A Lonely Chapel by the River

“And I believe there is a time for meditation in cathedrals of our own…”

-Summer, Highland Falls -

3 years ago I wrote a post here at Intravenus De Milo about mine and my family’s lone year spent as official residents of Highland Falls, New York in the comfort (or was it discomfort?) of the mysterious yet grand Greystone Mansion nestled on the banks of the mighty Hudson River. Excerpts updated and edited:

“Greystone was an old hotel nestled against the west side of the Hudson River. it's entrance was off of old route 9W in Highland Falls, NY, between the Veteran's Cemetery and a Church. It had stone pillar markers which flanked the entrance to it's long switchback driveway. We shared this enormous place with an older retired couple (Mr. and Mrs. Pierson [sp?]). To the best of my fading recollection, the old hotel was essentially divided in half with the two occupants sharing the main winding staircase in the majestic foyer to access the upstairs bed rooms. The place had a huge yard with a patio area that butted up to the cliff that looked out over the river where I can imagine guests once dined al fresco in the warmer Hudson Valley seasons. There were so many rooms that all five of us could have had our own…

At first it was cool living there. There were the cheap rooms in the basement that still had the old timey metal headboards in them. It was a perfect set for a scary movie. The big yard was cool too, but it didn’t take long for all of us to get sick of each other and realize we were isolated from the rest of the world.

Years later as teenager though (1980), I decided to take the turn off old 9W and see what the place looked like. It had security cameras at the top of the drive and a chain across the road. I, of course, ignored these and let myself down the road. As I parked and got out my car, I was immediately met by two young women screaming at me, “get the hell of here!” before I could even make my nostalgic appeal. I think the year was 1985 when I made that trek down the hill and even though my inspection time was brief, Greystone looked exactly as I remembered it in my youth.While back at West Point on the occasion of my wedding in 1996, I again mustered some bravery and took the ride down the hill in the hopes that the buzzards that lived there would allow me a few moments on the grounds to perhaps photograph the place. Much to my dismay and sadness I discovered the place had been torn down. Not a brick or foundation remained. How could someone have torn down such a beautiful place? They better have had a damn good reason”

I wrote about Greystone that year because a dear friend who understands my love of the Hudson Highlands had given the book cited in the post. I was hoping to contact the author and the Highland Falls historical society and see if any other information could be mined about the place. I was working on a lengthy draft when I ended up sidetracked with life. It was never sent. A recent conversation with a colleague at work renewed my effort to revisit the case of this long forgotten mansion.

I decided to go back and read the original blog post in order to borrow from what I had written for the draft to Ms. Coffey and decided to check the comments section while I was there. What a surprise I found there waiting for me! THREE!!! Yes, THREE former residents of Greystone had left messages for me through the years! I was so angry at myself for not going back to check the comments I could scream, but one commenter left his name and state of residence. On a lark, I decided to look him up and chance a telephone call (guts huh?!). Turns out he is a brat of 57, and his name is Mark Hill. He is cousin to Eric Wagner from Highland Falls whom many of us were acquainted with during High School days. I almost fell out of my chair when I read that Mark’s grandmother had been a waitress at the hotel when it was open! He actually has some furniture his family took from the place when they moved out in late 1968. Mark’s family were prior residents before our family moved in in the summer of 1969. We are now in contact and hopefully Mark will follow up with promised photos that I can share with all.

Another commenter “MJ” left a treasure trove of historical information that really fills in some big gaps. I took some time to research and verify what she had written and based on what I could confirm here’s what we now know about “The Greystone”:

The property many (few?) of us know as Greystone Mansion was build by William Cruger Pell. His family was amongst the wealthy industrialist baron’s who “resettled” the Hudson Highlands after the civil war. They were from New York City and once owed most of what is now referred to as Pelham area of the Bronx. His family built a few estates in the Highlands including one in Bear Mountain and another Williams brother Alfred built on a large swath of property adjacent to JP Morgan’s land stretching from the banks of the Hudson all the way West to the base of Strom King Mountain. Alfred called his estate Pellwood. For which a lake and housing area are still named.

Found in “The Hudson River Highlands” by Frances F. Dunwell is this brief mention:

“Beginning after the Civil War, Highland Falls came to be considered fashionable, if you can believe it, and little by little summer houses were built near it – or existing farm houses bought and adapted by people who came for the summer. In the 1840’s country houses were built by three members of the Pell family. They were the first to put up what then considered ‘handsome’ houses with docks fronting on the river…”

A most exquisite land map from late 1890’s provides a terrific overhead view of what was referred to as “Millionaire’s Row” (See map below).



You can just make out A. Pell’s name on the plot of land below J.P. Morgan’s on the little riverside plot. The switchback driveway is noted as well.



William decided to build his summer home on a smaller piece of land off the river banks just South of the veterans cemetery. He called his estate “Pelham”. As my wonderful commenter noted, the Pell’s were a more private family than their counterparts and the fact that I could find little other than the few articles “MJ”notes bare this out. Other than a few things regarding society get togethers and financial news of the day, not much can be found in the annals of The New York Times archives and other resources.

I was however excited to read The NY Times wedding announcement of William’s only daughter Margarita whose reception is said to have taken place at Pelham. I can just imagine what the place must have looked like on that day. “MJ” also mentions a New York Times article from the early 1900s that reports some NYPD detectives digging up the lower level of William Cruger Pell's country home. It seems they'd been tipped off by some ex-con that a missing New York heiress was buried beneath the cellar floor. That convicts story turned out to be false though, and evidently the missing girl was never found. Nothing like a murdered heiress to steep the place in mystery, huh? I had no luck finding this article on my own, but perhaps it will turn up in one of my future searches.

Flash forward to shortly after WWII. Pelham is opened as a fine dining and hotel establishment by Chef Angelo Culot and his wife to shining reviews (review kindly forwarded to me by Mark Hill below the fold). This is the first time the name Greystone appears. The Establishment is referred to as both “The Greystone” or as the familiar “Greystone Mansion”. There is no record of how long the restaurant/hotel was in operation or when it closed for good. Having lived in this house, it must have been one swank place to dine and stay overnight.

The next thing we’re aware of is the Hill family moving in sometime in 1967. Our family arrived as the Hills were leaving 1969, and after us was another regretfully anonymous commenter to my earlier blog post who lived there in the 70’s. She writes:

"I lived at Greystone Mansion with my Mom, brother and sister in the mid 70's. I also was horrified to drive down that winding driveway to see an empty lot. We had the best times of our lives there. Times I will NEVER forget. We were always looking for new hiding places. We did find that hidden wine cellar. I can remember the basement was like a maze. Never ending. It was so peaceful. I believe we were sent to the mansion for a reason. My Mom passed away a year after we moved from Greystone. We loved waking up to the view of the Hudson River and in the winter watching the deer run all over the property."

My conversation with Mr. Hill was really something to remember. We both had strong recollections of the distinct floral smell the property had in the spring and summer, no doubt due the over grown and long forgotten gardens that must have been glorious in there day. He recalled for me how terribly cold the place was in the winter with its dying barely functioning boiler. We reflected on the beautiful ancient oak trees that framed the view of the river from the back deck. He also recalled that it could be a lonely place as well so far off the road and considerable distance from other kids. Hell, driving by on route old 9W you’d hardly know the place was down there even as large as it was.

I find myself giddy with all this new information, like a detective who’s uncovered a big lead in a case. Yet, still much remains a mystery about the place once called Pelham and the people who lived there through the years. Given the fancy security system that was in place when I boldly made my way down the drive in 1980, I’m wondering if younger members of the Pell family were living there. Perhaps it was Williams great grand daughters who were the ones who screamed at me to, “Get the hell out of here before I call the police!!!” If so, I owe them an apology. We know that the Pell family still owns the property and more than likely had to reluctantly tear it down due to it’s dilapidated state. From what is said about them, they are staunch conservationists and must have turned away many sizable offers to develop the land commercially.

Where do I go from here? What’s my goal? Well, I’ve sent everything that I’ve with you here to Ms. Bailey who is the president of the Highland Falls Historical Society with the hopes that it fires up enough curiosity that she might do some digging in the public archives up there. I’d love to dig more into the NYT and other local papers for any word of my beloved Greystone. The ultimate would be to ask the surviving Pell family what they remember about the place and perhaps share some photographs of the estate when it was an impressive “handsome” country home of their forbearer.

How about my Highland Falls friends? Do any of you have any memories of Greystone? Drop me a line if so. I’ll update this post as anything new trickles in from any and all sources.

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A Dining Review of Greystone Mansion...

From the Westchester NY News County Fare Section by Alec Burgess describing theGreystone Restaurant entitled “Greystone Mansion, Orange County Gift To All Lovers Of Good Food” (date of the article is unknown)

Greystone Mansion

Greystone Mansion is located on Old 9W between Fort Montgomery and Highland Falls (HI6-8197) . This time it’s Orange County Fare and the place is up near West Point. You can go across either the Tappan Zee or Bear Mountain Bridges. Driving toward the point, turn off to the right about a mile above Bear Mountain Bridge onto old Rout 9W and proceed to the sign.

In an enormous brick mansion right on the bank of the Hudson, Angelo and Norma Culot are delighting their customers with delicious French-Italian cooking. From the many-windowed dining room your eyes are treated to one of the finest views of the great river to be had anywhere along its length.

The building is set in nine acres of land running down to the water where they plan to build their own dock next year so their boat-minded guests can sail right up to the restaurant. Although it is a little late to enjoy it this season, the spacious terrace, shaded by great oak trees, with its superb river view, is perfect for the leisurely enjoyment of cocktails during the warmer months.

Extensive Menu

It’s a family affair with Angelo doing the cooking and Norma taking care of the bar. Everything is prepared to order. Meals are served anytime after 12 noon. Lunch is a la carte. On the regular dinner, both appetizer and soup are included. Among the appetizers are herring in cream, pimento and anchovy, eggs a la Russe, hearts of artichoke. Others such as melon and prosciutto, clams, shrimps, and antipasto are available at extra charges. Celery, olives and carrot sticks are standard relishes with all the meals.

For soups there is a choice of onion soup au gratin, patinea consommé, vichyssoise froid and jellied madrilène. Among the house specialties are beef Stroganoff, venison steak, jumbo shrimp remoulade, and of course chicken, chops and steaks. Of course the a la carte menu is even more extensive.

Fine Wine Cellar

The cellar provides fine wines from many countries and we suggest that you ask Mrs. Culot to bring some to your table and explain about them so you can order the one that best suits your taste and purse.

As Greystone Mansion is only about a mile from West Point, you’ll often see officers there…and cadets too, when they are on leave. Many Hollywood stars like to stop in here when they are in the East, and have left their pictures as mementos of their visits. Of course the Inn is handy to Bear Mountain Park with its swimming, boating and skiing; and to Wayne swimming pool and recreation area. Rooms are available for overnight guests.

Food and drinks are served all day from noon to 10 pm . Lunch is a la carte with entrees from $1.50 and the complete dinner ranges from $2.75 to $5.25. Ample off-street parking . Member of Diner’s club. Closed Wednesdays.

And So the Wireless World Turns, or A Night at the Opera…

Warning: Drafted in haste! Please excuse the poor grammer, spelling, editting, etc...

Attended my first city planning function since moving to Peachtree City GA last night and it's easy to see how quickly things can get so far off the rails. With government and it’s citizens the micro definately reflects the macro and visa versa. The funny thing is: I believe all in attendance were acting ethically and with the best of intentions. Here’s my dispatch…

My city is actually a planned community established in the late 50’s, but it really came to life in the 70’s. It is a shinning example of how well this type of cooperative planned approach can and does work. The elected and appointed officials that make up our city government are NOT career politicians. They are mostly older city residents (cranky at times), but I believe that they have the city’s and it citizens best interest at heart. I also know one of the boards newly elected councilwomen personally and she is a long time friend of the family’s.

Given the contemptuous nature of cell tower siting within any community, and the technical complexity that overlays most of discussions, our City Council decided to host a “wireless workshop” for the publics benefit and education hosted by an industry lobbying group. Granted, I was hugely skeptical myself which made my attendance all the more compelling. I was bracing for dog and pony show put on by shills from the big four wireless telco’s, prepared to grit my teeth for the subsequent disappointment of discovering that they had already sowed the seeds of whatever their desires, and being introduced to a city council who had already been hoodwinked and bent to their whims.

I was wrong on all accounts. As the Mayor opened the meeting and I flipped through the slick professional PowerPoint deck the lobbying group had prepared, I was humbled to discover that my city is actually attempting to do this THE RIGHT WAY. The sole purpose of this meeting was to educate both government officials and any citizen who cared to turn up on the basics of wireless technology and the science of selecting tower transmission sites. The hosting group were well represented by a cross section of expertise in a wide range of disciplines within the industry. I was amazed at how honest the presentation was prepared and delivered. I was chomping at the bit to find flaw or spin and none came plain and simply.

The impetus for this workshop is the pending submission of permits and zoning variance requests associated with tower sites needed to improve service by all carriers in our fair city. Here are the facts of the current state:

- A year ago, T-Mobile approached our City Planning folks about the need for up to four new tower sites. This was wisely done in an informal fashion to avoid federally mandated approval timelines from being evoked. T Mobile is well aware of the planned nature of our community and acted in a manner of cooperation being all too familiar with the acrimony tower siting kicks up in any community especially one with many parks, a multitude of golf courses, miles of golf cart paths, etc... It would be easy for an outsider to think this was an end around play, but if you’re familiar with the Telecom Acts, you know that this would hurt more than help T Mobiles chances at getting a leg up. The City was transparent about the discussions anyway and they were duly reported.

- The city’s current ordinances that govern tower siting are actually in good shape. They are in need of a freshen up to incorporate changes in the wireless industry since the mid nineties when they were originally adopted, but pretty solid nonetheless.

- Unfortunately, the local paper with the best intentions has inadvertently printed several articles inferring that permits had been submitted and were currently under official review by the city. I’ve read every one of these articles and while they don’t use the words exactly, I can EASILY see how the everyday citizen could get the idea that the clock was ticking. I don’t think the reporter (who I met last night) intentionally did this, I think he is young and has a very limited knowledge of the cities filing and review process, the scrutiny under which all applications are given, and how volatile of an issue it is.

- Along with a local church’s recent application for a special use permit for a cell tower which is tied up in a complete review of the city’s zoning rules, the newspaper’s articles have done what they do best: Get people pissed off and yelling into microphones at city meetings. An absolute crying shame. These folks made up more than half of those in attendance. Forget the fact that the meeting was an educational workshop that actually could have empowered most of them with the knowledge to build a more informed and fact based opposition position. Nope, screaming into microphones is simply too irresistible I guess. I can’t tell you how many times the Mayor had to stop someone mid screed and reiterate that the city had NOT accepted ANY applications as of yet and that this was simply a seminar to educate anybody who wanted to be involved.

- As an industry guy well versed in the subject matter I can say this for certain, based on what was reviewed during the presentation, I could draft a pretty solid opposition position with the material which was reviewed. Did I see anybody taking notes? Nope. Just couldn’t wait to get up to that microphone and unleash the hounds. It was exhausting.

- The thing is, these folks are right to be concerned. The wireless telco’s are an imposing bunch and if your municipal leadership is not up to par on the subject matter at hand they can easily be sold a bill of goods. We are lucky, this just simply isn’t the case with our city’s representatives.

- Every once in a while, an actual appropriate technical question was asked and the hosting group answered all openly and honestly. Again, I was really hoping to catch these guys in spin mode, but not once did they indulge me.

Alas, it was my turn at the microphone and I offered the following:

“My name is Tony Alva [alias used here] of [address redacted], I have worked in the wireless telecom sector for more than 15 years in various positions from procurement and contract support for cell site development to network deployment, asset management, and logistics. I currently do sourcing work for [company name redacted] a small internet service provider. While [company name redacted] was once a player in the municipal WiFi space it has long since exited these businesses. I have nothing to sell, nor do I represent anybody but myself and my family as fairly new citizens of Peachtree City.

My most concerning feeling on this topic is that we must strike a balance with our citizens and the wireless service providers regarding tower siting. As more people dump traditional local wired telephone services in lieu of strictly carrying a wireless phone, the demand for better coverage, more capacity, and better quality of signal will only increase. We are entering an era of reliance on these sophisticated devices and are NOT going back contrary to how some parents of teenagers might feel. (actually got a small smatter of a laugh) The trick is balancing the need for improved wireless service with the “Not in My Backyard” nature of tower siting applications here at the local level. After spending much of my professional career working for wireless service providers, I’m amazed at how poorly these discussions and subsequent negotiations go when there is so much potential for an “everybody wins” outcome. I’ve helped build and/or otherwise played a role in constructing cell sites in the most hallowed and historic of towns, on pristine PGA tour stops, and in neighborhoods where the initial proposals were met with pitch forks and lighted torch. If you drive by some of these sites now you’d be hard pressed to know that they are even there. Here are some random thoughts and questions requiring no answers/response at this moment but are offered for consideration:

- What is the nature of PTC’s existing agreements with wireless providers or consolidators such and American Tower and Pinnacle? Are we earning anything on sublet of the tower space or is it a flat rate for the ground space they are leasing?

- Total transparency of potential costs to build, potential revenue, and the entire process overall are paramount.

- What is the current state of our city’s first responder communications systems? Could these systems benefit from any of these proposed new sites? Where are these antenna and radio equipment located and who is maintaining it?

- The city MUST thoroughly investigate EVERY opportunity to maximize a potential revenue stream generated by managing and or building these sites out ourselves. (I went into length about Highland Falls’ inability to grasp the upside of their similar situation and the stalemate the village has been in needlessly for years)

- Citizens will respond more favorably if they here that a tower site will generate income to the city. This income could be earmarked according to the citizen’s desires.

- The City should drive the process and work with the carriers to create a “win/win” situation. Again, citizens will respond better to tower site issues if they know their representatives are DRIVING the process, NOT being lead around by big telecom behemoths.

- Use mandatory minimum collocation occupancy to green light permits to build a cell site. This will force the carriers to work with each others RF engineering departments on co-location.

- Don’t automatically dismiss the idea of easing a restriction until all options for stealth structures are explored. They may be harder sells to our citizens, but the upside and use of creative solutions may work for us all."

While I was sure some of the microphone fiends were scowling at my back, I think my input was warmly received by the city council, the industry representatives, and some of the citizens in attendance given the number who approached me once the meeting had adjourned. I wonder why they kept asking “Where do you live again?” I jest, I jest, Wait a minute…

We’ll see what happens from here. I’d like to see the city force the carriers to work together to identify sites that work for all of them. Determine what city land lays over this map or land that is close to the most desirable sites from the carrier perspective. From those identified locations, have the city itself build these sites and collect rent from all the carriers. Put no site into construction until a minimum occupancy rate has been signed on. This will guarantee a payback period and dictate all other basic terms to issue bonds with. If these city owed sites are close to neighborhoods, work with representatives of these neighborhoods to include them in potential stealth tower options. It would help if someone from the city worked with the local newspaper to get a permanent beat reporter assigned to this story line and help get him educated on the technology and the city permit revue process so the reporting going forward is less ambiguous.

All in all, I’m very happy with the approach my city has taken with this issue. Certainly restores my faith in government a bit. I may be a pragmatist, but if all these things happen I’m pretty sure most, not everybody, but most will be happy with the final outcome. I’ll keep you posted and bored to death as things develop…

The only game that matters...

I made a promise to clear my mind of all that ails me and get into the holiday spirit even though the world is being dragged into the crapper by doe-eyed, liberal, Kumbaya singing… Oops sorry. Seriously, it’s time to swing into the Christmas season and there is no better way to do just that then to talk about the only college football game that matters: Army vs. Navy.

I’m a little unnerved that Goarmysports.com is hocking Eagle Bank Bowl tickets at this juncture. I know they have to, but getting the Army team there means a victory over Navy and that is far from a certainty. I’m saying this because if Army were to lose to Navy Saturday, I don’t want anything to detract from the accomplishments the team and coach Ellerson have achieved this season. Army beat opponents they weren’t supposed to and are a team clearly on the rise after a long gloomy decade or so.

Navy has done well this year as well scoring a major victory over 2010/11 Army opponent the most hated Notre Dame. I cheered for the squids during this one as I do any other game they play with the exception of the one played this weekend.

My thirst for victory over Navy is as strong as ever and Army is a salty bunch this year. They’ll have to leave it all on the turf Saturday, but I think they can and will win.

So GO ARMY BEAT NAVY*!

*Bunch of lying and cheating scoundrels every one of’em!!!

He took a walk in the woods and he never come back...

As one who is prides himself on not to be beholden to celebrity tabloitardness (sports, musicians, etc... beyond mocking them of course) I have to admit this… I’m actually disappointed in Tiger Woods.

I’ve been a fan since I picked up the frustrating game of golf myself many years ago. I really thought that he was the rare uber rich/famous athlete who had it together on this front. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve told my seven-year-old daughter while watching Sunday golf coverage, “Watch this guy, he is one squared away dude”. I won’t dig a knife into him about his infidelities, I won’t stop cheering for him to win tournaments, but it’ll be different now as I'm sure it was for those who once held John Edwards in high esteem. I thought his folks did such a good job raising him that he’d avoid falling into this trap. Since he wisely waited until he was older to get married (I know, that doesn’t guarantee anything), I thought he’d gotten all this out of his system. I thought the amazing mental toughness that he exudes and leverages to such perfection on the course carried over to his personal life.

I think he’s about to find out how his life is about to change for the worse as any father who has been faced with the possibility of not being allowed to see his kids any time he wants to has. His money, fame, and athletic prowess will become meaningless to him if it hasn’t already.

Is Tiger Woods Pac Man Jones? No, but nobody ever set the bar high for Pac Man, certainly not me. I assure you that this is NOT intended to be a holier than thou thing. I’m far from perfect as is Tiger. We are all flawed. I don’t know Tiger personally, but I have had friends that I’ve discovered have/were cheating on their wives and the disappointment I felt with them is similar to what I’m feeling now with this ordeal, just on a smaller scale.

As for the publics’ “right to know”, My brother and I were arguing about the whole thing last night and he insisted that Tiger should get out in front of this by making all kinds of confessional statements to which I say bullshit. We don’t have a “right to know”, what we have is a “right to ask”. If this inaliable "right" was what blew the lid off of Tiger’s dalliances, well, that’s life in the United States, but I know if I had been publically caught doing something so reckless to my family, I’d give two shits about anything, or anybody else except those family members I hurt. Frankly, I don’t care who or how many girls he stepped out on his wife with, one is too many and he’s going to pay dearly for it. I sincerely feel bad for his wife, she seems like a nice gal.

I don’t know why guys insist on thinking they’ll get away with it, especially famous ones. The rules are the same for all us men: If you don’t love your wife anymore divorce her and get on with you life and let her get on with hers. It sucks having to go through with it all and you better be prepared to suffer no matter what, but that’s how it is. Holding on to your dignity is what you get out of it. Falling prey to saline enhanced, club hopping, bubblehead’s just comes across as weak and terribly embarrassing whether you’re a famous golfer or a regular Joe.

Veteran's Day 2009...

In my brother’s Veteran’s Day post on The West Point Skateboard Gang blog he mentions reading Bill Mogan’s book “Son’s of Slum & Gravy” and acknowledges that many of my fathers classmates did not make it home from Vietnam. He goes on to speculate on what his/our lives might have been like had he not returned from his tour there. I can pretty much say with certainty that our lives would not be as rich had the unthinkable happened. I remember first thinking these thoughts when I first visited the Vietnam Memorial in Washington DC. Shortly before Christmas that followed my visit to The Wall, my father was reconnected with his Battery Commander from Vietnam who passed along some photos, one of which depicts the very moment my brother speculates on in his post.

My father was severely wounded in Vietnam after he kicked a trip wire setting off some buried explosives. We were all very young when it happened, but he did recover and return to us thankfully. For whatever reason, there was a combat photographer with my dad’s unit that day and he snapped this glorious photo. Aside from its family significance, it is really quite stunning in it’s composition. The line of ghostly soldiers with those forlorn facial expressions trailing off into the clouds. The photo was taken moments after the helicopter took off with my wounded father onboard. When my Mother showed it to me for the first time, she asked with the wisdom of ages, “Where is the man who belongs to that helmet?” That of course, is my father’s helmet in that soldiers grasp and that photo represents to me our family’s defining moment. A snap shot of what could have been, and what was to be. What if? A twist of fate?

With so many of you here in my Facebook circle and so many other friends being current and former service members, I’d like to offer this personnel story to you as a token of my appreciation for your fine service to our great nation on this Veteran’s Day. Many thanks to you all from the Phillips family.

Hail Alma Mater Dear…

Sitting here at my desk this dreary Monday morning, I get the uncanny feeling that a bunch of aliens came down in a space ship, abducted me, performed experiments on my brain, and dumped me right back here in my chair. I’ll try my best to tap out my recollections of events of the last 72 hours with my hands still afflicted with a bit of the ole shakes.

After a prefect flight and uncharacteristic early arrival at Conan O’Brien’s favorite airport, I lugged my golf clubs and bags up to the tram that took me out to the rental car lots where I was to find out upon my return I inadvertently snaked some other dude’s car and stuck him with my POS sub compact (sorry random dude). Friday golf being rained out not withstanding, this bit of luck was to follow me the rest of the weekend and may very well have been contagious. For the first portion of my stay I was the guest of Ms. Fairy Godmother’s and her lovely daughters who only grow more impressive with each passing visit. They treated me like a king during my stay and I can’t thank them enough for putting me up. It was great to see them all for the brief time I was actually there, but promise to get back with the family in tow very soon.

While golf might have been a scratch, Friday was not a wasted day by a long shot. After breakfast at The Park Restaurant and a quick tour of all points of interest on post, I met my long time friend Rod Wilson for lunch at the West Point Officer’s Club. Conversation was heartily pleasant, and despite the rainy weather, you could feel that familiar West Point football weekend vibe that only those who have lived there know. It’s just part of what makes the place so special and drives my desire to one day return on a permanent basis. After lunch, Rod was gracious enough to give me a tour of the new library (simply magnificent building especially when lit up at night) and use his DoD credentials to shop at the Cadet Bookstore. We went back to his place for some sofa chat, share a couple of beers with his wife, and catch up with their son Tyler who is fastly becoming THE lady killer of Highland Falls Middle School.

The evening was spent in the company of long time family friends the Fishburnes (both Senior and Junior contingent the West’s) at the Army sprint football game (formerly called the 150 lbs. league). What is just as impressive as watching Mark’s team go 4-0 with a win over a favored Penn, was watching Holly get her FOUR kids, her house guests, plus a ton of tailgating gear, AND me into her minivan in a matter of ten minutes for the ride down to Shea Stadium for pre-game tailgate (that’s right, tailgating for Sprint football Friday night!). Cell phone in her ear talking to her mother Pat, putting rain coats on the kids, walking the dogs, being a gracious host to her out of town guests, etc… No wonder the Army wants her there at West Point. She could teach the cadet’s a thing or two about rapid deployment in stressful situations.

Mark West's sprint team is quite a sight to see. He runs a balanced offense that makes very few mistakes and a defense that punishes an opponent's backfield for stalling to think for even a microsecond. It was a close one and the weather was lousy through most of it, but victory would be Army’s in the end. While the sky’s were clearing and as the final seconds ticked off the clock, I was again drenched in that West Point pride and humility as we walked onto the field to congratulate Mark on the win. He and his staff coach a hellva game. Sprint football at West Point is a great game to watch and I would highly recommend it to anyone in the area.

After a game like that, it would be easy to think that that same momentum could some how be carried over to the next day’s Div 1A match up against Southeastern Conference Vanderbilt, but as any long time Army football fan knows, this thinking is wrought with traps and foibles that will have you chomping antacid tablets like popcorn after the final gun goes off. That is precisely why there is no better way to prepare for an Army football game than to be invited to join the Fishburne clan for their pregame tailgate. Why you ask? Is it the pleasure of their company and the way that they treat all guests like family? Is it because of the fantastic food that is bountiful, or perhaps the location itself at the foot of the Lusk Reservoir dam not 50 yards from the stadium gate? It is ALL that of course, but the real reason is they figured out a long time ago that the only way to dull the pain of a decades worth of Army losses is ply oneself with enough booze to not remember any of them. AH HA!!! I say to all you Navy and Air Force fans and general Army football haters. THAT would not be the case on this particular Saturday.

I passed by Col. (ret.) Fishburne’s place on my way to the beer store at 0830 (that’s 8:30 AM to the non-military readers) to see if I could be of assistance setting up tents at the tailgate site and found Gus where you can always find him at that hour on game day: sitting in a lawn chair in his garage, smoking a cigar, and drinking one of his famed big gulp sized bloody Mary’s (see Army game prep above). He waved me off with the “no rain” call and I went on to the store, filled a banana box with ice and case of beer, and headed up to the site to be joined by all shortly after 0930 and two beers consumed by your humble narrator.

About 30 minutes later, we were joined by the motliest of motley crew to ever over indulge and skip a college class: Dennis Bulger, Bitchin’ Richie B Berardi, and John “Stain” Lally. After having moved around the country all my life, I’ve managed to either maintain or rekindle most of my relationships with my friends from just about everywhere, but must admit to neglecting those amongst my St. Thomas Aquinas College days a bit. That ended this past weekend. My friends were as funny, smart, and engaging as they were when I last saw them 20 years ago. While they’ve all gone on to great success in their own lives individually with families, careers, etc… I was relieved to discover that they certainly did not forget how to consume massive quantities of beer in a very short period of time and before the hour of 11:00 AM.

We all took to our usual seats in Michie Stadium as we last did two decades ago which goes something like this: fake looking at our ticket stubs and sitting in random empty seats right on the 50 yard line until booted by by actual ticket holders, lather, rinse, repeat. We watched my beloved Army team hang on to a much bigger Vanderbilt for most of four quarters. The Black Knights held Vanderbilt to a tie field goal from the red zone during their last drive as the final seconds ticked off in regulation play. Army won the toss and wisely elected to let Vanderbilt go first on offense in overtime play. I began chucking those before mentioned antacid tablets into my mouth one by one like peanuts as Vanderbilt easily move the ball inside Army's ten yard line right before on third down they ran the ball into the end zone as the visitors side of the stands erupted in cheers. But WAIT!!!… there seems to be some confusion on the far side of the field. The officials have signaled that the Vanderbilt player fumbled the ball over the goal line and recovered it himself. Replay confirmed it, touchBACK Army! Army takes over on the 30 and as typical in situations like this, promptly loses 6 ½ yards in three plays. The guy who missed a game winner last week in front of a homecoming crowd from 30 and change is trotted out to kick a 40+ yarder at which point I’m ready to just gobble the whole god damn roll of Tums in my hand all at one time. The kid’s kick bounces off the left upright and almost hit the cross bar on the way down before finally tumbling to the turf. IT’S GOOD!!! Only one option remained at this juncture (I think my buddy Kevin back home knows what comes next), one that is preserved for the rarest occasions only, and that is to jump the wall and join the merriment on the field which is exactly what we did. After joining the Corp for the playing of the Alma Mater, it was time for me and my band of jolly good fellows to saddle up and move our base of operation to Rockland County for the commencement of the college reunion activities. So with hoarse voices and increasingly squinted eyes, we bid a fond farewell to the Fishburne tailgate crew. On behalf of me and the boys we cannot thank you enough for having us and hope our juvenile behavior doesn’t exclude us from doing it again sometime soon.

It didn’t take long to bump into long lost fellow St. Thomas Aquinas alum while checking in at the hotel. As with my reconnection earlier with the three guys, one after another, smiling face after smiling face, greeted us at every turn. I’ll be honest here, I really thought this get together would, despite the best of intentions, be fun, but ill attended based on my involvement in past like minded events. It’s an occurrence as rare as an ice age, but I was actually wrong. With all credit due to the dedicated organizers, Billy Vanson, Carey Wazaney, and Maureen Gallagher, as I’m certain all who attended would agree this thing was a massive success. Billy, Carey, and Maureen with crystal clear intuition knew that all that was needed to attract a big crowd of aging former STAC dorm students was a metric ton of alcohol, parsed with great food, 80’s hair metal music cranked to eleven, and a late hour closing time. Check, check, check, and check. I think the only bad vibe I got came to me in a nanosecond of sobriety when I realized how much better everyone else has held up to age compared to me.

Once the official party ended at midnight, most of us moved directly to the hotel bar which, much to the dismay of the bleary eyed bartending staff, was forced to stay open another two hours or so to accommodate us. After nightcaps back at the room over an iTunes driven crap and bull session the night came to an end at last with guys sleeping in chairs chins on chest still clutching their last half empty beers (I sort of remember the glowing clock display reading 2:30 AM).


With a hangover that reduces it’s suffers to a Milkshake Grimace like idiot stupor, a number of us fellow alum ate our fill of Sunday brunch buffet, funneled some coffee down our throats, and said our goodbyes to each other. As I drove down the Palisades Parkway wondering why I ever doubted for a minute making this trip, I was thankful to my wife for green lighting the whole event for me at a time when fear of possible pending unemployment and economic uncertainty is running at an all time high in the Phillips house. She knows me well enough to understand that there is no distinction between my family and those whom I call my friends. Let’s make sure it’s not 20 more years before we do this again.

Big thanks again to Mary Jo Blackmon, Rod and Karen Wilson, Holly and Mark West, Pat and Gus Fishburne, all the wonderful guests at the Army football tailgate, Billy Vanson, Carey Wazaney, and Maureen Gallagher. It was a weekend I will not soon forget.

“I am not a number, I am a free man…”

I read in the sports section today an article about Jon Richt, son of Mark Richt, storied coach of the hated University of Georgia Bulldogs football team. According to the article, after completing his freshmen year at Clemson Jon transferred to a small Div1AA college, Mars Hill College in Western North Carolina, where he now starts as quarterback. As I read the piece, I recalled reading an article last year about him and his dad’s trip up to Clemson where Jon had been recruited to play football. Jon’s stated reasons for wanting to make such a move were attributed to what he says were self discovery and realization, mostly that he just felt that the big school environment and lifestyle was just not to his fitting. Some will say that he just chickened out when faced with the monster that is a Div 1A football program, but having been down that road myself, I don’t think so. I’d say 19 year old Jon Richt seems to have the maturity and knowledge of himself that I lacked at that age.

Perhaps my folks knew what I didn’t, but let me figure it out on my own anyway. After getting my feet wet and doing pretty well with the whole college thing, I couldn’t wait to transfer to a big university. I had visited a few friends who were attending colleges of various sizes and simply figured that as far class went, they were all the same and no different than what I was experiencing at the community college level. My time at the University of Maryland certainly changed my mind in a hurry.

I’m sure there were many who did their best to brace me for the change, certainly my folks, but I must have closed my ears to it all. I was used to attending classes in which discussion was par for the course and integral part of every session, dialog that was encouraged by virtually all my professors at the community college level no matter what subject. Those who know me are familiar with my zeal for conversation (i.e. I talk a LOT), but at that point without any other point of reference I just thought that this was how it worked everywhere. I always sensed that my instructors used conversational engagement as a tool to simply keep us students awake during class.

At Maryland I was thrown for a loop. Gone was ANY dialog with ANY of my professors unless I wanted to make an office appointment to see them (impossible since grad students chewed up most of their published office hours). Impossible since lectures were in classrooms with hundreds of other students. No, section meetings with auxiliary grad students was what was supposed to replaced the interaction I must have taken for granted at my community college. Don’t get me wrong, there were a couple of grad assistants who took a real interest in the teaching aspect of their duties (History and English specifically since teachers are what these folks were more than likely going to be doing for a living), but it was easy to see that most were doing the job as a way to pay their tuition and simply dialed it in. Despite all this, thousands of kids get their undergrad degree in this environment. They adapt and by reading and teaching themselves the subject matter they succeed.

Following my exit from that behemoth institution, I finished my degree at a small liberal arts school about twenty minutes North of Manhattan. Campus life wasn’t really any different than Maryland (girls, beer, music, sports, etc…), but I was back in classrooms where I was able to converse with the teachers and my grades reflected the change for the better. That’s just the way I learn: I talk it out (much to the dismay of some of my classmates on occasion). I LOVED debating my journalism professors openly in class (especially when they’d spout partisan invective which they did a lot). I’m pretty sure they enjoyed it too given the number of disinterested floaters who shared the classroom pretending to be students. Perhaps some would rather listen and take notes, me I’ll take engagement any day of the week.

I look back on my short tenure at a big university and remember the better of those times, televised football and basketball games, thousands visiting the campus for these events and other things, but from a student perspective I also remember feeling like a number too. It took a year and a decent amount of my dad’s hard earned capital to discover this reality and what worked best for me.

I hope my kid is as smart as Jon Richt was and makes a decision on where to attend school based on what works best for her (cough, cough West Point, cough, cough). Given that a degree will probably cost as much as a mortgage on a moderately sized home, she may not have the luxury self discovery like I did.