By Scott Graber
It is Monday and I’m sitting in the lobby of the Fryemont Inn.
Amos and Lillian Frye were lawyers — she was the first female member of the North Carolina bar — and in the 1920s they built a rambling resort hotel on a ledge above Bryson City, N.C.
Amos Frye was in the logging business and had access to the vast oak, maple, locust and poplar forests in Western North Carolina. Amos and Lillian used oak and maple for the floors; locust for the beams; and put poplar bark shingles on the exterior. There were also huge (stone) fireplaces in the lobby and dining room.
But this morning there is no fire in either.
“We’ve used to have one bad stretch of heat in July, but this year we’ve had 90 degree weather for 13 straight days,” said the desk clerk as I sipped my first cup of coffee.
The American South was saved by World War II when the U.S. Army found it was better to train its soldiers in say, Fayetteville, rather than in Cedar Rapids. Many of those recruits — my father among them — married Southern women, and the scar tissue from the Civil War finally began to slough-away.
Refrigeration also played a role in that our long, hot summer could be made more bearable as long as one stayed indoors; in the semi-prone position; and paid the relatively inexpensive “light bill.”
Years ago I worked for a local lawyer, GG Dowling, who told me that before air conditioning, most legal activity (in Beaufort) came to a halt in July and August. He said there was little courtroom activity and, “if there had to be a trial, it was usually scheduled at night.”
“I remember sitting at Counsel’s table, feeling the sweat run down my back; watching the sweat flow down my arms, through my fingers mixing with the ink on my legal pad,” he said.
I, myself, remember lying atop the sheets on a screened-in porch at Ocean Drive Beach. Sunburned, Noxema-slathered, all the while trying to sleep when there was no breeze off the ocean.
I also remember riding in my first air-conditioned Camaro thinking this blast of artificial coldness was as revolutionary as Streptomycin; or even Saran Wrap; certainly it was right up there with the Panasonic, under the dash, 8-track tape stereo — then playing Neil Sedaka’s “Teenager in Love.”
Now we read about the benefits of “cold plunge” therapy. This requires a ($3,000) fiberglass bucket filled-up with 50-degree water. It then requires one to lower oneself into that water for three to five minutes at least three times a week. If one can’t pay the tab (for one’s own plunge bucket) there are several places on Hilton Head and in Savannah where one might rent such a bucket.
Studies show this weekly routine can reduce one’s heart rate, burn-off body fat, improve insulin resistance and, importantly, trigger the brain’s production of Dopamine. And, of course, Dopamine is the gateway to happiness, motivation and focus.
The production of Dopamine is essential because our constant heat drains away the gratification that comes with the operation of the Husqvarna Z254F riding lawn mower. Any notion of watching the athletic ability of Savannah Bananas quickly fades when one factors in the heat. This is, however, when we schedule our Annual Water Festival.
In my old age, I have found that my natural optimism and my innate love of infants and large black labs have largely disappeared. Once I was a lawyer and conditioned to expect rule-breaking, misadventure and human frailty. After 50 years of experience under my ever-lengthening belt, I have learned that reversal and tragedy are inescapably attached to life’s experiential mix.
“Yes, Virginia, I do need my Dopamine.”
Amos and Lillian Frye tucked their swimming pool into the side of their mountain, surrounded it with trees that are now huge, constructing a pathway with slate pavers that give the pool a magical, hidden-garden quality. This large pool is spring-fed, cold, and allows one to cool off after a day of hiking the trail to the Alum Caves just below Mt. Leconte.
The Fryemont does not have central air conditioning, and they make that clear in their advertising. They have put fans into their historic windows, and it does dramatically cool-off at night.
However their spring-fed pool is where one will find one’s daily dose of Dopamine — and a sense of happiness and well-being.
Scott Graber is a lawyer, novelist, veteran columnist and longtime resident of Port Royal. He can be reached at cscottgraber@gmail.com.
