Inside the Dutch Barn
by Aaron Ahlstrom

At first, one might think that a German-built, Dutch-style Barn from the late 18th century affords scant insight into how we live in the 21st century. A visit to the Dutch Barn at the Palatine Farmstead in Rhinebeck, though, shows that we can learn a great deal from our region’s dense and engrossing past.

The Palatine Farmstead sits beside Route 9, just south of Red Hook, in the area that once used to be center of Rhinebeck. Passing cars might miss the unassuming house and simple barn’s significance as very rare surviving examples of first generation Palatine immigrant building techniques. Bob Hedges, the site’s lead restorationist, informed me that the barn and house are exceptional examples of American vernacular architecture and are worth investigating.

German immigrants originally built this “Dutch” barn in the style of the region’s prevailing occupants. Though the people in this migration have collectively come to be known as the Palatines, the varied group of early 18th-century German settlers came from areas all over southwest Germany, and not simply the disparate grouping of lands that composed the Palatinate.

Besieged by religious conflict at home, and armed with dubious and vague tales of a bountiful and accepting America, many Germans in this region emigrated first to England, and then eventually to the Hudson Valley. Robert Livingston agreed to sponsor the immigrants so that they could produce tar for Queen Anne’s navy. When this endeavor did not pan out, the German settlers began to look elsewhere for homes and livelihoods. Of course, the general story differs family-to-family, region-to-region. The Palatine Farmstead offers a glimpse into the life of at least one such family.

As soon as the barn’s doors opened, I could see how unique this structure is: the doors open inward, and they do so noiselessly. “So you don’t have to shovel to get in,” quipped Bob Hedges, but really, this feature kept its users from cluttering the doorway with equipment, important when all spare space inside was needed to thresh grain. The doors make no sound, since they are Har-hung, a once common, now extremely rare, way of hanging doors using hinges composed entirely of wood.

Bob Hedges, along with Alvin Sheffer, a very knowledgeable regional historian, continued to point out the barn’s myriad fascinating details as we walked through its relatively small space. The restoration led by Bob Hedges came to an end only recently, and he spoke of the process as “nearly an archaeological project,” due to the dearth of extant structural elements. Regardless, he applied exacting methods to recreate 18th-century building techniques. The years of hard work show in the barn’s precise and organic timber frame.

Walking around one of the supporting beams, Bob pointed out a builder’s marks at the juncture of two beams. These sort of marks were necessary when the building method involved scribe joints, a timber framing method in which each individual joint was distinct and measured separately. In a world of pre-fabricated homes and uniform house designs, these builder’s marks and scribe joints are testament to a more meticulous, natural, and involved way of construction that committed craftsmen and historians like Bob Hedges and Alvin Sheffer will not let die out.

My immediate reaction to this Dutch barn is to see it through the lens of the present, as either a work of art or a relic of the past. But Alvin and Bob were careful to emphasize that, to its original builders, the barn was first and foremost a tool to earn a living. Over the barn’s working life, workers threshed untold bushels of grain on its floor. Animals, which provided food and income, lived in the side aisles. Every aspect of the barn’s composition speaks to its utilitarian past. To prevent the loss of precious grain, the floorboards are joined so tightly that even a piece of paper could not slide between them. One wall still retains the faint traces of quickly scribbled grain weights made by transient workers.

“Farming drove the economy,” said Alvin, “and people tend to forget that.” People often built their barn before their house, Bob pointed out. Indeed, the Hudson Valley used to be known as the “breadbasket of the nation,” supplying a growing nation with grain and other agricultural products. After the Palatine immigrants realized that making tar from local pines was a losing proposition, many leased small plots from local wealthy landowners. This arrangement rarely worked in the tenants’ favor, since manor lords took larges shares of the produce as payment. Nevertheless, tenants produced and manor lords sold and shipped vast amounts of grain down the Hudson. It was not until the early 19th century, with the construction of the Erie Canal and railroads, that it became possible—and more profitable—to grow grain in the West and ship it east. Agriculture then slowly waned in the Hudson Valley.

The Dutch Barn speaks to the fascinating lives and livelihoods of generations past. It demonstrates the importance of agriculture in the Hudson Valley and provides some historical understanding for the current revival of and interest in local farming. The construction techniques allow people to witness a form of building at once practical and beautiful, simple and precise. By restoring this amazing structure, Bob Hedges and others have made an important artifact and story available to everyone.

The Palatine Farmstead house and barn will be open to the public during Heritage Weekend, May 14 15, from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. The Farmstead is located at 6916 Route 9, Rhinebeck (0.3 miles north from the intersection with Route 9G).