Hague Hotels

The Island Harbor House property had been in the hands of the Clifton family for over 80 years. The first Clifton was actually born with the name Albert Graves. After his escape from a prison camp during the Civil War, he moved from Vermont to Hague. He changed his name to Albert Clifton. In 1882, he and his wife bought lakeside property from Kilbourne Miller. On this land he built a 14-bedroom inn that opened in 1887. Albert had been a renowned Adirondack guide and woodsman. His new inn catered mostly to fishermen and hunters, many of whom he had met through his guide business. The hotel was open year round. In 1903, he enlarged the hotel to accommodate 50 guests. Albert died that same year, leaving his wife, Augusta, along with three daughters and two sons. 

One of the sons, Bernard Albert (B. A.) Clifton (born in 1870) took over the family business. The year before, in 1902, B. A. married Matilda (Maddie) , who had been noticed by B. A. while waitressing at the hotel. They ran the hotel together until his death in 1928. During that period, the hotel was enlarged to four stories. The dining room overlooking the lake was built around an existing tree whose trunk was in its center. Four large cottages and several smaller ones were added across the road. The hotel now accommodated 150 guests in the main house and 50 guests in the cottages. Canoes and row boats were provided for their pleasure. A tennis court was built, and more property and lakefront was purchased. Over time, a farm was added to provide the table with fresh vegetables. 

After Bernard Albert's death, Maddie was left with the seemingly impossible task of running the large hotel along with her 17-year-old son, Bernie. Their only other child, a son named Carroll, had died at age 16.

The hotel was a very popular destination, hosting many events such as regattas, formal dinners with orchestras playing in the background, balls, and hunting trips. Others came simply to relax and enjoy the fine food and beautiful surroundings. A typical dinner would be fresh lake trout, vegetables harvested that day, homemade pies, and hand- cranked ice cream, all for about $1.00!

The hotel burned to the ground in 1933, taking with it two cottages across the road. The Cliftons had purchased a home across the bay on the point that had been owned by a gentleman from New York City named Colonel D’Alton Mann. He was a wealthy businessman who owned a scandal sheet called Town Topics(later becoming The New Yorker). This home for many years was located on Waltonian Island. The state insisted that Colonel Mann moved the home off the state-owned island. In typical Colonel Mann fashion, in 1917, he decided to cut it into sections and transport it across the ice to the present location. It was sold to the Cliftons and used as an annex to the hotel. 

In 1933, when the main hotel burned down, this annex was transformed into the main house. It was enlarged to accommodate 60 or so guests, and included a dining room, a commercial kitchen, and a grand wrap-around porch. In the early days, the hotel never closed. The fall brought bird and deer hunting. The lake froze, and horse trotting races were not to be missed. There were many activities during every season of the year at the Island Harbor House. 

Bernie's wife, Francis Spring, along with Maddie, the true matriarch, continued to own and operate the hotel. Two children were born to Fran and Bernie named Carol and Bernard and both grew up in the business. 

The Ticonderoga Sentinel, September 28, 1933:

Island Harbor House at Hague Completely Razed by Flames Early Today

The Island Harbor House of Hague, one of the most picturesque and famous hotels on Lake George, was completely destroyed by fire shortly before 4:00 this morning. The flames were first discovered in the main hotel building, and they spread with such rapidity that the north and middle guest cottages, directly across the state highway, were also enveloped and totally razed. A short circuit is believed to have started the blaze. 

The fire is believed to have originated in the lobby of the hotel building, and the flames were first discovered by Mrs. Myron Graves, wife of the assistant manager. The Graves occupy the cottage about 75 yards from the hotel building. She awakened her husband and they rushed to the doomed building, where they aroused Mrs. M. P. Clifton, owner and proprietor of the property; her son, Bernard Junior; Miss Claire Igoe, a teacher in high school who boarded at the hotel; and a waitress, Miss Geneva Dannan, all of whom were asleep on the second floor of the wooden structure. The main stairway to the lobby was blocked by flames. They escaped by the fire escape in their nightclothes a few minutes before their rooms were swept by the spreading flames. Their personal belongings were lost, as there was insufficient time to remove anything from the three razed buildings. 

Because of defective telephone communication (probably due to wires destroyed by the fire), the Ticonderoga Fire Department was unaware of the blaze until a resident of Hague rushed here in an automobile. Apparatus was immediately attached dispatched to the scene, and through the efforts of local firemen, the docks, boathouses, and other guests cottages were saved. 

The Island Harbor House was built in 1883 by Albert Clifton of Hague. Following his death, the ownership and management passed on to his son, Bernard, who died a few years ago. Since that time, his wife has been active in the management of the hotel, which has long been one of the most popular resorts on the lake, patronized each year by hundreds of guests principally from New York City, Albany, and other cities in the Capital District.

The 50th anniversary of the founding of the Island Harbor House was observed August 9th, when a special program was arranged to celebrate the occasion

History of Island Harbor House by Clifton West, 1965 

The Island Harbor House property has been in the hands of the Clifton family for over 80 years. Albert Clifton, who built the original hotel, was born on a farm in Guilford, VT in Windham County. (The farm is now owned by two of his nephews, Richard and John Gale.) Little is known of his early life in Vermont. He served as a drummer in the Civil War. He was taken prisoner and spent several months in Libby Prison. A group of inmates were successful in digging a tunnel through which over 100 escaped. He was among them. He walked to his home in Vermont, bringing his drum and a $3 gold piece given to him by his mother when he joined the army. In 1968, he was operating the Larrabee Point ferry. He also did extensive guide work in the Adirondacks. In 1870, he married Augusta Severance in Shoreham, Vermont. During the 12 years after their marriage, the Cliftons lived in the house now occupied by Mrs. Burgey and in the Henderson house. Three children, Bernard, Alice, and Bessie, were born.

In 1882, they bought the lakeshore property owned by Kilbourne Miller and built the original Island Harbor House. Two more children, Walter and Grace, were born there. This building contained 14 sleeping rooms. After 1905, the hotel was rebuilt with a total of 25 sleeping rooms and a large dining room. Albert Clifton operated the hotel until his death in 1903.

In 1905, Bernard Clifton married Matilda Meyers. Two sons, Bernard and Carroll, were born to them. The latter died at the age of 16. 

Five cottages were built across from the hotel. A large number of rowboats and canoes were kept for the use of the guests, and many of them fished for the plentiful lake trout and bass. A farm with several acres was in operation for many years to supply the hotel with fresh vegetables. Kobe Richmond and Arthur Lang were the farmers. A sawmill was built and operated by John Marsh. In those days, a hotel dinner of fresh Lake George trout, fresh vegetables from the farm, topped off with homemade pie and hand-cranked ice cream was really worth the dollar it cost. 

It is interesting to note that in 1896 B. A. Clifton was running the grist mill and the cider mill above the lower falls. (This was the second and last mile to occupy this site, the first having been built in about 1818 by a man named Kenny.) It was a successful venture, but it came to a disastrous end when it burned. A strong finger of suspicion pointed to his grandfather, James Severance, who didn't get along too well with the Cliftons.

Until the late 50s, many of the guests came to Hague on the steamboats. The Mohican was on the lake during the spring, early summer, and fall. Throughout the summer, the larger boats, the Horicon and the Sagamore, brought the guests to the local hotels. Mail from the north and south came by boat. Express service was also maintained the local agent on duty to meet the steamers. Guests who came by boat were carried by auto between the landing and hotels. An eight-passenger Packard was used, also a Stevens and earlier a Stoddard-Dayton. In the earlier days of auto transportation, guests were frequently taken on trips into the Adirondacks, especially to Lake Placid. Before the advent of the motor, the guests were taken for a drive in a surrey or other horse-drawn conveyance.

There must have been considerable excitement around town when gold was discovered in the stream near the Grebel, now Boulder Cottage. There is a paper in the family showing ownership of a gold coin by Albert Clifton. Alas, it was a hoax and one of the best-kept secrets of the family. The gold came from California and was brought by a brother-in-law, John Gale, Sr., who prospected there. The mine was salted.

The hotel was operated by Bernard Sr. from 1903 until his death in 1928. For a few years, Mrs. Clifton ran the business. Then her son Bernard took over to operate the hotel until it burned in 1933. Two cottages burned at the same time. 

The present Island Harbor House stands on a point of land across the bay from the original hotel site. For many years, this structure stood on Waltonian Island. It’s age and builder are unknown. A stone in the fireplace is dated 1777. The earliest owner was named Gabbett. Colonel W. D. Mann, editor of Town Topics, lived there for several years until the state made him move the house from the island. It was cut into sections and moved on the ice during the winter of 1917-1918. Known for a time as the Red House, it became part of the Clifton property in 1920 or 1922. It was used as a guesthouse until the hotel burned. After that, it was remodeled. The dining room was added and it became the Island Harbor House.

In the early days, hotels were never really closed. Guests came to the country for the bird and deer hunting in the fall. Trout were plentiful in the lake and streams, and fishermen were on hand soon after the ice left the lake. During the winter after the lake froze, trotting races were held on the ice. The Island Harbor House and other hotels in Hague entertained many guests every winter during the horse trots.

To Bernard and his wife, the former Francis Spring, were born two children. Carol, now Mrs. Robert Cross, was a teacher. Bernard Jr. was a 1964 graduate in high school and a bank manager in Warrensburg.

Over the years since the first hotel burned, several changes have taken place. With the advent of frozen foods and more rapid delivery of perishables, the farm was no longer necessary. The one-time thriving boat business is no more. When a large electric cooler was installed in about 1940, ice from the lake was not needed so the big icehouse was razed. One of the cottages was sold to a former guest. Part of the big barn where once enormous hogs converted garbage into pork is now a guesthouse. Most of the wood lots from which a vast amount of fuel were cut each year have been sold. Gas, oil, and electricity have replaced the hard fuels. Albert Clifton would be astounded at the changes which have taken place since 1882.  

Early Life on the West Farm, A Country Boarding House by Clifton West

Island Harbor Memories by Carol Clifton Turner, November 2006

I was born Caroline Diane Clifton on November 10, 1940 in Moses Ludington Hospital in Ticonderoga, New York. My parents, Bernard A and Francis Spring Clifton, had been married just 14 months.

I am the fourth generation of the Clifton family to exist and the fourth generation to be involved in the family business of owning and operating a small summer hotel, the Island Harbor House in the town of Hague on northern Lake George. I spent my first 21 years in a lifestyle that has virtually disappeared today. The first Clifton, born Albert Graves, mysteriously changed his name to Clifton after he came home from the Civil War, where he had been a drummer boy. His drum is on loan to the Hague Historical Society and I have his discharge papers. 

In 1882, he and his wife, Augusta Severance Clifford, purchased property in Hague and eventually built a 14-bedroom inn which opened in 1887. Albert had been a renowned Adirondack guide and the inn catered mostly to fishermen and hunters. This was a year-round business. In 1903, he enlarged the hotel to accommodate about 50 guests. Albert died that same year, leaving his widow, three married daughters (one of whom was Bessie West, Clifton West’s mother), and two sons, Walter (who was a young child) and Bernard Albert Clifton (who was born in 1870 and who took over the family business).

My grandfather Bernard (called Birney) had married the previous year (1902) at the age of 32. His wife, the former Matilda Phoebe Myers (born 1885) was 17 at the time of their marriage. Her father was a ferryman on the Lake Champlain ferry at Fort Ticonderoga. She first came to Birney’s attention the year before when she was employed as a waitress at the hotel. They had two sons, Carroll (1907-1923) who died of influenza in his teens, and Bernard A (no period, no name--just the letter) who was born in 1915.

Bernard Albert enlarged the hotel to accommodate the 150 guests in the main house, four large colleges, and several smaller ones. In the four-story main house, the dining room overlooking the lake was built around an existing tree whose trunk was in its center. Its leaves shaded the dining room from the summer sun. In 1922, Birney purchased a cottage and the acreage surrounding it located on an adjacent point from the main house. 

This cottage had an interesting history. It had been built on a state-owned island by Colonel D’Alton Mann, a New York City millionaire, Civil War officer, businessman, and owner of the Town Topics scandal sheet, which later became The New Yorker.  The story is that Mann made some of his fortune by charging New Yorkers a fee NOT to print certain items in his magazine! The state finally mandated that the cottage be removed from state land. Mann had it cut into sections and moved across the ice in the winter of 1917-1918. After Mann's death in 1922, his daughter sold the cottage to the Clifton family.

Bernard Albert died in July 1928 of heart failure. During the last year, Matie had been running the hotel under her husband’s tutelage. Upon his death, she and her young son Bernie continued to run the business they had jointly inherited.

In September 1933, in the middle of the night, the main house and three nearby colleges burned to the ground. Mattie, Bernie, and several employees narrowly escaped with their lives. The Mann cottage was remodeled to become the new main house. A dining room, commercial kitchen, additional bedrooms, and a wrap-around porch were added. 

From 1933 on, Maddie and her son ran the hotel, which then had the capacity of about 60. With the addition of the new cottage in 1950, the hotel's capacity was about 75.

When I was born, my family consisted of my parents and my grandmother, Matilda Clifton, who was very much the matriarch. Also living with us was my grandmother's housekeeper/companion, Mary Miner. She lived with us from September until June each year until I was about 8, at which point she retired and went to Ticonderoga to live with friends. Mary did light housekeeping and kept Grandma company. 

My first memory is of Grandma, Mary, and I have a tea party in the living room. Afternoon tea was a daily occurrence. I was included with a tiny demitasse cup of “Cambric tea,” which consisted of a splash of hot tea with lots of hot milk and sugar. 

From 1945 to 1946, Mom and I joined dad at Sampson Naval Base in central New York. Dad had been drafted the year before. We lived on the base in a long two-story brown apartment building. I went to kindergarten on the base, and I got to ride the school bus for the first time. I also remember going to the weekly movie with Mom and Dad and standing on a chair singing the national anthem with a lot of grown-ups. About 20 years ago, I asked my mother why I remembered tall blonde men coming to our apartment kitchen door and looking at me. She gave me a strange look, then told me they were young German POWs who had garbage detail on the base. In broken English, they indicated to mom that my blonde curls and blue eyes reminded them of their little sisters in Germany. 

After the war, we returned to Hague, and Dad and Mom were able to work again at Island Harbor House. At that time, Mom went into the dining room as head waitress. Dad ran the front office and did all correspondence and payroll.

Because air conditioning was far in the future, many middle-class families spent one- or two-week vacations at the lake. Some more prosperous families stayed all summer, with the husbands commuting back and forth from their jobs, mostly in the New York City area. Several families did this at our hotel. The John Bays, the Gene Bays, the Tobins, the Stones, and the Winters were some of our full-time guests. Other families came here after year, booking the same week in the same room. This created a world for me where at least 20 to 30 people at any given time watched out for me while I had free reign on the property. Many of our guests had children who were my summer playmates. In fact, I grew up with “summer” friends and “winter” friends.

Over the years, some of our guests bought their own Lake George property and built lakeside summer homes. The Commons, Englers, Fergusons, Henrys, Winters, and Wrays were all Island Harbor people who are still property owners in Hague. I'm sure there are others I have missed.

Growing up in a small hotel didn't seem that unique to me. Along the lakeshore in our area were quite a few other family-owned and -operated resorts. The Rising family ran The Rising House. The next business going south was The Trout House run by Dick Bolton, Sr. His wife, Mame Bolton, was one of Grandma's friends, and her son Dick and his wife Penny were Mom and Dad's friends. Their other son, Earl Bolton, ran The Trout House Casino (later called the Dock and Dine), a bar/restaurant that had a dance band on weekends. (I had my first legal drink at that establishment.) Louella Grimes, another family friend, owned a cabin colony and a coffee sandwich shop called Bywater Cabins near the bridge. And In Sabbath Day Point, the Carney family ran The Sabbath Day Point House. Their granddaughter Patty was one year younger than I was and was a close friend of mine in high school. Her grandmother, Lillian Carney, was a friend of Grandma's. Her son Frank was my Dad's best man and a lifelong friend, and her mom Rosemary was a friend of my Mom's. Hattie Bartlett, another friend of Grandma's, ran a small inn nearby.

In March 1947, my brother Bernard was born. That summer he was only five months old. For the next few years, Mom and Dad hired a series of babysitters for us. I cannot honestly remember any babysitters. I think their time was taken up with the baby and very active toddler my brother became. This was fine with me! I understand that Nancy Perry was one of the babysitters. The next year she was a waitress. Mom and Dad introduced her to her future husband, Keith De Larm, at about that time.

I have come to the realization that I had freedoms that today's children are not permitted. After I was about 8, I was allowed to run free on our own extensive property. Grandma Maddie took me on many nature walks in the surrounding woods. She pointed out the edible plants like milkweed, mushrooms, dandelion greens, cedar sap, strawberries, and  wintergreen. She taught me the names of the wildflowers too. She also showed me the poisonous plants to avoid. The major remaining dangers were the road and the lake. When I was very young, I was restricted to the property on the lake side of 9N. If I wanted to cross the road, I had to wait for an adult to walk me across. Dad taught me to swim the first summer we were back from Sampson. I remember lying face up on the surface supported by Dad's arms. Then he slowly lowered them, and I was floating on my own. Soon I could float effortlessly. Then I learned to dog paddle, tread water, and do the breaststroke and side stroke. I never became a great swimmer, perhaps because as a child asthmatic I didn't like to go underwater. But I was very comfortable in the water. I was allowed to swim to the islands with a buddy and I did cannonballs off the jumping rock there. I was also allowed to take out canoes and rowboats when guests weren’t using them. By the time I was 11 or 12, I was allowed to walk to Hague on an abandoned graphite mining road called Lakeshore Mine Road. The grassy trail traversed the top of the hills and led directly to the top of Rising Hill Road where my friends Dorothy and Judy Fitzgerald lived. The trail is still there and offers some beautiful views of the lake.

I spent countless hours down on the dock by the main house, fishing. My bait was usually fresh bread balls, unless I’d been out the night before catching night crawlers. I caught mainly sunfish and rock bass and occasionally a perch or bullhead. I learned how to bait a hook and take the hook out gently and release the fish to be caught again. I had several poles and sometimes guest children would join me in catching the unwary sunfish. Once or twice a year, Dad would clean one of my larger catches and Mom would fry it for me. I’d have three or four bites of a fish I’d caught myself!

I have lots of memories of sitting on that dock, dangling my legs in the water and feeding the fish that were so tame they would nibble on my toes. I also enjoyed watching “our” fish. I learned that the clean circles visible in 5-9 feet of water were spawning beds for bass or lake trout. The female constantly patrolled the perimeter of the 18-24 inch circles, protecting her eggs. And I'd watch for the minnows which swam in schools near shore where bigger fish couldn't get them. I’d try and catch them in a pail and sometimes I did! Then I would let them go.

Dad was a lake trout fisherman. He liked going out at day-break in a rowboat or slow outboard to troll for lake trout. He took Bernard or me once or twice a year. The first time he caught a trout when I was in the boat, I learned why he had brought a stick of firewood on the boat and I learned a new phrase, “tunking a trout.” I was a little sad, but the trout was delicious. 

I loved having built-in playmates and the surprise of someone new every week or so. Besides swimming and fishing, there were lots of other things to do. The hotel had tennis, badminton, ping pong, croquet, and horseshoes. If it rained, we had a big collection of board games, picture puzzles, and playing cards at the desk. We also had a pinball machine in the office (a different one every year!) and I was a master of body English and the flippers. We also had a slot machine in the dining room and a small nickel machine in the main office. They were, of course, illegal. When the Feds made their annual appearance in our area, the hotel owners telephone tree was activated and the machines mysteriously vanished for a day. Legend has it that there is still a one-armed bandit buried on the property to this day, and one of my relatives knows its location!

Another pastime deserves a separate description. In the middle of the main lawn was a very large lilac bush. It was about 12 feet in diameter, and it grew in the shape of a circular three-room “house.” It sported a front door and a back door. We played house in that lilac bush for hours on end, year after year. Sometimes the boys persuaded us to make it an Indian teepee or fort, but that never lasted long.

I have lots of memories about the Island Harbor rocks. They were everywhere. Our long driveway was lined with the rocks with rocks of all shapes, none over 14 to 16 inches tall. We all learned to “walk the rocks” and there were many competitions to see who could walk the farthest and or the fastest without falling off. My brother Bernard was really good at rock walking.

Dad taught me how to choose a good skipping stone and how to throw it side arm underhanded. Dad could skip a rock three to five times, but I was happy with twice!

Lakeside, north of the hotel dock was a rocky point that gently sloped into the lake. From that point we could slide into the deep water. The trick was finding one of the one series of footholds to climb back out again. Further north of that rock was a tiny sand beach about eight feet wide that always had freshwater clams and their opened shells had to be carefully washed, dried, and played with. Once dried, they had the loveliest rainbow hues. Also from that spot to the opposite island was a natural sandbar. When we were young teenagers, my friend Ellen Winters and I were finally tall enough to walk to that island. The water came up to our chins. Luckily, back then there weren't as many power boats on the lake as there are now!

At least once every summer my Great-Aunt Ethel and Great-Uncle Walter Clifton, who owned a house at the very top of the hill opposite the dock, invited their twin grandchildren from Crown Point, Bernard and Bernetta Brock, for a week's visit. They were a couple of years older than I was. We swam from our dock every day, and Aunt Ethel would have me up for a special lunch with them. We’d eat on their porch with its magnificent view of the islands and lake. I'd always look forward to that lunch because Ethel was a great cook who also made the best peanut butter cookies on this earth. I still use her recipe to this day.

When I was young, I usually ate in the dining room with Grandma and the office desk clerk for lunch and dinner. I ate breakfast in the back room off the kitchen. In the dining room, I was expected to be on my best behavior. The family table was the one closest to the kitchen’s swinging doors. The waitresses took turns waiting on us.

After dinner, various activities took place. Once a week we had movie night on the lawn in front of the main house porch. Some evenings the guests would gather around the piano in the living room of the main house and sing. A longtime guest named Mr. Gene Bay could sing all the old standards by ear and we'd sing for an hour or so. “Daisy, Daisy,” “It's a Grand Old Flag,” “Yankee Doodle Dandy,” “By the Light of the Silvery Moon,” “Clementine,” and the newest and not so new Broadway show tunes were in our repertoire.

Every week or so, an Eastern European travelling salesman named Mr. Zouki set up and displayed gorgeous linen and lace articles and embroidered pieces of all types for the guests to purchase. I loved hanging around him and his beautiful merchandise. If he did well, I would get a sample! Once or twice a week a local man named Mr. Ticknor appeared at our dock with his large inboard and took a boat load of guests on tour around the northern end of the lake. If the boat had room for me, I’d get a free ride.

Once a week, usually on Wednesday, lunch was served on the lawn. We brought down serving tables, and the punch bowl was filled with iced tea,. Mom had cold cuts, potato salad, macaroni salad, grilled hamburgers and hot dogs, sliced cheese, pickled beets, pickles, cottage cheese, fruit, and watermelon slices. The guests loved it, but the waitresses hated it because it was more work than serving lunch inside. All the kids ate on the rocks separating the two lawns. This was a great location for two reasons. No adults wanted to sit there, and we got great views if anything happened in the adult world, like the time Mrs. T spilled iced tea in her lap and yelled an extremely naughty word!

With the number of guests we entertained over the years, it's not surprising that a few humorous stories like Mrs. T's use of a four letter word come to mind. Another female guest liked to put on a superior air in the dining room. Most of our waitresses were college girls and Mrs. B’s grammar left the girls giggling. One noontime, she announced, “I don't want no soup today.” She was quite demanding both in the dining room and to her chambermaid, requesting extra services from all. One day, she decided to pick the day lilies next to her cottage. But she didn't realize that they were planted in profusion to keep anyone from walking in that area. Imagine her surprise and the help’s glee when she broke through the top of the septic tank underneath the lilies and took an unplanned smelly dunking! 

Another event involved a woman whose husband owned a restaurant on Wall Street. He'd come up during the week for a day or two but was quite often in the city. Late one night, everyone on the property was awakened by raucous off-key singing. Dad, a few guests, and some of the help (including me) followed the noise to the dock. There we found Mrs. L, bare naked and loudly bellowing show tunes. She had spent a brief time as a chorus girl but was now 45, portly, and bleached blonde. One guest ran to his room for a blanket to wrap around her. Dad and a few others (including me) took the inebriated woman, still singing, to the hotel kitchen. There he brewed coffee, and she eventually quieted down. The next morning, Dad called her husband, who drove up from New York and took her home. They never returned to our hotel but stayed at another local hotel for years afterward.

When I was still too young to go into the dining room in the summer, I became a junior member of the Northern Lake George Yacht Club, whose clubhouse was just up the lake from the hotel. The club offered Red Cross swimming instruction, sailing instruction, and had weekly square dances for the kids and preteens. They hired a real caller who taught the city kids the dances, and two or three musicians accompanied him. Because the floor was beautifully varnished, we had to dance barefoot... no shoes allowed in the clubhouse! After the first week, our feet would be blistered beyond recognition, but by week two or three, the calluses were formed and shoeless dancing seemed logical. The boys always ask the girls to dance, source of much teenage drama and angst. 

We had sailing lessons and swimming lessons every day. In the Bay, we sailed in tiny boats called Turnabouts and took Red Cross swimming instruction from the dock. It was a fine program.

One of the memorable Yacht Club events for youths was an overnight sail to the Narrows. Imagine approximately 6 to 8 sailboats full of teenagers with sleeping bags, food, and water for an overnight party. We had good wind and arrived in good time and had a great night camping out. The most memorable part of the trip, however, was the return home. Several of us were sailing with Ken Engler in his Comet. The fleet passed Silver Bay, and the wind totally died. We were becalmed on a hot August day. We were there for what seemed like hours. When nature called, it was over the side, swim away, and then swim back and climb aboard. It was so embarrassing! Eventually parents came with power boats and towed us back to the club.

In 1956, when I was 15, I went into the dining room and my life changed dramatically. Now I was working with the college girls. The first year I worked under the head waitress who had worked for several years at the hotel, Barbara Story. She was a wonderful mentor. The next year she married and I became head waitress at age 16. Everyone in my family would get letters from college girls looking for waitress jobs. My family always requested a photograph of every applicant. Based on the letter and the photo, they'd choose four girls (I was the fifth) and hope for the best. We had occasional failures but somehow most of the girls worked out. Some waitresses were returnees and some were girls known to the family. Local girls were sometimes chosen. A high school girlfriend, Annabelle Hayford (now Mrs. Jack Hills), was a tremendous waitress. She was fast and efficient. She was given the one of the challenging all-summer families. She charmed the ladies in the party by making a different fruit salad every day. She created clowns out of peaches and cherries. She made trees, elephants, pinwheels--you name it, she made a salad depicting it. The world was her inspiration. 

When I was in college, we recruited from Albany State. Mom said the best waitress we ever had was my college friend Barbara E. She was a dynamo and well-liked by her customers. Her claim to fame in my eyes was that she regularly dated two guys every night. Her early-shift boyfriend had to go to work at midnight, and her late-shift boyfriend got off work around that time! She survived on four hours of sleep and never missed a beat in the dining room.

Another college friend of mine, Judy S, was also a great waitress. She and I were double dating late one summer night. We've been dancing at a nice club down the lake and we were quite dressed up. Judy's date was a Hague Central School grad who was home from college for the summer. We four were on the dock when Judy and her date began arguing. Judy was only 5’1” but she was feisty. Her date backed up to increase the distance between them. She continued the argument, wagging her finger at him as she told him exactly what she thought. Again he retreated. Suddenly, with arms wheeling in mid-air and an astonished look on his face, he fell off the dock backwards into seven feet of cold, dark Lake George. The three of us couldn't stop laughing, but he didn't find it so funny.

Another waitress's date also got in trouble late one evening. He came to pick her up, and to impress her, he drove his car completely around Grandma's flower beds. Too bad there were above-ground water pipes back in there, which his car promptly broke. Water spurted 15 feet in the air and spurted and spurted and spurted… until the plumber arrived from Ticonderoga, about 12 miles away. 

Eating at the help’s table in the kitchen was jolly. The help was fed really well. The 12 to 16 people shared guest stories (and there were many) and usually joked with our reclusive hired man, Abner, and later, Percy. Both were quiet bachelors but good eaters and good men. Percy had been shell shocked in World War I and lived alone in West Hague when he wasn't living at the hotel. The hired men usually became the girls’ pets! The biggest piece of pie was saved for them and they were waited on hand and foot; however, they were teased unmercifully at the same time. At meals were five waitresses, two dishwashers, one pots and pans washer, the hired man, two and three chamber maids, the pastry cook, the second cook, and Mom. The two laundresses went home to eat and the desk clerk ate in the dining room.

A typical day for an Island Harbor House waitress was as follows:

7:00 to 7:30: Breakfast in the kitchen

8:00 to 9:00: Dining room breakfast 

9:00 to 11:00: Clean up and side work 

12:00 to 12:30: Help’s lunch

12:30 to 1:00: Set up for dining room lunch 

1:00 to 2:00: Dining room lunch

2:00 to 3:00: Clean up and side work

3:00 to 5:00: Free time 

5:00 to 5:30: Help’s dinner 

5:30 to 6:00: Set up for dining room dinner

6:00 to 7:00: Dining room dinner 

7:00 to 9:00: Clean up and set up

We were usually done by 9:00 PM, depending on what time our last party finished dinner. Many came to dinner at 6:59!

Our dining room was lakeside, of course. It got the lake breezes and there were fans at each corner of the room. However, in the kitchen, there were no such amenities. The doors and windows were screened and opened, but the two huge stoves were also going. In hot weather, we'd walk into the kitchen to wipe our faces and plunge our wrists into ice water to cool off (it really works!). And then we'd pick up our food and breeze back into the dining room. Parties were assigned one table and one waitress for their stay. Parties who were annual guests had the same table year after year. Tips were given at the conclusion of the guests’ stay. The head waitress made table assignments and waitress assignments, trying to keep the number of tables equal and numbers of long timers equal. 

Our hotel did not have printed menus. Waitresses were expected to memorize each meal's choices, recite them to the customers, and memorize their choices. The meal’s menu was tacked up on the wall for us to see. A typical dinner menu might be:

Island harbor soup (a secret recipe served only on Sunday) 

Cranberry juice, apple juice 

Melon balls

Green salad with choice of dressing

Homemade rolls and butter 

Roast beef au jus, broiled chicken, or veal cutlet 

Mashed or baked potatoes 

Corn on the cob or green beans 

Apple pie, chocolate cake, blueberry cobbler, fruit Jello, vanilla, strawberry, or Maple walnut ice cream 

Breakfast and lunch were simpler. Breakfast was three courses. The first course was juices or fruit, the second was hot or cold cereal, and the third was eggs or pancakes, bacon or sausage, white or wheat toast or English muffins. Lunch was also three courses. The first was soup or juice, the second was a choice of several hot or cold sandwiches or a casserole such as macaroni and cheese or beef goulash, and desserts were similar to the previous evening's choices. 

Food was a big deal, as you may gather. We prided ourselves on the quality of our food. Imagine cooking for 50 to 75 guests and then 12 to 16 employees, six different meals a day. Three women did it all: my Mom and her second cook, Lillian Yaw (during my time at the hotel), and one pastry cook. We had several of these in my era. In my early years, our pastry cook was Nellie May. My aunt Betty Beaudin was another great baker--and she worked in high heels! Mom did the pastries one year and I also remember a pastry cook named Margaret Hughes. Dad did the butchering sides of the beef, veal, and pork, which hung in the walk-in cooler. He cut up whole chickens into whatever configuration Mom needed that day. He also did the outdoor charcoal boiling of meat or fish when it was on the menu. 

On Sunday, the big meal was at 1:00 pm. Quite a few of our male guests went back into the city on Sunday afternoon. So Sunday evening was a buffet. We had one or two hot dishes like shrimp Newburg or chicken a la king, hot muffins, and several types of salad. Waitresses got a little break, only bringing in beverages and desserts. 

I was head waitress in 1957 and 1958, and then for one year I worked at the register at The Hague Market for Bob and Ada Hoyt. It was a nice break from the hustle and bustle of the dining room, but I came back to my head waitress job in both 1960 and 1961. In 1962, when I was 21 and newly engaged, I was a dinner and cocktail waitress at the Indian Kettles. I was starting graduate school in the fall and I needed more money than I could make at home. The Reynolds family was wonderful to me, giving me lots of hours and helping me until closing many nights, and I did make enough to pay the tuition bill at Albany State. The following summer I was married, moved to the Cobleskill area, and took my first teaching job at Cobleskill Central School. 

Ironically, my favorite time of year at the lake was, and still is, September. Lake George has a special light and stillness that that is particularly lovely. That's when Lake George became “our lake” again, and the main house became “our house.” The day after Labor Day: SILENCE. No dinner bell ringing three times a day, no cars zooming by on 9 N, no motorboats on our lake. Our family became the off-season hotel staff. We stopped serving lunch. Mom was the cook and breakfast waitress, and I was the dinner waitress after I was about 12. Dad and Bernard did the dishes. Dad manned the front office. Mom cleaned the rooms. Grandma made the desserts.

We had only 6-8 heated rooms available offseason but that was usually enough. We had three small cottages that had space heaters, which added the possibility of four more rooms if necessary. We'd have some transients and weekend guests until Columbus Day when we closed the business. One time we had a man come for a week to escape the rat race of New York City and do some writing. He was very friendly to me when I came home from school. He told us that he was a writer for television, so we watched for his name in the coming years. His name was Leo Penn. We saw his name as a writer and/or director on TV and in the movies. His son, Sean Penn, is the Hollywood star.

After Columbus Day, my family had to make a choice as to whether or not we were going to live in the hotel that winter or rent a house in the area. When we lived in the main house, we partitioned off the kitchen and one bedroom above it and closed off the office and the two bedrooms above it. We also closed off the dining room. We were left with an eat-in kitchen, one bedroom, and one bathroom and two half-bathrooms downstairs, and four bedrooms and three bathrooms upstairs. We often rented a house instead. My family, over the years, lived in nine houses in the town of Hague and two in Ticonderoga. I myself only lived in four houses in Hague with them; the others were rented after I had married and moved away. All the houses are still standing and occupied. 

By the late 1960s, five factors contributed to the demise of the summer hotel era. The growing use of air conditioning kept people in their own homes during the hot summer. Air travel was becoming more affordable and thus more popular. Families could visit a new spot every year or travel across the country for their vacations. Also, more motels were built along major highways so travelers could expect to find good accommodations on family road trips. Next, property tax rates kept increasing and lakefront property was taxed at a premium rate. Our little hotel was blessed and cursed with about a half a mile of lakefront. Mom was fond of saying, “the tape measures came out of the pockets and the assessors measured around every rock!” The fifth and personal reason for our hotel’s sale was that neither my brother Bernard nor I were interested in carrying on the business. For all these reasons, my family reluctantly put the hotel up for sale. It was purchased in 1967 by Albert Lawrence, a Schenectady businessman, and his wife, Barbara. My parents retained one cottage near Ruah called the Henry Cottage and reserved lake rights to the beach and water rights to the main spring on the hill behind Boulders. They owned that cottage for about 20 years until they sold it as well. 

Several years ago, Richard and Christin Pedlow purchased the Island Harbor House. We were happily surprised to learn that Christin is the granddaughter of Paul and Ellen Winters, who had been guests and later owners of one of our cottages, the Eagle's Nest, since the late 1950s. Now the Pedlows, third and fourth generation lovers of Lake George and the Island Harbor House, maintain the property and are restoring its elegance.