Get Out! Keep Out!

A new and unwelcome sight confronted local outdoor guides and their clients at the east end of the Stillwater Reservoir in the summer of 1891. At the foot of Little Rapids the long-established carry trail was blocked off and all along the river there were placards that read:

TRESPASS NOTICE

All persons are strictly forbidden to trespass upon these grounds. Any violation of the above will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. The waters of Smith’s Lake are also included in this notice. 

 

CAUTION

The hotels on Smith’s Lake and Munsey’s are closed. No one will be permitted under any circumstances to camp on Smith’s or Albany Lake, or in that vicinity.

 

These No Trespassing signs were posted at the direction of Dr. William Seward Webb, who had just purchased about 120,000 acres of mostly undeveloped forest including all the lands surrounding the upper reaches of the Beaver River. The purchase included dozens of picturesque lakes and ponds historically favored by sportsmen such as Smith’s Lake, Albany Lake, Twitchell Lake, Big Moose Lake, and the Red Horse Chain of Lakes.

 

Like almost all of the individuals and clubs acquiring large tracts in the Adirondacks at the time, Webb was determined to absolutely exclude the general public from his land. This was no small matter because by 1893 fifty private individuals or clubs owned outright or leased an aggregate total of 940,000 acres, nearly one-quarter of the entire Adirondacks. In contrast, the state-owned Adirondack Forest Preserve open for public recreation amounted to about 730,000 acres in that same year. The speed at which huge tracts of formerly open land was being converted into the private property of the wealthy was astonishing. The Annual Report of the New York State Forest Commission for 1891 bemoaned the fact that “…trespass signs are fast becoming a prominent feature of the Adirondacks,” and specifically cited Webb’s land as a prime example. 

 

Webb had big plans for the property. Most of it would be logged. The land around the Fulton Chain and a few other lakes would be subdivided into cottage lots. He reserved 40,000 acres surrounding Smith’s and Albany Lakes for his private great camp and game preserve, Nehasane Park. He was well aware that those two lakes had long been at the very heart of Beaver River outdoor tourism. Accordingly, he devised an elaborate plan to keep the public out. The plan had three parts: closing the road, blocking navigation on the river, and strictly controlling access to the area by rail.

 

Closing the road was probably the easiest task. As discussed in my post of 02/15/21, the Carthage-to-Lake Champlain Road ran along the south bank of the Beaver River from Stillwater to near Little Rapids before turning south to pass through Brandreth Park on its way to Raquette Lake. A spur connected the road to Muncy’s Hotel, located on the Little Rapids carry trail. The spur ended there. 

 

Map detail from 1876 edition of Wallace's Descriptive Guide to the Adirondacks

 

Shortly after Webb acquired his property, he arranged for local officials to declare the road officially abandoned from the Sand Spring on the South Branch of the Beaver River to Little Rapids. This section had already fallen into disuse except for the occasional trip by Muncy. Webb purchased Muncy’s Hotel and tore it down. With Muncy gone, Webb blocked off the road and posted No Trespassing signs, effectively ending any access to the Nehasane Preserve by road.

 

Blocking water access was more difficult. The sportsmen who camped at Smith’s Lake between 1845 and 1890 would typically ascend the Beaver River above Stillwater by boat to the foot of Little Rapids. Guides would then pull partly loaded boats up through the two sets of rapids while their charges carried some of the camping gear around on established carry trails to reach Albany Lake. After boating across Albany Lake there was another carry to Smith’s Lake.

 

To extinguish use of this route Webb posted No Trespassing signs all along the river and on the carry trail at Little Rapids, where Muncy’s once stood, Webb built a small hunting lodge. He staffed the Little Rapids Lodge with his private game protectors who were instructed to let no one pass. With the carry trail cut off and Webb’s employees watching the river, travel on that route became impossible.

 

Another established water route extended to Smith’s Lake from Tupper Lake by way of Little Tupper Lake, then Charley Pond, and then down a carry trail along the outlet through a marsh to Smith’s Lake. Again, posted signs and surveillance by Webb’s game protectors effectively ended the use of this route.

 

Webb knew that closing off the water routes would anger a large number of sportsmen and their guides who had long been accustomed to camp for weeks at a time at Smith’s Lake. To blunt this anger Webb posted signs in the railroad stations in Lowville and Martinsburg warning prospective campers who would disembark there that the area was now his private property, that the Smith’s and Albany Lake guides’ camps had been demolished and the hotels closed. Webb dealt with the local guides’ loss of important income by hiring many of them to be his game protectors.

 

Webb counted on the wide, mostly negative publicity he received for closing off Nehasane Preserve. It was to his advantage that sportsmen be deterred before they made plans to visit the area. Webb made sure, however, that any mention of his excluding the public included the proviso that persons wishing to cross his land on their way to state land, could apply to him for permission to do so with the understanding that they could not stop or camp along the way. There is no record of anyone making such an application as a trip across the Webb lands without stopping was simply not feasible.

 

At the same time that Webb purchased his Adirondack empire he was supervising and funding the construction of the Mohawk to Malone Railroad [see my post of 04/27/21]. The railroad crossed the Nehasane Preserve, thus opening up a new and much faster route. While the railroad was still in the planning stage, Webb devised a way to prevent its use by would-be trespassers.

 

Webb had two train stations on Nehasane. One was built near his main lodge on the shore of Smith’s Lake, recently renamed Lake Lila in honor of Webb’s wife Lila Vanderbilt. The other was near Albany Lake, renamed Nehasane Lake. He called this smaller station “Keepawa” and insisted that train conductors pronounce its name “Keep Away.” Both these stations could only be used by his family, employees and guests who possessed a written “Stop Permit” signed by Webb or one of his managers.

Thus, Webb’s Nehasane Preserve remained effectively sealed off until New York State decided to substantially expand the Stillwater Reservoir [see my post of 08/11/21 on the history of the reservoir]. The state started the planning process in 1919 by forming the Black River Regulating District. By 1921 the regulating district had created a series of detailed maps showing the projected new high-water line. These maps included a comprehensive list of the 68 parcels of private property totaling 3741.85 acres that would be wholly or partly flooded by the higher dam. Of this total Webb owned 110.75 acres along the Beaver River downstream of Nehasane Lake.

 

Over the next few years, the state methodically purchased the properties identified. When owners bulked at selling, the regulating district went to court to obtain a ruling that it had the power to take the land by eminent domain. By the end of 1924 the state held title to all the property to be flooded, except for the land along the Little Rapids section of the river.

 

Negotiations continued and finally, as the new dam was nearing completion, a compromise was hammered out. Webb and two adjacent owners agreed to sell the state an easement permitting their land to be flooded while retaining title to the submerged land. Webb also obtained a written promise that the regulating district would construct a boom capable of carrying a wire fence at least three feet high across the river at the downstream edge of his property. No Trespassing signs were to be prominently posted on the fence. The regulating district further promised to promulgate a regulation that would specifically prohibit all persons from entering the easement lands except when necessary to maintain and operate the reservoir.

 

Webb’s obvious reason for not selling the flooded land to the state was his fear that the higher water would allow the public to use the river to reach Nehasane Lake. He well knew that so long as he owned the land on both sides and under the river that he had an absolute right to block off the river, a lesson one of his lumber contractors learned the hard way, see DeCamp v Dix and Thomson, d/b/a the Moose River Lumber Co., 16 AD 528 (1897), affirmed 159 NY 436 (1899). 

 

There is no evidence that a boom with a fence on it was ever built across the river, or that the regulation sought by Webb was ever enacted. Nevertheless, the easement is still in effect for successors in title. This means that although the state now owns almost all the land around the Stillwater Reservoir and the land surrounding Lake Lila, the short section of the Beaver River connecting them is still private property.

 

Dr. Webb did not live long enough to realize that the enlarged Stillwater Reservoir never flooded the Little Rapids section of the river to a depth that made boat travel feasible as far as the border of the Nehasane Preserve. In fact, my wife’s personal experience has shown that possibly except for a brief period in the early spring, that section of the river is very shallow and rocky, certainly not fit for practical navigation.

 

It’s ironic that the strenuous efforts by wealthy landowners to exclude the public from the great camps and private preserves was one of the factors that fueled public support for the state’s purchase of land all across the Adirondack Park. By 1978, almost all of Webb’s old Adirondack empire was owned by the state and once again open for public use. After 87 long years, most of Webb’s No Trespassing signs were finally gone.