Thursday, July 16, 2020

Halley's Last Visit (1986 Gusto cover story)


There’s a comet in the sky again this summer, which summons up thoughts of that superstar of cosmic travelers, Halley’s Comet. When it last streaked past us, I wrote a story about it for the Jan. 17, 1986, cover of Gusto. So climb into the time machine, fasten your seat belt and get ready for a long, long ride. We’re going back to Buffalo’s previous encounter with it in 1910.




        HALLEY’S LAST VISIT
        Buffalo held its breath and there was panic abroad
        When Halley’s Comet paid its last call in 1910.

THE LAST TIME Buffalo got a glimpse of Halley’s Comet – in 1910 – it was a bustling city full of confidence in its role as a major lake port and railway center. “Buffalo Means Business,” The Buffalo Evening News trumpeted from a banner in the upper left corner of the front page of its four afternoon editions. Indeed, it was earthly business, rather than heavenly happenings, that preoccupied our civic forebears as the celestial visitor approached that spring.
        Proof of the city’s pre-eminence was expected to be confirmed in the 1910 census. Population was approaching 425,000, and The News exhorted its readers to “let every man, woman and child belonging to Buffalo see that the census man gets his name. We must beat Detroit if it is merely by a few noses. Or even by a nose.”
        An auspicious omen of Buffalo’s bright future that season was the merger of the city’s two rival business groups, the Chamber of Commerce and the Manufacturers Club. To celebrate this marriage of interests, they threw the biggest banquet the town had ever seen. There would be 1,065 guests April 30 in the Convention Hall at Elmwood Avenue and Virginia Street and the featured speaker would be none other than the president of the United States, William Howard Taft.
        “The banquet tonight,” the Buffalo Morning Express noted that day, “will be Buffalo’s first step toward a position of industrial importance second to no other city in the Union.”
        It marked the first time a president had visited here since President McKinley’s assassination nine years earlier at the Pan American Exposition and the subsequent swearing-in of Theodore Roosevelt in the home of prominent attorney Ansley Wilcox on Delaware Avenue. The Express headlined it: “A Red Letter Day.”
         Taft, on a nine-city tour with Secretary of State (Philander C.) Knox, arrived early that morning at the Exchange Street rail station in his private railway car, the Olympia, and was taken by automobile to the Wilcox residence. He met reporters there and talked about his nomination of his 1908 Democratic opponent, New York Gov. Charles E. Hughes, to the Supreme Court. He also reiterated his arguments in favor of establishing a federal tax on incomes.
        Hailed and applauded, Taft made stops at the University Club for lunch, then at the Buffalo Club and the Gratwick Cancer Laboratory on High Street before taking a brief auto tour of the town and attending the banquet. Sharing the stage with him, along with dozens of business leaders, was an enormous white buffalo which, a reporter noted, was a “veteran of the successful industrial exposition.”
        Taft was constantly on the move. Before May was over, he’d already used up his annual travel allotment of $25,000 and told Congress he’d pay his own way if it wouldn’t give him more. Upstaging him, however, was Teddy Roosevelt, who generated headlines daily all spring with a triumphal tour of the capitals of Europe.
        Dominating the front pages along with Taft and Roosevelt were a variety of other concerns – the eruption of Mount Etna, a civil war in Nicaragua, a killer earthquake in Costa Rica, attacks on foreigners in China, the expulsion of Jews from their homes in Czarist Russia, the excavation of the Panama Canal, Interior Secretary Richard Ballinger’s feisty denials of Congressional charges that he gave away Alaskan timber and mineral rights, the cracking of a white-slavery ring in New York City and the lynching of Blacks in the South.
        When Buffalonians contemplated the skies in 1910, it wasn’t so much to search for Halley’s Comet, but to admire the feats of pioneer aviators, which grew more sensational every week. The end of April saw a French aviator win $50,000 for flying from London to Manchester, England. Not many days later, another Frenchman flew across the English Channel. The Wright Brothers were so confident of their machines that they took their 85-year-old father up in one. Then came American Glenn Curtiss, who captured a $10,000 prize for flying from Albany to New York City.
        After that, there came a spate of offers to daredevils, including $20,000 for a flight from New York to Washington, D.C., and $30,000 for a flight from St. Louis to New York. Wilbur Wright speculated that there was no reason why transoceanic flight shouldn’t be
   Continued on Page 16)

possible “with sufficient gasoline capacity.” In June, another aviator, Charles K. Hamilton, proposed that airplanes might even be used to drop bombs in wartime.
       
CLOSER TO HOME, our ancestors were distracted by the perennial push-and-pull of state and local politics. Gov. Hughes struggled mightily to get lawmakers in Albany to approve direct voting in state primaries and finally wound up calling them back for an extra session in June.
        When they weren’t debating that and the proposed constitutional amendment on women’s suffrage, they found time to pass a law restricting the number of saloons to one per 750 people (in Buffalo, the ratio was one per 250) and cutting back the hours during which liquor could be sold. Instead of running from 5 a.m. to 1 a.m., taverns would not be allowed to open until 6. Albany also set a speed limit for automobiles – 30 mph in open country.
        Here in Buffalo, where city government was comprised of two legislative bodies – councilmen and aldermen – it was hard to get agreement over even such simple things as passing an ordinance banning ladies’ hatpins more than three inches long or whether to commend Mayor Louis P. Fuhrmann for declaring a half-day civic holiday May 9 to celebrate the local opening of the Eastern League baseball season.
        Needless to say, more complex issues were submerged in endless wrangling. Charges and countercharges paralyzed action on such matters as the extension of Elmwood Avenue from North Street to Virginia Street, the choice of a design for the new Hutchinson High School, the designation of land for a new downtown railway terminal commeasurate with the New York City’s newly-completed Pennsylvania Station (complicated by a plot by rail interests to grab all the choice waterfront property from Porter Avenue south) and a list of East Side improvements championed by The News, including a convention hall on the Broadway Arsenal site, a technical high school and a contagious disease hospital.
        Meanwhile, Canisius College was launching a drive for $100,000 to start construction of its new campus at Main and Jefferson and the combined Chamber of Commerce and Manufacturers Club canvassed for another $100,000 to promote industrial development. Both were successful.
        All this took a back seat, however, to the investigation of bribery and construction defects in another major project – the not-yet-finished water pumping station – and the barrage of criticism directed at the city’s embattled public works commissioner, Col. Francis G. Ward.
        Machinery suppliers testified to paying $5,000 in bribes in 1903 to secure contracts, then being asked for $4,000 more. There was a questionable junket to Pittsburgh. There were cost overruns. “Pay! Pay! Pay!” the Morning Express headlined a story which revealed that the pumping station would go more than $1 million over budget. “Leaks Like a Sieve,” the paper bannered a subsequent piece on the condition of the tunnel from the new water intake to the pumping plant.
       
DESPITE ALL THIS, Buffalo was booming, especially its real estate market. A developer on Manchester Place reported that the Elmwood District was almost entirely built up. Suburban farmland was at a premium. Advertisements touted construction of “Delawanda,” a huge tract between Kenmore and the City of Tonawanda bounded by Delaware Avenue on the west and Niagara Falls Boulevard on the east.
        Though clergymen protested the granting of permits for new nickelodeons, complaining that the darkened unsupervised premises were demoralizing to children, the moviehouse already was a popular entertainment, although the big-name feature film had not yet arrived. Movies also were part of the attraction at the city’s vaudeville houses, the Lafayette, the Garden, the Academy, the Lyric and Shea’s.
        Dramatic presentations at the Star, the city’s best theater, generally consisted of touring Broadway productions. Lillian Russell visited the Star in May, as did Billie Burke in W. S. Maugham’s farce, “Mrs. Dot.” At the Teck, where a full season of summer stock was starting, the debut offering featured a show complete with the costumes used on Broadway.
        Meanwhile, at the Albright Art Gallery, a major exhibition of American artists was underway. Mid-May saw the city’s fifth Music Festival, which prompted the Morning Express to reflect: “When the first music festival was held 25 years ago, there was talk of Buffalo some day having a beautiful music hall and a permanent orchestra …”
        Sports were a constant diversion, especially baseball. The Bisons, however, lost their momentum early and sank to the .500 mark by Memorial Day. Soon thereafter, the team captain was released outright. Prizefighting wrestlers made regular visits to the Broadway Arsenal. And hardly a day went by without a report from the training camps of heavyweight boxing contenders Jeffries and Johnson.
        Prosperous Buffalonians might indulge in an Edison phonograph ($12.50 to $200, half the price of a piano) and the latest Caruso record ($2), a new porcelain refrigerator with 115-pound ice capacity ($38), a factory rebuilt Pierce Arrow motorcar (originally $5,300, now at $3,000) or perhaps a Pierce Arrow motorcycle (one-cylinder model, $250; four-cylinder model, $350). For motorists of more modest means, there was the E. R. Thomas Motor Co. turning out Thomas Flyers at 1200 Niagara St.
        Although there were already 100,000 automobiles in New York State, the citizenry hadn’t quite come to terms with them. Hardly a day went by without the report of a serious accident, either by way of a driver losing control or a heedless pedestrian stepping out in front of a speeding car, which often kept right on going.
        Nor were automobiles the only hazard to life and limb. Railway mishaps killed and maimed rail employees and trespassers alike. Runaway horses were not unusual. Bare electrical wires claimed at least one victim a week in Western New York. There were numerous fights, stabbings and shootings stemming from drunken arguments in the city’s many taverns. And suicide was common, often brought on by poverty or poor health. Four folks went over Niagara Falls during Memorial Day week in 1910.
        Should a citizen of 1910 escape accident and despair, there was always the possibility of infectious disease. Tuberculosis had become such a concern that doctors advised against casual kissing and the city imposed a $25 fine on anyone caught spitting in the street. An outdoor camp for consumptives was established on upper Main Street near the city line. Quarantines were quickly imposed whenever a case of scarlet fever, smallpox or diphtheria turned up. Typhoid, which was epidemic in all major American cities during the previous 15 years, was supposed to be alleviated by the new water pumping system.
        The greatest concern for health and hygiene was focused on the ethnic communities. It was very much a city of immigrants. In addition to the six daily English-language newspapers, there were three German dailies and two Polish dailies.
        The spring of 1910 saw bitter fights erupt between the city’s newest arrivals, the Poles and the Italians. The Italians, who dominated the construction unions, were on strike, holding out for a pay increase from $1.50 to $1.75 a day. Polish laborers, brought in as strike-breakers, often got a hostile reception, like the 15 who were driven off the site of the new School 1 annex on Seventh Street by a group of angry Italians and their wives, armed with clubs and baseball bats.

OF ALL BUFFALONIANS, the Italians seemed to have the greatest fascination with Halley’s Comet. The Morning Express noted on May 9 that “Vito Christiano and a delegation walked from Dante Place to Washington and Broadway to have a look.” They sat on the steps of the library while Christiano located Venus through opera glasses, then a police officer came along and informed them that they couldn’t see the comet from that location. “You have to go out on the lake or into the country to see it,” the group was told.
        Official Buffalo looked upon the impending arrival of Halley’s Comet with tolerant amusement. A column entitled “Oatmeal and Mackerel,” appended to the Morning Express editorials, scoffed April 29: “Many a man who gets up at 3 a.m. to see the comet hates to roll out of bed at 8 to look for a job.” The same scribe reported May 1: “Halley’s Comet isn’t such a much after all. Even the astronomers are disappointed in the old thing.”
        The papers began carrying accounts of sightings on the previous visit in 1835 (unfortunately, none of them by Buffalonians), which noted that the comet came in a rain of stars with a long tail that stretched halfway across the sky. The 1910 version did not promise to be nearly as spectacular.
        Nevertheless, local comet spotters located it. On May 5, the Morning Express reported: “Those who were up yesterday morning between 3:30 and 4 o’clock had a good look at Halley’s Comet. The heavenly visitor was observed just a little north of Venus and its tail could be plainly discerned. Patrolman Stephen Southall, detailed at Station No. 12, was among those who observed the comet. Southall told his brother officers and the entire platoon saw the comet. Many railroad engines in that section of the city were blown, calling attention to the phenomenon.”
        Comet-gazing also became something of a police problem. The Express wrote May 8: “‘There ought to be some way to identify people who prowl the streets before daylight looking for Halley’s Comet,’ remarked Patrolman Edward O’Grady at Police Station No. 3 yesterday. ‘How’s an officer to know that they are looking for the comet or an open back window? They ought to be made to take out a license and carry a lantern.’”
        O’Grady went on to tell of a pair of young men he encountered at 4 a.m. climbing up the façade of Shea’s theater on Court Street and prowling about the McKinley Monument hoping to get a peek at the comet.
        The passing of England’s King Edward VII May 7 lent a bit of credence to the superstition that the comet signals the death of kings, but a local amateur astronomer tried to put perspective on it a week later, writing: “Sensible people are all agreed that the visit of the comet should be treated as a sort of interesting joke.” He did, however, cite the possibility that the comet’s tail, which was supposed to brush the Earth’s atmosphere, might create a permanent ring around our planet, like the rings of Saturn.

THE TAIL WAS TO SWEEP PAST on May 18. By May 16, the comet was bigger front page news than Teddy Roosevelt. The News noted, however, that “they have been treating the visitor more cordially in some other places than here – probably because Buffalo’s lake-bred clouds have rendered nearly hopeless the watch for it before dawn.”
        On the fateful day, the Morning Express headlined: “The Comet! Hold Fast!” The subsequent story noted, however, that it probably wouldn’t be visible here that night, due to poor weather. In other places, though, there was high frenzy.
        In Haiti, witch doctors sold comet pills to frightened natives. Fortune tellers had a field day. One New York City theater manager promised patrons he would pump pure oxy-
        (Continued on Page 19)

gen into the hall to offset allegedly poisonous gases in the comet’s tail and have medical attendants on duty. Taverns held comet parties serving comet cocktails – “six of which are guaranteed to make a blind man see the comet.” Sly saloonkeepers announced that the comet’s poisonous cyanogen gas was soluble in whiskey.
        There was a heavy demand for telescopes. “A number of Buffalo folks have rigged up telescopes in their back yards to the envy of the neighborhood,” it was reported. “And the first comet dance was held in Buffalo last night at the reception to the senior class of the Lafayette High School at the school on Lafayette Avenue. All the lights were turned out and the young men and women, chaperoned by their teachers and mothers, danced by the light of the moon and the comet. It was a huge success.”
        In Mount Morris, meanwhile, the Italian community reacted to the comet’s onset with terror. Some stayed up all night, fearing for their lives. Workers in the nearby salt mines pleaded to be allowed to spend the night 1,500 feet below the surface to escape the cyanogen gas. During the day, a rain of deep indigo bubbles fell on the community, some as big as water pails, it was reported in The News. Residents blamed them on the comet.
        After all the excitement, the aftermath on May 19 was decidedly sheepish. “Buffalo slipped through comet night as methodically as any other night,” the Morning Express reported. “David Cuthbertson of the Weather Bureau said last night that a great many of the inhabitants did not expect so uneventful an occurrence. In anticipation of a catastrophe, they had kept the telephones of the Weather Bureau busy for the last two days.
        “Mr. Cuthbertson remained in the office of the Weather Bureau on the top of the Prudential Building until 1 o’clock this morning. With him was the office force, Principal P. Frederick Piper of the Central High School and a few visitors.”
        Cuthbertson spotted the comet between a rift in the clouds at 7:45 p.m. It was pale yellow and it remained in view for three minutes. At 9 p.m., he noted a faint aurora over the northern sky which had a wavy motion. At times, it was quite brilliant. At 9:30, it showed vertical streamers of light. At 10:20, it turned a rosy color for a few minutes. By midnight, it was gone. The most interesting spectacle, a reporter observed, “was the reflection of the moonlight along the dark waters of the lake.”
        When the phone rang at 11 p.m., Cuthbertson asked the caller: “Have you said your prayers?” Getting the affirmative, he replied, “Well, then you may go to bed.”
        “Half the town seems to be afraid of this comet,” he remarked as he hung up the receiver.
        The Morning Express editorialist noted: “Passing through the tail of the comet was no more trying than passing through the tales of the comet which we have been undergoing.”
       
BUT THE COMET CRAZE wasn’t over yet. On May 19, scientists were baffled by an unexpected trick of its tail, which appeared in the eastern sky at dawn instead of the western sky at sunset. “The Comet’s Tail Is Gay Old Joker,” The News headlined. “Somewhere in Cosmic Space It Is Wandering About to the Great Confusion of the Calculations of Astronomers. Sh! It May Be Lost Altogether.”
        Buffalonians, however, saw little of this. Except for a brief period the evening of May 21, the sky continued to be cloud-covered through the weekend. There was hope of clearing for the May 23 eclipse of the moon. Despite more heavy rain clouds, the eclipse was seen, but no comet. The rain did nothing to discourage other outdoor activities that night, however.
        Crowds estimated at 10,000 turned out for opening night of the Barnum and Bailey Circus on the old Driving Park grounds on East Ferry Street. Another 10,000 showed up for the Elk Street Carnival, sponsored by businessmen on the street between Chicago and Katharine streets, who celebrated the opening of the new Michigan Avenue railroad bridge with “illumination surpassing anything Buffalo has seen” – more than 6,000 electric lights.
        “Very disappointing is the tail of Halley’s Comet, thinks Weather Forecaster Cuthbertson,” The News noted May 27. “He said this morning that last night he peered at it from his home with a spy glass and while it had a good bright head, its tail was a farcical hoax. ‘This comet does not compare with Donati’s Comet of the late ‘50s,’ he said.”
        With Memorial Day weekend ahead, Buffalonians turned to other concerns. Crowds gathered on the dock to take the ship Americana to Crystal Beach. Throngs crowded the new Carnival Court amusement park at Main and Delavan. Announcement was made that the operators of the ferry to Fort Erie would refurbish the Fort Erie Beach resort in time for July 4. The New Academy Theater advertised “10 Vaudeville Comets – something to look at all the time.” Rail excursions brought 25,000 to the city, despite the cold and rainy weather.
        During a break in the skies May 28, the comet put in one last appearance. The Express reported the following morning that it was visible for several hours: “Even in the haze and smoke that hangs over downtown streets, anyone who knew just where to look for the comet could have found it last night.”
        As the clouds returned and the comet disappeared from the headlines, Weatherman Cuthbertson had the last word on it June 1. Noting to a reporter that the city had just experienced its coldest month of May in 40 years, he went on to add: “You might also say that the comet has had nothing to do with it.”

Tuesday, July 14, 2020

E. B. Green: The Man Who Built Buffalo (1986 Gusto cover story)

The Dun Building 

By happy coincidence, the May 16, 1986, issue of Gusto that contained the Third Lost Expedition’s final bar date also featured one of my most significant Gusto feature stories on the cover. Dare I say, it was a landmark. The subject? A major figure in local architectural history who at that time had been largely forgotten.

E. B. GREEN:
The Man Who Built Buffalo

HAD THEY not named the restaurant after him in the new Hyatt Regency Buffalo, E. B. Green would be virtually unknown in the city he did so much to shape.
        Aside from this bit of razzle-dazzle recognition, however, there’s precious little other awareness these days of the many accomplishments and incredible scope of the man who reigned as the dean of Buffalo architects for more than a half-century.
        Although Green’s finest creations – the Albright-Knox Art Gallery and the golden-domed Buffalo Savings Bank (Goldome) – stand as contemporary emblems of civic pride, his reputation is overshadowed by the visiting architectural masters who worked here.
        There are no texts on Green to match those on H. H. Richardson, who designed the majestic Buffalo State Hospital buildings on Forest Avenue; Louis Sullivan, whose Guaranty Building helped usher in the age of the skyscraper; McKim, Mead and White, who left a pair of prime classical revival mansions on Delaware Avenue at North Street, and, of course, Frank Lloyd Wright.
        Indeed, although the city’s most comprehensive architectural study, “Buffalo Architecture: A Guide,” lists Green in its biography section, it only hints at the extent of his activity, which was considerable. (See lists below.) Even architectural historians can’t be sure they’ve identified all he did here.
        Taken as a whole, Green’s work adds up to the largest and, in many ways, the most significant piece of inheritance left to the modern day from Buffalo’s golden age – from the last two decades of the 19th century to the years just following World War II, which coincidentally was the span of Green’s career.
        (Continued on Page 3)
        The city, however, has a way of being careless with its inheritances. One of Green’s most prominent contributions to the Buffalo skyline – the Genesee Building – was on the verge of being torn down before developer Paul Snyder recast it as the Hyatt Regency.
       
Chamber of Commerce Building
Workmen presently are demolishing another of Green’s additions to the downtown silhouette – the Chamber of Commerce Building on lower Main Street. One of the roots of this unfortunate development is the city’s failure to acquire official designation of the downtown area as a historic district, with all its attendant protective regulations and tax benefits, a piece of negligence which also casts doubt on the future of one of the oldest of Green’s creations – the flatiron-shaped Dun Building at Swan and Pearl streets.
  
      The Dun Building, constructed in 1894 and 1895, was the first in a series of office towers that ultimately came to dominate the downtown landscape. Green and his original partner, William S. Wicks, had moved their practice here 10 years previously and already had some major commissions to their credit, notably the First Presbyterian Church on Symphony Circle, which echoes the Romanesque massiveness and the towers of Richardson’s hospital building at the other end of Richmond Avenue.
First Presbyterian Church
        Edward Broadhead Green was born in 1855, not in Buffalo, but in Utica. He was graduated from Cornell University in 1878 with a bachelor of architecture degree and worked in Ithaca for three years before setting up practice with Wicks in Auburn prior to coming here.
        As a profession, architecture was still in its pioneer stages at that time. It was only in 1868 that M.I.T. became the first school in America to offer it as an academic program. Prior to that, it was passed along from masters to apprentices.
        Wicks, who began his study at Cornell, gained his architecture degree from M.I.T. in 1877. Teaching there was based on the principles of the French Ecole des Beaux-Arts, which emphasized design and aesthetic considerations – with a concentration on the works of architectural masters.
        The curriculum at Cornell, meanwhile, deferred design considerations in favor of technical training, stressing the use of materials that were true to their structural purpose. Here practical knowledge came first, then style, the preferred style being Victorian Gothic. In his senior paper, Green discussed the need for an “American” architecture.
        For all that, Green and Wicks proved to be not so much innovators like Richardson or Wright, who seized on an idea and refined it, but rather synthesizers of many different styles picked up from a wide variety of sources. They were incredibly eclectic.
 
Buffalo Savings Bank 
       
As a result, the Dun Building is modeled after the New York Produce Exchange (built in 1882), using large arches as a

prominent design feature. The 1893 Market Arcade suggests London’s Burlington Arcade. The Buffalo Savings Bank, built in 1900, celebrates the neoclassicism introduced at the Chicago World’s Fair of 1893 by adapting an arched design from ancient Rome, while the Albright-Knox Art Gallery, constructed between 1900 and 1905, pays tribute to the Acropolis.
        Green, perhaps because of the two-dimensional viewpoint of Beaux-Arts, favored grand, classic facades. The Dun Building, so oddly narrow viewed from Pearl Street, stretches in a great expanse of brick on the Swan Street side. The Genesee Building also presents a broad and impressive front to Genesee Street. As for the Buffalo
        (Continued on Page 20)
Savings Bank, its plan takes the flattened Roman archways and wraps them around a corner.
        By stressing the classical in his public buildings, Green helped turn-of-the-century Buffalo fulfill its aspirations to become the equal of the great cities of Europe. Even a structure like the Marine Trust Building at Main and Seneca, built in 1913, finds Green organizing the exterior in a reflection of the elements of a classic column (base, shaft and capital), while creating inside a dramatically grand banking room, exceeded in magnificence and size by few banks in the country at the time.
        In their downtown projects, Green and Wicks were particularly adept at designing buildings to fit odd-shaped sites. The Dun Building’s lot was perhaps the most challenging, but they also rose to the demands of the L-shaped space for the Chamber of Commerce Building and the need to put impressive fronts on both Main and Huron streets for the Buffalo Savings Bank.
        On the State University of Buffalo’s Main Street Campus, Green came close to creating an entire environment, mixing classical elements with Georgian features drawn from colleges in England and crowning his design of a half-dozen buildings there with the colonnaded Lockwood Library.
        Thanks to his prominence and his associations with the business and social leaders of the city (he was, for instance, a member of the Buffalo and Saturn Clubs and served on the board of directors of the Buffalo Fine Arts Academy from 1899 until his death in 1950), Green was often called upon to design homes for the same people for whom he built churches and office buildings.
        To compliment their aspirations to the lifestyles of European nobility, he summoned up images of Renaissance-era baronial manor houses and opulent villas along Delaware and Linwood avenues and in the Parkside neighborhood.
Clement House
        One of the finest examples of his handiwork is the former Clement House with its sumptuous music room at Delaware Avenue and Summer Street, now occupied by the local chapter of the American Red Cross.
        His grandest residential project, however, no longer exists. The home of industrialist and art patron John J. Albright on West Ferry Street between Delaware and Elmwood avenues, it was built in 1901 after fire destroyed the original Albright home and was demolished in 1934.
        An Albright family anecdote recounted by historian Austin Fox recalls how, during the fire, Albright encountered his architect among the spectators witnessing the blaze and asked him, “Well, Green, have you brought the new plans with you?”
Albright Mansion
        Executed in grey limestone, it was Green’s earliest use of the Tudor Gothic style seen in the Clement House. It had numerous gables with ornamented peaks and was designed to have two “fronts” – one of them an entrance at the end of a long driveway, the other facing the picturesque lawn and garden designed by Frederick Law Olmsted.
        Inside was a grand spiral stairway, extensive paneling in mahogany and oak, and spectacular conservatory that included artifacts from Pompeii.
        Albright also had Green design a residence for his son, Langdon, on the same site, plus a third building, the only one that still survives. It was a firehouse, intended solely to protect against a reoccurrence of the disaster that befell Albright. Ultimately deeded to the city, which designated it “Chemical No. 5,” it stands on Cleveland Avenue.
        Green’s less expensive projects, which are scattered throughout the Delaware District and the Parkside area (see box), are solid, well-thought-out, conservative Colonial Revival designs, appointed with excellent woodwork, the result of a longstanding collaboration with the local firm of Metz, Bark and Meyer, renowned worldwide for the elegance and finish of their interior hardwood decorations.
        One writer who grew up as a neighbor to a Green-designed house on Ashland Avenue, built in the early 1890s, (probably 451 Ashland) offered these impressions:
        “The house was certainly built for privacy, space for social and familial gatherings, security, the weather and for the servants who were part of the Victorian middle-class home. The house still has the original gas jets visible in places, a rather steep back stair leading from kitchen to third floor, an electric buzzer for the maid on the master bedroom wall …
        “The east bay windows allow in morning light. In spite of the presence of two high houses on either side, the house does not feel closed-in. Light enters subtly through the cylindrical dining room corner windows. The general feeling is one of brightness, especially on the first and third floors.
        “The heavy oak front door, with its cut-glass pane, brings us directly into the front hall. We face the front stairway, which elbows along the north wall. There is a large closet tucked under the stairs and the vestibule has room for boots, clothing and the mail (which in the 1890s was delivered at least twice a day).
        “The stairway has its corner landing window, bookcases on the narrow projection overlooking the first floor from the second. The interior woodwork has been painted years ago (but) it is still apparent as being of superior craftsmanship and design.”
        Green’s partner, Wicks, who served as the city’s parks commissioner from 1897 to 1900, while Olmsted was putting the finishing touches on South Park, built himself an imposing Tudor house on Jewett Parkway, which stands in total opposition to the lithe lines of the Darwin Martin House Frank Lloyd Wright erected across the street a few years later.
        That corner, incidentally, also features one of Green and Wicks’ few whimsical designs, a miniature Swiss chalet.
Mayfair Lane
        Two years prior to Wicks’ death in 1919, Green formed a partnership with his son, Edward B. Green Jr. While the Genesee Building was the most noteworthy of their commercial projects, their most ambitious design was a residential one – Mayfair Lane, an entire street of Tudor-style English village row houses leading to a castle, where the junior Green resided.
        After his son passed away in 1933, Green continued practice, forming Green and James in 1936, then Green, James and Meadows in 1945. During this period, Green adopted a classical modernist style, flattening the architectural features into something of an institutional art deco, as can be seen on the state and federal courthouses in Niagara Square.
The Dayton Art Institute
        Hometown architects whose careers and output paralleled Green’s can be found in other cities such as Pittsburgh and Cleveland, UB architectural historian John Quinan reports. Nevertheless, Green’s activities weren’t limited exclusively to Buffalo. His designs can be found in Ithaca, Auburn, Olean, South Bend, Ind., and Scranton, Pa. Regarded as his greatest out-of-town structures are the classical cultural center in Toledo, Ohio, and his French Renaissance Dayton, Ohio, Art Institute.
        Perhaps the greatest recognition of his contributions came in 1938, when UB awarded him its highest award, the Chancellor’s Medal. Chancellor Samuel P. Capen, citing him as “an artist and master builder,” saw fit to add that he had “incalculably enriched the city … and dignified Buffalo in the eyes of the world.”

Some of Green’s Residential Designs
(A freshly discovered one on Google in parentheses
38 Argyle Park
181 Beard Ave.
36 Brantford Place
3 Colonial Circle
477 Delaware Ave.
485 Delaware Ave.
489 Delaware Ave.
499 Delaware Ave.
525 Delaware Ave.
786 Delaware Ave.
824 Delaware Ave.
834 Delaware Ave.
888 Delaware Ave.
1093 Delaware Ave.
1109 Delaware Ave.
1260 Delaware Ave.
1296 Delaware Ave.
371 Depew Ave.
20 Dorchester Road
27 Dorchester Road
73 Dorchester Road
(137 Dorchester Road)
343 Elmwood Ave.
528 W. Ferry St.
677 W. Ferry St.
680 W. Ferry St.
426 Franklin St.
469 Franklin St.
54 Highland Ave.
85 Highland Ave.
101 Jewett Parkway
124 Jewett Parkway
150 Jewett Parkway
147 Linwood Ave.
350 Linwood Ave.
424 Linwood Ave.
134 Morris Ave.
154 Morris Ave.
208 North St.
117 Parkside Ave.
133 Parkside Ave.
606 Parkside Ave.
5 Penhurst Park
27 Penhurst Park
33 Penhurst Park
111 Richmond Ave.
781 Richmond Ave.
106 Soldiers Place
180 Soldiers Place
180 Summer St.
257 Summer St.
263 Summer St.
295 Summer St.
307 Summer St.
33 Summit Ave.
45 Summit Ave.
135 Summit Ave.
17 Tudor Place
888 Delaware Ave., the Charles W. Goodyear House

Buffalo’s Legacy of Green Landmarks
        E. B. Green put his stamp on many corners of downtown Buffalo. His strongest impact was made on Niagara Square, where he followed up his design for the Buffalo Athletic Club (of which he was a member) with the well-mannered classical-modern forms of the federal and state courthouses and with his firm’s own offices next door to the BAC, fashioned as a small Venetian-style palazzo.
        Green’s other downtown structures include:
        Buffalo Central YMCA.
        Buffalo Police Headquarters.
        Erie County Jail.
        Dun Building.
        Marine Trust Building.
        Chamber of Commerce Building.
        Genesee Building (Hyatt Regency Hotel).
        Buffalo Savings Bank (Goldome).
        Market Arcade.
        Memorial Auditorium.
        Broadway Garage.
       
Green’s buildings elsewhere in Buffalo and its suburbs include:
        Albright-Knox Art Gallery.
        Buffalo Crematory.
        Calvary Church.
        Christian Church, City of Tonawanda.
Church of the Ascension Parish House.
City Hall, City of Tonawanda.
        Commodore Perry Housing Project.
        DuPont Technical Building.
        First Presbyterian Church.
Twentieth Century Club.
United Temple.
UB Main Street Campus: Lockwood Library, Clark Gym, Crosby Hall, Norton Hall, heating plant and service building.

Thursday, August 10, 2017

Years on the 7s #5: 1987, 1997, 2007

Details from the years 1987, 1997 and 2007 won't readily come to mind without some assistance. Dates of vacations and physical ailments are fuzzy.
For instance, did we spend that week at Sandals resort in Antigua in 2007 or 2008? Was it 1997 or another year when I had to forego booze for an entire North by Northwest Music Conference because I was taking antibiotics to recover from diverticulitis?  
To do 1987 justice, I'll need to go to Buffalo News microfilm to figure out everything I was doing, since the online archives cut off at 1988. Gusto is my diary, but the high points go like this:
Monica and I buy our second house together – a big Victorian single built in 1891 on a corner lot at 429 Richmond Ave. I've driven past it for years and never noticed it behind the two big trees in the front yard. It's in wonderful condition and the price is right. $107,000. In June, we move in.
We can afford it because of the rents we generate from our old house – a four-unit place that we've had since 1979 five blocks away at 180 Richmond. There we tried our hand at landscaping and made the place into a San Francisco-style painted lady, startling the neighbors when we turned it pumpkin orange with deep red highlights.
Second-floor tenant Joe Ciminese comes to me in July to complain about the marijuana plant growing under our old kitchen window in the side yard. Don't know where it came from – I didn't plant it – but it's a beauty. I dig it up and nurse it to sticky-bud maturity on the garage roof at 429, but it turns out not to be very potent.
I'm still driving my troublesome white 1979 diesel VW Rabbit, the last car I acquire brand new until 2016. It's on its fifth engine and its fifth radio/cassette player. It attracts thieves even after I put an alarm in it,
For landlording, there's a pickup truck, a ratty grey 1979 Dodge half-ton without a tailgate that I got cheap at a repo auction. My friend Kim Ziegler, who put a few extra dents in it, called it the "fuck truck."
Monica, if I recall correctly, has a perfectly respectable 1980 Honda Accord and is working for Computer Task Group as a contractor. They have great parties.
It's the year of Prince's "Sign 'O' the Times" and U2's "Joshua Tree" and R.E.M.'s single, "It's the End of the World as We Know It." I'm pre-recording a half-hour show about current music for WBFO-FM, the NPR station. It airs Friday nights. 
And on my desk in the Features Department at The Buffalo News, I have a big honking Sony multi-tasking tuner/record player/cassette player and dubbing deck, on which I review new releases when I'm working late into the night. (Every Thursday night, for instance, I proofread every word in Gusto to weed out the typographical errors.) This may also be the year that I'm finally obliged to add a Sony Discman player to combination. 
1997
For this one, the best jog of the memory will be that year's little black DayMinder notebook. Without looking at it, here's the best of what I recall.
Still have the rental property at 180 Richmond. It's where I put all my gardening efforts. The house at 429 Richmond doesn't get any sun.
I'm golfing a lot, primarily with friends Bob and Pat Riley and a foursome that includes the actor Richard Hummert, his brother-in-law Tony Harasimowicz and Kavinoky Theatre director David Lamb. We hop around to a lot of different courses, but our favorite spot is the Niagara Golf Club outside Niagara Falls, Ont.
What am I driving? This may be that time when I don't have a car at all, just that white 1989 Dodge D-50 pickup truck, another cheapo repo, but nicer.  
No longer the rock critic at The Buffalo News, no longer recording weekly items for WBFO, but still deeply involved in the biz via my little music-related company, Hot Wings Entertainment, which I set up after I stopped working with Ani DiFranco in 1994.
This year sees the release of the second Alison Pipitone CD on the Hot Wings label, "Down to Money." I get her a showcase in the North by Northeast Music Conference in Toronto.
I attend South by Southwest in Austin, Texas, for the fifth straight year, having started there in 1992 with Ani DiFranco. Carl Perkins is the keynote speaker.
For the Folk Alliance conference in Toronto, I run a showcase for upstate New York artists, some from Buffalo, some from Rochester, in a hotel room in conference headquarters in the Westin Harbor Castle. Biggest thrill is when Pete Seeger stops by to listen.
2007
Another year that needs a look at the DayMinder, but this much is for sure. I'm 65 and retirement is out of the question. It's a year of fiscal distress. The reason? I've been unwisely helping out my contractor friend, Michael Foglia, who assisted with repairs at our rental property until we sold it in 2001 and continues at our current place.
Michael is a house painter with a keen eye for custom colors, which is why we hooked up with him. A couple of his houses appear in the third edition of "Painted Ladies." He's also a hard luck case.
His tools get stolen. He needs money to finish a job. He's gotten stiffed by a customer. Someone is ailing in his family – his two kids, their spouses and their kids all live with him. His electricity is getting shut off. He's in trouble with the taxman. I loan him anywhere from a couple hundred bucks to a couple thousand every week or two. Over the years, it's added up.
        I do it by borrowing from my credit cards, banking on Michael's promise that he'll get paid six figures by the rich dentist he's working for on Lincoln Parkway. And in these pre-global financial crisis days when fresh credit card offers show up in the mail every week, I tap into new ones to keep up with the old ones.
I also go that route for personal emergencies. In 2006, when the air conditioning broke in my 1990 Toyota Corolla, I pay for my next ride, a 2000 Toyota RAV-4, the only decent car I can find for less than five figures after searching for two months, with a cash advance from a card.
By this point, I have more than two dozen of them. The minimum monthly payments are $1,000 more than my take-home pay. I can't afford South by Southwest this year and skip it for the first time since 2000. Same for the Folk Alliance conference. I'm dead in the water.
Nor can I afford to go golfing as much anymore. I've taken up duplicate bridge, a much less expensive pastime that doesn't depend on the weather. I'm playing almost every day and piling up master points.
Meanwhile, there is the passing of one of my more colorful Buffalo News colleagues, Lonnie Hudkins, a talkative 80-year-old Texan with CIA connections who knew who really killed JFK.
Lonnie also was Olaf Fub, longtime custodian of a random notes column called "Reporters' Notebook," which had been passed around the newsroom before he took it over in the late 1980s.
It looks like it will die with him, but there's such an outpouring of support and affection at his wake that managing editor Margaret Sullivan has a change of heart.  
So there's a new Olaf Fub. Me.
I keep the format and brighten it up. I look for pithy lead-off quotes. I give the items about chicken dinners and other fundraisers a feature-y tweak. I sprinkle local celebrities and friends into the happy birthday wishes. The column revives. I start enjoying my alternative identity. I sign my email responses "Olaf Jr."