Town Offers Compassion to Suspect in Barn Burnings

WOODSTOCK, N.Y. — For months, the people of Woodstock patrolled their yards by flashlight or watched anxiously from their windows, fearful of an arsonist burning down barns.

When a neighbor, Vernon Shultis, was finally arrested in the 10 fires, fear gave way to a very different feeling.

Not anger, not a sense of betrayal. But compassion.

A mild-mannered, 58-year-old truck driver for the town, Shultis was known as a man who lent a hand. He mowed people’s fields, plowed their driveways, answered calls as a volunteer firefighter.

His many supporters in Woodstock say it’s their turn to help. And they’ve rallied to his defense--not out of any sense that he’s been wrongfully accused, but out of sympathy for the man.

They packed court to help get Shultis’ bail reduced. Dozens have written to lawyers and newspapers arguing that Shultis is a good but troubled man who does not deserve to go to prison. Even one of the victims has spoken up.

“He’s the salt of the earth,” said RoseAnn Vinicor, whose family saw four of their barns singed during the arson spree. “When you talk about Vern, he is like ‘The Rock.’ He is the pillar of the community.”

Investigators say Shultis caused close to $1 million in damage between May and November of last year by placing road flares in barns around this town 80 miles north of New York City.

Shultis was arrested after a neighbor, Heidi Motzkin, spotted him at the scene of a barn fire across the street at the Vinicors’ on Nov. 21. Motzkin said she could hardly believe her eyes.

This was the same man who was always doing good turns for her, such as clearing fallen tree limbs from her yard or freeing her snowbound car. He always refused payment, joking that he was her “fairy godfather.”

Shultis is a lifelong resident of Woodstock, and his family has been in the area since the 1700s. In fact, many of the burned barns stood on land the family sold off.

No longer land-rich, the extended Shultis family still remains woven into the fabric of the town. Many people around town worked with Shultis during his decades with the highway department and the volunteer fire company.

“Everyone is somehow connected here. It’s almost incestuous in a certain sense,” said Town Supervisor Tracy Kellogg. “And also it’s a very intelligent community. People are looking at this and saying a person needs help and the family needs support. Everybody is saying what he did was wrong. It’s another question what the punishment is.”

Shultis has been charged in one fire; prosecutors are expected to pursue indictments this month in the other blazes. Arson carries up to 15 years in prison. Shultis’ supporters maintain he needs psychiatric help instead.

Dist. Atty. Michael Kavanagh said he is bothered by the call for a light punishment.

“I think it’s somewhat ironic that the man who was causing so much destruction in the town and was the object of so much fear is now embraced by some of the community leaders,” Kavanagh said. “I think these folks are guilty of leading with the hearts, and not with their heads.”

Herbert Mayer, whose barn was burned to the ground and who also lost some canoes and a motorcycle in the blaze, said Shultis, like anyone else, should be held responsible for his actions.

“You know that the Woodstock festivals never happened here,” Mayer said, referring to the ’69 and ’94 rock shows that were held in nearby Bethel and Saugerties. “And yet there’s this feeling that this is the center of freedom here. I think it attracts people who like the idea that almost anything goes.”

Shultis, electronically monitored and not allowed to leave his house without permission, is undergoing psychiatric testing, said his attorney, John Cook, who otherwise refused to discuss the case.

That has left residents pondering whether the fires were a form of revenge on the families who took over his family’s old barns.

Vinicor, who lives in the old farmhouse Shultis grew up in, believes he would never knowingly burn down the beloved barns of his childhood.

She said Shultis was among the firefighters called to one of her barn fires. Shultis, she recalled, looked stricken, as if he was going to cry, and said, “Can you imagine how bad I feel? I grew up here.”

“I know that the guy I was talking to at that point didn’t know he burned the barn,” Vinicor said.