The Empire State
Kaaterskill Falls might be America’s oldest tourist attraction.
Quimbo Appo was an immediate curiosity when he showed up on the streets of lower Manhattan, and not only because he was Chinese. He brought with him an Irish wife and a three-year-old son whom everyone thought was just so cute—he looked as white as his mother, a real Yankee boy to all appearances. Appo proudly told people that the boy had been born on the Fourth of July. Any time the Times ran a story about the Chinese in Manhattan, they mentioned Appo as a “model citizen of his race.”
Things did not go great for the American revolutionary troops at the Battle of Minisink. An army of British loyalists joined forces with a troop of Iroquois led by a Mohawk war chief named Joseph Brant and chased the colonists up a hill and against a bluestone outcropping known now as Hospital Rock. (You can guess how it got that name.)
The Very Reverend James Parks Morton is what you might call a spiritual eccentric.
The legendary Tin and Lint bar on Caroline Street started its life as a speakeasy. After weathering the Prohibition years, it was an institution such that it needed no name…just a lone beer sign winking from its ground-level window.
A journalist talks about high heels, a liberal arts education, and how to get a six-figure book advance.
Rex grew up in Mariposa, a Yosemite Valley town with four hotels, three gas stations, and no traffic lights. Every weekend he’d ride his bike ten miles to buy candy at the nearest corner store. He graduated high school with the same 100 kids from his kindergarten.
The artist who lives next door to us spent childhood summers at her relatives’ farm outside Chute-à-Blondeau, Ontario. She remembers the dizzying vastness of the blonde fields and of the frescoed chapel where they went for Sunday mass.
Behind the Halloween mask is our new friend Rick, a man of many talents.