The Old Badger
The joy of the old pavilion still makes people smile
Editor’s note: This column was first published May 11, 1977.
An announcement: The Mt. Otsego ski slopes are not on the slopes of Mt. Otsego. Ta-daah! Mt. Otsego is almost a mile beyond the skiing area and 500 feet above it. Ta-dum! And Mt. Otsego is “… the highest point of land in Central New York, 1,000 feet above and overlooking Otsego Lake.” Tan-ta-rah! (The last item was the (erroneous) claim put out by one of the large hotels when hustling the public with the beauties of Cooperstown in 1890.)
The only problem with continuing in this manner is the confusing intelligence that the real Mt. Otsego goes by two names: Mt. Otsego and Rum Hill. These prominences are not separate. They are one and the same. Not juxtaposed, not side by side, not next to each other, but the same hill, with two names.
The original name was Rum Hill. Harken to G. Pomeroy Keese, writing in Lippincott’s Magazine in May of 1880:
“When the whites first came into this part of the country, they sought to obtain from the Indians the right to hunt unmolested over a certain part of it. As this was the highest land hereabouts, they agreed to meet on the hill where they could see over the broadest expanse of country; and in order to close the treaty on the spot, they brought their presents with them that the Indians might have no chance to change their minds. Among the important things to the Indians’ minds or palate was the ‘fire water,’ which was to seal the compact. A barrel of rum was therefore, with some difficulty, conveyed to the top of the hill and, the treaty being concluded, the bung was knocked out and the liquor freely dispersed. It was not long before the potent spirit had its effect and the Indians fell to quarreling and fighting over the prize. In the tussle, the barrel went rolling down the steep side of the hill and, the bung being out, the liquor flew with every revolution. The Indians, seeing their treasure escaping, started in pursuit. Some fell in their drunken frenzy, others tumbled over them, while the barrel careered on its way until the contents were gone forever; and from that day forward the spot was known as Rum Hill.”
