The original Adirondack chair was made with eleven pieces of wood, cut from a single board. It had a straight back and seat, which were set at a slant to sit better on the steep mountain inclines of the area. It also featured wide armrests, which became a hallmark of the Adirondack chair….”
What if this chair could talk? I can’t be the only one who ponders such things. What would it tell us about its witness? What has it seen and heard? In how many places has it lived? What about its fun index? In other words, what percentage of its employ has been amidst happy circumstances versus bad?
The fun index of my Adirondack chair is heavily weighted towards the positive. I figure most of these chairs are; actually. The Adirondack chair is built for relaxation—nothing slick or fancy here. If anything was ever devoid of dice fuzzy, it’s this baby. Wide arm rests designed to accommodate a cocktail and a couple of books. Maybe a small tray of Wheat Thins and Vienna Sausages. Shut up. Add a little sunshine and a light breeze and napping is inevitable.
I first spent significant time riding an Adirondack chair when I lived in Montclair New Jersey. The Southern expat mafia of which I was a charter member, used to hang out over at JBA’s and ACA’s…drinking, scheming and lamenting our indentured servitude—and if the weather was decent, we’d be doing so outside, in Adirondack chairs.
There was an old guy back then—this was in the late 1980’s—who made Adirondacks to order. They weren’t real expensive and they weren’t fancy. True for the most part to the original utilitarian design of the original Adirondack chair. JBA and ACA had the old guy make one for me and I’ve been parking my carcass in it ever since.
A maiden coat or two of hunter green deck paint begins the patinated journey. Annual repainting perpetuates the character shaping patination as well as promises that you’ll never get any of the screws or bolts loosened. It’s all good.
So where do you get a good, sturdy Adirondack chair these days? I can tell you unequivocally that if you want an attenuated, overpriced ersatz version, just go to…Target, Crate and Barrel or any of the fancy little joints purveying such goods and you can score one. Their versions are too slick, too flimsy and will never manifest the patina of a well built Adirondack—true to the original. They look to me, kinda like a blue collar worker with a buff and a clear coat of nail polish. Just wrong. I suppose that you could beat one of those slick versions with a bicycle chain...you know...to "weather it". My thinking is that you'd end up breaking the chair before you rendered it "weathered". That’s a long-winded “I don’t know”…unless you live near me. There are a couple of options on route 50, just before you get to Middleburg Virginia. They offer sturdy Adirondack chairs made by Amish makers and they are rock solid.
So the first destination for my Adirondack was the front lawn of my N.J. hovel where if you craned your neck from said chair, you could see the Gotham skyline. Next stop would be Old Town Alexandria…the hamlet that won my residence by virtue of a coin toss. Had it been heads, I would have landed in Baltimore. Had this been the outcome, I’m certain that this Gibson Island versus Adirondack moniker issue would have manifested sooner.
The Big Easy…more specifically, Old Metairie would become the next host for my Adirondack. I think the “sitting out season” was shorter in New Orleans than New Jersey because of the damned humidity. I can say that my chair faced tougher environmental challenges in the front yard of my Metairie shotgun house. It rained two feet one night. Back to Old Town Alexandria, then to my marital home just a couple of miles south of Old Town and then, alas, back to Old Town again. Hell I’m tired just recounting the journey.
I remember spending a weekend in Newport Rhode Island with LFG's mom. We rented bikes and ended up at the Castle Hill Inn. Stunning vistas, Adirondack chairs and a waitress out on the lawn who we nicknamed Mulva. Half dozen Bloody Marys each and the Castle Hill Folks called a cab for us and our two bikes.
I remember spending a weekend in Newport Rhode Island with LFG's mom. We rented bikes and ended up at the Castle Hill Inn. Stunning vistas, Adirondack chairs and a waitress out on the lawn who we nicknamed Mulva. Half dozen Bloody Marys each and the Castle Hill Folks called a cab for us and our two bikes.
So is it an Adirondack or Gibson Island Chair? I’ve googled both and the evidence out there seems to be overwhelmingly in favor of an Adirondack antecedent—not a Gibson Island one. I found the above photo online with an accompanying designation of "Gibson Island Chair". Might the single plank back rest identify it as such? Search me...and Google.
Here's what Google images gives up for Gibson Island Chairs.....
Here's what Google images gives up for Gibson Island Chairs.....
Hardly overwhelming evidence of provenance. Had it not been for some ersatz assignation between some bloggers text and his accompanying pictures...I'm thinking the images search would have come up...zip.
But then I hit the jackpot with a Google general search. Not.
And then for some reason, Google turned up a few more results for the correct moniker. Fancy that.
Just under fifty thousand images. Oh, and before you comment with the "re-do your search sans parentheses and/or try searching chairs as opposed to chair"...been there done that.
Y’all know that I make the rules around here. I decide what you can wear and when you can wear it. To that end, I’ll decide what this damned chair is and what you’ll call it. Lime Green Gal admonished me to call it a Gibson Island chair since I’m south of the Mason-Dixon Line. Sorry, I ain’t buyin’ it.
So show me something more convincing than… “people call them Adirondack chairs when south of the Mason-Dixon”. Better yet, come on over and we’ll sit out with a cocktail and argue about it—between bites of Vienna Sausages and Wheat Thins…parked on and in…Adirondack chairs.
Onward—Adirondackally…shut up.
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