Sonnenberg Mansion & Gardens

Sonnenberg Mansion and gardens is a New York State Historic Park located in Canandaigua, New York. The property originally encompassed 300 acres and is the former home of Frederick Thompson, a New York City banker. He and his wife developed an extensive network of gardens and greenhouses on the property before Mrs. Thompson died in 1923. The property was sold off to the federal government in 1931 and a Veterans Affairs Hospital was built adjacent to the mansion. The gardens fell into disuse as the federal government was unable to foot the bill for their upkeep. The hospital is still in use but the VA passed the mansion and 50 acres, including the Thompson’s original greenhouses, to a non-profit in 1972. The non-profit sold everything to the state in 2008, which has administered the park ever since. 

I visited Sonnenberg during a trip upstate to Cornell. I really should’ve gone when the gardens were in bloom, but it seems I just missed them in the early fall. The main feature of the greenhouse complex is a glass domed building divided into multiple sections. There are rooms dedicated to specific plants like orchids and cacti, and a large central room with trees that scrape the glass domed ceiling. The greenhouse reminds me of the National Arboretum in Washington DC, or what the greenhouse at Lyndhurst might’ve looked like back in its heyday. There are also a number of smaller greenhouses in varying states of disuse, many with missing glass paneling. Sonnenberg hopes to restore more of these structures as money becomes available.

Greenhouses

The Mansion

The mansion interior is beautifully restored, and the exterior is in good shape. I love the slate roof and contrasting color of the stonework against the crimson red siding. The Thompsons were amateur ornithologists and built an aviary to house their exotic bird collection. Many taxidermy birds can be found in the mansion, and an ornate painting of a peacock is a prominent feature near the first-floor entrance. Mr. Thompson was a photographer himself, and I immediately recognized the Kodak 8x10 camera and stereoscope viewer inside the study. I love stereoscopic images, which are shot at slightly different angles and viewed though a special set of glasses. The slight difference in camera angle produce a 3D effect. There were many rooms in the mansion I wasn’t able to visit as we were restricted to touring the first floor. Among the rooms I could see were the billiards hall, dining room, living room, and study. While the mansion was certainly opulent, I didn’t find it as overbearing as the Vanderbilt mansion I visited in Hyde Park while shooting my Hudson Valley Mansions series. I could see personal touches left by the people who lived there, the things they collected on their travels around the world. It felt lived in, which some historic mansions do not. Hopefully, when the world returns to normal post-COVID, I’ll be able to make a return visit to see the gardens in full bloom.

USS Ling

The story of the USS Ling is a sad case study of what happens to historic ships when the money and momentum to fund their upkeep runs out. Settled into the bed of the Hackensack River in Hackensack NJ, the USS Ling is trapped and in worse shape than she ever was during WWII. The ship is a Balao-Class submarine which spent a little over a year in commission between 1945 and 1946 without seeing any real action. Later converted to a training ship at the Brooklyn Naval Yard, she was donated to the Submarine Memorial Association in the 1970s and reverted back to the interior of a typical WWII submarine. A string of bad luck including vandalism and Hurricane Sandy caused expansive damage to the ship through flooding, leaving it in the state we see today.

There’s a movement to bring the ship to a new home in Louisville KY, but a few obstacles stand in the way between the USS Ling and its journey to the Atlantic - for one, her ballast tanks haven’t been serviced in years which leaves the ship unable float let alone move under her own power. Additionally, large boat traffic and the regular dredging that accompanies it has been absent from the Hackensack River for many years. Even if the submarine could float, it’s unlikely the Hackensack River would be navigable for a vessel her size. The most practical solution is to load the submarine onto a barge and tow it to dry dock for a complete overhaul. With any luck, the folks at the Louisville Naval Museum will be able to figure out a way to patch the submarine and get it into dry dock. Whatever happens, it’ll take a herculean effort to restore the USS Ling to her former glory.

It’s been freezing cold here in New York for the past few weeks, but I’m glad I stopped in to see the USS Ling this winter before it’s gone for good. I just wish that I was able to take a tour before things fell apart. Thankfully we still have the USS New Jersey in Camden and a host of other ships nearby in Battleship Cove. It’s funny - I’ve never been onboard a US WWII submarine, but I have visited the only U-Boat in the United States, U-505. Sounds like I have some post-COVID travel planning to do…

Fort Stark

One of Battery David Hunter’s empty 12-inch disappearing gun mount, Harbor Entrance Control Post (HECP) in background.

I’m always on the lookout for abandoned sites to explore, and I discovered Fort Start while looking for things to shoot in the Portsmouth NH area. This fort was part of a greater network of seven forts that protected Portsmouth Harbor, home to the Portsmouth Naval Shipyard. The port played a vital role throughout WWI and WWII, servicing the Navy’s submarine fleet. The shipyard continues to be the primary location for the overhaul, repair, and modernization of the active duty submarines.

The fort was first established during the Revolutionary War, with armaments secured from the nearby Fort William and Mary after capture from British forces. The fort continued to serve a role in harbor defense up until 1983 when it was turned over to the State of New Hampshire. As it stood during WWII, there were 4 batteries: Alexander Hays, Edward Kirk, David Hunter, and William Lytle. A mix of 3-inch guns and two 12-inch guns (long since removed) made up the primary firepower and were eventually outclassed by the 16-inch guns of nearby Fort Dearborn. The main feature of the fort was the Harbor Entrance Control Post (HECP) which directed harbor defenses from Biddeford, ME to Cape Ann, MA. A collection of other buildings, none of which remain, surrounded the parade field to serve the needs of soldiers stationed there during WWII. Only the concrete bunkers and machine shop still stand, the latter converted to a small museum.

12-inch Gun Mount at Battery Hunter, showing the rails upon which the gun carriage would ride.

Walking through the remaining concrete bunkers, it’s easy to get a sense of the sheer scale of the 12-inch guns that once sat atop Battery David Hunter. These guns were never fired at the enemy, but were primarily a deterrent to minesweepers that might try to clear the main protective measure in place at Portsmouth Harbor – a vast minefield that was controlled from Fort Stark. The HPEC still sits atop Battery Kirk, which was painted “battleship gray” during WWII to disguise it from enemy observation. Other buildings at the fort were masked by camouflage netting supported by telephone poles.

While I was unable to visit the museum at the park due to COVID-19 restrictions, I was able to pop my head inside and take a brief look around. The one remaining 3-inch gun, an original search light, and other artifacts from the fort can be found inside. It doesn’t take much time to lap the entire park, but it’s fun to climb around the concrete bunkers and imagine what life was like for the soldiers stationed there. The park has limited hours and parking is only available past the entrance gate, but is worth a visit if you’re in the area.

A 3-inch gun mount added during WWII slides toward the ocean.

Edison NHP

Thomas Edison National Historical Park (NHP), located in West Orange NJ, is home to Thomas Edison’s laboratory complex and nearby residence. While I didn’t get to see the house on my first visit as they don’t offer tours in the winter, I plan on taking a trip back sometime this summer when things start to open up again. There are a few different things to see at the NHP: Edison’s machine shop, the laboratory where he attempted to synthesize synthetic rubber, a mockup of the “Black Maria” built as a moving film stage for motion pictures, and his private office/library. The weekend I visited actually had a presentation from an archivist with the Library of Congress who worked to restore nitrate film held by the library and sound recordings obtained from Edison NHP.

It’s actually interesting how the film and sound recordings became separated in the first place – but first a little history. Edison NHP was created shortly after WWII when Edison’s descendants shut down the laboratories and donated the property to the federal government. They had left everything as it was when Thomas Edison died, including his personal office and library. The National Parks Service sent the unstable nitrate film negatives they found to the National Archives for safekeeping but neglected to send the associated wax cylinder recordings. Many years later the curator of Edison NHP found they wax cylinders and worked to restore the complete films. 

One of the major drawbacks to Edison’s phonograph was the recording technique required to produce master cylinders that could be copied for commercial distribution. The technology required actors or musicians to practically shout at the recording horn if a usable master cylinder was to be obtained. In fact, you can sometimes see these recording horns used to produce the sound for Edison’s motion pictures dip into shot as the phonograph operator tried to pick up their voice. The end result produced very uneven audio, and the quality of the audio-motion picture sync was almost entirely dependent on the operator projecting the completed product. The projector and phonograph would be connected together by an extremely long string that was meant to sync sound and picture together. The projector operator had to manually adjust the wax cylinder when the picture and film went out of sync. Sometimes the very long string which connected the projector and phonograph would break, sending the two wildly out of sync. Edison built the “Black Maria”, a revolving sound stage, to produce his motion pictures. The entire building spun to follow the sun, which produced the intense light needed to expose the film negatives.

Stepping into Edison’s office and private library, you can’t help but marvel at the four stories of book shelves and belongings strewn about the room. This building was home to a heavy machine shop for prototyping, a recording studio above Edison’s office to produce the master cylinders for his phonograph business, a photography studio, and drafting rooms. I always joke that fixer smells good, but I find it funny that 100 years later you can still smell the fixer in the darkroom that occupies the top floor of the building. The large 8x10 Eastman View camera still sits in the studio, ready to make some glass plate negatives.

Empire State Plaza

Sometimes you just get the urge to get out there and photograph something without having a particular subject in mind. It was a frigid Saturday morning and I was sick of sitting inside, so I grabbed my shoulder bag and stuffed my Mamiya C22 and 65/80/180 mm lenses inside with a roll of T-Max from my film fridge. I didn’t have a destination in mind but I knew I needed to photograph something. After doing a bit of digging online, I settled on Empire State Plaza up in Albany NY. It’s a few hours’ drive for me but the trip reminded me of Ohio where an hour’s drive minimum separated you from the next biggest town. There wasn’t snow on the ground when I left, but about an hour north flurries dashed across my windshield. I was lucky because by the time I reached Albany the snow had subsided and I was in the clear to shoot.

Empire State Plaza is the home of various NY state government agencies and is reminiscent of Rockefeller Plaza in New York. The capital building, pictured above, is quite beautiful. I lucked out by grabbing an ISO 400 film because it was freezing and hand holding the camera was tricky given just how much my hands were shaking. I ended up lapping the plaza to finish off the roll of film, though I had one more exposure left by the time I was finished. I want to make a return trip in the summer months but there’s many interesting buildings in the plaza: a bowl-shaped auditorium, a small plaza cafe, matching “Agency Buildings” which loom over the concourse, a seasonal skating rink, and the NY State Archives opposite the capitol building.

I didn’t do much research ahead of time since this was a spur of the moment trip. I had no idea the ice rink or cafe would be there, but I was thankful for the large hot chocolate I bought to warm up my hands. I tried to focus on the architecture and chasing the available light which was fleeting due to the storm front passing through. Satisfied with the pictures I took and with one shot left on the roll, I ended up dropping by the Martin Van Buren NHP on my way back downstate. The house was closed, and I’ll need to make a return trip when it opens for the season, but I thought the house really stood out amongst the snowy backdrop. I was quite happy with the negatives once I developed them and for an impromptu trip, I couldn’t ask for more.

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Van Slyke Castle

A short but very steep hike into the hills of New Jersey lands you at the site of Van Slyke Castle, or at least what’s left of it. The castle started life as the retreat of a wealthy NYC stockbroker who began construction on the property around the turn of the 20th century. After his untimely death in 1911, the expansive estate was left to his wife Ruth. She married Warren Van Slyke, an attorney, who gave the property its current namesake. The couple continued to use the castle as a vacation home until Mr. Van Slyke’s death, at which point Mrs. Van Slyke moved in permanently until her death in 1940.

The castle sat vacant after the death of both Mr. & Mrs. Van Slyke as a buyer for the property was not readily available. In 1949 another couple bought the property but put it back on the market one year later. Purchased in 1950 then abandoned, the house sat empty among the Ramapo Mountains until vandals broke in and burned it to the ground. The castle ruins and land were acquired by the state of New Jersey and turned into Ramapo Mountain State Park, leaving them open for all to explore.

The castle’s exterior is still clearly visible, as are the pool, water tower, and out building. A cast iron furnace rusts in what was once the basement. The pool, located a short distance from the castle ruins, is still accessible by a set of stairs that lead down into it. You can even see remains of the blue paint which once coated the concrete surfaces. These photos were from my third and most recent trip to the castle. If you live in NJ and enjoy hiking, this is definitely a location worth checking out.