History
of the Willoughby Cliffs Natural Area

Arcadia Retreat, "A Flossy Establishment"

Excerpted from:"Willoughby Lake Legends and Legacies," Harriet F. Fisher. Academy Books, Rutland, Vermont. Copyright © 1988.
Reprinted with permission of the author.

More than 60 years ago a hotel high on Mt. Pisgah' s southerly slope gave up the ghost in a blazing fire that was seen for miles around. However, an air of mystery still hovers over crumbling foundations and overgrown surroundings. The forest has not only reclaimed the large expanse of lawn, but even blocked out the view of New Hampshire's White Mountains in the distance. The large foundation has nurtured a grove of white birches. Not many years ago, a bear occasionally wandered down the mountain, and logging operations occurred adjacent to the property.

Arcadia Brook runs easily down the mountainside. Following near the brook, the road which begins at the Caledonia-Orleans County line on the main highway, was firm gravel much of the way when I walked it twenty years ago just to see the site of this mysterious hotel. There were one or two washouts and one bridge was partly demolished. The road became very steep at times, and at the last I had to wallow through a growth of blackberry bushes to reach the site.

Arcadia Retreat was built by Floyd T. Voris of Chicago in 1895 on or near the former Coocher farm site. The farm had been reached by the county road which passed near Long Pond, but on June 29, 1896, the town of Westmore voted to build a road directly up the mountain to the hotel.

Voris had purchased the 400-acre tract from Julius and Rosie Parker of Westmore for $400. The building measured about 120 feet by 30 feet or 40 feet; it had wide porches on the front and sides. It was a spacious two-story structure with dining and living rooms finished in natural wood wainscoting.

According to rumors, the hotel may have been an artists' haven, or a kind of early 1900s "love-in." Another rumor said people with tuberculosis or nervous disorders came there to recuperate. Perhaps that it why it was called a "Retreat." There was also a story that Mr. Voris was interested in a school in Chicago, and built the hotel partly so that the scholars could come there to spend their summers. It is certain that the last owner at least, and probably most of the others, operated it simply as a not-too-prosperous summer hotel.

Another popular rumor was that boarders at the Retreat had little or nothing to do with either the residents or the other summer people at Willoughby Lake. Perhaps, indeed, Arcadia was patronized only by the very exclusive. However, the truth may be that the hotel time table simply scheduled too few horse and buggy trips up and down the steep mountain road, and the guests had few opportunities to mingle.

The property changed hands in its short life, first in April 1898, when Voris sold it to Amanda Morier for $10,000; only two years later she sold it for $3,000, and was probably glad to get that.

In 1901 it changed hands twice. Lepha Husselman of Worcester, Massachusetts, bought it in June, and her husband sold it to Frank D. Warner of Springfield, Massachusetts, in August. According to Norman Atwood of St. Johnsbury, during the winger of 1902, "men drove up to the Arcadia with sledges and stole all of the plumbing." In 1902 Burt E. Doyle purchased it and sold it in 1903 to Lang, Hosford, and Wright. In May, 1904 E.B. O'Dell of Jefferson Valley, New York, purchased it for $1,200 and operated it, presumably with new plumbing, until 1912. The value of the property seems to have declined quite rapidly. Perhaps it was simply too exclusive and quiet.

An article in the Pathfinder for January 14, 1944 referred to Arcadia Retreat as "Vermont's Gay 90's mystery," and went on to say: "Back at the turn of the century, the sleepy mountain village of Westmore, Vermont had only one attraction - the Arcadia Retreat about which the townsfolk knew little or nothing." The article's author called the Retreat "an elite hostelry for the fashionable set" and a "flossy establishment" and said the clientele was "exclusive society folk." From a place of exclusiveness and swank, the article concluded, Arcadia Retreat had deteriorated into an abode for birds and bats.

Westmore might well have retorted that the village was far from sleepy, and that it had more than one attraction, not counting the lake and the mountains. The area had been a summer resort since 1852. If the visitors who chose Arcadia had craved excitement, they could instead have made reservations for one of the hotels on the lake shore. Indeed, newcomers may not have realized until their arrival how far from the lake the Retreat was actually located. However, if some of the rumors were true, the guests may have had their own entertainment at Arcadia; it was said that there were some merry parties up there. As for its being a resort of the "fashionable set," a few people remembered seeing fashionably dressed folk alighting from the train at West Burke and heading for Arcadia.

Possibly due to the ill health of the last operator, E.B. O'Dell, Arcadia Retreat was closed to the public about 1912. It is said that one enterprising employee, who was doing clerical at Arcadia, called the help together to see if they would stay on. He suggested they work together, take guests for the summer and divide the profits. There is no evidence that this scheme was put into action.

It seems evident that Mr. O'Dell intended to return to Arcadia Retreat, but may have been prevented by illness. He died not long after. His daughter, Rosie, and Mrs. O'Dell, her step-mother, did not try to operate the hotel without him, but they paid taxes on the property until it was sold in 1964. For a while Rosie O'Dell worked at the Darling Inn in Lyndonville. For some time there were wild rumors about the abandoned building. There was talk that perishable supplies had been left behind, even a chicken in a pot on the stove. According to the rumors no human being was around, but a caretaker did look after the horses and the building for a time. Perhaps the chicken was his supper!

Untended for years, the building was gradually dismantled by anyone who felt inclined to help himself. The safe was broken open and papers from it were scattered about the floor. The silverware was stolen; even windows were taken. Birds and bats had free access to flutter through the rooms and find themselves swanky roosting accommodations.

A spooky atmosphere must have prevailed when breezes blew gently through the tenantless hotel, slithering the papers across the floor, and swinging the doors eerily on creaky hinges. In time even the doors disappeared; this made even more openings for dead leaves, rain or snow. One man told of snowshoeing through the snow-carpeted hallway when hunting in the vicinity. People's curiosity was whetted whenever they caught a glimpse of the deserted hotel among the distant tree tops on the southerly slope of Mt. Pisgah. It became a favorite spot for picnic parties and hikers. One time before the hotel was vandalized, two autos full of local people climbed to it. They were settling down for their picnic when a man rushed up to ask them what they thought they were doing. He had been told that a band of gypsies were seen heading up the mountain; when they told him who they were and where they were from, he unlocked the hotel and showed them all around, much to their delight.

Some groups went there by cars which had to be pushed up the last steep rise, or had to be left behind while the trip was completed on foot. In 1915 a group of girls hiked to the Retreat and noticed the hotel was well locked. Looking in the windows, they could see the table all set. In 1916, it was still locked securely but the picnickers enjoyed the big porch.

In later years one member of this hiking group often suggested to her friends that they picnic at the Retreat. There was no longer a caretaker in attendance, bushes had grown up around the buildings, and windows were broken. Each time they went up they noticed more and more of the furnishings were gone until at last the kitchen stove and a safe were all that were left. One woman said this had been the biggest robbery in Vermont history; when she and her husband went there, he would not let her so much as step on the porch for fear someone would see them and think they were going to steal something.

After the building burned, it was suggested that some hunters might have built a fire inside to get warm; perhaps this caused the fire in the fall of 1923.

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