
An 1867 map of the town of North East. The boundaries of North East changed drastically in 1823 after Pine Plains left to form its own town.
Courtesy North East Historical Society
MILLERTON — Edward Downey, President of the North East Historical Society, recently reflected on his role in the community as town historian, how to access the archives and Millerton’s rich history.
The North East Historical Society
The North East Historical Society is a non-profit organization which aims to promote greater appreciation of the history of the Town of North East and the Village of Millerton.
“The function of the Historical Society is to essentially collect, curate, and make available to the public information about the history of the world,” Downey said of his work which also involves programming and grant-sourcing.
As Downey explained it, history can be both personal and possessive. “The two largest areas of interest, first of all, genealogy. People are trying to find family members and the history of their families,” Downey said. “The other thing people are often interested in is maybe the history of a property they own, when it was built, how long it’s in existence.”
The organization is in possession of archives dating back to the 18th century, with a handful from the late 1700s. Downey and Edith Greenwood, the vice-president of North East Historical Society, provide access to the archives through appointments Downey encourages interested parties to reach out to him for appointments by email.
The archives are located on the second floor of the NorthEast-Millerton Library. They cannot be checked out from their location.
“It’s not a museum. There’s a distinction between a museum and an archive. A museum is a space where there are exhibits,” said Downey.
Downey explained assistance is available while reviewing the archives. “We have an area where someone can sit and we can go through things with them,” said Downey, “but it’s more like research library.”
History of Millerton
Before the revolution, the boundary lines relating to the Town of North East varied over the years. In 1823, the current boundary lines for the towns were created.
“Millerton was really just kind of farmland until the New York and Harlem railroad decided to build a rail system from Grand Central Station up through Hudson, through the Harlem Valley, all the way up to the town of Chatham in Columbia County, where it linked with a railroad coming from Boston to Albany,” Downey said. “That line was started in about late 1840s. By 1851, it had gotten to what is now Millerton. And what was then just kind of farmland along the Weevitut Creek, because of the development, the arrival of that railroad, suddenly, people were building commercial buildings and they were building residential buildings all because of the railroad.”
Between 1851 and 1888, Millerton was surrounded by four different railroad systems, three which came from the western part of the county.
“It enabled the transportation, particularly of coal, to and from the western part of the county, probably from mining and other areas that were brought to those railheads to be loaded onto cars and shipped over into Connecticut where there [was] a lot of manufacturing going on,” said Downey. “Millerton became a very active railroad center because of all that. So in 1851, after the railroad had just gotten here, a group of people got together and decided to name this new hamlet Millerton.”
The Village of Millerton, named for railroad project engineer Sydney Miller, was created in 1875 as an incorporated village, creating a political subdivision for the town. The Village would ensure residents had their own municipal management, safety and more.
“At that time you couldn’t create separate districts to provide special services such as a water district or a fire service district, but Millerton... the feeling began to develop that, ‘We should have those sorts of things,’” Downey said. “And the only way you could do it then, under New York State of Law, was to create what’s called an incorporated village. It’s also still part of the town of Northeast, but it’s a special village, or certain special units of political subdivisions.”
According to Downey, there are three distinct things which have created what Millerton is known for today — landscape, talent and proximity to New York City.
“There’s a very important landscape... but it’s a rich, resourced landscape,” Downey said. “It’s supported in the early years of iron ore mining. It then supported wheat farming and apple farming... and now agriculture is more for the large sort of crops such as hay but also for vegetables and direct sale. So there’s this whole history of the community because of what its landscape is.
“The second thing that’s been important is that landscape... has attracted periodic ways of talented commercial people... whether it’s been in farming or in operating businesses in the village.” Downey said.
“The third factor... We are 100 miles from one of the largest and wealthiest municipalities in the world.”
In 2026, the 175th anniversary of the creation of the hamlet is being celebrated, thanks to the railroads which helped establish this settlement, but also thanks to its scenic features.
“Another feature of this landscape is its beauty,” marvelled Downey. “There’s just extraordinary views throughout the town and different areas.”
For more information, email Ed Downey, town historian, at eddowney12@gmail.com.
Jan. 27 marked the 80th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz-Birkenau. I traveled to Poland as part of a delegation for the commemoration and spent a few days before the event with my father and sister learning, remembering and gathering information.
My dad’s parents, Miriam and Yehuda, of blessed memory, were deported to Auschwitz -Birkenau from the Lódz Ghetto. They both had families that perished and met each other after the camp was liberated.
The gate at Auschwitz. Natalia Zukerman
I put my feet in the train tracks where they would have arrived, ran my hands across the walls of the horrible gas chambers, the broken wood of the crowded bunks, gathered dirt in my shoes where they would have walked, and made sure to touch the trunks of the trees along the path—innocent witnesses.
My father’s parents survived. How did they do it? Miriam was quickly sent to a work camp on the Czech border, and Yehuda played violin in the Auschwitz orchestra (aka the Death Orchestra). Music saved him. A million miracles saved them both.
Many members of our extended family did not survive.
Suitcases taken from prisoners at Auschwitz.Natalia Zukerman
Cuikerman was the original Polish spelling of our name. We poured over page after page of our name in the Book of Names. I can’t explain it, but as I read the names—aloud and quietly—I felt some of their spirits finally release.
Innocent witnesses.
I never wanted to come to Auschwitz-Birkenau. I grew up in the shadow of the Holocaust. It was part of our dark story. From the time I was very little, I saw all the images, watched the movies, read the books. I’ve had nightmares my whole life. I remember the tattoo on my grandmother’s forearm. This was enough.
But until you stand in the field the size of a city and look out at the expanse of crematoria, gas chambers, bunkers, the enormity and scale is just a story, words on a page. Now I have metabolized it in a different way. Now it is part of my DNA on a deeper level. Now I am changed.
A crematorium at Auschwitz.Natalia Zukerman
On Holocaust Remembrance Day, world leaders from fifty countries—including King Charles, Volodymyr Zelenskyy, Emmanuel Macron, Justin Trudeau and so many more— gathered with survivors and their families, musicians, friends and patrons of the organization in an enormous tent at the entrance to Birkenau. A freight train stood in front of the main gate. The car, from Germany, honors the 420,000 Hungarian Jews deported in 1944. Its conservation was funded by Frank Lowy, whose father, Hugo, was killed in the camp.
It radiated with horror in almost theatrical lighting, its now silenced whistle audible in the memories of all who gathered.
I listened to survivor after survivor speak. I watched as each world leader lit candles in remembrance. I said Kaddish (the Jewish prayer for the dead) with the several thousand people present.
But I only heard one person, 99-year-old Polish-born Swedish-Jewish doctor Leon Weintraub, utter any words that made sense to me, to my very fragile and shaken heart. He became a doctor after the war and told the group gathered the one absolute truth: there is only one race—the human race. He talked about the fact that under the skin, we are the same, words that were beyond powerful. In the very place where the most evil “experiments” were conducted to prove the supremacy of the Aryan race, this man stood there in all his beautiful bravery and told the truth. He was able, for a moment, to remove a hierarchy of care and replace it with an expansive, human appeal. He brought the memory of all the people killed, not just the Jews when he said, “be sensitive to all manifestations of intolerance and dislike of those who differ in terms of skin color, religion or sexual orientation.” He widened the conversation, lest we also forget the Romani, queer, disabled, dissidents and more that were also victims of the Nazis. Lest we forget the lesson of Gandhi when he said, “intolerance itself is a form of violence.”
Weintraub ended by saying, “allowing the memory of millions of innocent victims to fade would be equivalent to robbing them of their lives a second time.”
Shoes taken from prisoners.Natalia Zukerman
There are multiple genocides on planet earth right now. There are humans in actual concentration camps as I write this. There are whole populations being murdered.
After this experience, more than ever, I vow to speak the truth as loudly and as often as I can.
Speaking up, questioning and protesting is not only not antisemitism, it defines the core principles of what it means to be Jewish.
A beautiful Jewish human named Albert Einstein said, “Our task must be to free ourselves by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature and its beauty.”
This must and will be my task. Nothing else makes any sense.
Prisoners slept four to a bunk at Birkenau.Natalia Zukerman
Dina La Fonte
The “sober curious” movement has gained momentum in recent years, encouraging individuals to explore life without alcohol—whether for health reasons, personal growth, or simple curiosity. Dina La Fonte, a certified recovery coach, is theSenior Business Affairs Associate at Mountainside, an alcohol and drug addiction treatment center with a holistic approach to wellness that has several locations, including the one in Canaan, Connecticut. With nearly five years of sobriety, La Fonte blends professional expertise with lived experience, making her a powerful advocate for recovery.
Like many, La Fonte’s path to recovery was not just about removing alcohol; it was about rediscovering herself. “Once you get sober from a substance, whether it’s alcohol, drugs, gambling or what have you, emotional aspects of change come into place,” she explained. “It’s not a hard stop; it’s a continued process of integration and struggle.” Her own journey has led her to a career in recovery coaching, allowing her to help others find their own path.
“What I love about my work at Mountainside is that it allows me to be who I am without forcing me into a mold,” she said. “In recovery, we identify our authentic voice, establish boundaries, and clarify what we truly want.”
La Fonte explained that the rise of the “sober curious” movement may reflect a cultural shift in how we approach alcohol and self-care. La Fonte attributes this change to open conversations that break down stigma. “Even five or six years ago, admitting you had a problem came with embarrassment,” she said. “Now, the more we discuss it, the more people realize they’re not alone.” This newfound openness has perhaps made it easier for some individuals to explore sobriety and even do so without the pressure of a lifelong commitment.
Beyond emotional well-being, La Fonte also noted the physical benefits of sobriety. “It wasn’t immediate, but after a year, I noticed my skin clearing up, my energy improving, and my confidence growing,” she recalled. “Casual drinking dehydrates the skin, affects sleep, and contributes to inflammation. When people realize how much better they feel without alcohol, they want to hold onto that.”
In her role at Mountainside, La Fonte has expanded beyond coaching to influence organization-wide initiatives. “I still work directly with clients, but now I also help evolve how we support them,” she said. “Mountainside takes a holistic approach—integrating yoga, grief therapy, sound baths, and more. It’s not about pushing people through a system; it’s about meeting them where they are.”
La Fonte uses her social media platform as a “micro-influencer” to promote sober living and wellness. “I focus on positivity in sobriety—whether it’s skincare, self-care, or mental health. I test vegan and cruelty-free products, but I only promote what aligns with my values.”
For those exploring sobriety, La Fonte’s message is simple: “I’m not here to judge. I’m here to help.” She encourages open conversations and meeting people where they are. “If you’re curious about sobriety, let’s talk. I don’t need to know you to be proud of you. I don’t need to know you to love you. I already love you.Just reaching out is a huge step.”
With voices like La Fonte’s leading the conversation, perhaps the sober curious movement is more than a trend—it’s a cultural shift redefining what it means to live fully and authentically.
To contact Dina La Fonte, email her at dina.lafonte@mountainside.com, explore the Mountainside website at mountainside.com, or follow La Fonte on Instagram @dinalafonte