10 Ways To Survive A Snow Day In The RI Region
We invite you to peruse the nearly eight years’ worth of Rural Intelligence archives. It’s a good time to make a list of the restaurants you still need to try or the stores you haven’t yet shopped. Not feeling it? Consider some of the options we’ve curated for you to make waiting for a spring a bit more bearable.
On a snow day, you can stay in your pajamas as long as you like, and you might like to in these adult footed pajamas with a drop seat and front pockets, made from 100-percent polar fleece. Interesting factoid: On March 11, 2012, in Austin, Texas Jumpin Jammerz threw the World’s Largest Footed Pajama Party ever…and made it into the Guiness Book of World Records. Why not have a party of your own? $49.99
The first intelligent boot dryer on the market, says the ebay seller. Foehn, the manufacturer, has clearly put thought into the design: it comes with three sets of collapsible tubes, one of three settings that runs air without heating — useful for odor elimination — even a keyhole on the back for wall mounting. And — hurray — it’s made in the U.S.A., where we need things like this because air drying is so old school. $75
With its handle and tong-style operation, you don’t even have to get your mittens all wet. “I really love the perfect snowballs this makes,” said one reviewer. And, hey, it’s from L.L. Bean, so you know it’s a quality item. $9.95
How many days can you stare at burning logs before it starts getting a bit ho hum? Put some pizzazz in front of the blaze with a Tiffany-style fireplace screen. This one is called Eden, and features a tree of life motif, handcrafted with quality materials in real stained glass. “A masterpiece for any fireplace,” says Wayfair. This is just one of many colors and styles. $326.99
Sure, you can make chocolate chip cookies anytime. But we’re doing a theme here, and this snowflake cookie decorating set fills the bill. You get a copper snowflake cookie cutter, white edible glitter, sugar crystals and snowflake candy sprinkles. It’s “the perfect answer for indoor winter fun,” says the company that’s been making handmade copper cookie cutters since 1984, and indoor winter fun is just what we’re going for. $17.49
You can get those hand-warming heat packs at the Dollar Store now. But these gloves are in a whole other category, containing a well-concealed Lithium-ion battery cell that will keep your hands and fingers warm for up to 10 hours. With three heat settings and power indicator lights, they’re even environmentally friendly: the battery is rechargeable. This pair is is $199, but there is an array of styles and prices (check out the heated motorcycle gear and battery-heated socks) and other body-warming gear you’ve probably never thought of.
Why risk frostbite taking a yardstick outside when you can determine snow depth from your window? This snow gauge has easy-to-read large numbers. It “easily presses into your soil by stepping onto the sturdy foot bar at the bottom,” but at this point, just go ahead and stab it into the snow. Two-feet and three-feet options. We wish. $62.95-$64.95
We’re not saying that cabin fever makes you totally crazy, but just in case, here’s a fun way “to help you and your friends get down to what makes you tick, twitch and laugh at yourself.” The 135 question cards (examples: What parents did you wish you had? Which of your mother’s silly instructions do you still obey? If you had multiple personalities, what would they be?) are intended to add levity, though we can’t honestly guarantee that. $25
The fire is lit, and now you’ve got the time to enjoy your very own bear rug. Made in France (under strict EEU environmental standards), the soft pile is guaranteed not to mat down, shed or fade. Best of all, no animals were sacrificed for your pleasure. And just $89 from Hollywood Love Rugs.
You don’t even need Netflix for this. Produced in 1949 on behalf of the National Film Board of Canada, this old-style documentary follows two Inuit men in Canada’s Far North creating an igloo using only snow and a knife. It’s actually kind of fascinating, and will use up 10 minutes of an enforced snow day. After watching it, you could even try making one yourself. (Wait, who are we kidding?)
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For Gibson Buffs, OK Guitars Is The Sound of Dreams
By Robert Burke Warren
Charlie Gelber makes dreams come true.
A semi-retired NYC film editor and director, Gelber collects and deals stringed instruments, specializing in the shapely Gibson ES-335 electric guitar. From his Kent, CT store, OK Guitars, he sells them, mostly to men aged 48 to 68 who desire the instrument made famous by players as diverse as rock god Eric Clapton, bluesman B.B. King, jazz legend Larry Carlton, and even stadium rocker Dave Grohl. The 335, introduced in 1958 for $335 (roughly $2700 today), can set a guy back some serious coin, but Charlie Gelber makes sure it is money well spent, because he’s been on the other side, as a player, a buyer, and a dreamer.
“You want the thing you wanted as a kid,” he says, “but you couldn’t afford it. Now you’re older, you’ve got some disposable income, so you go for it. It’s a guy thing; in 13 years of business, I’ve sold one guitar to a woman. And it’s mostly men of a certain age. I’ve joked that I should have a prostate exam table set up!”
That would be difficult, for various reasons. Aside from the obvious, OK Guitars is tiny, housed in a charmingly up-cycled train car, and packed with approximately 30 gorgeous instruments. Gelber likes it that way; he’s been collecting since he was a 14-year-old kid in 1966, surrounding himself with guitars as he worked for decades as a film and TV editor. “When I saw the Beatles on Ed Sullivan,” he says, “I had to have a guitar. My dad bought me a [cheap] Kay. But I always wanted an ES-335. The first one I saw was a red one played by Johnny Rivers on Hullabaloo, and I just loved it. But they were expensive. I didn’t actually own one until 1980.” (To date, he has owned more than 500 guitars.)
When the Gibson guitar company introduced the ES-335, they affixed “ES” to it to differentiate it from the very popular Gibson Electric Hawaiian – or “EH” – slide guitar. Hawaiian music was all the rage, alongside this newfangled fad called “rock and roll.” Because the guitar shape we all know is Spanish in design, “ES” stands for “Electric Spanish.” The semi-hollow ES-335 offered a cross between an acoustic guitar and an electric, with exquisite workmanship, making it pricey but ever popular. According to Gelber, it is the only guitar model never to have gone out of production, and vintages in particular are extremely valuable.
Inspired by guitar transactions on eBay, Gelber began selling, “mostly for fun” in 2002. He started his collector business online, expanding it in 2010 with an engaging blog, www.es-335.org. (He has a degree in English and it shows.) Here, he dives into the geeky minutiae of his beauties, but also offers accessible anecdotes, passion-fueled descriptions, and fetching photos that’ll make you want to hold – or better yet, buy – a fine electric guitar.
Gelber’s weathered a lot since he started, including the economic downturn. Nevertheless, while continuing as a film editor (mostly on documentaries) he and his wife moved from Manhattan to Kent in 2012, and he opened OK Guitars. Since then, things have started looking up; apparently, the collectible guitar trade is an accurate bellwether for the financial health of the U.S. economy, and he’s happy to report business is good, and getting better, especially as his reputation has grown.
OK Guitars allows Gelber to share his expertise and love of guitars in real time, three days a week and by appointment. From behind his burnished wood counter acquired from a cigar store, he’s had some Antiques Roadshow-type moments with people seeking appraisals.
I had a Gibson 1913 mandolin come in,” he says. “It was fun to tell the owners it was worth $4,000 and see their jaws drop. But also, because some 335s look vintage to the untrained eye, people sometimes think they have something really valuable when they don’t. But they’ve still got a great guitar.” Just not one that’ll put their kid through grad school. Gelber has seen 335s valued at $50,000. (Eric Clapton’s sold for $1 million.)
Unlike many brick-and-mortar business owners, Gelber has nothing bad to say about the Internet. OK Guitars, in fact, depends on it. “It’s 90 percent of my business,” he says.
But the store is where he has the most fun. Because he recalls from his youth fussy guitar shop owners forbidding him from playing their merchandise, he freely allows anyone to take down one of his guitars and strum away, even local schoolkids, who get the rare pleasure of holding a fine instrument that some men never stop dreaming about.
11 Railroad Street, Kent, CT
Friday through Sunday, 12—8 p.m., or by appointment
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MASS MoCA Announces A Mind-Boggling Expansion
By Jeremy D. Goodwin
Sometimes bigger really is better.
We already knew that MASS MoCA was one of the biggest contemporary art facilities in the country. So it’s mind boggling to consider that its new expansion project will double its existing gallery space.
That’s not a fudged number or a bit of PR-speak. The converted factory complex already has a gallery the size of a football field and 120,000 square feet of total gallery space. When it’s done with its truly epic expansion, that number will shoot to 240,000.
This much we already knew, after the commonwealth of Massachusetts chipped in $25.4 million dollars in August to help things along. But this week, MASS MoCA called all hands on deck for one of the biggest announcements in its history. For the first time, we found out what’s going to go in all that new space. And when the new bits open in 2017, it’s almost going to be like a whole new museum, which anyone with even a passing interest in contemporary art (or forward-thinking performing arts) will feel the strong urge to make a pilgrimage to.
When MASS MoCA partnered with the Yale University Art Gallery in 2008 to renovate a three-floor factory building and install a mammoth installation of wall drawings by Sol LeWitt on a 25-year loan, it hit upon a winning formula. Building on that model, the new gallery space — chiefly a rambling building adjacent to what’s known these days as the “big gallery,” with an acre of floor space on each of its three levels — will be home to other long-term loans, in partnership with artists and other outside foundations.
Laurie Anderson. Photo by Lucie Jansch
Laurie Anderson, the legendary fixture on New York’s hip art scene (and widow to the late rocker Lou Reed), will create a visionary sound and light installation, plus a multimedia studio where she’ll invite the public in as she creates new work. (Specific plans are still being worked out.)
“This is really, really, really forward thinking stuff,” Anderson in an interview after a packed press conference that saw Governor Deval Patrick trumpet the plan. “I’m still really stunned. Where else is this going to happen? Where else could something this huge, ambitious and crazy happen?”
Some other heavy hitters were announced, of course. There will be paintings by the late, great Robert Rauschenberg, plus rotating pieces by other artists curated by the foundation devoted to his work. Louise Bourgeois’ marble sculpture will be on view —including some that’s never before been available to the public — as will immersive light installations by James Turrell (including a new commission), and projections by Jenny Holzer.
Work of Jenny Holtzer. Photo by Attilio Maranzano
Deepening its long-term relationship with New York City’s new-music innovators Bang on a Can, the museum will also make the oversized instruments of Gunnar Schonbeck available for visiting musicians and the public.
Additional elevated-walkways (like the cool one that leads to the LeWitt building now) will help complete a full loop around the campus for the first time.
“The public will be able to recognize this as a complex in a way that they never have before. Even though it’s a doubling of our exhibition space, it’s going to feel like a quadrupling,” museum director Joe Thompson told the assembled press, “or an order of magnitude larger, as an expansion of the experience of this complex and the way the buildings work together.”
Sculpture by Louise Bourgeois
MASS MoCA will also build up the infrastructure surrounding its burgeoning side business in top-shelf music festivals. When Wilco has its Solid Sound Festival, Jeff Tweedy will have a finished green room to hang out in. More visible to the public, there will be a vending arcade that opens up onto the Hoosac River, which winds its way across the campus.
The world is noticing. MASS MoCA’s big news has been covered everywhere from the New York Times to the Washington Post. And even though the museum has been a fixture of the region since it opened in 1999, in a couple years it’ll feel like we have a whole new cultural centerpiece on our hands. And isn’t that big news?
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My Turn As a Tourist: A Day With Behold! New Lebanon
By Lisa Green
Behold! New Lebanon is a living museum of contemporary rural American life. There are no ladies in bonnets spinning wool a la Sturbridge Village. These people are the real deal, willing to open their lives to share their skills and experience of rural living as a step toward creating their own sustainable future through tourism. [See full story here.]
I chose to “take” two events on the first day, and while I enjoyed both of them immensely and learned a huge amount, I found that part of the fun was not only the give-and-take with the presenters but with my fellow “visitors” as well. The two-room Visitor’s Center is part gift shop (offering New Lebanon-made products and Behold! New Lebanon merchandise) and part sign-in desk. But furnished with rocking chairs, filled with sunshine and a light breeze, it is a welcoming gathering space where locals greet one another and the rest of us meet them and each other. On the bus ride to the events, the anticipation is palpable – what are we going to see and learn? — and on the ride back, oh my, it is a voluble, good-natured competition about whose experience was better.
At “Hitching the Horse to the Plow,” we met 23-year-old farmer Even Thaler-Null, who runs Abode Farm CSA with his partner, Sarah Steadman. A first generation farmer from Westchester, Thaler-Null farms the former Shaker land (which before was Mohican land) using two plow horses and somewhat ancient but working farm equipment. The couple’s mission is to provide more food for New Lebanon, so they attempt to keep their 150 varieties of crops affordable through their CSA. It’s one thing to know that farmers work hard, but it is another to witness Thaler-Null’s commitment to this labor of love.
My afternoon event was “Going Once! Going Twice: Auctioneering 101” to meet with Dolores Meissner of Meissner’s Auction Service. I have attended these auctions in the past, and have walked out a bit dazzled by the speed, efficiency and humor with which the auction items are dispatched. But I didn’t know how Dolores and her late husband, Keith, built up their business, how she “reads” a crowd, learned the patter, where the merchandise comes from — and how she is coping with running the business without Keith. When it was time to get back on the bus, I was finally able to express my condolences to Dolores on the tragic loss of her husband just last December. “Now I need to give you a hug,” she said. And did.
I have beheld New Lebanon, and I will be going back.
Behold! New Lebanon
Friday, September 12 – Sunday, September 14
Friday, October 10 – Monday, October 13
Friday, October 31 – Sunday, November 2
14398 NY Route 22, New Lebanon, NY (518) 795-5756
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Taking the Muzzle Off: WAM Theatre Invites Change Makers
By Nichole Dupont
No matter where we are in the world, the rapid-fire barrage of social media and hard news headlines finds us: Child marriage in Jordan, school girls kidnapped in Nigeria, U.S. women among nation’s poorest, no public laughter in Turkey. The stories range from horrifying to ridiculous, yet the subject (or, I should say, the object) always lands squarely on the “fairer sex.” It’s hard not to feel a solid lump of hopelessness knowing what faces women and girls across the globe, every moment of every day.
“But there are women who are standing forward, and good men who are standing forward and good things are being manifested through the energy of women,” says actor and activist Jayne Atkinson. She is talking via cellphone from the Baltimore set of House of Cards—which is packed with strong female leads—where she is in the thick of shooting the series’ third season. “Put in the hands of women, look at the amazing changes we have seen in our world.”
Atkinson is a strong supporter and advocate for the Berkshire-based WAM (Women’s Action Movement) Theatre, which is celebrating its fifth anniversary with Change Makers, a high-profile panel discussion to be held on August 24 at the Mahaiwe Performing Arts Center. The event will be hosted by Marsha Norman and Sarah LaDuke and panelists include author/actor Jessica Blank, award-winning playwright Winter Miller, veteran photographer John Stanmeyer and Academy Award-winning (Berkshire-based) documentarian Cynthia Wade [above]. The panel discussion will address some of greatest challenges facing women (and men) in the world. Proceeds from the event will benefit WAM’s fall production of In Darfur, written by Miller, who was inspired by what she saw as a researcher for The New York Times columnist Nicholas Kristof at the start of the genocide in Darfur in 2004.
“I’m not capable of unseeing things,” says Miller [right] about the heavy content of most of her plays. “I try to figure out ‘how can I share what I’ve seen with people who may not have seen it.’ I have this goal of inciting curiosity; what they know versus what they think they know about a situation.”
Miller has written several plays (both commissioned and personal) about high-profile situations that we think we know about including the Trayvon Martin case, the Steubenville rape, gun control and sexual identity just to rattle off a few. And yet, no matter how many full-length productions or one-act workshops she writes, Miller still remains somewhat stupefied.
“It’s perplexing to me,” she says. “How is it that gay rights has rocketed ahead of women’s rights? Things have not panned out the way many people thought it would. Yes, there is sheer outrage and the desire to shout ‘everybody wake up!’”
Inciting action has been WAM’s purpose all along according to artistic director Kristen van Ginhoven, who says that at first “the whole endeavor felt like a gamble.”
“It’s so hard to raise the funds simply to produce an event, and then also we were going to donate funds? We really had no idea if it would work, and I often say it’s because we’re based in the Berkshires that it has worked. And it’s only through lots of hard work, incredible mentors, tons of support and many accomplishments that now I feel so much more comfortable in my role as ‘artistic director.’ I feel proud going into meetings to ask for support because I know WAM is a good investment.”
Certainly good enough to draw an eclectic panel of passionate champions for humanity who, as van Ginhoven puts it “all…desire to use our art for action. More specifically, to use our art to create positive change around social justice issues.”
John Stanmeyer [left, photo by Rob Becker] sees women’s issues (though he is hesitant to call them that) through an entirely (literally) different lens. Having travelled across the globe to destinations which are typically viewed as especially hostile towards women, including parts of Africa, East Asia, India and the Middle East.
“I completely ‘get’ how males get to dominate borders and cultures. And I completely understand the weight and measure [of the movement] to empower women,” he says. “But I don’t believe in gender differences. It’s the weakness of humans, what we’ve done to humanity, that’s caused this inequality. Education is paramount. We do need to support greater empowerment for women in developing countries, and in our own country.”
He pauses, shaking his head. We are sitting in his photo gallery/café in West Stockbridge, MA. Just outside the window, his daughter, dressed in bright purple and orange, is fishing in the Williams River with her two older brothers.
“I can’t even fathom the notion that some bozo in a room would actually consider not paying someone fairly because they’re female. It blows my mind,” he says. “I just want human beings to function in their greatest and most prolific way and be driven by brilliance.”
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The Clark Art Institute Gala: A Truly Grand Re-Opening
Lisa Green reports from Williamstown.
On Saturday, June 28, the gala to celebrate the opening of the expanded Clark Art Institute was commensurate with the endeavor and investment that went into the creation of the magnificent new campus. More than 700 guests (and, it seemed, an almost equal number of earpiece-wearing catering crew and iPad-toting museum staff) milled around the capacious outdoor terrace and its stunning reflecting pool. Several open bars and a jazz trio kept the crowd occupied until the official opening remarks began.
Jazz trio members Andy Wrba, bass, Andy Jaffe, keyboard and Bill Chapman, drums, performed early in the evening, and later were joined by famed saxophonist Charles Neville; Christy Abel and Rob Abel with Jane Stuebner, a member of the host committee, enjoyed the perfect summer evening.
Michael Conforti, The Clark’s director, welcomed the guests and thanked the major players, community and staff for their efforts in the completion of the new facility.
Gov Deval Patrick praised the project (and quickly left for another event), and Peter Wilmott, president of the Board of Trustees, also spoke. Then, as the doors to the new Clark were opened at last, Conforti invited guests to follow him into the newly transformed Museum Building.
It was clear from conversations overhead that leaders in the museum and gallery worlds were present to assess, enjoy and compare notes.
Andrew Spindler, an antiques dealer from Gloucester, chatted with Mathias Waschek, director of the Worcester Art Museum; Melinda Wingate and Ealan Wingate, who is the director of the Gagosian Gallery in New York, strolled the Impressionist Gallery.
The visionary architects and designers were on hand, including Tadao Ando of Tadao Ando Architect & Associates, who designed the new Visitor Center.
Lisa Giersbach with Elizabeth Randall and Eric Kramer from Reed Hilderbrand of Cambridge, the firm that conceived the dramatic landscape design; Annabelle Selldorf, the architect who reconceived the original Museum Building, and Rachel Judlowe.
The gala engaged all the senses. There was music inside, carefully chosen to complement the galleries and The Clark’s ever-growing international stature. In the Impressionist Gallery, the flutist Alex Sopp performed Debussy’s “Syrinx” and Colin Jacobsen, violinist and Eric Jacobsen, cellist, played Ravel’s Duo for Violin and Cello.
Colin Jacobson and violist Max Mandel performed in the Glass Box; The Knights, an orchestral collective, performed contemporary works by Chinese composers and a bit of Mozart, a perfect blend of east and west, in the new special exhibition gallery.
As Director Conforti said, the project couldn’t have been completed without the support of the community, and many of them were present at the gala. At left, Massachusetts State Representative Gail Cariddi of the First Berkshire District and her colleague, State Representative Paul Mark of the Second Berkshire District, expressed their admiration for the new Clark.
George Ahl, a board member of MASS MoCA and Tracy Finnegan of Williamstown; Robert Lach, a member of the Class of 1990 History of Art program at Williams, with Ghetta Hirsch, a painter and museum supporter.
The evening brought out members of nearby cultural organizations. At right, Eric Kerns, director of Marketing and Development at the Williamstown Theatre Festival, Kate Morris, Molly Kerns and Hans Morris, chairman of the MASS MoCA Foundation Board of Trustees.
The new gift shop was filled with buyers; Susan Lowry and Vicky Lowry live in New York, but still consider themselves Williamstown “townies.”
Henry Flynt (seated), who knew the Clarks, lived across the street from the museum and watched as the first building went up. “This is a very special day for him,” said Suzanne Flynt, his daughter-in-law (standing behind him). David Kriegel and Cynthia Flynt also shared the event with him.
It’s possible the opening was most meaningful to The Clark’s staff, who, it must be said, handled the massive gala celebration with aplomb (and the ever-present iPads and walkie-talkies). The event’s design was courtesy of David Stark Design & Productions. The food, served buffet style (much of it locally resourced), marked the debut of The Clark’s new catering service by Stephen STARR events, which created, among other shot-glass jewels, a to-die-for white chocolate pudding. Above, Ralph Colaizzi, Merritt Colaizzi, campaign director, Terri Boccia, Acquisitions librarian and Karl Mullen.
Museum Director Michael Conforti with his children, Peter Conforti and Julia Conforti; Laurie Marrs and Lydia Ross, both of the Advancement office.
The spectacular end to the evening? Not really — an after party followed at the Stone Hill Center.
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In Memoriam: John Harney of Harney & Sons Tea
John Harney, who founded a small tea company some thirty years ago in Salisbury, CT, which is now a prestigious and revered international brand with its headquarters in Millerton, NY, passed away suddenly at age 83 on June 17. Harney, whom many considered the unofficial mayor of northwestern Connecticut, was the proprietor of the storied White Hart Inn during its heyday. He and his wife, Elyse, a powerhouse in Litchfield County real estate, presided over a good-looking, good-hearted family that was committed to upholding small town values and traditions while simultaneously stoking the local economy. Considered a visionary in the tea and artisanal food worlds, John Harney was both a global figure and small-town hero. Rural Intelligence asked friends and neighbors for their remembrances.
I will always remember him with the impish grin and smile when he told us at the pharmacy that he was going to Buckingham Palace for the first time and what he would wear! He would always be smiling when you met him on the street. He always had a kind word, an offering hand, a view of the world that was positive and hopeful. He was proud of his family, his community, his country and Harney Tea. He represented what is best in this country. He embodied the American dream of integrity, hard work, accountability, generosity and community. He was a role model for all of us in his actions and his character,
—Elaine La Roche, proprietor Lion Rock Farm, Sharon, CT.
A tribute to my old friend John Harney is easy to do. Missing his sustaining and strong presence in our community will be the hard part for so many. I’ve known him since the early 70s. It is, of course, through the White Hart Inn that so many people first came to know John and Elyse. I cannot even count the number of personal family celebrations, birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas parties, and town-wide social events that were held there. You wanted to be near that fireplace! But his commitment to so many areas of the town of Salisbury and the state speak to his humanity and a deep sense of caring about his friends and neighbors and his willingness to simply be a part of making things better ... and in many ways more fun. Did you ever see John without a smile? Did you ever sense that he wasn’t glad to hear what you had to say?
—Susan Galuzzo, The White Gallery, Lakeville, CT
John Harney was a loving, doting, father figure to me, taking me under his wing when I was sixteen. He gave me a room at the White Hart Inn, teaching me all aspects of restaurant management, chambermaid work, preparing shrimp cocktails and salads, and babysitting for the many visiting politicos such as Governor Thomas Meskill’s family. When I close my eyes, the picture that instantly comes to mind is of John Harney smiling and running. Whatever project he was involved in, whoever he was speaking with, those eyes would twinkle and there’d always be that big laugh and hug. He was someone I truly admired, still going strong at 83, ready to take on another business venture, never sitting still, devoted to his family and faith, loved by the masses. What a difference he made in the northwest corner of Connecticut, and the world.
—Mary Palmer, Town Clerk, Falls Village, CT
There is not one person in our area who has not been affected in some way by John Harney. He was the unofficial mayor of our area, always with a smile on his face. I was having lunch with him and his son the day he passed, and he told me his life story of being an orphan at age six, working on the farm, and even though it sounded horrible, he laughed as he always did and put on a big smile. The many leaves of life make the world interesting. John was always searching for a new one, a rare one, an exotic one, because his sprit was alive and that energy was infectious.
—Jonathan Bee, Hunter-Bee, Millerton, NY
Simply put, John Harney, our friend for 36 years, was the best. He was kind, generous and passionate in his beliefs and his love of family, friends and his community. His infectious laugh and friendly outgoing personality exuded his positive life force. He never hesitated to offer help and support. We were working on the Millerton Clocktower Restoration Project in 2007, when John graciously offered to create a Millerton Tea; it’s still sold today and it really helped raise awareness for the symbol of the Village of Millerton. Thirty years ago, when we opened Simmons Way Village Inn, John was there for us, offering sage advice on the joys and pitfalls of running a small inn and restaurant. He was the ultimate host and loved being with people. We will all miss our special friend.
—Carol and Robert Sadlon, The Moviehouse, Millerton, NY
I knew John as a man with a twinkle in his eyes, a passion for tea and his family and as a fellow business person who always offered support and respect for me and the development of Hammertown. He was a community activist, and we have to thank him and his vision for the wonderful development that has happened here in our valley. And, on a personal note, he was there at most of the meetings supporting my son, Gregg, and Brooke Lehman as they faced their uphill battle to open The Watershed Center in Millerton. His presence and the respect he gave them and their project spoke to many in the community: If John approves, well…there you go!
—Joan Osofsky, Hammertown, Pine Plains, NY
What I remember most about John is his vivaciousness, sense of humor and presence in a room. Of course I also admire him as an entrepreneur as he built an impressive global, luxury brand. The ultimate decision in choosing Millerton in 2006 for the site of Little Gates and Co. Wine Merchants certainly took into account in no small part the Harney Tea’s presence.
John immediately befriended me when I moved to Salisbury, and I soon learned that he was like the Scarlet Pimpernel, he was here, he was there, he was everywhere! He was the NICEST man — always a kind word for and about everyone, and with that twinkle in his eye…there were always guaranteed belly laughs! We’ve lost a good friend — he was one in a million.
—Pete Hathaway, proprietor Hathaway-Young at Ragamont House, Salisbury, CT
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MASS MoCA: Party Like It’s 15!
By Robert Burke Warren
Since the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art, a.k.a. MASS MoCA, opened its doors in 1999, it has garnered a reputation as one of the liveliest arts centers in the country, if not the world. That’s code for “great party museum.” Keeping its reputation intact, the thriving institution, bursting with life in the walls of a sprawling 19th century factory, is throwing a big 15th anniversary shindig, a not-to-be-missed bash, on Saturday, May 24 from 4 p.m. until late. Among other things, the museum promises “funk, fun food, festive spirits, cheap beer, and dazzling new art.” Rest assured, when it comes to creating memorable events, the folks at MASS MoCA know what they’re doing, and the “Celebrate 15 Years” party will be no exception.
Festivities begin with a reception for Brooklyn-based Teresita Fernandez, whose immersive art exhibit, As Above So Below, opens that day. The artist uses natural and manufactured light to create an ever-changing atmospheric landscape, quite a good metaphor, actually for all that is MASS MoCA. The museum galleries will be open until 8 p.m.
Dancing takes over at 7 p.m., with DJ Rekha, and at 8, Brooklyn’s dance-party faves Red Baraat, who describe their music as “a merging of hard driving North Indian bhangra rhythms with elements of jazz, go-go, brass funk, and hip-hop, created with no less a purposeful agenda than manifesting joy and unity in all people.”
But that’s not all. Not by a long shot. If you’ve attended the Museum’s Solid Sound festivals, you know about “pop-up performances.” These can happen at any time, anywhere on the museum grounds. Performers promising appearances include Mark Mulcahy (Miracle Legion), writer-composer-multimedia artist Cynthia Hopkins, and Paul Simon and Sting’s musical director Mark Stewart, but museum director Joseph Thompson assures us the party will feature a fair share of unscripted surprises. “With so many good friends and terrific performers from our first 15 years, you never know who may show up,” he says. “Expect a rollicking dance party with lots of friends and family returning to MASS MoCA, interesting food trucks and newly concocted drinks, and excellent art and music from stem to stern.”
MASS MoCA’s 15-Year Anniversary Party
$15 members / $30 general admission / $45 gold star supporters receive 15th anniversary schwag
4-6 p.m. Opening reception for Teresita Fernández: As Above So Below
6 p.m. Food trucks and bars (buy your own)
7 p.m. DJ Rekha
8:30 p.m. Red Baraat
10:30 p.m. DJ Rekha
Pop-up performances by special friends
1040 MASS MoCA Way
North Adams, MA
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From Pittsfield to Sochi: Terry Holland Heads For the Olympics
By Lisa Green
Terry Holland goes for a run.
“There are a lot of religious conversions at the top of a skeleton run,” says Terry Holland, who’s on his way to the Olympics in Sochi, Russia, where he’ll be coaching New Zealand’s Olympic skeleton team.
No kidding. You’re belly down on barely the rails of a slide, about to burn up the bobsled track with your chin inches away from the ice. Even a diehard atheist might suddenly find belief in a higher power. Competitors steer the steel and fiberglass sled with their body movements, even though their arms are plastered to their sides. At 80 to 90 miles per hour, the G forces are comparable to those endured by jet pilots.
Holland knows about staring down the ice. The Pittsfield entrepreneur (you read about him and his drones in Rural Intelligence a few weeks ago) was captain of the U.S. skeleton team for 21 years and is a multiple-time U.S. and North American champion; he came in fourth place at the 1997 World Championships at Lake Placid. He was instrumental in getting skeleton accepted as an Olympic sport in 2002, but just missed qualifying for the U.S. team by a fraction of a second. So Holland, one of the top American sliders, became one of the coaches and trained the American Olympic team that won men’s gold and women’s silver and gold medals that year in Salt Lake City.
And now he’s going to Sochi to coach the New Zealand team, one man and one woman. Holland had worked with them at Lake Placid, and coached them at a pre-Olympic event in Sochi last November. That’s where he shot the video, below, for New Zealand TV, using an iPad mini. He’s doing the voiceover, too.
The XXIII Olympic Winter Games run February 7 – 23.
Tall, skeleton-sled slim and looking as fit as in his competitive days, Holland lives in Pittsfield with his wife (all three of his daughters have gotten married in the past two years), and it’s where he developed and honed his passion for winter sports. As a teenager, he was a competitive cross-country skier and Nordic ski jumper, which he’d practice in the Pittsfield State Forest.
Why the skeleton?
Holland sans the helmet.
“When you’re really bored in the winter…” he starts out. “It feels like when you jump on a sled,” he tries again. We get it. It’s a rush.
In 2004, the Australian Institute of Sport tapped Holland to develop a women’s skeleton team. It was for a study to determine if talent in one area transfers to another. Out of dozens of athletes, he picked out 10 women, (athletes, yes, but some had never seen ice outside of their drinks), and turned them into world-class skeleton competitors. In two years.
“I’m a big fan of can’t-do-it projects,” he says.
If that’s the case, you’d think he might be a tad more excited to be going to the games in Russia, considering all the doubts about Russia’s ability to pull off its latest megaproject. Having been there last fall as the Russian Olympic committee was preparing for the athletes and crowds, Holland is holding his enthusiasm in reserve. He had good-to-great experiences at the Olympics in Salt Lake City (2002), Torino (2006) and Vancouver (2010), but Sochi may be an entirely different story. (Much of what he observed in Sochi is captured in a New York Times article.)
Holland’s Olympic rings, left to right: 2010 (Vancouver), 2006 (Torino) and 2002 (Salt Lake City).“
To say that the Russians are focused on winning is an understatement,” Holland says. He’s concerned about rule bending and perceived infractions, which pains the lifelong competitor who still believes in the Olympic credo, where humans strive for excellence and push the boundaries of what they can do. He’ll be staying in the Olympic Village, and although no one knows what mayhem might arise, he feels there’s safety in the Village’s security bubble. The Internet is spotty and monitored, though, so he won’t be bringing his personal computer. It’s possible he’ll be marching in the opening ceremonies, as he’s done in the past — if it doesn’t conflict with the bobsled and luge training and competitions, which he wants to watch.
And once his New Zealanders finish their runs, Holland will be back on Siberian Airlines to start the 33-hour trek back to Pittsfield, wearing his fourth Olympics ring and ready to do some good old downhill skiing in the Berkshires. If it’s not too tame for him.
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Inside Rubi’s: Living The Hipster Barista Fantasy
Last winter, I had a bad case of yearning to be young. I was a middle-aged guy seeking a short cut back to the future. Inspired partly by a book called How Starbucks Changed My Life, I set out to become a barista, a hipster archetype that did not even exist when I was a young man in the 1980s. With stubborn conviction, I imagined that by putting on a pair of skinny jeans, tying a long white bistro apron around my waist and standing behind the counter at the hippest cafe in Great Barrington, I might be able to turn the clock back a couple of decades. Working side by side with inked and pierced twentysomethings, I thought I might become awesome by osmosis.
I applied for a part-time job with Matt Rubiner, the erudite and punctilious cheesemonger who runs Rubi’s café and the adjacent cheese shop. “You’ll have to work your way up to making coffee,” he told me. “First you’ll learn the register. Then you’ll train on sandwiches. If you last that long, we’ll send you to barista boot camp.”
Was he kidding? Of course, I could master sandwich making—I had worked one summer at a high-end deli during college—but I conveniently ignored the part where Matt told me that my duties would include loading the dishwasher and mopping floors. “It’s drudgery,” he warned me. Unwittingly, I was creating my own version of a reality TV series: So You Think You Want to be a Barista?
I rationalized this midlife folly in many ways: I was doing on-the-job research for a concept about opening a food shop of my own; I was exploring Great Barrington as a place to live because, ironically, it seemed it might be a good place to grow old. Working at the café would be an antidote to the solitary writer’s life, and I was tired of spending my days in front of a computer screen. I longed to do something social, tangible and physical. I reasoned that nothing could be more satisfying than feeding people.
I assumed I’d spend my days in conversation with the diverse clientele: organic farmers, screenwriters, chefs, professors, second-home owners from New York and Boston, and assorted creative types from 18 to 80. Alas, no one goes to Rubi’s to flirt with a cashier whose beard is flecked with gray.
Located in the back of a renovated 19th century red brick bank building, Rubi’s paneled dining room was the bank president’s office, and it has a chic serenity when empty; it would probably make a nice Pilates studio, which may be why I mistakenly thought that working there eight hours a day would be invigorating and restorative.
I quickly discovered that being a barista would require more than attitude and skinny jeans. Although I’d learned to steam milk to make café au lait at an East Village tearoom called Danal in the early 1990s when I was between journalism jobs (and before Starbucks came to New York and coffee drinks got so convoluted), I did not have a clue about how to prepare a chai latte or a half-caf soy macciato.
But I refused to believe that I was too old to learn to be a barista: For if that were true, what else was I too old to do?
I thought of Rubi’s swaggering baristas as caffeine cowboys: Eric, the lanky, buff guy with a large heavy-metal tattoo on his forearm and empathetic eyes who was ogled by men and women alike; Amy, the charismatic manager, who had a nose ring and was brimming with sassy energy.
As they took turns behind the Faema E61 semi-automatic espresso machine, they basked in their coffee-making expertise with nonchalance that bordered on arrogance. The more I studied them, the less they seemed like cowboys and the more they seemed like porn stars (yet another job I was too old for!) because they earned their living being watched while getting people off.
The way they made lattes and cappuccinos was erotic. It began with jerking the handle on the grinder multiple times, caressing the ground coffee with bare hands in the portafilter, and then rhythmically inserting the steamwand into a small pot of milk to get it very, very hot . . . and only stopping after reaching climax: creamy white foam.
The baristas would bend over backwards to be kind to older customers who seemed to be down on their luck. They assumed I fell into that category, for why else would a middle-aged guy [left] be willing to haul crates of milk and buckets of ice up from the cellar? I approached my apprenticeship as if I were working in a Michelin three-star restaurant: I would stoically do all the scut work so I’d earn the privilege of being sent to barista boot camp at Barrington Coffee Roasting Company in nearby Lee, MA.
However, I seriously miscalculated how hard it would be to make Rubi’s artisanal sandwiches.
The compact sandwich station was like a miniature golf course with obstacles at every turn. The squeeze bottles were unmarked so it was easy to mistake mustard and the house-made hot sauce. I couldn’t distinguish between the comte and asiago cheeses, and all the pale pink meats looked the same to my untrained eye so it was easy to confuse prosciutto, porchetta and cotto. A timer had to be set for each hot sandwich, and the cooking times varied so you needed to do some algebra if you wanted a hot dog, a tuna melt and a classic grilled cheese sandwich to all be ready to serve at the same time.
The breakfast sandwich was the most challenging item on the menu and learning how to make one perfectly was as essential as wearing skinny jeans. A dastardly piece of culinary engineering, it’s basically a grilled cheese-and-ham sandwich with a medium-cooked runny egg in the center, and it’s sublime when made right. (And it’s delicious even when flubbed.)
How do you manage to put a raw egg between two slices of bread and into a panini press without breaking the yolk or having the white slither out? You take one slice of bread and make a depression in it with a rubber-gloved fist and then use your fingers to massage the cavity to make it as wide as possible without cracking the crust, which contains the raw, local farm-fresh egg like a seawall. One bright, generous co-worker (a pre-med student at Bard College) confided that she made depressions in both slices of bread to create an ample pocket for the egg, ham and cheese. Her method worked like a charm, but by the time I finally made a perfect egg sandwich I’d had enough of being a barista-in-waiting.
Although I was working at what felt like break-neck speed, there was one co-worker who seemed to think I was a slacker. She wasn’t a manager, just a busybody whose role models were apparently the cast of Jersey Shore. She needled me and rolled her eyes at everything I did. Dan! That’s not how to cut a Cuban sandwich! [photo right]. She snapped at me for running the dishwasher only 75 percent full. Dan! You’re wasting water! This was a dishwasher that only ran for 60 seconds! How much water could I be wasting? After she scolded me for the umpteenth time about how I loaded the dishwasher, it was my turn to roll my eyes.
I went next door to the cheese shop and gave Matt my two weeks’ notice. I did not tell on my Mean Girl colleague, because I still had to work with her for the duration so I merely said, “I’m not cut out for this. It’s harder than I thought,” which was true. He laughed and said, “I told you so,” which was also true. (Nine months later, I learned that Matt eventually fired the Mean Girl after she reduced another employee to tears.)
Still, I had learned a valuable lesson during my time at Rubi’s. I went home and devised my own version of the signature egg sandwich in an ordinary skillet. I did not have to wrap it in parchment paper. I did not have to pray that the weight of the industrial-strength panini press would crush the yolk. I did not have to wear rubber gloves or skinny jeans. I made it free-style—with attitude. I hadn’t been able to turn back the clock, but I’d found my inner hipster after all.
Dan Shaw, a co-founder of Rural Intelligence and regular contributor to The New York Times, is writing a book about life in the closet.