If I Were a Rich (Wo)man

I am fascinated by castles, even castle ruins. This is probably because my parents (thinking back on my childhood, they were pretty cool) took us on a trip to the Thousand Islands when I was young, and the mysterious Heart Island, home of Boldt Castle. Or I am a reincarnated princess, you never know. The trip was prior to 1977, when the Thousand Island Bridge Authority bought the island and began fixing it up. I don't remember much about the logistics of the trip, only that the Castle was basically in ruins, at least that is how it looked to a young girl who expected a ghost to pop out around a corner at any moment. (More about Boldt Castle in the future.)

Most of my castle and castle ruin encounters as an adult have occurred in Great Britain, and my fascination for them has not decreased. As for home-grown castles, I've returned to Heart Island as often as I could, visiting Singer Castle and Scotty's Castle for the first time recently. If it has the word 'castle' in the name and I am able, I make an effort to check it out, good sport and totally awesome husband in tow.

I even had my wedding reception in a castle, complete with ghosts.

I stumbled upon the existence of a local castle the other day, and it is for sale. Sadly, it is out of my price range for the time being, but imagine my excitement to discover that there is not only a castle in my neighborhood, but it is a castle complete with ruins. Upstate New York is a treasure trove of finds, and some day I hope to uncover many more than I already have.

I found the castle by chance. I recently discovered that a friend of mine belongs to a paranormal investigation group, and just for kicks I googled haunted places in her area and one of the hits was for House of the Week: The Helderberg Castle.  The property is located in the Albany County (NY) town of New Scotland, a short distance from where I live. 

Helderberg Castle was not built by a king or nobleman to protect his people, but a man who (six degrees of separation alert) was, among other things, a novelist named Bouck White. (Okay, I am not a novelist yet but I plan to be in the not-so-distant future.)


(picture courtesy: New Scotland Historical Association)

I searched for more information on this castle and learned that it would be considered trespassing to check it out as it is a private home, so instead of personally-provided photos I hope you'll enjoy these photos taken on one of Marc and Willow Toso's Adventures. I suppose that I could pretend to be interested in looking at it as a buyer but that would not be very nice to the listing agent. I do have a real-estate agent sister though ....

Back to the six degrees of separation thing. Or maybe just simply, it's all connected. I like discovering that the past has some sort of connection to the future, even better when the connection is more personal, no matter how seemingly trivial the connection may be. Some may say it is grasping at straws but I still think it's kind of neat to look for these connections.

My dad passed away a few years ago. The step-witch he was married to did a lot of bad things to our family when he was near death, and even more afterwards. Someday I may write about it, we'll see. As these karma things go, the step-witch herself fell victim to the Grim Reaper purely by accident just shy of one year after my dad passed away. The step-witch did not come upon her evil powers by accident. They run in the family. (I know, my bitterness is showing but if and when I write about it you'll understand.)

The step-witch, and after she descended to where she went, her immediate family, refused to tell us where my dad was buried. Almost 2 years after he passed the sister of the step-witch condescended to tell us. They chose a small cemetary in the middle of nowhere far away from our family that probably had its last burial in the Revolutionary War era before my poor dad and step-witch were buried there.

We cannot go there at certain times of year because the internal roads are impassable. But it is not all bad. My dad grew up in the hills of Fort Plain (NY), and the view from the burial site looks as if you could be seeing those very hills. It comforts me to know that my dad sees such beauty when he looks out in the distance. I myself have a fascination for old burial grounds, so it is kind of neat to look around there when I go visit.

The cemetery is near the castle ruins. So there is a very small personal connection. Mr. White was born in Schoharie County. In 1987 my first husband narrowly missed being a victim of the Schoharie Creek bridge collapse. And no, I was not saying to myself, darn, I could have saved money on a divorce lawyer. At the time I still wanted him around. If it had been a few years later, well, that's a different story. 

Mr. Bouck died in Menands, which is where I sometimes work as the company I am currently employed by has offices there.

Mr. Bouck was pastor of the Congregational Church of the Thousand Islands in Clayton, NY from 1904 - 1907.  I found an article about his time there and other fun facts here if you're interested. One of those fun facts involves tarring and feathering. And his hometown of Middleburg (NY) was not amused by his novel The Mixing (1913), He based the characters on people he knew there. They objected to being portrayed as 'peasants'. 

And one of Mr. Bouck's novels, The Book of Daniel Drew (1910), was made into a movie in 1937 ('The Toast of New York') starring one of my favorite movie stars, Cary Grant. (He is also known for his 1903 book Qu vaditis?: A call to the old moralities.)

No connections? I think not.