Monthly Archives: August 2020

Historic Buildings: What Do We Save?

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A few weeks ago I was on the fringes, mostly observing, of an on-line discussion about tearing down a historic building. This was the old Campbell Presbyterian church, which in latter years has been used part-time as an antique store (and has also been looking pretty tired). It’s been sold to Dollar General, and the Town, as I understand it, has approved plans to tear the place down and build a new store on the site.

Arguments on-line took one (or both) of two tacks: either the church should not be torn down, or the Dollar General should not be built. The church is historic by its age (mid-19th century), its Tiffany windows (being sold separately), and its associations (hyper-prolific author Grace Livingston Hill attended and taught Sunday school as a teenager).

At the same time it’s a sad reality that not everything historical can be saved. Some things are not really WORTH saving. Perhaps there are already many similar examples being saved, or perhaps it’s just not significant enough. Not everything OLD is actually IMPORTANT.

Even in some cases where maybe things SHOULD be saved, it’s no longer POSSIBLE to save or repurpose them. They’ve deteriorated so far… or they’ve been altered so much… that preserving them just isn’t a practical project.

There’s another important truth too, though since I’m a historian people might be surprised to hear me say it. We don’t WANT to save everything. Because if we never get rid of anything old, we can’t have anything new. And NEW is vitally important! We need the challenge, the innovation, and the adventurousness of the new. EVERYTHING was new once. Back in Tudor days people were looking at half-timbered houses and grumbling about how that ridiculous modern architecture was spoiling the beauty of their town. And why in the world would anyone want tile on the roof, instead of thatch?

Some thought that the church should be revived (easier said than done), and some thought there was no point to a new Dollar General, when there were others just a short drive away. But the same is true, of course, for Presbyterian churches. Why should there be one in Campbell, when there are sister churches in Bath and in Corning?

Some commentators felt that the Town officials were just trying to get the site back on the tax rolls, overlooking the fact that it had been a business, rather than a church, for decades. Others felt that proliferation of dollar stores was bad idea. You can certainly argue from that point of view, but officials must work from the laws as they are. If a Dollar General fits the laws, and it meets the requirements, then there’s not much choice but to issue the approvals.

We insist that we have a capitalist free (though regulated) market economy, as Arkport officials pointed out recently, when residents complained that a new Dollar General there would hurt existing business. Sad to say it probably will, but as a general rule the local government is not charged to protect one business against another.

When the school district in Bath sold the old Lyon School at Liberty and Washington, there was a plan to put a Rite-Aid there. That would have been very sad, but it would have been perfectly legal. Within limits, owners can sell their property for profit, and demolish or rebuild for profit. My take is that even if the SCHOOL were to be gone, the grassy SQUARE should be preserved. But that should be done by statute or regulation beforehand, not pulled out of a hat against a specific plan or business.

Fifty Cents a Year for Monarch Butterflies

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The first bird my mother taught me to recognize was a robin. And the first butterfly she taught me was the monarch.

This was in South County, Rhode Island, but I imagine that millions have had much the same experience, learning the big, bright-red monarch before anything else.

The monarch does no one any harm (and who of us can say the same about ourselves?). It lays its eggs on milkweed leaves, and the caterpillars crunch away at the leaves before spinning cocoons and going into their sleep. Since milkweeds are considered a nuisance plant, the caterpillars are actively doing good in the world.

Once they emerge as butterflies, the monarchs sip nectar from flowers, or lick salt from mud flats. They fill the world with beauty, keep the milkweed in check, and never do harm.

But just about every year, they grow fewer and fewer. I had been concerned by seeing so few this year, and now I’m reading reports of severe losses over the past year, in part due to bad weather.

These beautiful butterflies are especially endangered because of their own migration patterns. They spread out east of the Rockies up as far as southern Canada, but most of them overwinter in Mexico, in a space smaller than Schuyler County. Whenever ANYTHING goes wrong in that small space, millions of monarchs may die. Even felling a single tree might kill a thousand hibernating butterflies.

There are many good causes – there are even many good causes simply looking at our environment – and it’s impossible to support them all. My money goes to the National Audubon Society, with its century-long history of fighting for us by fighting for the earth. Audubon helps monarchs in several ways, such as preserving habitat (including milkweed) and helping with tagging studies.

But while I focus on Audubon, earlier this month I grabbed an Environmental Defense Fund mailing to one of our sons, and was almost immediately writing a $35 check.

That check will help underwrite an acre of Monarch Butterfly Habitat Exchange land. (And with a 2-for-1 matching grant, that parleys into three acres.) E.D.F. pays farmers (mostly) to keep land as suitable monarch habitat (often including milkweed), or to restore monarch land.

This helps maintain migratory corridors, much as Seneca Park Zoo in Rochester is doing with its delightful Butterfly Beltway program, which has now been in operation for nearly 20 years.

Humphrey Nature Center, at Letchworth State Park, has been operating a program that raises, tags, and releases monarchs.

Donating $35 is the least I can do for a species that has given me nothing but joy for almost 70 years. Fifty cents a year. That’s worth it, for sure.

Time-Traveling Through the 1920s — Part Two!

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Two weeks ago in this space we took an imaginary time-travel trip, to visit places and buildings that enjoy their centennials here in this decade – starting with the Village of South Corning (1920), and working our way up to the Babcock Building (once Babcock movie theater) in Bath (1924).
Sliding to Painted Post, a few blocks down from the 1923 municipal building, we can jump ahead to 1925 and see Painted Post High School, which was advanced enough to be written up in contemporary architecture magazines.
Swing way up to the northwest, past North Cohocton, and another timeslip brings us to the striking Tudor Revival-style Rowe House, built in 1926 and now on the National Register of Historic Places.
Way to the south, and yet another year ahead in 1927, Woodhull High School was opened. This was a gratifyingly large and advanced institutuion for that rural area. Like Painted Post High School, Woodhull’s was impressive enough for the architecture magazines to take note. It’s now the town hall.
Tucked up in Steuben County’s northwest corner, if we go another year ahead to 1928, we can get in on the official opening of Stony Brook State Park. It was still largely undeveloped at the time, but Al Smith and Robert Moses had the vision to see what it could become. We should still thank them for it.
Another time-skip, to 1929, and we can watch the first kids walking down the short Valerio Street to Addison Central School, yet another example of communities and school planners building for the modern age, and preparing their children to thrive in it. (The state was financially encouraging new school construction at the time.)
Then in Bath we can join a well-dressed crowd (including kids in colonial costume) at Pulteney Park, where the Daughters of the American Revolution have gathered to dedicate a memorial to Charles Williamson. Williamson, who energetically developed this region in the 1790s, certainly deserves a memorial, but we can be amused by the D.A.R. sponsoring it. Williamson WAS in the army for the Revolutionary War, but on the OTHER side. Still, he founded Bath AND Steuben County.
Finally, we can make our way to Corning, where a large and well-known hotel has been demolished for replacement by an even larger, and far more modern, hostelry. The Baron Steuben Hotel is open for business, right at Centerway Square on Market Street. And its massive elegance still looks great, as it makes a home for the Chamber of Commerce, the city visitors center, the County Visitors Bureau, Finger Lakes Wine Country promotions, and more. It’s seen a LOT going by down on Market Street in the last century or so. And it looks like it’s not going anywhere for the century to come.

Let’s Have a Wander!

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In times like these, as public and personal health – not to mention the lives of our loved ones – call on us to maintain a certain isolation, we can get to feeling cooped up and coo-coo. What can we DO with the long summer days?

In our case, we’ll sometimes go wandering. Even if you’re not up to hiking, our towns and villages offer hours and miles of pleasant ambling. While you’re wandering you can: keep a village bird list; spot (and read) every monument and historic marker; look BEHIND the houses to see which garages and other structures started out as stables, barns, or carriage houses; admire the streetside gardens, planters, and window boxes. Make up your own quarry to spot as you wander!

But WHERE shall you wander? Last weekend we enjoyed ourselves in ANGELICA (Allegany County). It’s a small but pleasing village with fine homes, not to mention the Allegany County Fairgrounds. One of the most memorable features is a large traffic circle with a park (and Saturday farmers market) inside, and five churches plus the town hall arranged along the outside. Spot the library, the veterans’ monument, and the lamppost banners that also honor veterans.

NAPLES and CANANDAIGUA (both in Ontario County) are very different communities, but they each enjoy a mile-long Main Street. Main Street in Naples is treelined, except where it’s bordered by vineyards. The Catholic church is an exciting modern design that suits the grape country, while the school would feel right at home in an Archie comic. Tree-covered ridges overlook Naples on either side.

The Canandaigua Main Street runs gently downhill into a marina at the north end of Canandaigua Lake. It’s a busy place, lined with shops and restaurants, offices and businesses, with the county courthouse at the top of the hill. (A monument honors Susan B. Anthony, who was convicted at that courthouse for the crime of voting. “I will never pay one cent of your unjust fine,” she told the judge, and she never did.)

If you’re wandering Main Street in PENN YAN (Yates County), notice when the bridge carries you over Keuka Outlet, draining that lake and filling Seneca. As you go by Birkett Mills, think about the days when the running outlet powered huge grindstones here. Notice Millie’s Pantry, whose founder was honored by President Obama for her years of work feeding the hungry. And spot the library, the oldest part of which was a gift from turn-of-the-century billionaire Andrew Carnegie.

At the other end of the lake, in HAMMONDSPORT (Steuben County), have a seat at the park in the village square and use your mind’s eye to see it in the days when Glenn Curtiss and Alexander Graham Bell would have strolled right past you, agitating ways to get into the air. Stroll down Sheathar or William Street to the lakefront with its “railroad gothic” depot, and imagine that you’re waiting for the steamboat to take you to your cottage.

Over in Schuyler County, start at the gazebo on the end of the pier in WATKINS GLEN. Spot the waterfowl in Seneca Lake, step across the (active!) railroad track, and amble down Franklin Street. Like Naples, Penn Yan, and Hammondsport, Watkins is in grape country. But it’s also auto racing country. Keep your eyes down to spot blocks in the sidewalk honoring great drivers. Lift your eyes up to spot the murals on the sides of buildings, capturing great moments in Watkins Glen racing. Soon you’ll be walking the route of those original Grand Prix road races, over 70 years ago. You’ll also be at the mouth of the Glen, that dramatic cleft that’s attracted hikers, artists and photographers for centuries. There are plenty of other places to wander. But these will get you started!