Not far from New York, you can discover a village with beautiful landscape and architecture as well as two unusual museums worth a visit.
We decided to on a weekend getaway to Pawling, New York. Leaving late on Friday night, we experienced no traffic and were able to reach our destination in less than an hour and a half.
Situated in Dutchess county, Pawling, New York, keeps its charm and historical flair. Driving on Quaker Hill, you can find magnificent properties, past and present, as well as clapboard farmhouses.
Settled by the Quakers in 1728, the Hill has magnificent views. On the Appalachian trail, Pawling is a good area for hiking, where you can wander through forested areas and open fields.
The Hill was a resort destination: in 1881, the Mizzen Top Hotel, named after the highest point on a ship, the mizzen mast, was erected. With views of the Harlem Valley, the luxury hotel became a desired destination for 50 years. Unfortunately, because of a financial burden it was closed and torn in 1934.
While driving around and enjoying the magnificent scenery we had the chance to visit the Akin Free Library on Quaker Hill. Built by John A Wood in 1908, it has a Victorian eclectic design with a cooper cornice and a clock tower. The building was a gift from Albert J. Akin, a visionary among the Quakers who settled in the area in the early 19th century.
Now a historical library, the stone structure offers two museums crammed with curiosities; the Quaker Hill Historical Society and the Olive M. Gunnison Museum of Natural History.
I didn’t know quite what to expect, but a friendly volunteer greeted us at the door, giving us a quick rundown of the library’s history. He urged us not to miss the downstairs exhibit. We took his advice and headed down the creaky stairs to the Olive M. Gunnison Museum of Natural History. The museum felt like stepping into a "cabinet of curiosities" from another century.
Shrunken heads, preserved local birds, jars of fetuses, snake skins from exotic places, native honed seashells, and mushrooms, some poisonous, all arranged in an eclectic, almost chaotic display. Clothing and accessories from different parts of the world were also shown. It was fascinating, though at times eerie. Every corner seemed to offer something unexpected, and you could feel Olive Gunnison’s presence in every carefully preserved object, all labelled meticulously by her.
What struck me most was how personal this museum felt. It wasn’t just a collection of random specimens; it reflected Gunnison’s life—her passions, her curiosity about the natural world, and her desire to share that with others. She had been collecting "ever since she could remember," the volunteer told us.
It was almost like walking through her mind, each item telling a piece of her story. I couldn’t help but think of Tammy S. Gordon’s Private History in Public, and how one person’s private passion can become a public resource. This museum was a perfect example of that—Gunnison’s personal love of nature transformed into something everyone could learn from and enjoy.
Upstairs, the Quaker Hill Historical Society felt like an entirely different world. The room was quiet, filled with simple, meaningful artifacts from the Quaker settlers who founded the area. Handmade garments, old tools, old documents and letters that had faded with time, the exhibit here was not flashy, offering an intimate glimpse into the lives of the people who built this town.
Gordon’s book talks about how public history can elevate these smaller, quieter stories and make them accessible to everyone. That’s exactly what this museum does. It makes the past feel immediate and personal, and in doing so, it helps preserve the memory of this community for future generations.
As we left the library, I couldn’t stop thinking about how these two museums—though so different—fit together. They both felt deeply personal, like they were created out of love for the things they represented. Olive Gunnison’s lifelong obsession with natural history and the Historical Society’s commitment to preserving Quaker heritage both spoke to the idea of private history becoming public. In their own ways, both museums offered a space where personal narratives could become part of the collective memory, giving us, as visitors, a chance to explore these worlds and connect with them in a meaningful way.
In the end, Pawling’s charm wasn’t just in its beautiful landscapes or historic homes—it was in the way its history was kept alive through places like the Akin Free Library. It reminded me of the power of preserving these personal, intimate histories and sharing them with the world.
Pawling is well worth a visit. But before leaving, don’t forget to bring home some desert from McKinney and Doyle Bakery. Or if you have time, have dinner in their restaurant next door. I bet you will be back. But please, don’t tell too many people!
Bibliography
Gordon, Tammy S. Private History in Public: Exhibition and the Settings of Everyday Life. AltaMira Press, 2010.
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