The Martin family in A History of the Adirondacks
-- by Alfred L. Donaldson, first published 1921
An entire chapter on our Martin family is found in this work. A note on the people described here: middle brother Henry W. Martin was my great-great-grandfather. Information relating to my direct ancestors is printed in maroon-colored text. William F. Martin (the main subject of the chapter) was his older brother, and Stephen C. Martin (the secondary subject of the chapter) was his younger brother.
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Chapter XXIV (Volume I, pp. 292-310) -- "Martin's Hotel and the Martin Brothers"
It will be recalled that the name of William F. Martin has been mentioned as the first lessee of the Captain Miller house, which stood on the site of the present village office building, and was the first approximation of a hotel in Saranac Lake. It has also been said that his fame became linked with another locality.
That locality was a strip of land jutting out into Lower Saranac Lake at its northeastern extremity, at a point about a mile distant from the heart of Saranac Lake village. Here Martin built a hotel of his own, and ran it for thirty-one years, during which time its name became a byword in Adirondack annals. Everybody stopped there at one time or another; everybody knew "Bill" Martin and his house. Not a book of the early days but mentions the man and the place, but not one, on the other hand, gives any facts of historical interest concerning either. In gathering those offered here, I have been greatly helped again by Mrs. E. E. Martin, who married the son of William F. Martin, and lived at his hotel for many years. She has not only furnished me with personal reminiscences, but has put me in touch with various people, now widely scattered an greatly reduced in numbers, who, as guests or employees of long ago, had first-hand knowledge of the subject of this chapter.
Mention has been made of the lack of contemporaneous records. Let us see what the two most widely read Adirondack books of the time have to say about one of its two most famous hotels -- the other being Paul Smith's.
Murray, in his chapter on hotels, mentions five: Paul Smith's, Bartlett's, Mother Johnson's, Uncle Palmer's, and Martin's. Of the latter he says:
This is the last house of which I shall speak. It is located on Lower Saranac, at the terminus of the stage route from Keeseville. It is, therefore, the most convenient point at which to meet your guides. Its appointments are thorough and complete. Martin is one of the few men in the world who seem to know how to keep a hotel. At his house you can easily and cheaply obtain your entire outfit for a trip of any length. Here it is that the celebrated Long Lake guides, with their unrivalled boats, principally resort. Here, too, many of the Saranac guides, some of them surpassed by none, make their headquarters. Mr. Martin, as a host, is good-natured and gentlemanly. His table is abundantly provided, not only with the necessaries, but also with many of the luxuries, of diet. The charges are moderate, and the accommodations for families, as well as sporting parties, in every respect ample. "Martin's" is a favorite resort to all who have ever once visited it, and stands deservedly high in public estimation.
Wallace's "Guide to the Adirondacks" (1875), the best book of its time, has a somewhat lengthier notice (p. 114):
"Martin's," one of the far-famed gateways to the Wilderness, is a most desirable tarrying place for all in quest of health or sporting recreation. The house has recently been greatly enlarged and now affords apartments for 250 guests. The parlors are 64 ft. and the dining hall 84 ft. in length. The rooms are generally large and airy, and are furnished with taste and neatness, and while occupying them one may enjoy most of the comforts of the "St. Nicholas" or "Fifth Avenue," together with all the rare and dainty viands the region yields, and at the same time command an exquisite view of the varied beauties that lake, mountain, and forest ever give.
For the interest of ladies we will say that the fine croquet ground connected with the premises will afford them agreeable diversion when weary of boating. Stages arrive and depart daily and tri-weekly for Paul Smith's, Hough's [Saranac Inn], Point of Rocks [the old terminus of the railroad before it came to Ausable Forks], North Elba, Wilmington Notch, Keene, Elizabethtown, and Westport, and mail and telegraphic communications are complete. Parties, including a goodly sprinkling of ladies, assemble here in large numbers during the summer months, some of whom make this their headquarters, while others proceed to Bartlett's, Corey's, Hough's, Dukett's, Kellogg's, Cary's, Moody's, and Graves's, or to camp on some of the many delightful lakes or ponds that form a vast net-work in this romantic Wilderness. Martin furnishes the sportsman with a complete outfit, comprising boats, guides, tents, and all the requisites of camp life; as do also all the hotels above noted.
Some 22 or 23 year ago Mr. Martin located here at the head of this charming bay. The spot at that time was entirely wild, but he has lived to see the forest immediately around him "blossom like the rose." He is a thorough sportsman as well as landlord, and can throw a fly or secure a deer with a skill equal to that of the most finished disciple of Isaac Walton, or the fabled Nimrod. P.O. address is: Wm. F. Martin, Saranac Lake, Franklin Co., N.Y.
This is the most detailed account of "Martin's" anywhere to be found that I know of. Other early travel books mention the place as existing, but do no more. It seems to have occurred to no one to tell the story of its growth, or of the man that made it grow.
One William Martin, a soldier in the English Army, came over to this country and settled somewhere in Connecticut. On December 2, 1820, he married Dolly Branch.
William Fortune Martin was the first child of this union, born on January 19, 1823, in Westville, N.Y., a little village near Malone. This boy lived to write the name of "Bill" Martin in large letters on the Adirondack map. He died at Saranac Lake, October 3, 1892, and is buried in the cemetery there.
The other children were:
- Henry Wheeler Martin, born July 20, 1825
- Stephen C. Martin, born Jan. 20, 1828
- Clarinda Martin, born Nov. 29, 1831
- Susan Martin, born Apr. 12, 1834
Both the younger boys worked for their elder brother after he built the hotel, but neither of them was financially interested in the venture. Stephen, a man of towering physique and great strength, became widely known and liked as a guide, and notable incidents in his career are mentioned elsewhere in these pages. Henry also was a big man and an expert woodsman, but, after a few years at the hotel, he went out West and settled. The last that was heard of him he was living near Seattle, Wash.1
1 Before going he linked his name with an event of historical interest. He shot the last moose ever seen around the Saranac Lakes. This occurred in the autumn of 1857. It was not, however, as is sometimes asserted, the last moose killed in the Adirondacks. That event is discussed in Chap. XXXVII.
After living in Westville for a while, the Martins moved to Bangor, N.Y., where they bought a farm and built a home. From there the boys went to the Adirondacks, but their parents remained in Bangor, and died there. After their death, the sons, who had inherited the old homestead, deeded it to their two sisters Clarinda and Susan. The girls soon joined their brothers at Saranac Lake, however, and Clarinda taught for several years in the "school-house on the hill." When thirty years of age, she married Charles Lee of Bangor, N.Y., and, taking her sister with her, she went back to the Martin homestead there.
The Martin brothers were all notable for their size and strength. William was the smallest of the three, but he stood six feet high and weighed one hundred and sixty-five pounds. He was powerfully built, but supple and quick in his movements. He had sharp, snapping gray eyes, and they could flash fire on occasion. He had a peppery temper and a stinging tongue when roused, but ordinarily he was mild-mannered and soft-spoken. Unlike his red-headed brothers, he had hair and beard of a dark chestnut color and of curly texture. He became bald at an early age, however.
He married twice, and was markedly fortunate in both of his wives. They were both women of sweet and sterling character, and each contributed potentially, through personality as well as management, to the success of his hotel.
The first wife was Laura P. Hunkins of Brushton, near Bangor, N.Y. She was a woman of innate refinement, very quiet, but withal easy and gracious in her manner. She was an excellent housekeeper, and had the knack of making everybody under her roof feel at home. She gained the esteem and affection of all with whom she came in contact, from the most fastidious guest to the roughest guide.
There were three children by the union:
- William Allen [Martin], born Oct. 7, 1849; died Feb. 24, 1907
- Laura Ann [Martin], born June 2, 1851; died Mch. 24, 1862
- Lemuel K. [Martin], born Dec. 26, 1852; died Nov. 7, 1853
William Allen, the only child to survive, married Miss Estella E. Manning, and became famous as a builder of Adirondack guide-boats. More will be told of him later.
The premature death of the only daughter was a blow from which Mrs. Martin never recovered. The little girl became seriously ill in March, 1862, which was an unusually severe winter. A blizzard had made the roads almost impassable, and the nearest doctor was at Keeseville, forty-five miles away. As the child kept growing worse, however, Mr. Martin made up his mind to get that doctor, if human effort could do it. He picked his most powerful horse and hitched him to a pung -- a hand-made, wood-shod, low box-sleigh. Into this he put an ax and a shovel and started out to dig and plow himself through heartless miles of drifted snow -- and in the many narrow places of the road he met drifts from ten to twelve feet high. It was a Herculean task, and nothing is more typical of the man than his readiness to undertake it for the sake of those he loved.
As he came to houses along the road, he made his errand known, and all the men in the place turned out and helped him dig, often going a mile or more until fresh help was volunteered. In this way he finally reached his destination and found the doctor. The difficulties of the journey are attested by the fact that the powerful horse was exhausted and unfit for the return trip. A fresh one was secured, however, and Martin -- without taking any rest -- and the doctor started back immediately. The return was, of course, comparatively easy, and accomplished with little delay. Even so, the stupendous effort had been in vain. The child died just fifteen minutes before the doctor reached her bedside. It was an Erlking ride of the North Woods -- one of those tragedies of distance that bring home to us the epic hardships of the pioneers. Mrs. Martin never recovered from this shock. Her health failed rapidly, and she died on August 13, 1864.
In April, 1865, Martin married again. His second wife was Miss Sarah E. Lamson, of Vermontville. She returned to that village after her husband's death, and lived with her brother there until her death on May 30, 1913, at the age of sixty-nine. She had no children. In her youth, she taught for a while in the "school-house on the hill."
In manner and characteristics she was strangely like the first Mrs. Martin. She was extremely sweet in appearance, refined in manner and tastes, and gently strong in character. She had marked executive ability in domestic matters, and enhanced the established reputation of "Martin's" for simple excellence of food and homyness of atmosphere. She mingled freely with her guests, many of whom were people of distinction. They in turn sought and valued her companionship, as well as her husband's, and considered their indoor or outdoor pastimes incomplete unless their host and hostess shared in them.
I have before me an interesting and valuable letter from an elderly lady in New York, who, years ago, was one of the distinguished guests at "Martin's." This particular letter was followed, spontaneously, by another lengthier one on the same general subject. I quote from the latter as follows:
I wish I had thought (but after-thoughts are proverbial!) when I spoke of the hole in the house, to ask you to pay a tribute to the late Mrs. William Martin. She was sweet and refined, far beyond the people who surrounded her, being appreciated by all her guests. Though delicate, she gave herself unsparingly to their comfort, and spread a table only equalled by Mrs. Bartlett's. She did quite as much as Bill in building up "Martin's"!
Martin was always the first to acknowledge the part which these two unusual women played in the success of his hotel, but, after all, that success was a result of team-work, and to an equally unusual man belongs due share of the credit. His was the master mind that conceived, planned, and dominated the larger aspects of the enterprise. His was the early vision of the toilsome thing achieved. He first came to Saranac Lake in 1849. Dr. Lundy's picture of the "miserable hamlet" in 1877 is at least physically accurate. It is not difficult, therefore, to imagine the extreme primitiveness of the settlement twenty-eight years earlier. There were a dozen houses perhaps within the radius of a mile. There were virtually no roads, and there were no horses. Some came and went over the Old Military Road, but oxen took their place in the settlement. Mr. Martin brought to it the first resident team of horses. As many Indians as white men straggled through the place or lingered in it. Moose and wild-cats, and even panthers, abounded in the woods. One crude house of entertainment existed -- the Captain Miller House. Here an occasional sportsman from the city stopped, and here the full potentialities of the fact dawned on "Bill" Martin. He soon became convinced that if this class of people were offered neat and comfortable lodgment and good food, they would flock to these wonderful mountains and bring their families with them. He had the courage of his convictions, and it did not take long to prove their soundness.
Before his year's lease was up on the Captain Miller House, he had bought land on Lower Saranac Lake and had begun to build his new hotel. The event is historically notable for two reasons. It was the first hotel in the Adirondacks built solely to attract people of leisure and wealth; and it was the first frame house erected in the region. No clapboards were to be had then, so the house was double boarded up and down, with strips over the joints on the outside. The beginning of the hotel was a low L-shaped building, with the long side facing the lake. The rear of this shows in the accompanying picture, near the tree to the left of "the hole in the house." The front part of this original structure was soon enlarged and raised to three stories and a mansard roof. Before long there followed another large addition. This was built over the road that skirted the house and led to the lake, and the result was a wooden tunnel that became famous as the "hole in the house." This could be seen from a considerable distance, and strangers were always told to watch for it, as indicating the end of a long day's journey. I have an interesting letter which refers to this, from a gentleman who made his first visit to "Martin's" in 1880:
I recollect we travelled by train to Whitehall, thence by steamboat on Lake Champlain to Plattsburgh, thence by train to Ausable Forks, and from there, starting out shortly after sunrise, we made an all day journey of it on the old fashioned, six-horse tally-ho stage. That being the only public conveyance to Saranac Lake, it was always crowded -- people engaging inside and outside seats and staying put in those seats, regardless of rain or shine. We would stop at a half-way house, either at Franklin Falls or a place called French's1, for a midday dinner, then cover the remaining distance to Saranac in the afternoon. I remember as we approached the end of our journey my father told me to keep a bright outlook for the Hole in the House -- that being a tunnel cut directly through Martin's Hotel, which could be seen at a considerable distance. We were thankful enough to see that building at last, with the "Hole" we had heard so much about. Approaching, we drove through the hotel, and, emerging on the other side, there we were on the shore of the Lake.
1 See Chap. XXVII
There were steps at this end of the "hole," and it was a favorite and picturesque lounging-place for guides and guests. The last building phase at "Martin's" made the two large wings uniform and size and appearance, with a tower between them, just to the left of the "hole." There were outbuildings of all kinds and descriptions erected as the need for them arose. Chief among these was a large and comfortable guide-house. This stood near the water, to the right of the road leading to the "hole."
When Mr. and Mrs. Martin moved from the Captain Miller House to their new hotel, an ox-team hauled their belongings, and they covered the distance on foot, the husband carrying his recently born son William A., in his arms. On the way they encountered a big catamount. Martin, although unarmed, succeeded in frightening him off. As soon as he reached his new home, he got his gun, called to a couple of men, and set off in pursuit of the animal. They found nothing but his tracks, however.
Some of the registers used at "Martin's" have been preserved, and I have been allowed to examine them. They contain a surprising number of names of people socially and intellectually prominent.
Many of these were regular patrons of the hotel, returning to it year after year. Most of them, moreover, established ties of real friendship with their host and hostess. They sought their companionship whenever possible during the day, and always insisted on their joining in the indoor amusements of an evening. Indeed, many of the guests looked forward to their games of whist with Martin and his son as eagerly as they did to the outdoor sports of the region. And not only were they on friendly terms with Martin at his hotel, but they asked him and his family to their city homes in the winter-time, and always received them as honored guests. He was on this intimate footing with such men as Vice-president William A. Wheeler of Malone, and Dr. J. Savage Delavan of Albany, owner of the Delavan House, and at one time United States Minister to France.
Martin's character was more varied than that of his pioneer contemporaries. He had their sturdy underpinning of personal strength, energy, perseverance, and initiative, but he lacked their innate shrewdness and concentration on the dollar. His business methods were happy-go-lucky -- and there was much more of go than of luck in them. He was generous and honest to a fault, and inclined to believe that all with whom he dealt were equally so. The illusion, as usual, cost him dear. He built the first real hotel in the woods, he ran it with great apparent success for thirty-one years, and yet in the end he lost it and died a poor man.
He was an indefatigable optimist, however, always expecting a favorable turn in the tide of his affairs whenever they went wrong. He was also a deeply religious man, and thoroughly familiar with the Bible. He did not go to church, however, or attach importance to the observance of any formalism. The earliest resident missionaries and ministers in Saranac Lake were all his friends, and made his hotel a headquarters both for personal relaxations and parochial activities. The annual autumn "donation" party for the minister always took place at "Martin's," and people came from all the surrounding settlements -- even as far away as Keene -- to attend the function. Jim McClelland always brewed one of his famous oyster stews, and Bill provided the means of eating it, and a dance to help digest it. In this way, as in many others, he always stood ready to help the church.
In politics he was a Republican, at a time when Republicans were very scarce in this section. Despite this, he was repeatedly elected to Town office, which is proof positive that his personality outweighed his politics in the eyes of a majority of the voters.
An inconspicuous side of the man was a fondness for study and books. He did a great deal of reading on the quiet, often surprising people with the scattered information thus acquired and stored away in his retentive memory. After the death of his little daughter, he was deeply impressed by the fact that it was largely due to the remoteness of the nearest physician. Hoping to save himself or others from a similar tragedy in the future, he began reading medical books and seeking, from the medical men who stopped at his house, fundamental instruction in the treatment of the most common diseases. These men realized that his purpose was warranted by conditions, and soon discovered that he had the temperament and intelligence to act conservatively and efficiently on their hints and suggestions. They gave them freely, therefore, and sent him authoritative books and magazines, as well as medicines. Among the doctors who thus helped, none took a keener interest than Dr. J. Savage Delavan, who came to "Martin's" each spring for the fishing, and each autumn for the hunting. He would often go with martin to visit some sick person, and would suggest the proper line of treatment, and often said that in the pioneer's lack of opportunity to qualify as an M.D. the community had lost a born physician and surgeon. Martin was able, however, to render his neighbors many a valuable service, for his fame as an amateur doctor quickly spread in a community were there was no regular one. He was often asked to go as far as West Harrietstown, Lake Placid, and Bloomingdale, and he always answered such calls without demure -- and without charge. It got to be so that men hurt or cut in the lumber-camps would be put in a sleigh and carried to "Dr." Martin, who would treat and dress their wounds, and feed and keep them till they were able to be taken away. He also occasionally became a dentist and pulled an offending tooth. All such activities, however, were gladly given up as soon as the first accredited doctor and dentist settled in the neighborhood.
I quote again from the reminiscent letter of an old New Yorker, who used to be a patron of "Martin's":
Mr. W. F. Martin, familiarly known throughout that region as "Bill Martin," was a man of unusual force of character and of business enterprise. He penetrated the Adirondack wilderness, and established the famous Martin's Hotel at Saranac Lake, when the nearest railroad communication was Keeseville, over sixty miles away, and his foresight and public spirit did much toward making the Adirondack region the famous resort it is today.
In the primitive days of which I speak, Mr. Martin, ever busy in the care of his guests, and yet finding time to associate with them in their sports and amusements, gave his establishment a peculiar personal interest. I remember he was an expert rifle shot, and with a little Robinson rifle, of primitive type, he would sit on the front piazza of the hotel of a Sunday afternoon, with fifteen or twenty of his guests, each armed with his Winchester or some other type of rifle of that period, and they would spend the hours firing at a target across the lake, which consisted of a stove lid against a large rock painted white. When you hit the bull's-eye, the ring of the metal announced the fact. No especial thought was taken as to the possibility of stray shots hitting any one on that side of the lake, because it was assumed that no one went there. The site of this target in later years became the location of the fashionable hotel known as the Ampersand.
From another source I have another story of this same diminutive rifle. The once famous Creedmoor Rifle Club spent a summer at the hotel, and naturally indulged in target practice, but instead of using the target described in the foregoing letter, they imported a steel one that displayed a red flag when a bull's-eye was hit. They left this target when they went away, and it remained in use for many years. One day, Martin, while passing by, was asked to join in the shooting. He immediately went in and got his little gun, which was hailed with shouts of derision. "Why did n't you bring a pop-gun or a bean-shooter?" he was asked. Ignoring the sarcasms, he quietly proceeded to make three bull's-eyes in succession -- a record which no member of the club was able to equal.
This little Robinson rifle, made especially for him by the manufacturers, became as well known as its owner. Many a guest tried to buy it as a relic, but Martin would never part with it, and it is now in the possession of his grandson.
Martin organized the first rifle-club in Saranac Lake. A rough board shelter was built back of the hotel, and the range was across the Edgewood Inn Road to a target in the rear of what was later known as Caribou Bill's Camp.
Besides outdoor sports, Martin enjoyed and was adept at most indoor games -- especially cards. He was also an expert at the old-fashioned dancing, and never lost his keen delight in this pastime. When he was over sixty years old, he attended a supervisor's meeting in Malone one morning, and drove all the way home in the afternoon, so as to be on hand for a ball given by his son at the hotel, and at which, despite his fairly strenuous day, he danced virtually all night.
In the spring of 1881 he lost his hotel. There was a comparatively small mortgage on the place, held by "Uncle Silas" Arnold of Keeseville, who spent the greater part of his summers at "Martin's," fishing, smoking, and yarning with the guides. He was very friendly to the proprietor, and would have done nothing to embarrass him. He died suddenly, however, and the past-due mortgage became the property of his son Elisha, who was an eccentric, unapproachable recluse. The son immediately started foreclosure proceedings. Martin received the promise of the necessary funds from a New York friend, but there was a delay in the mails, and on the day of sale the property was bought in by Milo B. Miller.1
1 Mr. Miller at once began making changes and additions to the hotel, which bore henceforth the name of the "Miller House." The most conspicuous alteration was the changing of the famous "hole in the house" into a spacious office, beautifully finished in hardwood. No hotel in the mountains could boast anything finer or more spacious, but the old-timers -- guides and patrons alike -- always mourned the passing of the picturesquely unique "hole," the lounging-spot of the most famous guides and hunters; the daily scene for years of arriving and departing stages.
In March, 1888, the main part of the hotel was completely destroyed by fire, but the large guide-house built by Mr. Martin, a little in the rear, was saved. This had piazzas around it and contained about thirty bedrooms, and was run as a hotel -- still called the "Miller House" -- for several years longer. Finally, however, in March, 1897, this too was burned, and the last trace of "Martin's" went up in smoke and flame. A former club-house, unused tennis-courts, and a deserted golf-course are near the site to-day.
After losing his original hotel, Martin, nothing daunted, started to build a new one on the high point of land where the roads from the Ampersand and Algonquin join. This was a part of the old Goodrich lot, comprising 160 acres, which he had bought of Ensine Miller, and which he owned free and clear. This land, the furnishings from the hotel, and $1000 turned over by his son from the sale of a steamboat, was all the capital he had to put into his new venture.
He built a house of about thirty bedrooms, with private suites for himself and his son. The outside was never completed as originally planned. After the house was opened there was no lack of guests, but naturally it never enjoyed the unique popularity of the original one. The new site lacked the scenic attractions and conveniences of the old; and, above all, it lacked the associations in which the other was so rich. The host, too, had changed. Misfortune and the advancing years were taking their toll. He kept a brave spirit, and was always hopeful of the future, but his reverses and disappointments had undermined his health. He no longer had the physical strength to back his optimism. For the last two years of his life he was an invalid, able to do little but sit on the hotel piazza, or to be rowed occasionally on the lake by his son, in a boat well padded with cushions. He could still tell funny stories and take an interest in sedentary games, but under this outward cheerfulness those nearest to him knew how deep the sadness of unmerited failure had eaten into his soul. The end came quietly and quickly.
At noon on the day of his death, T. Edmund Krumbholz -- the well-known hotel-manager, who had worked at "Martin's" as a young man -- came with his wife to call.
"Well, Ed," said Martin, smiling, "I've been pretty sick, but I'll be better soon," and then began talking of plans for the future.
That evening -- October 3, 1892 -- at six o'clock he passed away.1
1 The hotel in which he died was sold to the Ampersand Co. by his widow, and was renamed "The Edgewood Inn." It became a second-rate place, run by various parties -- of which Tom Dewey was the last -- until it burned to the ground in 1900.
In 1886, Wm. J. Stillman and his daughter visited at Martin's new hotel, and related many of the things that have been embodied in this sketch. Mr. Stillman told how Mr. Martin built the "Philosopher's Camp" on Ampersand Pond and stocked it with a year's supply of groceries, a cook-stove, and the necessary furniture. Everything had to be drawn up by hand, and "nobody but Bill Martin would ever have done it!" the artist concluded.
Before leaving, he took Steve Martin and revisited for the last time the site he had chosen for the club-house thirty years before. All that was left of it were some of the rotting sills of the old foundation.
WILLIAM A. MARTIN
WILLIAM A. MARTIN AND THE WATER LILY
William Allen Martin, born at Saranac Lake, ...
Under construction -- the chapter continues for 6 more pages.