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Mr. G's Round Hill Lodge

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Mr. G's Round Hill Lodge...
At large, in exile, in the diaspora, yet very much, still alive...

Welcome back, with the warmest greeting that was always typical of Mr. G's Round Hill Lodge, formerly of Washingtonville, NY, now in residence in the great ether of the Universe. Welcome to the "Home" page, the turn-off from Route 208 onto the old dirt road between the stone cairns that most people never really noticed, hidden in the trees, covered by the shrubs and ivy, barely visible in day-light and all but non-existent after sun-set.

The dream of many years has, at long last, become reality: Mr. G's Round Hill Lodge, will be remembered of its own accord and well-deserved honour. Surely, there are those who have both fond and melancholy memories of the place. But in life, there are never those who travel the journey with all stellar and brilliant moments in the course. Still, no matter, time at G's always provided comfort, protection, solace, joy and jubilation at some point, even if only for the 3 minutes and 42 seconds of a particular song on the juke box, there, against the wall, set on the black, well-worn dance floor. Dorothy Morrison belted "Clouds in the sky! Looks like it's gonna rain!" and Diana Ross followed with "I roll the dice, 7-11. You'll either take me down or you'll take me to Heaven, and I'm so glad, I took a chance on ya, baby!" Sooner or later, we were all winners... because we had "G's"... "The Lodge".

For me, personally, had G's not existed, had George, the owner, and all the staff not been so compassionate, empathetic... I can say, with no uncertainty, this page, these words, this site, would not be available to you today. I consider it and honour and privilege, in the highest order, to build and present this site now, and I hope that it provides many people with great memories, encourages all to participate, to keep G's alive by coming here to read, post, "listen to the music" and to tell others their stories.

1969-1974...
Located approximately 1,5 miles (2,4km) from the main road (Route 208) along an old dirt road that wound through old wood-lands...
From 1969-1974, "The Lodge/Resort" was situated on a large swath of acerage with "The Main House", grand, white, "Federal style" with a full, welcoming front porch; "Stone House" built of large, grey, carved stones and had, in its main room, an impressive fire-place built of the same stone; and beyond this, a row of bungalows. To the front of these, ini the wooded area, a casual walk along a well-travelled foot-path away, an in-ground pool, filled to over-flow by a local spring.
From 1974-2024, after the fire, the property was purchased, cleaned, and a large, tasteful, "rustic" private house was built, the "Stone House" removed & the bungalows abandoned, the pool filled-in.
In 2025, the land was sold to developers who felled trees, graded the property, removing "life", annihilating all traces of history, so to erect housing units.

In the briefest life-time, Mr. G's provided all of us who sojourned there, whether for an hour or a season, with a haven and respite from the rest of the world that existed beyond the hilltop. All were welcome, no matter one's station in life, lifestyle, attire or means. There were friends who were family, family who were friends. Hearts were given life, Loves and Lovers were born, and when broken, those hearts were consoled and mended. All were protected, cared for and about. George ("Mr. G.") was our benefactor, his compassion was our sanctuary, protection, comfort, he was our dear companion.

When, in January of 1974, on a miserable, cold, wet Winter night, Mr. G's was turned into a pyre, leaving little other than charred remains of the Main House, as the smoke and cinders rose into the night sky, an era, a chapter in the book of "Life" was brought to a close. The music silenced, dancing stilled, voices muted, spirits sent into a diaspora from which none would return to "The Lodge".

For half a century following, the land at the top of that hill, at the end of the old dirt road flourished, grasses returned, trees grew stronger, and the property was obviously respected, cared for, attended in a fashion due. Mr. G's wasn't there and would never return but the air still held, for those of us who remained and remembered, the sounds of the music from the old juke-box and the conversations and laughter (and tears) of old Friends and Lovers. Though people didn't dance on the old black, linoleum floor, souls danced as breezes passing, causing blades of tall grasses and leaves of aging trees to sway. Mr. G's was still there... for those whose memories held dear, our time passed at "The Lodge".

Came the year 2025 and with it, what might be thought of, by some, as "the proper burial", careless and soul-less as it is. Meadow grasses, wildflowers and aging trees fell victim to the cold, dead steel of shovels and bulldozers. Earth was turned upside down, the green of "life" turned the beige of dry, arid soil. Acres of Life destroyed to resemble a freshly-excavated grave... no flowers laid.

Though "our George" is no longer with those of us who today, survive that short-lived Golden Era, and now, the land that was once "Mr. G's" is a veritable grave site, the memories still live with us who remain, and this site will, hopefully, serve to keep the legacy of George and Mr. G's very much alive, as he so deserved, deserves and will always deserve. Seldom are we truly gifted, blessed, by and with such a caring, compassionate soul, who embraced, in his way, all who came to his "resort", his place of refuge. May his memory be a continuus blessing, and may this web-site provide and worthy introcutiton to those who never had the chance to meet him, but may come to know his kindnesses.

VIEW VIDEO FULL-SCREEN

"And though time goes by I will always be in a club with you in 1973."
"1973" by James Blunt

(Click to see the video & listen to the music.)
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