With so many changes taking place in the world today, including in our local business communities, The Millerton News has been taking a closer look at how the village of Millerton has evolved in the years leading up to the present day. The paper has been running a multi-part series on the many alterations that have taken place in the Millerton business district since it was first established in the late 1800s. This is the third and last part in that series.
Part III
MILLERTON — Today, of course, the hip village of Millerton offers many amenities and resources for locals and visitors alike — from the scenic Harlem Valley Rail Trail (HVRT) just steps from the Main Street shopping district to the oodles of antiques shops to the trendy spots where one can pick up anything from a 100% natural Pyrenean Duck Down duvet cover for a mere $1,533 at Westerlind to an 8 oz. jar of Meyer Lemon Rosemary Jelly from Les Collines at The Dig for a more reasonable $16 to a catnip seed packet from the Hudson Valley Seed Co. at Oblong Books & Music for an affordable $3.99 — but the one thing shoppers won’t find in Millerton these days is a grocery store.
Sans supermarket & sewer
In 1971 brothers Skip and Robert Trotta, who own the Millerton Square Plaza on Route 44 heading east toward the Connecticut border, opened the Millerton Super grocery store at the plaza; it later became the Great American, then Grand Union, and lastly, the space was leased by the owners of the successful Sharon Farm Market in neighboring Connecticut who opened it as the Millerton Fresh Market in 2017. However, the store’s model did not do well in New York and it closed in 2019.
Millerton has been without a supermarket- ever since — creating a huge void in its ability to remain self sufficient and forcing local residents to rely on convenience stores, farmers markets, food delivery services, specialty shops and food pantries for sustenance. None of these are practical for a community that wants to be 100% independent and build up its reputation as a place where economic development can thrive.
The village is also without a sewer system, which the Village and Town Boards have been actively pursuing; the Millerton Business Alliance (MBA) just launched a petition drive during the weekend of April 17, “to build support for the creation of a wastewater disposal system” in the business district.
Oblong Books & Music co-owner and HVRT Association President Dick Hermans, who was recently tapped to be on the town’s Economic Development Committee, said he’s confident a “grocery store will be on the top of their agenda,” words the town supervisor has himself confirmed to this newspaper. Hermans, who is also active with the Millerton Business Alliance, said he firmly believes a wastewater solution is essential for future economic development.
“I would just like to see the septic water disposal happen because it really would inspire people to fix our properties a little more and to fix up older buildings in town,” he said.
Hermans owns the Oblong property at 26 Main St. and has invested in his building over the years, making regular repairs to the older structure and improving property values in the village’s business district as a result.
Other Main Street upgrades and additions
Improvements are also being made right now at The Moviehouse, which was just sold on March 15 by longtime owner Carol Sadlon. Sadlon founded the theater and arts space with her late husband, Robert, in 1978. She sold the iconic entertainment venue to Connecticut buyers David Maltby and Chelsea Altman. The pair has big plans, which will keep the theater as an anchor in the business district and as a draw for residents from around the Tri-state region.
It’s one of the many reasons why Gillian Osnato, who is also from over the border but now lives in Millerton, said she decided to open a confectionery and ice-cream shop on Main Street — smack in the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic. Osnato named her shop Candy-O’s; it’s located at 28 Main St. She spoke of the village’s other attractions.
“I definitely think the Rail Trail is a really unique and exciting feature that draws people to the town, and then there’s The Moviehouse,” she said, “when it opens up again it will be a really fun and exciting thing to have, especially because as a kid that’s what we did, you would go to the movies and you would get excited to do that. Otherwise you had to travel so far.
“This really is a tourist town, even before the pandemic. You can’t go over the border to Lakeville or to Salisbury or Sharon even. The closest tourist hub is Great Barrington, Mass.,” she said. “This has become the spot, and it’s the kind of place where having grown up here and seeing it evolve is kind of amazing.”
Osnato’s father, Sal, owns the T-Shirt Farm, just a few stores down, at the corner of South Center Street and Main, where he sells all sorts of T-shirts that can be customized with graphic iron-on images along with sweatshirts and mugs and other novelty items. He’s been a Millerton merchant for years and encouraged his daughter to open, even though it was an unusual business climate. The risk was well worth it, she said.
A surprisingly good time to start a business
“There wasn’t anything like it,” said Osnato of her candy store. “We knew it would be a good fit… having sweets and everybody loves ice cream… Go to any destination town and there will be a shop like mine.”
In fact, Osnato has been so successful since opening on March 19, mainly catering to families with children after 3 p.m. on weekends, that some days she serves 100 people or more.
“I think people are ready to just indulge, in the best sense of the word,” said the new businesswoman, who praised her fellow Main Street merchants for being so supportive.
She also said, while realizing that business today is not like in the old days when everybody knew their neighbors and shopkeepers, she is getting acquainted with her regulars.
“I know a lot of them… and track new and returning customers; I’m getting a lot of returning customers and have my regulars already,” she said. “I already know what they’re going to get before they walk in the door. I have one gentleman who gets two scoops of vanilla with hot fudge and whipped cream. It’s great, it’s kind of really cool to see them; you get to know your customer by what they like and what they’re excited about. If they like a special candy I’ll order it for them.”
Shopping local
Osnato said she also makes it a point to shop locally herself, and support her fellow merchants.
“I just bought a birthday present for my sister at Demitasse next door, then I went to The Dig. I love the bakery, and obviously I love my dad’s shop; I love shopping locally,” she said. “Obviously there are things you can’t get locally but people are starting to fill the void. You can go into The Dig or Demitasse and get a toothbrush made of wood or recycled materials that is eco-friendly, and that’s good. Then there’s the bookstore, which I love. The only thing we really need is a grocery store. I get my lunches all the time at Irving Farm or the diner, and get dinner take-out. It’s nice to get to know the people in the community.”
Part of the next generation, having just turned 32 on May 4, Osnato said shopping locally is incredibly important to her.
“The idea of supporting businesses locally that need our support is great; instead of shopping on Amazon I said I’ll go see what I can get in town and support merchants locally,” she said. “I think that empowered me in a way, and I saw how everyone was successful.”
One thing she would really like to see added to the business community besides a grocery store? A shoe store.
“Just the other day I thought I need a pair of shoes and wished we had a cool small shoe store,” said Osnato. “We need something like that. We need to bring back all those small merchants that you see in those busy popular towns because locals shop there as well as people visiting and people like to see that uniqueness.”’
Which is the ultimate balance long-time residents, business owners and their workers, as well as the newcomers who fall into those categories seemingly want to strike — to create a community that provides for everyone — all of whom seem to fall into the broad definition of “locals” and all of whom clearly feel an ownership and a love for the village of Millerton.
Millerton News
Liane McGhee, a woman defined by her strength of will, generosity, and unwavering devotion to her family, passed away leaving a legacy of love and cherished memories.
Born Liane Victoria Conklin on May 27, 1957, in Sharon, CT, she grew up on Fish Street in Millerton, a place that remained close to her heart throughout her life. A proud graduate of the Webutuck High School Class of 1975, Liane soon began the most significant chapter of her life when she married Bill McGhee on August 7, 1976. Together, they built a life centered on family and shared values.
Liane was a woman of many passions. She found peace in the outdoors, whether she was taking scenic country rides, fishing, or walking her dog. An avid reader and a talented painter, she possessed a creative spirit and a caring heart that extended to all animals. Above all, Liane was most at home when surrounded by her family.
Liane is survived by her devoted husband of nearly 50 years, Bill McGhee. Her legacy continues through her three children: Joshua (Tanya) McGhee, Justin McGhee, and Jaclyn (Joe) Perusse. She was the proud grandmother of Connor, Calia, and Kennedy McGhee, as well as Lillian and Tillman Perusse. She is also survived by her siblings, Larry Conklin and Linda Holst-Grubbe. Liane was predeceased by her parents Martin and Lillian Conklin, and her brother, Robert “Bob” Conklin.
In keeping with Liane’s generous nature, the family requests that, in lieu of flowers, memorial donations be made to Hudson Valley Hospice (by mail to 374 Violet Ave, Poughkeepsie, NY 12601 or online at https://www.hvhospice.org/donate) or to the Millerton Fire Company at PO Box 733, Millerton, NY 12546.
A celebration of life will be held on Friday, May 8, from 4:00 to 7:00 p.m. at Conklin Funeral Home, 37 Park Avenue, Millerton, NY.
Her family will remember her as the strong-willed and caring matriarch who always put them first. She will be deeply missed.
Natalia Zukerman
Ten New Yorker cartoonists gather around a table in a scene from “Women Laughing.”
There is something deceptively simple about a New Yorker cartoon. A few lines, a handful of words — usually fewer than a dozen — and suddenly an entire worldview has been distilled into a single panel.
There is also something delightfully subversive about watching a room full of women sit around a table drawing them. Not necessarily because it seems unusual now — thankfully — but because “Women Laughing,” screening May 9 at The Moviehouse in Millerton, reminds us that for much of The New Yorker’s history, such a gathering would have been nearly impossible to imagine.
The documentary, directed by longtime New Yorker cartoonist Liza Donnelly and filmmaker Kathleen Hughes, traces the uneven history of women cartoonists at the magazine, from their presence in its earliest issues to their near disappearance by the 1950s. But the film does something more interesting still: it lets us watch these artists at work.
“The idea was talking to these women about their process and where their ideas come from,” Donnelly said. “You get to witness these women drawing in the film, and I draw with them.”
“Women Laughing” includes intimate conversations with some of the most celebrated and groundbreaking cartoonists at The New Yorker, including Roz Chast, Emily Flake, Sarah Akinterinwa, Liana Finck, Amy Hwang and Bishakh Som. Donnelly also speaks with Emma Allen, the magazine’s first female cartoon editor. During a dynamic roundtable discussion with 10 cartoonists, viewers also meet artists Emily Sanders Hopkins, Maggie Larson, Arenza Pena-Popo and Victoria Roberts.
“I will confess that it was what I was most worried about,” Hughes said of the technical challenges presented by filming 10 artists at work. “You have 10 people. That’s 10 microphones, six or seven cameras. We didn’t even have a budget for it, but our crew donated all the gear so that we could get it done.”
Hughes was relieved that not only did it work, but it became one of the most memorable parts of the film.
“Frankly, when you put people together and have them talk on screen, it can get tiresome quickly,” Hughes said. “So I’m glad that nobody listened to me when I said I didn’t think we should do this.”
For Donnelly, whose book “Very Funny Ladies” was the impetus for the film, the documentary offered dimensions the printed page could not. For Hughes, whose previous films have examined weightier subjects like economic inequality and gun violence, entering the world of cartoonists brought its own revelations.
“I really did think that the cartoonists were sort of in charge of what was in the magazine,” Hughes said, laughing. “That was probably the biggest revelation.”
What surprised her most was not just the structure of the magazine’s famously competitive submission process — cartoonists submit batches each week and face frequent rejection — but the sheer persistence required to sustain the work.
“It was inspiring to see the dedication everybody had to the craft,” Hughes said. “And how creative everybody is, not just in making the cartoons themselves, but in supporting themselves through it.”
An audience reaction that has surprised both Donnelly and Hughes is the laughter. By the time the filmmakers finished editing, they had seen each cartoon so many times that the humor had become technical material — questions of pacing, framing and sequence. The first public screening changed that.
“All the laughter really kind of blew us away,” Hughes said. “You forget.”
The audience response underscores something else the film makes clear: just how much skill lies behind the apparent simplicity of a single-panel cartoon. Donnelly noted that the form is “a lot harder than you think.” Like the cartoons it celebrates, the documentary values economy and precision. At just 37 minutes, its compact running time reflects that ethos.
“A lot of people have said it’s a great length,” Hughes said. “It’s almost like a cartoon version of a documentary.”
Donnelly appreciates the response she hears most often after screenings.
“You leave them wanting more,” she said.
Like the best New Yorker cartoons, “Women Laughing” says a great deal with remarkable economy, leaving audiences laughing and looking more closely at what appears, at first glance, deceptively simple.
“Women Laughing” will screen at the Moviehouse (48 Main St., Millerton) on May 9 at 7 p.m. followed by a conversation with Liza Donnelly, Kathleen Hughes and cartoonist Amy Hwang. Moderated by local filmmaker Pam Hogan. Tickets at themoviehouse.net
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Natalia Zukerman
In “Your Friends and Neighbors,” Lena Hall’s character is also a musician.
At a certain point you stop asking who people want you to be and start figuring out who you already are.
— Lena Hall
There is a moment in conversation with actress and musician Lena Hall when the question of identity lands with unusual force.
“Well,” she said, pausing to consider it, “who am I really?”
Born Celina Consuela Gabriella Carvajal into a San Francisco family steeped in performance — her father a choreographer, her mother a prima ballerina — Hall was, by her own account, “born to be onstage.”
“Like a show pony,” she joked.
She trained first as a ballet dancer, studying in France on scholarship before abandoning that path for musical theater after seeing her sister perform in “42nd Street.”
Even then, identity was something inherited before it was chosen.
The Tony Award-winning, Grammy-nominated performer has spent much of her career moving between worlds: Broadway and television, rock clubs and film sets, musical theater precision and raw, unvarnished songwriting. Her latest solo album, “Lullabies for the End of the World,” is an intimate, autobiographical work that explores co-dependency, heartbreak and self-reckoning.
But for Hall, whose career includes a Tony-winning turn in “Hedwig and the Angry Inch,” a starring role on Apple TV+’s “Your Friends and Neighbors,” and acclaimed performances in film and television, the search for artistic identity has been unfolding for decades.
The record’s central themes — identity, authenticity, reinvention — are the same ones Hall has been sorting through for much of her adult life.
“It wasn’t until later that I started asking those questions,” she said from New York City, which she splits her time between and West Cornwall, Connecticut. “What do I want to represent? Who do I want to be? I was trying to find the authentic self instead of just going with the flow.”
The search began, in part, with an unlikely catalyst: a tonsillectomy.
When Hall was 26, surgery altered her voice just as she had joined the rock band The Deafening. “They would just play really loud and never change the key,” she said, laughing.
At the same time, Hall found herself confronting larger questions about purpose and artistic direction.
“I was going through that moment of, what do I really want out of this industry?” she said. “If I’m going to keep doing this, I need to have a purpose.”
Until then, Hall said, she had largely been defined by external expectations.
“I was always who I was told to be,” she said.
The surgery became a kind of reset, both vocally and personally. It also coincided with another form of reinvention: the decision to change her professional name.
“My real name is a lot,” she said.
People stumbled over its pronunciation. It was harder to remember, harder to place. “Lena Hall” felt streamlined, memorable. “It also just sounds like a rock star,” she laughed.
Hall, who is one-quarter Filipino with Spanish and Swedish ancestry, later grappled with whether changing her name obscured an important part of who she is. At one point, she said, she was advised that reverting to her birth name might improve her casting prospects as representation standards shifted.
She declined.
“That didn’t feel authentic,” she said.
Instead, Hall came to see the name change as less a departure than a continuation.
After making the change, she discovered that Carvajal itself was a family alteration, adopted generations ago in the Philippines.
“I’m still honoring my family, even in the name change,” she said. “I’m continuing that tradition.”
Her Filipino heritage remains central to how she understands herself, even as some parts of that history remain difficult to trace.
“I’m very curious to keep searching,” Hall said. “That side of my family is where all the artistry came from.”
Hall’s refusal to flatten herself into a single story or cultural identity is mirrored in her journey as a multi-hyphenate artist. She is, depending on the moment, a Broadway belter, a screen actor, a rock frontwoman, a conceptual songwriter.
Her current side project, the all-female Radiohead tribute band Labiahead, gleefully complicates the picture further, reframing familiar songs through a new lens.
“When women perform something written and performed by men, it changes it completely,” she said. “Nothing even needs to be said. It just happens.”
The same could be said of Hall’s own work.
Across mediums, she is an artist interested less in performance as display than performance as revelation.
Onscreen, she said, that often means doing less.
“The camera is literally on your nose,” she said. “You just have to think, and it picks it up.”
Between Celina Carvajal and Lena Hall, between ballet and rock, Broadway and Cornwall, Hall is making peace with multiplicity.
“At a certain point,” she said, “you stop asking who people want you to be and start figuring out who you already are.”
Natalia Zukerman
“A Love Letter to Handsome John” screens at The Colonial Theatre on May 8.
Fans of the late singer-songwriter Todd Snider will have a rare opportunity to gather in celebration of his life and music when “A Love Letter to Handsome John,” a documentary by Otis Gibbs, screens for one night only at The Colonial Theatre in North Canaan on Friday, May 8.
Presented by Wilder House Berkshires and The Colonial Theatre, the 54-minute film began as a tribute to Snider’s friend and mentor, folk legend John Prine. Instead, following Snider’s death last November at age 59, it became something more intimate: a portrait of the alt-country pioneer during the final year of his life.
What began as a simple gesture of gratitude evolved into a poignant meditation on friendship, artistic influence and loss, offering viewers an unusually personal glimpse of Snider at home in his quietest moments.
For Brad Sanzenbacher of Wilder House Berkshires, bringing the film to the Northwest Corner has been deeply personal.
“I’ve been a huge fan of Todd Snider and John Prine for 20 years,” he said. “I lived in the Bay Area before I moved here, and I would see Todd live probably at least four times a year — sometimes back-to-back nights. I was that kind of super Dead Head-type fan that was on tour.”
Sanzenbacher said he had the chance to meet Snider several times and attended the musician’s Catskills retreats.
“He was just one of those people that I really connected with strongly,” he said. “Like a lot of people, when he passed away, I was really shocked and devastated.”
When he learned screenings of the film were beginning to pop up around the country, he wanted to bring that communal experience here.
“I know there are a lot of Todd Snider fans everywhere who want closure on his life and maybe a chance to feel like they’re in the room with him again,” he said. “I thought it would be a really cool experience to bring the film to the community.”
The screening is part of what Sanzenbacher calls the film’s organic, fan-driven momentum.
“I love the grassroots movement of the film,” he said. “They were going to do two screenings and that was going to be it, and now they’re showing it all over the country because fans have reached out to say, ‘How can I bring a screening to my town?’ I feel really lucky we’re able to show it.”
He hopes the evening captures some of the camaraderie that defined the Todd Snider fan experience.
“One of my favorite things about being a Todd Snider fan was when you’d go to two or three shows in a row, you’d turn into a little caravan and make friends with strangers and become this community,” he said. “That’s kind of something I’m hoping happens at the film.”
The screening begins at 7 p.m. Friday, May 8, at The Colonial Theatre, 27 Railroad St., North Canaan. Run time is 54 minutes, with time afterward for audience members to gather and connect.
Matthew Kreta
New Sharon Playhouse logo designed by Christina D’Angelo.
The Sharon Playhouse has unveiled a new brand identity for its 2026 season, reimagining its logo around the silhouette of the historic barn that has long defined the theater.
Sharon Playhouse leadership — Carl Andress, Megan Flanagan and Michael Baldwin — revealed the new logo and website ahead of the 2026 season. The change reflects leadership’s desire to embrace both the Playhouse’s history and future, capturing its nostalgia while reinventing its image.
After attending the closing performance of the Playhouse’s production of The Mousetrap last September, Christina D’Angelo told Playhouse leadership she was “completely changing her design direction” for the new logo after experiencing the work and atmosphere of the Sharon Playhouse firsthand. She incorporated the barn silhouette to capture the theater campus’s history and evoke the warmth and magic of the Playhouse.
“The barn gives a fixed image of how we all feel about the Playhouse,” said Megan Flanagan, managing director. “The new branding presents the story of the great history of Sharon Playhouse — who we were, who we are today, who we are becoming — and the barn is that unifying element.”
The design was one of several options presented and was selected unanimously by Playhouse leadership. D’Angelo also designed this season’s branding, creating a visual throughline for the 2026 season.
The Playhouse remains committed to its taglines and mission statements, “Create. Community. Together.” and “Your destination for the arts.” While those phrases are no longer reflected in the logo itself, Carl Andress, artistic director, said the organization is not moving away from them and that they will continue to appear in publications and on the updated website.
“The refreshed brand aims to shift the narrative in the community, reinforcing the Playhouse’s role not only as a theater but as a vibrant gathering place and artistic home,” Playhouse leadership said in a press release.
For more information, including a video about the updated logo and details on the upcoming 2026 season, visit sharonplayhouse.org
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