Castle on the Hill
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Long ago a quiet town had come to
nestle itself in a valley between two mountains. For the most part it
was an unremarkable town, not unlike many of the others founded
throughout rural New York in the late 1700's. This all changed with a
single unexpected event. The 18th century was drawing to a close, and
with only a few years remaining until the dawning of the 19th, people
everywhere were excited to see what the new era would bring them.
Change was in the air, and in the case of Dansville, it was also
stirring deep below.
The day had begun not unlike the
countless before it. In an instant though, the air of normality in
the young town was violently shattered. A booming and mysterious roar
bellowed forth from the wooded mountainside which loomed over the
town. Obviously this disturbed the townsfolk in the valley below, and
an investigation was quickly put forth. It took little time to
uncovered the source of the disturbance – what had shaken the town
that day was an eruption caused by a freshwater spring as it forced
itself through the earths surface. They named it Breakout Creek. For
many years which followed this new spring was of scant concern to the
town far below. That is until 1851, when a young businessman came to
hear of the mountainside spring and decided that it would be the
perfect place to create a “water cure facility”. Hydrotherapy was
a very popular practice during the mid-19th-century, and there are
few better places to build one than on a rural mountainside featuring
a freshwater spring. The new water cure facility opened it's doors
for business in 1854, perched high upon the mountain overlooking the
whole of the town below.
Unfortunately this endeavor proved
short-lived and the original owner was forced to sell off within only
a couple years. As time went on several owners tried to make a go of
the business, but ultimately they too failed in their endeavors. So
it was, even through the best intentions and hard work of many, that
the natural mountainside spring bore little fruit for the town and
its people. Or so it was until October 1858, when the facility
finally found itself in capable hands.
This new owner had a vested interest in
hydrotherapy and the medicinal properties of natural springs. His
interest and knowledge in the field having been brought on by long
term illness earlier in his life. Dr. James Caleb Jackson, just years
prior had been at death's doorstep. However, he made a miraculous
recovery after his experimenting with hydrotherapy at a water cure
facility. This life-changing event deeply affected him. Not only did
it drive him to obtain a medical degree, it also made Dr. James Caleb
Jackson one of the most outspoken hydrotherapy advocates of the day.
It seemed that if this facility was indeed going to survive, he would
be the one to save it.
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The building itself lived on in various
forms for a while thereafter. For a short time it even served as a
post-World War I psychiatric hospital for veterans. After that it
came into several more hands, all of which attempted to re-establish
it as a health resort, and all of which failed to do so. At this
point things were looking quite bleak for the once renowned
sanatorium, and it seemed that its days of use were all but behind
it. With spring comes rebirth however, and in the spring of 1929 the
facility once again found itself in competent and resourceful hands.
These 61-year-old hands belonged to an
ex professional wrestler, and early advocate of body building -
Bernarr MacFadden. These hands were also responsible for the magazine
Physical Culture, which was one of the cornerstones of the publishing
empire at the time. His popularity, along with his flair for health
and nutritional education, revitalized the sanatorium to it's former
glory. No longer was the focus on hydrotherapy however, being as the
practice of water-cure was all but dead by this point in time.
Instead the resort now emphasized a wide array of physical activities
to keep patrons in shape.
Swimming, tennis, hiking, golf, and
various other therapeutic treatments were offered here. The center
also became known as a haven for celebrities of the time who wished
to escape to the peace of the countryside. Bernarr MacFadden passed
away not long after, in 1955. It is worth noting that this was not
before performing a parachute jump on the property at the age of 81.
Shortly after that, the resort once
again changed hands. However at this point history felt the need to
repeat itself, and the facility began to decline in popularity. It
was a slow and withering death, which eventually came to an end in
1971. It has sat abandoned ever since. Today much of what made this
facility so great is long gone, most all that remains today are the
walls. In fact there aren't even windows here any longer. The dark
voids in the face of the building give the impression of sunken dead
eyes, forever watching the town below with an unblinking stare.
Inside the mind once again latches upon
the word “dead”. This building is a corpse, and we are climbing
through its bones. Where one would have once found the beautiful
front desk, there is now a massive hole caused by a partial collapse
of the rear of the building. Long corridors of decayed plaster
stretch out to the right and left. Its here that you find one of the
only reminders of this place's former grandeur. Though buried beneath
a thick layer of debris, the old are carpet runners that line the
hallway floors are still present. Nearly completely obscured by
filth, but very much there, and when you take a moment to clear the
dust away you can see that they were once quite regal in appearance.
That era is long passed however, and the sanatorium sits in severe
disrepair. Crooked and broken doors are strewn all about, the floors
are all swayed, and everything is covered in a reddish grime produced
by the decaying brick. Exterior walls crumble under their own weight,
but the mere fact that the building is even still standing is a
credit to the engineers of the day.
As we traverse the second floor a deep
groan emanates from the roof several floors above, the force of which
sends a wave of vibration throughout the entire building. Logic
states that what we experienced was the settling of an old building
which has precious few years left in it. Still, if a building could
openly weep, I imagine it would sound exactly as that did.
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That light at the end of the hallway is a three-story drop.
The lobby and reception desk. Note the fireplace mantel, just behind the left side of the man with the cane.
This collapse is next to the front desk, where the lobby used to be.
Here we see what remains of the fireplace from the previous image.
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Here we see the sanatorium far off on it's hilltop. It was called the Castle on the Hill for a reason.
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