Part 1

On October 7, 1975, The New York Times ran a story simply titled, “State Buys Vanderbilts’ Adirondack Camp.” It described a place called Sagamore, “the 1500 acre Adirondack camp that was used by the Vanderbilts in the early nineteen hundreds.”  

The state, it reported, had purchased Sagamore from Syracuse University, which had received the camp as a donation from socialite Margeret Emerson in 1953. Syracuse had run the camp as a successful educational institution and conference center for two decades, teaching and inspiring thousands of visitors each year. But the nationwide stagflation of the 1970s had hurt their finances and forced them to sell.  In order to keep its central campus strong and to fully fund its mission there, Syracuse chose to divest itself from several satellite properties like Sagamore.

Most of those acres–including a pristine 159 acre lake–stood a little less than 2000 feet above sea level and would become welcome additions to the Adirondack Park’s 3 million acres of “forever wild” lands. Wilderness could grow and persist here, untouched, enchanting humans and sustaining animals for generations to come.  

But the story also contained a warning. “The acquisition,” the Times reported, “has created a major problem that is causing great concern among architects, state officials, and others interested in historic preservation: how to prevent the demolition of the elaborate rustic buildings that are the foremost examples of Adirondack park architecture.” 

The reporter explained the hazard. “No one seriously believes that the buildings of Sagamore will actually be torn down immediately,” he wrote, “but the State lacks funds to maintain them, and thus they could deteriorate until they became a danger requiring demolition in the future.”  Far from an empty threat, several other historic Adirondack structures had already faced that very fate. Weathered by almost 80 years of the harsh mountain elements, and lacking Gilded Age fortunes to sustain them, it seemed that the era of the “great camps” was ending for good.

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Yet the Times story finished with a glimmer of hope, referring to an “ad hoc committee of private citizens and organizations” created to preserve the eight acres containing the most historic buildings. Spurred by a newly formed group named the Preservation League of New York State, led by Billie Harrington, acreage and buildings near Sagamore Lake - the iconic Main Lodge, the Dining Hall, recreation complex, and the buildings now used for Sagamore’s guests and offices - were intentionally left out of the sale to the state. Conserving that small eight acre parcel and saving these most architecturally significant structures became the Preservation League’s first great test. 

The League’s leadership well understood the importance of saving Sagamore for the future, and worked closely with Syracuse University architecture professor Paul Malo. Syracuse University itself also supported the idea of preserving Sagamore, and the University agreed to split the historic buildings by the lake away from the larger sale. It even offered to take back ownership and responsibility for these most significant structures should no other buyer emerge.

So in October 1975, New York’s Department of Environmental Conservation declared it would take bids from different organizations hoping to buy that small, eight acre parcel. Candidates had one month to apply and needed to demonstrate how they would preserve and utilize Sagamore’s spaces for the public good, including sharing the camp with visitors from the public and making beneficial use of the buildings. The cost of sale was a flat $100,000 fee – about $600,000 today.

It was preservation by purchase, and salvation by committee. No one knew if it would work. But, they made the effort anyway, out of love for the past and optimism that an organization out there somewhere might just have leaders ready to rise up and meet the moment.

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During that same autumn of 1975, approximately 58 miles due northeast – but more than two hours away along the winding mountain roads – a much newer Adirondack institution had encountered a different but equally difficult problem. Led by Barbara Glaser and Howard Kirschenbaum, the National Humanistic Education Center stood in Upper Jay, NY in the shadow of Whiteface Mountain.  

Founded to foster and teach innovations in education, the small non-profit possessed a modest farmhouse, a barn they had turned into part workshop space and part bunkhouse, and some spaces in adjacent fields in which people could pitch their tents. Among those simple surroundings, they gathered combinations of scholars, educators, and environmentalists to consider pedagogical theory and teach teachers the latest innovations in education. They worked to move beyond rote learning and stock lectures, instead encouraging systems and strategies that improved critical thinking, collaborative efforts, and community enlightenment. 

Yet their success had outgrown their surroundings. To keep growing and moving their mission forward, Glaser, Kirschenbaum, and their Board of Directors needed to expand their campus itself. As leaders in the field, they had already expanded their name to become the National Humanistic Education Center. And a national center needed a site worthy of the title. But where else would they find spaces that could house a series of revolutionary humanistic educators and their equally eager students? What spaces would fit both their environmental ethos and seriousness of purpose?  

In the fall of 1975, that opportunity arrived at Sagamore, though success was far from guaranteed. On odds alone, the young educators might even have been underdogs against more established and prominent applicants. But, they believed in the transformative power of history, nature, education, and community, and they could find all three at Sagamore, in spades.

So they took a chance, and sent in an application. And waited, as everyone did, for the DEC’s determination. 

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The rest became history. Glaser and Kirschenbaum’s application surpassed all the others, and their board of directors joined them in producing the funds for the purchase. Before long, the National Humanistic Education Center became the Sagamore Institute of the Adirondacks – the non-profit that governs the great camp today.  

Among their earliest programs emerged educational enterprises that taught knowledge, theory, and skills, environmental explorations that helped create and build community, and historical programs and tours that found national meanings within the Adirondack past.

None of this history was guaranteed at its outset. Instead, the story of Great Camp Sagamore continued evolving ever since its start, due to the efforts of five decades of leaders, learners, volunteers, ventures, directors, and donors. 

Fifty years later, Sagamore Institute of the Adirondacks continues that tradition, saving and sharing these iconic structures and inspiring spaces. We continually conceive new ways to share its history and ethos with ever-broadening groups of visitors, while still taking the time, expense, and care to preserve the place for another fifty years. 

Over the coming weeks, we are excited to share some key moments of that half-century of stewardship – and many more momentous ones in between – that speak to our 50th Anniversary Gala’s theme: 50 Years of Saving Sagamore to Share Sagamore.

Thank you for sharing in that saving!  We look forward to welcoming you on August 2, and can’t wait to continue the story.

By Connor Williams, Staff Historian