Recently sold for $525,000, the building remains a private residence, and is hidden from the nearby rail trail by strategically placed trees and a fence. The only other hint that a railroad ran through here is the aptly named Sharon Station Road.

One of the less prominent stations on the line, Coleman’s was named after a local landholder. A major industry in the community was a milk factory, which used the Harlem for freight. Coleman’s was one of the stations to be abandoned early on – along with Mount Riga and Martindale. All three were eliminated as passenger stations in 1949.

Coleman’s Today

 

Today, Coleman’s is a relatively quiet area, with a small “historic district” that contains a late-1700’s burial ground. The rail trail and Coleman Station Road are all remnants of the Harlem in this small community.

The next station along the line is Millerton – but that will have to wait for another day. We’ll continue our tour of the Upper Harlem in Part 2, coming soon!

The one thing I couldn’t resist though, was to check and see if there were any interesting old rail stations nearby the place I’m staying. I found a beautiful one on the internet – only to find out that it was gutted by fire several years ago. What is it about train stations and fires? As if we didn’t have enough to worry about from people wanting to tear down history in the name of progress, fires have ravaged quite a few train stations that I’m familiar with. Canaan Union Station was the victim of an arson, Pawling’s station burned in 1984, and even beautiful Sharon had a fire, though it was later restored. The old Ontario and Western station that I happened to stop at last weekend was also the victim of a blaze, and for many years has just sat, lonely and abandoned.

Photos from YouTube video by kizzo11

There is something about HDR photos that somehow lend themselves to portraying the character of an abandoned ruin. Somehow they just feel more lonely, and a bit creepy. I’m not quite sure if I even like these photos, as they might be a little too much. But they do show the character of a once-beautiful station, constructed in 1892, until its apparent “death” in 2004. In the time between then it served as a station, then much later a nightclub, and as a home for various shops. But perhaps, there is hope for this place after all. The Middletown Community Health Center is looking to restore the station over the next three years, at an estimated cost of five-million dollars. Hopefully this place will have a happy ending after all.

 
 
   
   
 
   
 
    
   
   
 

A 1902 article from the New York Tribune showing pictures of the new station buildings at Pleasantville, Kensico, and Scarsdale.

The Cemetery is located down the street from where I work, and I convinced my friend to accompany me on a lunch break adventure. After driving up and down the winding streets of the cemetery, we finally found the former train station house, the current cemetery administration building. We headed inside to get warm, and to find a map. The lady inside was cheerful to help us on our quest to find some famous dead people, but inside I’m certain she thought we were nuts. She handed my friend and I a stapled packet labeled Kensico Cemetery Historical and Scenic Tour.

An old photograph of the Kensico Station building, from an 1895 Book, Health and pleasure on “America’s greatest railroad.”

What the station building looks like today.

Buried in the cemetery are quite a few famous people, including Alfred Holland Smith, who was the president of the New York Central. He died in 1924 in a freak accident in Central Park. Ayn Rand is another person buried in Kensico. Although she is not directly related to the railroad, she did research into the New York Central railroad while writing her book, Atlas Shrugged. Not only was she allowed to ride in the locomotive of the 20th Century Limited train, they allowed her to drive it. The character from the book, Nat Taggart, is supposed to be modeled on Cornelius Vanderbilt.

Final resting place of Alfred Holland Smith

Additional pictures from our adventure:

If you’re interested in going to the cemetery yourself, I’ve scanned the map that I was given at the administration office. The entire packet is a nice read though, with historical information on the people and explanations on how to find each of the memorials. I suggest stopping in to the office to grab a copy, since the people are quite nice. If you’d rather skip it though, this map should assist.

L-158 was once a railroad bridge, though the tracks are long gone. It was originally built in 1883 over Rondout Creek near Kingston, NY. In 1904 it was dismantled and reconstructed in Goldens Bridge to cover the expanding reservoir. The tracks were part of the Lake Mahopac Branch, which opened in 1872, and went from Goldens Bridge to Lake Mahopac. The Lake Mahopac Branch ended service in 1959, and the tracks were removed soon after. In 1978 L-158 was listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

All historical information and photographs come from Louis Grogan’s book The Coming of the New York and Harlem Railroad. Years for the photos above are as follows: 1951, 1948 and 1946

Ever since I moved to Goldens Bridge, I’ve always been fascinated by this bridge. It is situated on land owned by the DEP, and thus you must have a Watershed Access Pass in order to visit. I have a rowboat on the Muscoot Reservoir, and many summer days I went out on the water rowing underneath the bridge. And as witnessed by the photo gallery, took way too many pictures of the bridge. I’m really longing for the return of the spring and summer so I can go out and row again, and to see L-158 surrounded by greenery, as opposed to today’s snowfall.