Blueberry Days, Oneida Lake, NY

Minnow spotting, Horton's Harbor, Upper South Bay, Oneida Lake, NY (1949)

We knew that good times were coming when Dad rolled the empty oil drum out of the garage and filled it with water. The weekend before we headed north, he tested his 2-1/2 hp outboard motor by clamping it to the inside of the drum and pulling on the starter cord until it sputtered into life. After wintering over in the tool shed, the motor needed a little tinkering. Whatever else had to be done, Dad's critical task was complete when the engine began to hum cooperatively and the smoke had drifted away.

Sunset, Horton's Harbor, Oneida Lake, NY (1949).

From 1948 to 1960, we spent our family vacations at Oneida Lake, the thumb of New York State's Finger Lakes. Our destination was Horton’s Harbor, a camp in Upper South Bay at the southeastern end of the lake, where the first two weeks of July were reserved for us every year. 

Horton's had several cottages of varying sizes, ranging from a small frame appendage to the boathouse (our first digs); two smaller cabins  - a single and a double - along the trees on the east side of the lawn; and a large 2-bedroom cottage with living/dining room, kitchenette, and enormous screened porch. We stayed in each one at one point or another. When we became a family of six, my parents opted for the biggest cottage, which was next to the dirt road leading down to the boat launch. It was our vacation home for the next five years.

Horton's Harbor boat launch and cottage (1960).

Dad’s motor was no competition for the monster outboards that populated our home town. Those belonged to the “River Rats,” a club whose members roared up and down the Susquehanna River in speed boats with ferocious-looking teeth painted across their prows. No, Dad’s little blue and white Evinrude was meant for putt-putting leisurely along the lake shore while he fished. It was powerful enough, however, to take us across South Bay to Verona Beach State Park in good time, where we were guaranteed a pristine sand beach with lifeguards and a bathhouse. 

It was a great adventure to go with Dad to the Verona Beach by boat, even with the oversized canvas life jackets we had to wear. Violent storms came up quickly on the shallow lake, so Dad insisted we wear them, albeit faded, damp and mildewed, whenever we were on board. 

Fishing prep, Horton's Harbor, Oneida Lake, NY (1949)

Dad was a former Navy man. He relished the adventure of crossing the bay and arriving by boat on the far shore. When we reached the shallows, he would leap nimbly into the water and drag the rowboat high up on the sandy beach just south of the bathing area. There it would lay undisturbed until late in the afternoon, when it was time for the ride home.

July is blueberry season in upstate New York. Family excursions to the “U-Pick-It” farms were a summer ritual. At least once during our stay at the lake, we went to the local blueberry fields, returning with several quarts of those sweet-tart, dusty blue orbs. They were sweetest just after we picked them, right out of the pail. Later, we ate them immersed in a bowl of milk and sugar; we ate them on our corn flakes; Grandmother baked them into pies with crisp homemade crust. For those two weeks, it seemed like a good 20% of our diet consisted of blueberries consumed in one form or another. Even at my birthday dinner, the chocolate cake I had requested for dessert was always accompanied by a blueberry pie.

A child's life at Oneida was spent out-of-doors. We found the cottage stifling during the day. Air conditioning was a thing of the future; the gentle breezes that rippled across South Bay provided little relief to the upland cabins. One or two table fans strategically placed around the interior provided the only movement of air, evidenced by the swaying amber coil of flypaper that hung from the ceiling. Mom and Grandmother filled much of their time tidying up and making meals. During the short interludes when all was calm on the children front, they remained inside in front of the fans and out of the sun.

Rest period, Horton's Harbor (1954).

The kids spent the quiet times at the picnic table in front of the cottage. We had an ongoing comic book exchange with the twin boys who lived up at the caretaker’s cottage at the top of the hill. After lunch was a perfect time to spend an hour or two reading about the adventures of the Green Hornet or some other superhero verboten to us at home. For their part, the twins enjoyed a change from their usual diet of derring-do, immersing themselves in our collection of Bugs Bunny, Archie, and Classics Illustrated. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement that staved off boredom temporarily.

Sylvan Beach Amusement Park (1954)

The twins were our summer pals, who accompanied us on many of our outings - especially the ones to Sylvan Beach amusement park, just north of Verona Beach. Little in the historic community of Sylvan Beach caught our attention but the rides and the Midway. We handed in our tickets to ride on the Whip, the Rocket, and the Twirling Teacups. Being the youngest, I had to wait until my head reached the red mark on the gatepost before I could drive the Bumper Cars with the boys. At the end of the day, a Popsicle reward. An afternoon at Sylvan Beach was always a highlight of the vacation. 

Some years later, the same picnic table where we had spent so many languid hours became the site that signaled the end of our days at Oneida Lake. My older brother was 16 and in the throes of teenage angst. Spending that much time away from friends, rock ‘n roll, and french fries was torture. He spent his two weeks at the old picnic table, incommunicado, mitigating his days in purgatory by meticulously sanding, painting, and putting decals on his model cars. It was a melancholy summer.

At work on model cars, Oneida Lake (1960).

Finally, thankfully, our two weeks were up. It was the last time we went to Oneida Lake.  

In the years that followed, my brother became old enough to stay on his own. We continued to enjoy vacations as a family of five. After Grandmother died, we became a foursome. Eventually, with all the children grown and out of the house, my parents were free to wander - south in the winter, north in the summer. John and I took our own children on vacations, some more successful than others. None, however, were like Oneida Lake.

The Return

Through the years, my childhood memories of time spent at Oneida remained especially vivid. The smell of those awful life jackets. Watching the fascinating man with the big tongs bring us a new block of ice for the ice box. Sleeping outside on the screened porch of the big cottage. Riding in Dad’s boat across the bay to Verona Beach. Blueberries.

Recently, an insatiable curiosity drew me back to Oneida. Few places on earth are as lush and fragrant as upstate New York in the summer. I longed to see beautiful Oneida again. I wondered if anything I remember still exists. How much of it lives only in my idyllic childhood fantasies? 

I decided that it was time for a mini-road trip. But first, a little preliminary research was needed. I had no recollection of the name of the place where we stayed, so I tried to visualize the angle Dad’s boat took across the bay to Verona Beach, then plot back to a likely location for our camp. I searched for “Cottages for Rent” in the Upper South Bay area, but only found motels on the eastern shore. At last, I discovered one place that had potential.

Hidden Harbor Fish Camp, Upper South Bay, Oneida Lake (2012)

“Hidden Harbor” is located on the lake at Oak Avenue in Canastota, NY. The location seemed right, but Google's satellite view showed the lake front configured very differently from the way I remembered it.  The aerial showed a small earthen breakwater and a marina. The old willow tree at the shoreline was gone. No small cottages were visible under the trees. In place of the big cottage I remembered, was a long building with four rental units. 

The Marina, Hidden Harbor, Oneida Lake (2012)

I corresponded with the owners of Hidden Harbor who, when they heard about my search, kindly gave me permission to stop by their property when I came to the area. As soon as I turned onto the dirt road from SR 31, I knew immediately that this was the site. We had traveled down that road so many times, I felt I knew every inch of it. Although the old cottages and the boathouse were long gone and the shoreline had been rearranged into the marina, the sense of the place I once knew was still very strong. A small cove west of the property has remained, for the most part, undeveloped. We would putt by that cove after dinner some evenings to watch the birds preparing for their nightly roost. Hidden Harbor was every bit as peaceful and delightful as I remembered it, even with all the changes.

Cove west of Hidden Harbor, Oneida Lake (2012).

Leaving Upper South Bay, I drove around to the eastern shore of the lake where Verona Beach S.P. was located. Except for some rip-rap armoring the shoreline where Dad used to beach the boat, it looked unchanged. It was early on Sunday morning when I walked through the park, so the only people I saw were members of the grounds crew. Nevertheless, I could picture it full with people, as it used to be in my childhood. It was still beautiful. The water was deliciously warm and clear.

View across Upper South Bay from Verona Beach S. P. (2012).

The last stop on my journey was Sylvan Beach, where the old amusement park still operates. I learned a bit of the history of the town that I hadn't appreciated as a youth. The town is located on the north shore of the Erie Barge Canal, formerly part of the Oneida Lake Canal. Oneida Lake has been little explored by historians, according to Jack Henke, who has written several books on the heritage of the area. 

History was certainly never the focus of our vacation experience, nor does it appear to be much on the minds of visitors today. The weekend I was in town, it was filled with fans of “Vettes on the Beach” – a classic car rally for Corvettes. It was not surprising that the amusement park was deserted that Sunday morning, given the competition from the “Vettes” and the many obviously well-attended church services in the area.

South bank of Erie Canal at Sylvan Beach-Verona, Oneida Lake, NY

The park itself is now called "Historic Sylvan Beach Amusement Park." Indeed, the rides appeared authentically vintage. I think that I may even have ridden some of them in the 1950s.  But unlike its former slightly seedy self, everything today is freshly painted and appears ship-shape. No discarded cups, no papers, no Popsicle sticks or gum wrappers could be seen anywhere on the grounds. All the trash bins were empty and ready for another busy day. It almost made me forget that carny guy in the Midway who tricked me out of my dollar so long ago. 

Sylvan Beach Amusement Park, Sylvan Beach, NY

The only landmark-chasing I did this trip was a last-minute quest for the historic lighthouses on Oneida Lake. The light at the eastern end is located somewhere near 4th Street in Sylvan Beach. Jack Henke says that one is the most accessible, but I never found it. The second light is located on Frenchman's Island somewhere near the middle of the lake; it can be reached only by boat. I successfully located the third one in Brewerton at the lake's western end, but only after several passes along the lakefront. The unmarked site is down a side street just opposite a fuel company. There is no street sign, just a huge gravel parking lot. At the far end of the lot stands the Brewerton Light, which is endowed with a tiny green space behind it that goes down to the water.  OK, I've done my duty .... but it wasn't nearly as satisfying as finding our old camp in Upper South Bay.

The Brewerton Light on the Erie Canal at Oneida Lake (2012).

Remembrance

This trip to Oneida Lake was all about testing some of my early memories. It was comforting to have verified important ones - at least those of the physical places that I remembered so clearly. The people, well …. they are all gone now, except for my younger brother and me. As I walked across the lawn towards the car, they felt nearby. Perhaps they were in the ethers that hung over the blueberry bushes down the road. Or down at the lakefront, where the old boathouse used to stand. They seemed happy then, for the most part. It would be a good place for them to hang out for a while.

My father, Oneida Lake (1949).

Resources

Alvord, David. "Sylvan Beach in the Golden Age" Oneida [NY] Public Library. Official website, URL accessed 31 July 2012.

"Frenchman's Island Lighthouse [Oneida Lake]." Lighthouse Friends. Website. URL accessed 31 July 2012.

Henke, Jack. From "The Beach" to Brewerton: Stories of Oneida Lake. Utica NY: North Country Books, Inc. 2004.

------    Oneida Lake - "The only happiness": Place Names and History. Utica NY: North Country Books, Inc., 1989. 

Hidden Harbor Fish Camp, Canastota, NY.  Website. URL accessed 31 July 2012. 

 

"Historic Sylvan Beach Amusement Park." Website. URL accessed 2 August 2102.

James, Gary. "Jack Henke Interview - The History of Sylvan Beach." Famous Interview. Website. URL accessed 31 July 2012. 

Oneida Lake Association, Inc.  Website. URL accessed 31 July 2012.

Oneida Lake, N.Y. Boating and Fishing. Website. URL  accessed 31 July 2012. 

“Sylvan Beach.” NY Canals. Official Website. URL accessed 31 July 2012. 

Verona Beach Lighthouse Association. Town of Verona, NY.  URL accessed 31 July 2012.

“Verona Beach State Park.” NewYork State Office of Parks, Recreation & Historic Preservation. Official website. URL accessed 31 July 2012.

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