Then in the sixties, cheap airfare and air conditioning combined to throw a monkey wrench into the works. The Ratpack esthetic gave way to The Beatles and Psychedelia. Why go to the Catskills when it was almost as cheap to go to Miami or Vegas? Dark days were ahead. WOODSTOCK put the final nail in the coffin. By the 70's property values had crashed. Corrupt local government allowed Hassidic bungalow development to sprawl unchecked and locals either sold off and left or hunkered down for the long depressed haul.
I consider myself a local who left and came back. By 1995 these mountains were once again obscure, depressed and very unhip. I loved it. Property was cheap and nobody knew what a cappuccino was. Let the others have Woodstock or the Hamptons or Hudson. I was happy to drink bad java, heat by wood and listen to the radio. But nothing remains the same. In 15 years others have discovered the beauty of living in these gnarled mountains. Who am I to keep it all to myself? City folk are coming up more and more. The hotels are gone and Indian casinos have been trying for 20 years to set up shop. Don't hold your breath. Sure I love my isolation, but if I'm going to open the church I do need a congregation. Right now we have a small base of locals, transplants, supermodels and celebs- sinners all. It's becoming just like the old days. Remember- Bring a friend. Burn a Buck. The Little Green Hillbillywood is waiting.
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