In a recent Transitions column, the rigors of getting to the Adirondacks in the early 1800s were described. It included an arduous, several-day, tiresome journey of cramped guide-boat rides and jolting stagecoach rides on rough roads that were little more than trails through the woods, but the rewards of getting here proved to be worth the hardship.
Here is what a writer, who was known as “Our George,” wrote in 1884 in a series of letters to the Republican Journal in Belfast, Maine.
“It is no wonder that city people, and a great many are from New York City, Brooklyn and Philadelphia, should like to get away from the noise and bustle and the bills that are overdue to come here where the air is so pure and dry and there is not even any dew on the grass, and to get into some old clothes and a flannel shirt and lie around, smoke, hunt and fish. It is these blessed vacations that take the kinks out of a man’s mind and body and knock some of the years off his head and set him back a few points in the game of life.”
Tourism, as we know it today, began in the Adirondack region in the 1830s, but at that time, you had to be venturesome, vigorous and rich. Slowly, from 1845 to 1875, as more hotels were built so people had a place to stay and the profession of guiding arose to aid the city-bred “sport,” the wilderness became more available to many.
The difficulties of getting here remained, however, until a remarkable individual named Dr. Seward Webb entered the scene. Surgeon, Wall Street broker, president of the Wagner Palace Car Company (in two year’s time he increased that company’s sale of railroad cars five-fold), he was a hard-driving executive of great ability and a talent for organization.
Dr. Webb had married Lila Vanderbilt, granddaughter of railroad magnet Cornelius Vanderbilt. Both were from socially and historically prominent dynasties, and both fell in love with the Adirondacks for the same reasons urbanites still do.
Lila loved the outdoors, as did her handsome and talented husband. As an early member of the Kildare Club (originally the Vanderbilt Club), Dr. Webb knew this area as early as 1882, and it was while buying land near here to create his own preserve centered around Smith’s Lake (renamed Lila after Mrs. Webb) that Dr. Webb became “impressed with the need and the possibilities of a railway running north and south through the heart of the Adirondacks.”
Building this railroad would be the most ambitious and difficult undertaking in Dr. Webb’s career. Others had tried, but many plans never got off the drawing board. All had failed. Most historians agree only someone like Dr. Webb could have achieved what most considered to be an impossible undertaking.
In 18 months time, against all odds, he succeeded in building a railroad 191 miles long, and the sound of a locomotive whistle joined the call of the loon and the howl of the wolf in the Adirondack wilderness.
Dr. Webb spent a lot of time here, solving problems and offering encouragement during the construction of his railroad, and he was well known by many local residents.
It should be pointed out that Tupper was an important receiving point for supplies needed for construction. These were brought in on Hurd’s Northern Adirondack Railroad Line that predated Webb’s Mohawk-Malone Line and, in fact, its trackage crossed Webb’s projected route (hence the place name “Junction”) at a point 100 yards northeast of today’s Main Street at Faust.
Dr. Webb wanted to buy Hurd’s railroad but a breakdown in negotiations resulted in Hurd closing off his crossing and posting guards day and night. No problem for the resourceful Dr. Webb; he purchased a heavy steel crossover plate that enabled trains to pass at points where lines intersect. After waiting several weeks, on a stormy night when vigilance was relaxed, his crew worked all night and effected the installation of the crossover. Possession being nine points of the law, according to old tradition, the work was permitted to stay, and “trains from each road were allowed to pass without hindrance.” (Rufus, 1/30/30 Tupper Lake Free Press)
Another problem at Tupper was that he was stopped cold in laying four miles of track north of here that was on state land and protected by the constitution (no trees could be cut). This was a section in Township 20, roughly from Rollins Pond to Lake Clear.
That serious problem was solved when it was proven that the state had acquired it illegally through a tax sale without having notified nonresident taxpayers, and the property was reverted to private owners.
The charismatic Dr. Webb was able to convince those owners (Upper Saranac Association) to allow him access, to which they agreed as long as the line was placed so the train whistle could not be heard at their seasonal camps on the lake!
Scores of Tupper Lake residents onboard train and, more lately, onboard snowmobiles, have traveled across the 42-ft. high bridge that spans Twitchell Creek on Webb’s railroad line six miles from the settlement of Beaver River. The bridge is located at milepost 71.5, and .5 miles south at milepost 72 is the spot where the final spike on the Mohawk-Malone Railroad Line was driven on Oct. 12, 1872.
The railroad, which was to become the Adirondack Division of the N.Y. Central, had a profound influence on the entire Adirondack area; not only did it set the stage for the settlement of this village and others along its route, but it also opened new recreational opportunities now easy to get to, and the Adirondacks became one of America’s most popular resorts.
After 73 years of colorful and important service, economic forces closed the railroad. The last passenger train #167, with longtime local railroader Louis Malerba as fireman in the diesel cab, passed through here in 1965, with freight service ending in 1972.
Today the former Adirondack Division of the N.Y. Central is called the Adirondack Scenic Railroad, and it is operated by the Adirondack Preservation Society. Hope remains bright for a complete restoration of the line as funding becomes available.