Village of Millerton and Town of North East residents crowded into the NorthEast-Millerton Library annex to have their voices heard on police policies regarding immigration enforcement for the Tuesday, July 29, Village Trustees meeting.
MILLERTON — After a packed public meeting brought immigration enforcement to the forefront of village politics on Tuesday, July 29, trustees signaled they will not pursue a proposed local law aimed at limiting police cooperation with U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement.
Local police, for their part, said they would fully cooperate with federal agencies — including ICE — tempering hopes for the kind of change some residents had called for.
The push began this spring when six Millerton residents and 11 supporters sent a letter to village officials urging the board to “affirm its commitment to justice, constitutional rights and community trust.”
At a May 21 meeting, the request was added to the board agenda. Supporters urged trustees to draft a law that would safeguard due process and prevent local police from assisting ICE without a judicial warrant. No action was taken then, but public interest surged ahead of the July 29 follow-up meeting, which drew nearly triple the crowd and required a move to the NorthEast-Millerton Library Annex.
Though the meeting was intended to assess the feasibility of a village-specific law — the village spans just over half a square mile — discussion often touched on broader national issues and personal stories. Of the 55 attendees, 30 addressed the board during the 77-minute session, with Mayor Jenn Najdek working to maintain order during what was, at times, an emotionally charged exchange.
Speakers represented a range of perspectives, from civil liberties advocates urging protective measures to residents concerned about impeding law enforcement. Among those who spoke was Bill Kish, a North East resident and Planning Board member who helped reintroduce the proposal.
He described the goal as a “call to adopt a local law limiting the police department’s involvement with ICE,” clarifying that the request was not to obstruct federal authorities. Rather, the hope was to create legislation that would prohibit local police from collecting immigration status information or supporting ICE in detaining individuals without the presence of a judicial warrant.
Such measures, he said, would uphold constitutional protections, enhance public safety, and build community trust. He pointed to a model law published by the New York State Attorney General’s Office that outlines similar measures — offering it as a ready-made framework to eliminate legal or logistical hurdles.
Millerton Police Chief Joseph Olenik was not present at the July meeting but had played a central role in the earlier discussion in May. In a conversation with The Millerton News late Monday evening, Olenik offered clarity on several points.
Regarding the first request from residents, Olenik confirmed that the Millerton Police Department does not, under any circumstance, collect immigration status information. He elaborated that during traffic violations or arrests, officers do collect names, addresses and dates of birth — but not immigration status.
When asked directly if he or his officers would request to see a judicial warrant before aiding in an arrest spearheaded by ICE, he responded unequivocally.
“No, I would not ask for a judicial warrant,” said Chief Olenik. He went on to say, “It’s their arrest, so to speak, and we would only be there as a supporting and assisting agency. We’re not there to second-guess their policies and procedures.”
He added that federal law supersedes state and local law, and “if ICE calls us for assistance and we are on duty — we are mandated to go.”
Though his comments echoed those from the May meeting, they marked a more definitive stance. However, they did not address the legal precedent for local governments that opt out of voluntary cooperation with ICE under sanctuary or non-cooperation policies.
Constitutional concerns raised
Bryan MacCormack, co-founder of the Columbia County Sanctuary Movement, attended as both a supporter and subject-matter expert. Resident Brooke Lehman, co-founder of The Watershed Center in Millerton, ceded her speaking time so MacCormack could provide an educational perspective.
With years of experience helping municipalities implement sanctuary policies, MacCormack said policies like the one proposed have been shown to increase community safety. While he acknowledged the limits of local jurisdiction, he emphasized the village’s responsibility to uphold the U.S. Constitution — particularly the Fourth Amendment. He described warrantless searches and detentions by ICE as constitutional violations and cited them as justification for local protections.
MacCormack also highlighted his work training municipalities and businesses to develop policies that protect rights during interactions with federal agencies. This work resulted in clear policies, resolutions and executive orders within the Hudson Police Department and Columbia County Sheriff’s Department.
Some attendees expressed that even if trustees or police are unwilling to pass a law, adopting internal policies that reflect the spirit of the proposal would still be meaningful. Others expressed relief that village trustees chose not to move forward.
Next steps unclear
Although the meeting featured extensive public input — and legal counsel was present — no formal proposal was presented or made available for public review. In the end, trustees chose not to move forward with legislation.
While some trustees pointed to a “recently updated” police policy as reason to forgo a law, it’s unclear whether that policy addresses the concerns raised. A document posted on the village website appears to date back to 2021, stemming from Governor Cuomo’s Executive Order No. 203. That document does not explicitly mention immigration enforcement, ICE or warrant procedures.
Multiple requests to village officials for clarification went unanswered throughout the week. However, Chief Olenik said Monday night that the department’s policies are “currently being updated” in preparation for accreditation through the New York State Division of Criminal Justice Services — and were not readily available to the public. Asked if those updates would include language related to immigration, he said “no.”
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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