Bytes from the Bean by Joe Manning 01-01-02

12:00AM / Friday, January 04, 2002

CLEANING OUR ROOM

by Joe Manning

“If I had known I was going to live this long, I would have taken better care of myself.”

-Comment from the late jazz pianist Eubie Blake on his 100th birthday.

A while ago, I tuned in WFCR in Amherst, a National Public Radio affiliate that plays primarily classical music. The first thing I heard was a stunning, dark chord played on the piano, which lasted several seconds. I immediately identified the piece. It was a prelude sometimes called The Sunken Cathedral, by French Impressionist composer Claude Debussy (the guy who wrote La Mer and Claire De Lune).

That’s right; only one note, and I knew what it was. Okay, so I’m a dedicated music lover. Maybe I have an advantage over the casual listener. But with all the thousands of solo piano compositions written over the last three centuries, it’s got to be a major accomplishment to create something so unique, that one note of it can be recognized even without being in any context.

North Adams is like that. It is unique and unmistakable. New Jersey native Lew Cuyler, former managing editor of the North Adams Transcript, visited the city for the first time in 1958, when he applied for a job with the newspaper. In Disappearing Into North Adams, he described what he saw:

“When I drove into North Adams over the Hadley Overpass, it was like magic. I was familiar with the manufacturing cities of New England; but the way the city was framed, its hills and steeples, it just seemed to be really special visually. I went up Main Street and pulled into Bank Street, which was a side street.

Bank Street was like a canyon. The buildings were four stories high. It was a little street, the sidewalks were narrow, and the facades of the buildings were quaint. I parked by the YMCA and walked back, so I saw Bank Street from both directions. It was a special street. It wasn’t beautiful; no trees or nice Victorian street lights. It just was what it was. It was a place.

North Adams was a place. It was like coming into a door on the Hadley Overpass. Then you were in a room that was created by the mountains, and the room had furniture, which was the church steeples. They were the largest pieces of furniture. And the room had interesting parts. Bank Street was a hallway.”

Returning to Debussy for a moment, what is so unique about that piano chord? Without getting too technical, the chord consists of notes at both ends of the piano: low notes and high notes. The sound is very dissonant, but because the notes are so far apart, the dissonance is softened, and the chord sounds strangely harmonious.

North Adams is like that chord. It is mountains and valleys, art galleries and factory buildings, old-timers and young techies, River Street and Marion Avenue, and a wide variety of immigrant, ethnic and religious groups. And like that chord, it is strangely harmonious.

Unique, unmistakable, strangely harmonious; qualities that we must protect with foresight and diligence. Like Eubie Blake, we could have taken better care of ourselves over the last 100 years. However, the events of the last century have not been conducive to foresight and diligence.

Looking back, it seems like North Adams has moved from one era to another too rapidly to enable its citizens to step back, take a good look at themselves, and say, “Who are we and where are we going?” Two world wars, the Great Depression, the invention of the automobile, the decline of manufacturing, the population shift to the south and west; these are things we have had little control over.

Because North Adams always seems to be in the midst of change, it has found itself stuck in a perpetual state of adolescence: awkward, self conscious, indifferent to the future. Those of you who are parents know all about adolescents. They don’t clean their rooms. As I look around North Adams (this “room” as Lew Cuyler calls it), I notice that some people are not cleaning it very well, while others are setting a good example.

There’s a house on Walnut Street at the corner of Francis Street. You probably know which one I mean. It’s the big beige-colored one up the hill from Sarah Haskins School. You can see it sitting high up there as you drive into town on State Street. It’s not especially beautiful, but it is typical of the multi-family houses that were built in the late 19th century in the Little Italy area.

I like this historic house. It’s worth saving. It’s part of our landscape and our character. If it were restored and renovated by an owner who cares, it would make a nice home for a few families. But the landlord just lets it rot away. It is common knowledge that there are other neglected properties in the city owned by this landlord.

On the other hand, two young men who recently moved to North Adams, bought the three towering houses on North Holden Street at the corner of Hall Street. They were built in the 1890s, and are striking examples of vernacular Victorian architecture, much like the ones on River Street that became the Porches Inn.



Several weeks ago, I was invited by the owners to visit and take a look. One of these young men lives on the top floor of the middle house. Though there is a ton of renovation to be done, his apartment is replete with striking examples of antiquity, grace, and beauty: hardwood floors, wainscoting, chair rail along the walls, and a large front window in the living room facing a breathtaking view of rooftops, Witt’s Ledge, and the western mountains. Unlike the negligent Walnut Street landlord, the owners plan to restore these historic houses as much as possible and turn them into decent places to live. This is not an easy task, but they are willing to try.



A short walk away, the rugged, brick-faced Tower & Porter Block anchors the odd assortment of ornamental facades that sit on Eagle Street like a wall of finger paintings at an elementary school. The new store at street level looks elegant, but upstairs, the insides are wasting away, thanks to an owner who apparently prefers the status quo over selling it for a fair price to someone who is willing to restore it before it’s too late.



But just to the north, artist Eric Rudd bought and restored the Flatiron Block, and then converted it to a lovely space for art galleries, specialty stores, and apartments. Across the street, Dan Weissbrodt and Liz Canarozzi created the classy Joga Cafe inside a faded old storefront. Several other buildings on Eagle Street are in various stages of renovation, thanks to caring landlords.

Sadly, the Pizza House looks shabby and forlorn. It stands on a prominent corner that presents itself as a prime location for an attractive restaurant or business, not what the current owner has provided us.

On the east side of Holden Street, two new restaurants and a huge renovation project upstairs have given new life to the Blackinton Block, an architectural icon built in 1873. But across the way, half of that side of the Empire Block has no windows, making it more dreary and lifeless than anything else downtown.

Further up Holden Street, the remnants of the first urban renewal program forty years ago are still evident in the ugly parking lot behind Big Y. Half of it is dirt. It is bordered by a broken, rusty fence behind the shopping center. On the opposite side by the river, high weeds can’t obscure the unkempt rear facades of several auto repair shops on River Street.

Off Center Street, where the same urban renewal program left an indelible mark, the area is receiving a welcome facelift. The rear of Newberry’s is one of the casualties. In order to increase the marketing potential of the front portion of Newberry’s on Main Street, the demolition was a wise choice. But it was a bad choice to defer maintenance so long, because the result was to eventually render two-thirds of the building useless.



At the bottom of nearby Houghton Street, there’s a sign in front of the empty lot which used to be a playground. It says, “DO NOT ENTER.” And for good reason. It is a dangerous mess. But there is nothing to prevent kids from wandering in there and trying out the creaky old playground equipment that still stands. One more room to clean.

Much of what we have lost, including that "place" called Bank Street, is due not only to changing times and needs, but also to neglect and a lack of foresight. In the past few years, we have done much to preserve, protect, and beautify what is left. Let us be sure that this trend continues, and that everyone participates in this effort.

Visit Joe's website at: www.sevensteeples.com.

Email Joe at: manningfamily@rcn.com.