Tag Archives: Sleepy Hollow

Washington Irving, Ichabod Crane, and Diane Rehm

UnknownI had a terrific time talking Washington Irving on The Diane Rehm Show this morning.  “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” was (appropriately) chosen as the book for their monthly “Readers Review,” and I sat on a panel with two incredibly sharp experts on literature, film and media, professors Caetlin Benson-Allot of Georgetown and Sian Silyn Roberts of Queens College.

Me, I was there mostly to provide the background on Irving, though I did get to chip in and comment on the story every once in a while.  I was also fascinated by the interest in how Irving may have come up with the name Ichabod Crane — it was the topic of both an e-mail that was read on the air as well as a phone call.  It was fascinating to hear that the name has a Hebraic origin, but when it comes to Irving . . . well, I’ll let you listen to the show and you can hear what I had to say. If you missed it, not to worry: you can listen to the entire show right here.

And if you’re listening, and wanna know exactly which version of “Sleepy Hollow” we’re reading from and want to read along, it’s this one.

More Comings and Goings

Urgh, I continue to be the worst. Blogger. Ever.

Hi, everyone.  How ya doin’?

Since I last saw you, I’ve come back from a wonderful trip to Kinderhook, New York, where I had been invited to come talk on Washington Irving.  Kinderhook is particularly important in Irving’s story, because it’s where he wrote his first book, A History of New York, in the summer of 1809, while recovering from the death of his 17-year-old fiancee. While I was there, I toured Martin Van Buren’s home, Lindenwald (which is THE ACTUAL HOUSE where Irving wrote his History of New York, though it was still owned by the Van Ness family at that time), and had the great pleasure of staying in this house right here:

kinderhook georgianThis is a local landmark, the Burgoyne House, where British general John Burgoyne was held after his capture by Benedict Arnold.  Arnold, however, had to stay at a very nice, but much smaller, house just down the street.  Which probably explains a lot about what happened later.

I spoke that afternoon at the Reformed Dutch Church, where I talked about Irving’s version of the Dutch history of New York. Afterwards, I was asked several really good questions, and only slightly disappointed the home town crowd when I informed them that Kinderhook was probably not the Sleepy Hollow of Irving’s famous tale (Had I been a bit faster on my feet, I’d have said that every place is Sleepy Hollow.  But it was hot.) Afterwards, we retreated to a reception at the old Jesse Merwin house, which at one time belonged to the historic figure who actually was the inspiration for Ichabod Crane. All in all, a lovely weekend — and I even got to bring Barb with me.

I’ve got several events coming up in the next few months, which I’ll post under the News tab as well.  

First, I’ll be speaking at the University of Maryland — Jim Henson’s alma mater, for those of you playing at home — on Friday, September 12, as part of the university’s parent’s weekend.  I’ll be at the University Book Center at Stamp Union, starting at 6:30 p.m.

In October, I’ll be attending the James River Writers Conference down in Richmond, Virginia, for three days (October 17-19), and I’ll be giving my hour long Jim Henson show on Friday night, October 17, as part of the many kick-off events. If you’re anywhere near Richmond that weekend and love books . . . well, it’s something you’d probably wanna do.

In November, I’ll be back at the University of Maryland (in association with the Prince George’s County Historical Society) to talk Jim Henson on Sunday, November 2, from 2:30 to 4, at the Hornbake Library.

Finally, on Wednesday, November 5, I’ll be making my long-overdue appearance at the New York Public Library’s Mid-Manhattan Library, at 6:30 p.m. I’m very excited about this one, especially as the library and I went back and forth for a long time trying to find a date that worked.

Celebrate to Wake the Dead!

This Saturday, April 3, not only marks the 227th birthday of Washington Irving, but it’s also the date of the 160th anniversary celebration of Irving’s burial place, Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, in Sleepy Hollow, New York.

Things get started at 11:00 a.m., with plenty of birthday cake and refreshments, tours of the cemetery, and — if the rumors hold true — maybe even a rare daytime appearance by a certain headless Hessian soldier on horseback.  You’ve been warned.

I’m admittedly biased, but I think it’s a beautiful place — full of hills and nooks and meandering paths, with just enough creakiness to make it feel somewhat ancient and appropriately spooky.  There are really impressive monuments to local Revolutionary and Civil War soldiers — and, yeah, there are some really impressive people buried there, too. Besides Washington Irving, look for Andrew Carnegie, Francis Church — who wrote the famous “Yes, Virginia, There Is A Santa Claus” editorial for the New York Sun — Samuel Gompers, Walter Chrysler, and cosmetics queen Elizabeth Arden. 

Irving himself had a hand in the naming of the cemetery, which town planners — in a bit of uninspired pique —  had originally called “Tarrytown Cemetery.”  In a May 1849 letter to Gaylord Clark, his editor at Knickerbocker Magazine, Irving pooh-poohed that name, calling it a “blunder.”  Here’s Irving, in a typically entertaining letter to his editor:

I send you herewith a plan of a rural cemetery projected by some of the worthies of Tarrytown, on the woody hills adjacent to the Sleepy Hollow Church.  I have no pecuniary interest in it, yet I hope it may succeed, as it will keep that beautiful and umbrageous neighborhood sacred from the anti-poetical and all-leveling axe. Besides, I trust that I shall one day lay my bones there. The projectors are plain matter-of-fact men, but are already, I believe, aware of the blunder which they have committed in naming it the “Tarrytown” instead of the “Sleepy Hollow” Cemetery. The latter name would have been enough of itself to secure the patronage of all desirous of sleeping quietly in their graves. I beg you to correct this oversight should you, as I trust you will, think proper to notice this sepulchural enterprise.

Clark did, in fact, in the June 1849 issue of Knickerbocker, throw in a casual plug for “Sleepy Hollow Cemetery,” calling it a “beautiful” and “convenient” place.  While the cemetery wouldn’t be officially renamed until after Irving’s death, for the most part, locals have nearly always referred to it as Sleepy Hollow Cemetery.

And as he predicted, Irving did indeed lay his bones there, under an unassuming tombstone, in a gravesite he had carefully chosen next to his mother.  It may take a bit of tromping around to find the Irving Family Plot — there are no stone figures or busts to point the way, so look for the wrought-iron railing around the site, right on the edge of a hill sloping down toward the Old Dutch Church. 

I can’t make it this weekend, but if you go, tell Mr. Irving I said hello.   If you’re interested in going, more information can be found right here.

December 1, 1859: An Icon Is Laid To Rest

One hundred and fifty years ago today, American writer Washington Irving was laid to rest at Sleepy Hollow Cemetery in New York. 

Irving had died at his home at Sunnyside three days earlier, felled by a heart attack on the evening of November 28, 1859, at the age of  76. News of his death traveled rapidly down the Hudson River, and was carried by the newly installed telegraph to newspapers across the country.  “Washington Irving is dead!” wrote the editors of the Milwaukee Sentinel. “Who is there that the tidings did not touch with profound sorrow?”

While it is difficult to appreciate Irving’s place in literature and popular culture today, in 1859, Irving embodied both.  As the Father of the American Bestseller, and the creator of literary icons like Ichabod Crane and Rip Van Winkle, Irving was the nation’s most familiar author.  A friend to presidents, kings, artists, and writers, his death was felt, and noted, around the world.

And his funeral?  It was officially An Event. On December 1, 1859, Tarrytown and Sleepy Hollow were swathed in black. Mourners stepped off the train platform at Irvington — formerly the town of Dearman, but renamed years earlier in Irving’s honor — under a black-draped sign.  Businesses in Tarrytown shuttered their windows for the day. The courts in New York City closed deferentially, allowing government officials to attend Irving’s funeral.

At 12:30 p.m., as church bells gonged in New York City, a line of carriages — containing Irving’s body, his family, his doctor, and pallbearers — pulled away from Irving’s home and headed slowly up the road to the Old Dutch Church at Tarrytown.  At the conclusion of the services, Irving lay, as he had requested, in an open casket, allowing more than a thousand mourners to file past and pay their respects.

Irving’s casket was then placed in a coach at the head of a procession of 150 carriages, which slowly made its way up the sloping hill adjacent to the church, toward the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery. “It is a thing that lies near my heart,” Irving had once said of the cemetery. “I hope, some day or other, to sleep my last sleep in that favorite resort of my boyhood.”

The weather that afternoon was, perhaps fittingly, “exquisite.” As hundreds of mourners surged upagainst the iron fence surrounding the gravesite, hoping for a good look, Irving was lowered into the ground, in the spot he had so carefully chosen next to his mother.

Irving was buried beneath a simple headstone, engraved only with his name and dates of birth and death. There is no epitaph.  As I always tell audiences, he has left it for you to discuss and decide his legacy.

In a December 15 speech before the Massachusetts Historical Society, Irving’s friend Henry Wadsworth Longfellow urged his audience to “rejoice in the completeness” of Irving’s life and work, “which, closing together, have left behind them so sweet a fame, and a memory so precious.”

“We feel a just pride in his renown as an author,” continued Longfellow, “not forgetting that, to his other claims upon our gratitude, he adds also that of having been the first to win for our country an honourable name and position in the History of Letters.”

Not bad for the dreamy son of a middle class merchant.

Trip Report: Blaze, Legends, and Sleepy Hollow

We had a great weekend up in Sleepy Hollow and the surrounding area — and the snow that was in the forecast never materialized.  Instead, we had a bit of rain, a bit of chill, but an otherwise perfect weekend for enjoying all that the area has to offer.  As Sunnyside curator Dina Friedman put it, “We like to think that we own the Halloween season here in Sleepy Hollow.” And they do.

On Friday night, we attended the Great Jack O’Lantern Blaze at Van Cortlandt Manor, an old Dutch estate up at Croton-on-Hudson lit up by more than 5,000 carved pumpkins.  Pictures of the event really don’t do it justice, but here’s a few shots I took to try to give you a feel for just how creepily cool it is.

Everything you see at the Blaze is made of pumpkins, attached to each other with stakes or posts. For example, here’s a bat, swooping down over your head as you enter the property.  Each wing is carved into its own pumpkin, then attached to the central piece containing the body.

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Squeak!

Next, here’s the approach to Van Cortlandt Manor, lit by lots of yowling, shrieking cats and, if you look closely, even a few brave mice:

Approaching Van Cortlandt Manor.  Beware of cat!

Approaching Van Cortlandt Manor. Beware of cat!

And once you reach the house, Mynherr Van Cortlandt and his wife are waiting there at the top of the stairs to greet you:

The Van Cortlandts preside over the Blaze.

The Van Cortlandts preside over the Blaze.

Rounding the corner, you’ll see a few of the Blaze’s creepier effects.  First, a jungle full of ghostly dinosaurs rage and roar:

Where the wild things are.

Where the wild things are.

Next, it’s a nest of spiders and snakes — including an eerily glowing spiderweb, one of the Blaze’s How’d they do that? moments:

Yuck.

Yuck.

Snakes.  Why'd it hafta be SNAKES?

Snakes. Why'd it hafta be SNAKES?

Here’s a sea of grinning faces, peering out from the clearing:

"We seeeeee yooooou....."

"We seeeeee yooooou....."

Henry Hudson’s ship churns through a ghostly sea of skeleton fish:

"The seas boiled...."

"The seas boiled...."

Meanwhile, skeletons danced:

Grim grinning ghosts.

Grim grinning ghosts.

…and ghostly bees buzzed around a hive — another one of the Blaze’s surprising effects:

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Finally, to give you an idea of the kind of artistry on display, here’s a close up of a pumpkin carved to look like a shell.  Incredible, isn’t it?

Amazing.

Amazing.

The next day, I spoke twice at Sunnyside, as part of their daytime Legends events.  Curator Dina Friedman and her staff were incredibly kind and helpful, and I had a good crowd, with lots of good questions.  Dina even recorded the talks for a series of podcasts Historic Hudson Valley is hoping to launch.  That took a bit of experimenting with the Zoom technology — hence, the first talk went unrecorded, but we managed to catch the second one.  I’ll let you know if and when the podcast will be up over at HHV.

Anyway, here’s just a few quick shots at Sunnyside.  Strangely enough, while I’ve been to Irving’s home many times and have tons of pictures of the place, I had never actually taken a picture of the place with my own camera. Here’s a shot of the path to Irving’s home.  You can see the kind of beautiful fall day we were having:

The road from Tarrytown to Sunnyside.  While today's visitors don't use this path, it's the road your carriage would have used to pull up to Irving's front door.

The road from Tarrytown to Sunnyside. While today's visitors don't use this path, it's the road your carriage would have used to pull up to Irving's front door.

Next, it’s the approach down the hill to Sunnyside, where guests were beginning to queue up to tour the home.  The Hudson River is visible just to the left:

A gorgeous fall day at Sunnyside.

A gorgeous fall day at Sunnyside.

Finally, here’s a shot of the front door — obscured by wisteria, but still giving an idea of its charm.  Both floors of the house were open for touring that day — a real bonus:

Sunnyside.

Sunnyside.

That evening, we went into Sleepy Hollow for the Evening Legends events at Phillipsburg Manor.  Here’s the approach to the property, spookily lit by colored lights, and reflected in ghostly image in the pond:

Phillipsburg Manor by night.

Phillipsburg Manor by night.

Legends evening is an opportunity to walk around the site of an old farm and mill and just watch spooky things happen.  We saw a great magician (who we jokingly called Ryan the Temp, due to his resemblance to a character on The Office), sang along with pirates, stood at the fence as the Headless Horseman galloped past, glowing pumpkin in hand (I tried to catch him with my camera, but missed) and shrieked only twice when we found we were being closely followed by a lumbering catlike creature.

As we passed the graveyard, we peeked over the fence and caught  a glimpse of a ghostly woman, wailing over the loss of her beloved:

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Every once in a while, we would spot her strolling slowly through the crowd, staring blankly ahead.  Other times, a ghostly violinist would wander the property, playing creaky off-key music.  To keep the spooks away, we huddled near one of several Sleepy Hollow scarecrows:

"What party be ye with??"

"What party be ye with??"

And finally, as we strolled past the barn, we caught a glimpse of ghosts wandering aimlessly about just inside:

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All in all, a memorable weekend.  Wanna go?  Check out Historic Hudson Valley for more details.