Buffalo Stance - In Defence of a Much Maligned Metropolis

Much has been and is being written about the bijou known as Buffalo. From The New York Times to, most recently, The Toronto Star, everyone seems to be jumping on the Buffalo bandwagon. And I ain’t no different. I am not only on the bandwagon, I am leading it. Buffalo is da bomb. And it’s ready to detonate. And if you ain’t with me, you be missing out.

To back track and to be honest, I am a very recent convert. For my part, I really only discovered Buffalo last summer. Phish-bound and zipping nearly obliviously by Buffalo’s downtown core on the highway, I stared at the skyline and thought “Hm. That actually looks like a pretty cool city to shoot.” A lover of architecture and urban landscape junkie, I tucked the mental note away to be dealt with after Blossom and upon my return. After a few months (and surviving the G20), having my friend’s DLSR in hand and becoming more and more disgusted and disillusioned with Toronto’s treatment of its heritage architecture and disrespect for its landscape, I started to look farther afield for locations to shoot and immediately remembered my now beloved Buffalo. Naturally, I didn’t tell anyone. I mean, Buffalo? And no outlet shopping? What would they think? I hadn’t even grown up in Ontario, but for the past twenty years, all that I’d heard of Buffalo was fires, snow, and the Walden Galleria. But the mental snapshot that I’d taken Blossom-bound kept resonating. Finally I decided to take the plunge and to start looking into a day trip there. And thank god that I did. For if a city was a singer, it’d be Fred Eaglesmith. Contemporary. Yet respectful of the past. And, more importantly, living and breathing timelessly and imparting an important, honour of our history, our future, that is so lacking today.

To be truthful, the first trip I flew almost blind. Correction. I wasn’t almost blind, I was as myopic as I am at 3 am, slightly drunk, without my glasses. Which is to say, I can make out shapes – barely – and fumble my way to the toilet. Barely. Basically, I did a cursory search sights, booked my Megabus ticket and off I went. But even my flirt with the city banked very surprising returns. Sure, I knew that Frank Lloyd Wright had designed there, but I’d had no idea what historical treasures resided within this modest metropolis. Brainwashed to belief that Buffalo was to eternally be the butt of every joke, I’d no idea of its truly wealthy past and the architectural and historical riches that had been subsequently bestowed upon it. I’d no clue that, having been the bastion of Society a mere century and a half ago, that Buffalo had been the site of McKinley’s assassination, that several presidents had come been born of the city, that all the great architects and landscape designers of the time, from H.H. Richardson to Louise Blanchard Bethune (the first female member of the American Institute of Architects!)  to Frederick Law Olmsted, had been drawn to this humble city a mere century ago. And so, surprised at my initial findings, I boarded my bus, camera in hand, confident  that I would capture all that I would really need to in eight hours time, come home and neatly tie it up on a photographic bow upon my return. How wrong I was.

Foolhardy and ignorant to the riveting architectural texture that Buffalo would proffer, I disembarked and made my way to a service station for a map, slinging my camera bag across my back and making my way in the hot sun. How hard could it be? Did I really need to stay until evening? Slapping on SPF and marching on, I soon realized the bevy that Buffalo had to offer. Block by block, avenue by avenue, I found myself stopping and starting, shooting facade after façade, I was inching along and inching along like a hungry caterpillar with ADHD. Shooting for hours in the sun, 20 lbs strapped to my back, I discovered that I’d never so much as left the downtown area. Looking back, I felt as I’d did strawberry picking – how could I have spent so much time, seemingly covered so much territory, seeming to have been so fruitful, yet geographically covered such little territory in retrospect? I hadn’t made it to Ellicott Square. I hadn’t made it to the Albright-Knox. I hadn't made it Delaware Park, etc, etc, etc….Feeling somewhat defeated, I knew that I had to come back and come back for longer. Much longer. And so I once again tucked Buffalo back in my pocket to be revisited later. I may not have stuck to the guide book reco’s, but the city sure had stuck to me. Reclining on the seat of my bus back, I plotted my return. Sure. Some may dream of Bali, but my dreams are more modest. And, apparently, closer to home. But don’t be mistaken – the rewards are just as rich, if not richer. I mean, what’s more fun and energizing than finding a trove on your own stoop? For Buffalo isn’t just like peeling the layers of an onion back, it’s like peeling the layers of a perfectly preserved onion back. And what is more rewarding to an urban photog? Standing on any street corner, you can espy three, four, five, six architecturally historic and interesting buildings. Can Toronto say that? Sadly not.

A civic crush developing, I bided my time over winter, waiting until the snows of Buffalo had safely abated and I had some free time for my next assault. And an assault it was. My second trip, having had much more time to research and being more familiar with the city, I foolishly thought “I got this covered. Buffalo is my bitch.” How wrong I was. Though I’d researched it more – taking a readership at Robarts to delve into its civic and architectural history and even reading City of Light for more context – I once again foolishly believed that I could conquer the city in one, fell swoop. Again, how wrong I was.

Stepping outside of my hotel in a monsoon-like rain my first day, I set, determined to not let the rains deter me. And so I shot inside Ellicott Square. For more than two hours. Sure, one could pass through these halls in mere minutes, guided tour or not, but to me the attention paid to every bolt, every curve of filigree was astounding. They just don’t make them like they used to, yo. I mean, who today considers how one might view a simple bolt fastened to a banister from below? Not many, I tell you.

Satisfied that I’d covered every inch of Ellicott Square, I made my way to the street, squinting in the now sun-blessed streets. Poking ‘round a bit more and munching down on some deep-fried bacon at The Pearl Street Grill, I made my way back to the Hyatt to hunker down. Which brings me to another point that I’d like to make. Most times I shy away from chain hotels, but this time, out of laziness, I opted for the Hyatt downtown and for that I’m so glad. Not only did they have a room ready for me at 10:30 am on a Saturday – the Holy Grail as I recall my days a hotel desk clerk – but staff person after staff person was not only courteous, but informative about the city’s history and must-see’s. Not seeming to follow a corporate script, they all, regardless of shift time, appeared to be invested and informed about the city. Total civic pride props, yo.

Day Two I strode out the hotel doors, knowing I was to hit Central Terminal for one of its organized tours. Steering my way to Broadway (the Broadway the Goo Goo Dolls were REALLY singin' about...) and confidently striding down the avenue, I couldn’t help but pause despite the time-crunch I was under. Building after building was a bijou, a treasure from years gone, and before I knew it, I was running late. Really late. Which sucked because I'd scheduled my trip for precisely this tour...Hopping into a cab for fear of missing it, I knew that I had to walk home to cover such a harvest. Not to disappoint, the Central Terminal Tour was incredible and yet again I was as loose as…well…a photo whore at an architectural gem…

But walking home was just as rewarding. So many incredible buildings, so little time. From the onion domes of the orthodox churches gleaming above the quaint clapboard houses in Polonia to the centuries old storefronts through the Eastside, the area had a quiet, architectural confidence about it. It's an area, like just about every other in the city, that knows its identity and place like a sagacious, favoured elder settled into their favourite spot on the sofa. There as they always have been and there as you mistakenly believe that they always will be. Which is what made walking down Broadway somewhat unsettling. I had the same sneaking sense that I did when I shot Route 66 – how much longer till all this was bull-dozed and homogenized? Given the low-density of population and the high likelihood of re-purposement of the heritage buildings at hand, I fear for the buildings that I shot and fear how economics and short-sightedness might collide and eradicate the very character that make such areas of Buffalo charming. How much longer would they exist before being replaced by Wal-marts and banal, franchised market-places?

Shrugging off any negativity off and savouring what is now, I soldiered on at early evening and made my way up to Forest Lawn Cemetary by Buffalo Transit. And here I must digress a tad from my architectural love-affair. To explain, Buffalo has a steet-car-cum-subway that runs along Main Street. It’s FREE above ground. And only $1.75 per ride for the subway. And they play classical at all stops, above ground or below. I don’t know how the city funds it, but I bought a day pass for $4 and got well beyond my money’s worth. But, I digress…I showed up at Forest Lawn just as they were closing one of the gates for the night. I was kind of choked, given that there was a few hours left of daylight, but I put on a pleasant face and was duly rewarded. The care-taker, Ed, personally directed me to the ‘must-sees’ and for that I’m forever grateful. Ain’t nothin’ like a private tour of a cemetery at magic hour resident to so many historical figures, much less one do gorgeously designed, verdant and home to a deer. Rather than feeling as if I’d checked a site off my list, I felt more like I could’ve spent many more hours soaking up the solitude and beauty of Forest Lawn. Forget unlocking all of the history the area had to offer in a mere hour. A day at least ought to be dedicated to meandering in its bucolic vistas. And I hadn’t even gotten close to neighbouring Delaware Park…

My third and final day was all about City Hall, an Art Deco gem, and anything else I could fit in. Sadly, all that I shot was this:

And this...

By evening I realized I’d over-shot Buffalo. Once again. Some may take the view that, not having been to Albright-Knox, not having been to any of FLW’s creations, not having really touched many of Buffalo’s much-heralded sights, I’m missing the whole boat known as Buffalo. But I take a different viewpoint. I didn’t’ purposely eschew those sights. Rather, I stomped the city, shooting all that I found interesting and engaging and simply ran outta time. And that, to me, is the sign of a damn good excursion. The important point about Buffalo is that it’s not just its major tourist attractions that should draw visitors to this city, but rather that it’s its inherent, preserved, nature that ought to draw people here. And that is what I sadly see is in most peril. For as a city gains recognition, it tends to modernize and thusly eradicate the very charm that draws folks to it. Essentially, my only concern now is not for the visitors wishing to enjoy Buffalo, but rather for Buffalo itself. Every city must grow and evolve, however I fear that Buffalo might make several irrevocable mistakes in this regard. That Buffalo might not take full advantage of its unique opportunity at preservation. Right now the city has everything to gain from a heritage perspective. And everything to lose. But that is a subject for another blog. In the interim, Buffalo should beyond herald that it’s been selected for the 2011 National Trust for Heritage Preservation's Conference. It deserves it. I know I’ll be there to celebrate.

 And if you question my integrity, here a few vids to sway your vision...

Buffalo hosted the Pan-American Exposition.

Seen here at night, it was...

Buffalo Central Terminal...Cinematic star...

For more information:

• Visit Buffalo Niagara
• The Buffalo & Erie County Historical Society
• Preservation Buffalo Niagara
• Buffalo As An Architectural Museum
• The National Trust for Historic Preservation's National Preservation Conference
• Wright Now In Buffalo
• Forgotten Buffalo

 

PS. It depresses me to know that the kid Neneh was pregnant with in this vid is now legal drinking age in US. I feel so old. Shuffles off to put another cardigan on.