Friday Part 1

 

We left the next morning at 8am.  Paul and Betsy had let us know they would be getting to The Point for lunch at about 1:00 pm.  Based on what I had heard of the food, it was very important to get to The Point for lunch.  Very important.  Seeing Paul and Betsy would be an added benefit. 

 

We had a beautiful drive through Adirondack Park and eventually arrived at Saranac Lake.  The GPS took us up an unmarked road past some unremarkable houses until we eventually arrived at a gate that spelled out, in iconic Adirondack twig-work, "The Point".  We had arrived.

 

When we got to the gate we punched in the code we had been given and announced ourselves.  The gates slowly opened and the attendant came out to greet us.  She told us to drive up to the main lodge and go in to find our friends for lunch.  I wondered aloud whether we should check in, take our luggage to our room, give them a credit card, etc.  She chuckled and said the staff would take care of that.  She didn’t seem to know what a credit card was.

 

We pulled up to the main lodge, and were greeted by a staff member with a tray of champagne.  I was told to leave the keys in the car and that lunch would be served in the main lodge.  Paul, Betsy, David, Robin, Duke and the kids arrived just after us from the Saranac Lake airport.  Mac and Jill were already there I think and we all just milled around in front of the lodge greeting one another.  The key staff members introduced themselves, including Cameron who, over the course of the next couple of days, would transform us from capable human beings into needy, dependent leeches, incapable of taking responsibility for even our most basic human needs. 

 

Interestingly, while we were at the Point, a YouTube video was released of Mitt Romney at a private fundraising event making a point about the increasing role of government in American life.  He claimed that 47% of the US population refuses to take responsibility for itself—these people do not pay taxes, are fundamentally dependent on government through one or another entitlement program, feel like victims and believe they deserve free food, welfare, medical care and anything else they can glom onto.  Apparently The Point has the same impact on people as the Federal Government.  We didn’t pay for anything, let the staff do all the work, demanded food and alcohol and were ultimately incapable of taking responsibility for anything, least of all ourselves.

 

After the greetings outside, we went through the lodge to the patio and had a delicious lunch of Salmon Nicoise with the other guests.  There was a crisp rose wine that was perfectly paired with the meal (and was head and shoulders above the Coke I had paired with my Big Mac on the trip up the previous day).

 

After lunch we wandered down to find our room.  We were in “Trapper” a nice cozy room overlooking the lake.  The Adirondack décor was charming—bearskin rugs, a fur throw on the couch, primitive outdoor painting on the wall, a bottle of wine and fruit plate on the sideboard, huge walk-in closet, and a fireplace.  The girls (Ann and Daisy) were very happy.  Daisy curled up on the bearskin as though she had skinned it herself.

 

I discovered later that we had code names among the staff.  We were Trapper One and Trapper Two.  Daisy may have been Trapper Yapper for all I know.  The staff had a pretty good view of the property and most of the guest houses from the large kitchen window.  When we would go off on a walk or a boat ride, someone would radio that Trapper One and Two had flown the nest and they would send someone down to straighten up the room and leave us wine, cheese, water, you name it (whatever we didn’t eat we stole when we left).

 Trapper Two and Trapper Yapper

After getting settled we wandered back up to the lodge to find out what the plan was.  There we found Sam befriending the Chef.  Sam Shiverick, Paul’s son, is an engaging young guy that you can’t help but like.  He is also 6’5” and 25 years old and therefore has a prodigious appetite.  The salad Nicoise at lunch was a mere hors d’oeuvre for Sam—it didn’t even move the needle.  He sidled up to the chef, complimented his cooking and asked him if he had anything else to eat.  The chef, eager to fill the gnawing hole in Sam’s stomach, suggested truffle frites and a plate of cured meat.  Sam signaled his approval and promptly tucked into the large plate of food that the chef produced (with Uncle Bob’s help).

 Chef Mark

It was fun having the kids there.  Sam was working as a geologist for an energy company in Colorado.  Jane was working for David selling wine in New York and apparently was doing a great job.  Hope was working for another wine distributor in Southern California for the summer.  We had to laugh when Hope told us her wine company had taught her the 7 secrets of selling.  David, who has been selling wine since he was Hope’s age, was eager to find out what these were.  He said that he was intimately familiar with the Seven Deadly Sins, but unfamiliar with the 7 secrets.

 Little Hope

There was a printed schedule of events in our room which we had studied carefully.  There was a croquet match, a scavenger hunt, boat rides and several other events planned.  Betsy, a very talented hostess, recognized that this dysfunctional group of her husband’s friends was unlikely to comply with any prearranged plan and had the wisdom to tell us to just ignore the schedule.  As the weekend progressed, it became clear that anything noted on the schedule was certain not to happen.   

 

The group had decided to go on a boat ride around the lake.  The Point has a large wooden speedboat, a larger wooden cocktail yacht (not sure if “cocktail yacht” is the correct nautical name, but I’m pretty sure it was used exclusively for booze cruises), a water ski boat and several small wooden electric powered boats to putter around the cove.  I believe there were two full time employees at the boathouse at all times, standing by against the possibility that one of the guests might get it into their heads to go out on the water.  Of course the boathouse has a full bar so these two would almost certainly be qualified to make you the stiff drink of your choice as well.  A tried and true combination—alcohol and boating.  In this case with two full time enablers.

 

We hopped into the wooden speedboat with perhaps eight of the other guests and Daisy.  Cameron piloted the boat and gave us a little history lesson on Saranac Lake.  There were a host of robber barons who built so-called Great Camps on the lake.  These were in a vernacular Adirondack style that was said to be influenced by the British Arts and Crafts Movement.  The rustic simplicity of the architectural style was belied by the scale of these places, some of which had over 30 buildings surrounding massive main lodges.  Some of these have burned down or been demolished and others have been sold piecemeal to cottagers.  A few continue as grand properties owned by wealthy families.

 Point Gangstas

At some point during the boat ride, Sam turned to his father and said, “I think we should have a Great Camp!”  Paul, correctly interpreting this to mean that he should buy the Great Camp and Sam should have the run of the place, said, “I think so too.  That’s a wonderful thing for you to aspire to.  Work hard.”  Or something like that.  In any event, we didn’t hear any more chatter from Sam about acquiring a Great Camp.

 

Lunch and the boat ride put me in the proper frame of mind for a nap.  The entire Mueller family, including the ugly dog-faced baby, retired to Trapper for a snooze.  David and Robin had been swimming and as we got back to our room David was doing his impression of Michaelangelo’s David (albeit in a towel, thank God) on the deck above us which led into their room.  Robin was scampering inside to get warm.  David felt very superior that he had been swimming while we were getting ferried around by Cameron.

 

According to the printed schedule, we were supposed to be playing croquet at this time.  The staff had put out a couple of large tables on the croquet lawn with snacks, iced tea, lemonade, beer and chilled wine.  Nobody showed up.  That’s how you stick it to The Man at The Point.

Pre-Point

 

In December of last year we made plans to go with some friends on a bike trip to Napa in September.  However, in March, a "save the date" package arrived at our house asking us to block off the September 15th weekend for the 60th birthday celebration of our friends Paul and David Shiverick.  The package included a coffee table book about an Adirondack resort on Saranac Lake called The Point. 

 

The book showed a dreamy Adirondack camp with beautifully decorated rooms, wooden speedboats, tennis, swimming, doting staff and 5 star cooking.  Ann took one look at the book and said, "We have to do this!"  This killed two birds with one stone—Ann’s fear of a drunken bicycle death in Napa was gone and replaced with a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to stay at a spectacular resort.  And in Ann’s mind “once-in-a-lifetime” was the literal truth given her husband’s tendency to book vacations in more character-building venues such as northern Maine or Montana. 

 

In reality, our participation in the weekend was never in question.  The bike trip to Napa would have been great but we would never miss an opportunity to be part of such an important occasion with old friends like David and Paul.  Or to participate in perhaps the greatest glom in history.

 

The Shiverick twins were in my older brother Fred's class--Hawken School class of '71.  I knew them as upperclassmen at Hawken school and they may have been vaguely aware that I existed among the great unwashed in the lower grades, just as I was vaguely aware that their younger brother Reg lived out his miserable existence in the grade below mine.  However we got to know each other as we got older, first through my friendship with their next door neighbors, Brooks Jones and his older brother Tom, and later when we all found ourselves in New York in the early innings of our careers.

 

The period in life when you are beginning a career in a new city, starting a family, accumulating crap, etc. is formative and I think the friendships you make then are especially significant because you are in the process of forming your adult identity.  In any event, I have always felt close to the people I befriended at that point in my life, even those I don't see very much.  I was flattered that Paul and David had included us in this important celebration of a big milestone in their lives.

 

We later got the formal invitation which gave us the details on the weekend and reinforced Ann's commitment with yet another coffee table book.

 

The Point is a so called "Great Camp" that originally belonged to the Rockefeller family.  Adirondack Great Camps are apparently defined by certain common architectural features and generally were designed by one of three architects for wealthy robber barons around the turn of the last century. 

 

Interestingly, one of the Shivericks’ maternal aunts was married to William Rockefeller, prior owner of the Point.  Apparently this aunt got bored with husbands easily and traded in Bill for a new and improved model (reportedly she was married four times).  The Shivericks felt that even if Bill was extremely objectionable she could have taken one for the team so that everyone could enjoy The Point at his expense. 

 

The resort had 11 guest rooms, a main lodge, a boathouse, tennis courts, a croquet lawn, walking trails, a campfire area with a luxurious lean-to, and at least 4 full bars.  Paul had rented the entire place for the weekend.

 

The guests were:

 

•      Paul and Betsy Shiverick 

•      David Shiverick and Robin Jonas

•      Bob and Hope Lomas

•      Bo and Missy Shiverick

•      Reg and Lynn Shiverick

•      Mac and Jill Humphries

•      Michael and Julia Katz

•      Jeff and Katie Amling

•      John and Ann Mueller

•      Jane Shiverick (Paul’s daughter)

•      Sam Shiverick (Paul’s son)

•      Hope Shiverick (David’s daughter)

 

We decided to drive up to The Point.  The drive was about 8 hours but we like road trips and if we drove we could bring Daisy, Ann's cute little blonde mutt.  We figured that between driving to the airport, waiting for an hour, taking the plane, getting the rental car and driving the three hours from Albany, the timing was almost a push.  And there was the Daisy factor. 

 

We drove a little over half way the first night to Seneca Falls, which is in the Finger Lakes region between Rochester and Syracuse.  We had booked a room at a Holiday Inn that was pet friendly.  Bob and Hope (Shiverick) Lomas, who were also driving up, decided to book a room at the same hotel and join us for dinner. 

 

I had been duck hunting on Sandusky Bay the morning of our departure.  We had gotten our limit of teal at about 10 am, took the punt boat back to the dock where I got out of my waders and into jeans and hightailed it back to Gates Mills to get on the road.  I got home, threw the duck hunting gear in the barn, took a shower and threw the luggage into the car.  As I put the teal in the freezer Ann gave me that disappointed “I hope you’re proud of yourself” look.  We were off by one pm, I still smelling slightly of wet labrador.  We got to Seneca Falls at about 7pm and ran into Bob and Hope in the parking lot.  We agreed to crash for 45 minutes then meet at a restaurant in town at 8pm.

 

We left Daisy in the hotel when we went to dinner, which was technically illegal.  There was a sign at check in that said the animals were absolutely forbidden to be in guest rooms unattended.  Ann was educated by stern nuns—she was therefore nervous about rules and wondered what they would do to us if we were caught.  I explained to her that the penalty would probably be that we would be banned from the Holiday Inn the following night when we were scheduled to be at the Point.  She felt she could live with that.  Daisy is used to better hotels than the Holiday Inn, however, and she seemed skeptical of the foam rubber pillows she had nestled into as we left.

 

The restaurant was empty but the hostess assured us that this was very unusual.  She whispered breathlessly that Bruce Springsteen had eaten there earlier in the week.  For Ann, this gave the place instant "street cred".  We decided to eat at the bar which had a few patrons drinking beer and local wine.  We had a decent meal and Bob sampled some of the local vintages.  He found one that he really liked--I think it was a Pinot Noir.  To his amazement the price was only $20.  He ordered a bottle to drink and a couple to take home.  Bob likes good wine.  But what he really likes is good cheap wine.

 

Bob knows that I am a wine ignoramus and that my favorite wine adjective is “inexpensive”.  Bob, who shares my interest in value, is nonetheless a wine connoisseur.  I know this because he has a finely tuned instinct to hover around David when the good wine is poured.  David paid respect to Bob’s palate, saying that he really knew his stuff (based largely on the heavy breathing he felt over his shoulder every time a truly fine wine was opened).

 

Uncle Bob