MILLBROOK — Community members had a chance to weigh in on plans to renovate the Thorne Building on Franklin Avenue into a state-of-the-art event and community center.
Architect Michael Sloan of Millbrook-based Sloan Architects outlined a proposal that includes a rear addition to expand the stage, an enlarged parking lot, new exterior lighting, a front garden and the removal of the portico on the building’s east side. Sloan said the building, originally constructed as a K-12 school, would be transformed into a space for the community to gather and create.
Public comment was generally supportive, though several residents sought more details about the lighting plan and disability accessibility. The public hearing was continued to the board’s April 20 meeting.
Sloan said the renovations would breathe new life into the century-old building, which has sat vacant in downtown Millbrook for years. The plans call for nearly every space across the building’s four floors to be put to use.
“This project is taking the Thorne Building on Franklin Avenue and giving it purpose and life again,” Sloan said. “The project entails basically making the Thorne Building an actual community center for the community that’s going to be open for the public.”
Michael Sloan displays proposed expansions to the Thorne Building's parking lot to accommodate crowds for performances during a public hearing of hte Millbrook village Planning Board on Monday, March 16, at the Millbrook Firehouse on Front Street.Photo by Nathan Miller
The renovations are being funded by the Millbrook Community Partnership, a nonprofit headed up by Millbrook resident Oakleigh Thorne — a descendant of the building's namesake — to support the creation of Bennett Park on the former Bennett College campus and the restoration of the historic Thorne Building. Thorne said Monday the building is still several years from opening, but the organization has already outlined potential uses for the interior space.
At the center of the project is the auditorium, which Sloan said will be expanded to better accommodate professional performances.
"It's what we call a high school stage," Sloan said. "It's really for graduation and very shallow."
Sloan said the building would be expanded by about 20 feet, 9 inches at the rear to provide more stage depth and allow for the installation of an accessibility ramp behind the stage. He said the auditorium would be transformed into a performance hall capable of hosting films, live music, plays, dance productions, community meetings and other events. The first floor would also include co-working space available for community members to rent.
"It's for everybody," Sloan said.
In the basement, Sloan said, plans call for a culinary arts space similar to a catering kitchen. While it would allow for food preparation and serving, he said, it would not function as a full production kitchen. The basement would also include a digital arts lab that Sloan compared to a makerspace.
He said the area would house 3D printers, computers, sewing machines, music-recording equipment, practice rooms and other tools for digital creation.
More than 30 people attended the Monday-night meeting to hear plans for the new-and-improved Thorne Building on Franklin Avenue in Millbrook at a public hearing of the Millbrook village Planning Board on Monday, March 16.Photo by Nathan Miller
The arts-focused uses would continue on the upper floors, Sloan said. The second and third floors would be dedicated to gallery and studio space for visual artists. The second floor would also include a dance floor, allowing the space to host both community and private events.
Comments from the public were largely favorable, though some neighbors raised questions about lighting and accessibility.
Millbrook resident Heather Lavarnway, drawing on her experience as a professional municipal planner, praised the proposal while pressing Sloan for more information on lighting details. She asked for clarification about lighting temperatures and suggested alternative fixtures for some lights that could create unwanted glare.
"This project is clearly very well thought out," Lavarnway said. "It's sensitive to both the building and the neighborhood."
Other commenters asked for more details about the building’s accessibility features, prompting Sloan to explain that the structure would be brought up to current accessibility standards, including New York’s updated requirements that took effect Jan. 1.
"This is going to be state-of-the-art for accessibility, this building," Sloan said. He said he has experience designing buildings with high accessibility standards due to a high volume of work with universities. "I do this every single day."
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The Edgewood Restaurant, a beloved Amenia roadside restaurant run by George and Anne Phillips, pictured during its peak years in the 1950s and ’60s.
It began as a former gas station and tavern called The Narrows, on the road to Sharon, around a switchback east of Troutbeck. It became a roadhouse restaurant for weddings, bar mitzvahs, proms, graduations, birthdays and holidays with relatives. At Easter, New Year’s and Christmas, George and Anne served the food free — customers only paid for drinks as a thank-you for another good year.
It was a different time. Amenia was an isolated dairy farming community, and two large state psychiatric hospitals employed 4,000 potential diners. People needed a friendly neighborhood restaurant run by a local couple who knew everybody. They offered special-occasion favorites: fried chicken, meatloaf, sliced turkey with gravy, pork chops from nearby farms, and fresh white bread baked at 4 a.m. by George.
There was no maître d’. Waitresses, many still teenagers, greeted guests and helped them find a table. Cloth napkins and sturdy white plates sat in a knotty pine dining room that felt more like a family home than a formal restaurant. Large tables down the center accommodated families. George and Anne fed the staff before opening, and everyone ate the same meals served to customers. Everything was homemade classics of the 1950s and ’60s: cold shrimp and cocktail sauce, stuffed mushrooms, veal parmesan, King crab, clams and oysters on the half shell, chopped hamburger steak, French onion soup, fried chicken and pumpkin pie.
George was a tough but fair boss with a quirky sense of humor. Former employee Kevin Rooney, who worked there as a teenager, recalled being served a hot fudge sundae on a sweltering day — only to discover the “ice cream” was Crisco. Revenge came later in the form of a Coke spiked with Tabasco sauce.
George also kept a series of German shepherds — Rinny, Schultz and Dooley — named after a Jonathan Winters routine featuring talking beer steins. The dogs were locked inside at night for security. Tony Robert, another former employee, remembered coming in one day to find Schultz with the seat of someone’s pants in her jaws. When kids tried to sneak into a dance through the bathroom window after the fire marshal had closed the overcrowded place, George put Rinny in the restroom. Problem solved.
Anne also ran a no-nonsense operation. She marked liquor bottles at night so no one would sneak a drink, though the cleanup crew found ways around it, sipping the blackberry liquer instead. Along with cooking and baking everything from scratch, she raised their children in a life closely tied to the restaurant. The bus dropped their daughters off there after school, and one recalled doing homework while the family spent more time in the restaurant than in their nearby home.
George Phillips bakes fresh bread in the early morning hours at the Edgewood Restaurant.Provided
After 23 years of long hours — often more than 100 a week — George began stepping back, at times closing the restaurant to recover. He later moved into real estate and Anne opened a successful craft store.
George sold the place in 1972. At one point, it became a lively beer joint and concert venue, featuring local bands, such as Random Concept, Little Village and Good Friend Coyote. When New York lowered its drinking age to 18 — while it remained 21 just across the state line — it drew crowds from Connecticut. Locals called them “Connecticut Rags,” kids with fancy cars who came to dance, drink and sometimes fight, rocking the floors so hard they bounced like a trampoline and shook dust from the rafters.
At closing time, they had to dodge police waiting across the state line. Sometimes Jack Rooney, Kevin’s father and the bartender, drove them home. One morning, Betty Rooney got a call from a worried mother asking if her son was there. “If he’s wearing red tennis shoes,” she said, “he’s asleep on my front lawn.”
The Edgewood also drew actors from the Sharon Playhouse and notable visitors, including Paul Newman, Cole Porter and even Supreme Court justices. George showed silent movies on a sheet in the dining room, and guests could dance to the Les Schulman Orchestra or to George and his brothers, who had their own band.
It served as a gathering place for groups such as the Eastern Artificial Insemination Cooperative and for events like the Knights of Columbus Communion breakfast. Families marked milestones there — including one that celebrated five birthdays at a Palm Sunday brunch in 1970.
Christmas dinner cost $3 and included stuffed olives, roast pig, prime rib, Virginia ham, deep-sea scallops, Long Island duck, creamed onions and, of course, crème de menthe parfait. On New Year’s Eve 1959, dinner was $15 a couple — $7.50 each for all the champagne you could drink.
The venue came to an end when the building burned to the ground in 1985.
The building is gone, but not the memories — the laughter, the music, the meals, and George carving steaks by hand. He lived a century, but the Edgewood, for those who knew it, was timeless.
Next time you’re driving to Sharon and pass the empty, weedy lot with a rusty electric meter, imagine calling George’s old number to make a reservation for a place that lives on in memory.
Minimalist works by Agnes Martin on display at Dia:Beacon.
Martin, the Canadian-born New York and New Mexico resident who died in 2004, made the kind of ambiguous abstract art that inspires countless imitators and interpreters.
At first glance, most of the pieces in the new show, “Painting Is Not the Act of Painting,” (on display until June 22) are variations on simple lines and grids painstakingly applied by the artist’s own hand using paint and pencil.
Despite their relative simplicity, it took Martin years of rejecting her own artwork to reach this level of pure abstraction. She would often take knives to paintings she didn’t like, literally slashing work that didn’t live up to her expectations. It wasn’t until she was in her 50s that she began making the work she would become known for.
That evolution is reflected in the exhibition’s 24 works.
Dia:Beacon seems like a perfect place for them. The museum is a monument to simplicity. Even the most complicated pieces are abstractions in their own ways. A straight, unpainted plywood wall with diagonal backing by Donald Judd suggests a room under construction. Michael Heizer’s singular ovoid boulder embedded into a gallery wall strikes unease into visitors.
Subtle grids and softly layered lines by Agnes Martin draw the eye at Dia:BeaconD.H. Callahan
Martin’s pieces feel at home here. In the context of such visual, if not conceptual, simplicity, her art seems louder than it might in almost any other setting. Faint blue and peach stripes gain vibrancy when compared with the all-white canvases of Robert Ryman or the large gray mirrors of Gerhard Richter, both a few rooms away. By comparison, the visibly human-drawn lines of pencil or etched-out paint seem almost complicated, and technically masterful.
It’s enough to make you ponder the name of the exhibition, “Painting Is Not the Act of Painting,” pulled from a quote by Martin: “Painting is not making paintings; it is a development of awareness. And with this awareness, your work changes, but very slowly.”
In a world where studio assistants and fabricators contribute to the output of many artists, Martin relished the act of painting. She painted nearly every day of her adult life. For her, the process was an integral part of the work, and it’s hard to look at these pieces without appreciating her hand.
This repetitive study is also demonstrated across the hall in a gallery dedicated to a single work by Andy Warhol. The piece, “Shadows,” is a study of variations on a single subject. Warhol took photos of shadows in his office and, using a silkscreen process, painted them 102 times on identically sized canvases.
Walking into the room, it may seem like the same image repeated. On closer inspection, the canvases vary widely in color and composition. The work suggests that repetition can produce unexpected forms.
Agnes Martin has become enshrined as one of the leaders of the minimalist movement of the 1960s and ’70s. Her work and artistic philosophies have inspired countless admirers. This exhibition displays a selection of important pieces from nearly 50 years of practice.
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