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Top level
Historic Firehouses
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PARTIII- With a heavy blow, the "gavel" smashed an irreplaceable monument to bits.
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First to go...
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Has the Gavel Fallen? Part III
"The Weight of the Gavel"...what is it intended to mean? The "Gavel" as referred to in previous articles is simply the decision, or decision making process to which the fate of Manchester's historic structures are subjected. In this particular case, the title of "Has the Gavel Fallen" begged the question, "Has the final decision been made? Could there be any negotiations?" Intonations from the mayor himself suggested a small amount of hope remained.
If not apparent early on, the answer would prove to be an unspoken NO! It's hard to see clearly all the political forces at play, and presumed promises made among the co-conspirators in the governing body. In the end, by the mighty blow of the excavator, the Wilson Hill Engine House was smashed to bits on July 25, 2006. Lost forever was a landmark the neighborhood and indeed, Manchester's citizens begged to keep. An unprecedented outcry against the demolition of this structure, through editorials, newspaper submissions, and ward meetings would only fall on deaf ears. As a result, the "Gavel", the decisive ability of "politicians" robbed the neighborhood, the preservationist and the city of an opportunity to enhance a neighborhood, demonstrate fitting stewardship of historic structures and preserve a "monument" to the supreme sacrifice made by three firemen in the City Of Manchester; more than any other firestation's loss.
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The last full view...
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....that could have been captured from Hubbard St.
The leaves had not yet sprouted, in April of 2006. Looking east, north-east from the corner of Concord and Hubbard Sts, the Wilson Hill Engine House stood as sure as it had for over a century. If you wondered if this angle bore any significance then you need to know that this was the view from the outside of Captain Alfred Gustafson's home until his death in 1916. This would have been his focus as he reported for duty and made the fifty-foot stroll to his second home.
The whole premise under which the firehouse was demolished was for a concern of safety, as adhered to by Ward 4 Alderman Jerome Duval. While campaigning for election, part of his mantra was to "do something" with the station. Mere months later, after a vague report was submitted by a hired structural engineer, the alderman would insist it was "too far gone" to be repaired, and led the charge to have it demolished. Suggestions that the building needed $1,000,000 to repair had no basis whatsoever. Keep in mind the two-story structure measured only 40 by 50 feet. Meanwhile, through a prominent local attorney, a highly skilled craftsman of carpenty, painting and tinsmithing named Michael Duffy submitted several proposals to purchase and rehabilitate the structure only to be rebuffed by the city while being praised for his good intentions. Imagine, refusing to sell your 1975 AMC Matador as it's loaded on a flatbed, bound for the scrap yard. This was no different.
In the "Weight of the Gavel" you'll be taken on an extensive tour back in time, into the structure sought after by preservationists. Here, you'll have the opportunity to see for yourself just what details were forever hidden by plywood covered windows. You'll also be given a different perspective of the construction of the building, and be able to form your own opinion of just how extensive the damage caused by neglect was...or was not. Have a good look at what is gone, and imagine for yourself what the possibilities were for this building, that were not seen by those elected to care for taxpayer-funded buildings in Manchester. Imagine too, just how significant a turning point this was, or should have been, with respect to how Manchester should address the future of our communal heirlooms.
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Sun shining on a dark day...
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The demolition began a few minutes after 7:00 AM on Tuesday the 25th. One day before, the scheduled day of demolition, a horrified group of no less than fifty neighbors, historians, preservationists and political figures gathered outside the building hoping to see reversed, the promise of impending doom. Two police cruisers and the paddy wagon were on scene before onlookers were; proof that the city knew of their opposition. The crew of S&R Demolition never showed up, later explaining they had mechanical problems with their equipment.
As this photo shows, the demolition crew "fixed their machinery" in time to break the hearts of those who would arrive to get one last look; many were too late. At least one dad seized the moment, snapping a picture of his young daughter posed on the lawn of the northwest corner.
As this image was captured, Ward 4 Alderman Jerome Duval quipped, " That equipment operator must be real good...look how he's working at that...almost surgically."
Now, with a little of the politics out of the way, it only seems proper to start...at the front door. Please, click onto the next page.
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Comment List
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jack wolf
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10.13.2006 13:18
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Beautiful job at portraying the demise of a beautiful historic landmark. You have really captured the power of the CAT 345L that was brought in to ruthlessly destroy this treasure. You put the blame right where it belongs--not on the demolition operators, but on the politicians and those too cowardly to fight.
You even captured the smell of the demolition. That is awesome.
Was the demolition crew welcoming and open to you taking pictures of the destruction? I've seen it both ways--on some sites they don't want you around. I have even seen them put up screening on the fences around the old buildings.
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