Growing up on the corner of Myrtle Avenue and Main Street, my twin brother Davis and I were the youngest of five boys. A house with five brothers is a lot of fun. And when you’re the last in the group, you get away with a lot more.
Davis and I had a tricycle and a hobby horse between us. When we wanted to take them out, our mother said we could only go where there was a sidewalk. This was actually a lot further than she probably realized. We would head down Myrtle, go past the school on Academy Lane, past GLF Grain on Factory Lane, and end up all the way down on East Church Street where our friend Kenny Blackmar lived. We were in kindergarten. That’s something you don’t see anymore, 5-year-olds out by themselves.
The sidewalks were like a pathway to the town. All the kids would ride up to the drugstore, where you could get a free sundae for your birthday. Sometimes we’d go to Deuels and get a 5-cent soda out of the machine. Al Groling and the other adults – they knew all the kids, they never tried to chase us out. Later, Davis and I had real bikes and paper routes on Farview and Poplar avenues. During the summer, we had to leave the beach every afternoon – that was the hard part – to go home and get our canvas bags and then to the post office to pick up the papers. We never tossed them. We always stopped and put each paper just inside the front door.
Then it was cars. We had a ’59 VW beetle that my cousin, Cort Wright, painted with flowers and peace signs. After graduating in 1967, I loved just riding around. We were all waiting to see what would happen in Vietnam, and just trying to enjoy ourselves in the meantime. The next year, I got drafted and ended up serving in the infantry there, doing reconnaissance work in the jungle, like a human probe. It was a crazy experience. I was not a fan of the way we were doing things there.
When I got home, I only wanted two things: a motorcycle and a horse. First things first, I bought a 650 Triumph Bonneville. A bunch of us with motorcycles – Danny Adams, Lynden Chase, about 10 guys in all – had rented the I-H Garage on South Main, where Ginnochio Electric is now. It turned into a little bar – we’d take a run to the discount liquor store in Red Hook and stock up on beer that we’d sell for a quarter. Highway workers would come in for a beer, or people from town would head down when Stissing House closed for the night. It was just a nice place to hang out. We called it the Slum Club.
Then I went down to a farm across from Mashomack and Briarcliff Flats and bought Diamond. I rode him back into Pine Plains and the blacksmith came to our house and put his shoes on for $25. Davis bought a horse too. We didn’t really know what we were doing. But Diamond was hands down the best horse I ever ended up having. He would do anything. He was saddle-bred, lightweight, very agile and smart. I rode him to the top of Stissing Mountain; we jumped on the Millbrook Hunt trails. I played arena polo on him down at Roe Jan Farms and we competed in gymkhana horseback games. He won those hands down. One time he accidentally cut his leg on the bumper of a car in the middle of the games. We got him stitched up at Dr. Hart’s and he came back in time to accept the championship for the day.
In 1976, on the Fourth of July, Pine Plains held a U.S. Bicentennial parade. My friends and I all decided to dress up in vintage military apparel and ride our horses in the parade. My mother had sewn Army stripes on an old sheriff’s uniform for me, and I had a vintage sword from the Adams family and a bugle. I didn’t really know how to play it, but I knew how to blow it. My wife and my friends all rode in the parade – it was a really good mix of people. After the parade, we all went up to the Sportsman’s Club on West Church Street for refreshments. After that, I was going to head back to my house on Ryan Road, but I decided to go to Stissing House for a beer instead.
When Diamond and I arrived, Norma – she was one of the owners of Stissing House – was just coming out of the front door. I had been about to dismount and tie up my horse, but seeing Norma, a friend asked whether I could just ride Diamond in. Oh sure, she said off-handedly. So in we went, right through the door.
It surprised me how many people were in there, but they seemed pretty calm about seeing a man on a horse. Diamond and I poked our noses into the pool room on the right side, but then thought better of it and turned around towards the bar. At this point, the crowd started to back away, piling up along the wall by the jukebox. Sugar, the bartender, was down at the far end of the bar. Diamond stuck his head over the counter. We waited patiently. When Sugar came down, I said, “How about a beer?” In response he said, kind of quietly, “You know, we could all end up together in the basement.” I took the hint and turned Diamond around for our exit. We ducked on the way in and ducked on the way out. I got down, tied him up and went back in for that beer. Norma said if she had known the horse would walk through a doorway she never would have agreed in the first place. But I’m telling you, this horse would do anything I asked him to.
Curtis Simmons is a lifelong resident of Pine Plains, a member of the class of ’67, and, before retirement, was the last real shop teacher in the town. He told his story to Daisy Sindelar.
Editor’s note: This story has been amended to clarify that Simmons rode Diamond into Stissing House. He didn’t walk him through the door.
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As we commemorate the 200th anniversary of the town we all call home, the New Pine Plains Herald wants to hear from you!
Maybe you have a family story that stretches back through generations. Maybe you remember a favorite walk, friendship or pet. It could be the winning run in a baseball game, the birth of a calf or the crunch of autumn leaves. There’s simply no limit to what Pine Plains represents to each of the people who live here.
Throughout the Bicentennial year, the Herald will be publishing your stories, creating a portrait of the town through your memories and images. If you’ve got a story you’d like to share, please send 200 to 500 words (ideally) and 1-2 photographs to editor@newpineplainsherald.org. If you’ve got a great story to share but don’t care for writing, get in touch! We’d be happy to listen to your story and help put it into print.
Please include your name, brief biographical details and contact information so we can reach you with any questions or edits.
We look forward to hearing from you!