The city and the country – 11 – July 27

Woodstock on a sunny Saturday in midsummer, crowded as you please. Away – to another corner of my country existence. Up in farthest Catskill wilderness sits the village of Fleischmanns, notable for its Hasidim, some so extreme they regard themselves as at war with that hotbed of liberalism, Israel. En route through the village to Hog Mountain Road, where I rehearse our upcoming Beethoven play – its premiere 5 days away now – with Maestro Kolb, I pass many Hasids with their Sunday hatbox-shaped fur hats. Incongruities everywhere – America’s signature. Nearby Belleayre, with its sought-after ski runs, has been the focus of a bitter war of its own: to develop a huge resort there, or not. I find myself in complete accord with Justin Kolb and his wife, who used to be of the ‘against’ party, fearing tourist invasions in such a sweetly remote place; now, like them, I see it differently – especially after my 10,000-mile ride around boarded-up America, much of it sweetly remote but also dying. As the supporters of the resort scheme point out, it will of course bring work where hardly any now exists. Is it worth the price of resort vulgarity, to employ young local couples and enable them to buy a house, where now all available property belongs to those who can now afford it: city folk purchasing second homes? Answer: yes, it’s worth the price.

As I return to busy Woodstock, I pass the village of Big Indian, named for a 7-foot-tall Munsee Indian named Winneesook, who helped a local girl called Gertrude escape a marriage to one Joseph Bundy, whom she did not love. She loved Winneesook. The tale ends tragically with Winneesook shot by Bundy. We remember the big Indian, though, as we pass this sculpture beside the road.