While fairly small, Batavia, NY, which we recently visited, has been historically important. It is a relatively old city. While Kitchener has a pioneer tower at the outskirts, celebrating the arrival of the first settlers in 1820, the oldest cornerstone I saw in Batavia was 1804, with many others in the 1860s, ‘70s, and ‘80s.
Batavia is celebrating 100 years of being a city. They have a new(ish) no-nonsense, get-the-job-done City Hall, so much nicer looking than Kitchener’s pretentious, architectural Frankenstein’s monster.
Towers, and roof-top cupolas seemed common in Batavia.
Front/side view of cupola. I believe the building’s style is ‘Federalist’, solid, trustworthy, about as exciting as mashed potatoes. This is the first indication of the move forward from the uselessly ornate Victorian Era architecture.
What was once a County Court judge’s magnificent home, half a block from the cop-shop, is now carved up into tiny apartments. The shingles on the Russian Orthodox Church-style end tower need some uniform replacement.
A side-street view of the original municipal Fire Department building. The section on the left c/w alarm bell on the roof, was the Chief’s apartment/home. Now it houses a crafts and memorabilia store.
The main-street angle shows the round tower on the left, which the firemen climbed to get to the dormitory, with a brass
strippers’ fire pole down the center for fast response. The square tower on the right end was for hanging hoses to dry so they didn’t rot.
There’s a lovely little downtown park, just up from the old firehall, along the edge of Tonawanda Creek, which ambles through town. Perhaps they celebrate Disney princesses there, or maybe that’s where gay weddings are held. The park is named Peace Park. There are memorials to several pioneers and politicians, as well as veterans. There was a display of about 20 little American flags around the Veterans’ stone. The son commented that approximately 1 of every 10 houses also flew a flag.
A little wooden footbridge across the creek into a residential neighborhood. A close look at the middle right shows a Federal Government authorized and registered sewage outflow. Imagine how bad it might be if the Government didn’t have it under control.
A Catholic Church – every city’s got one (or more). With the afternoon sun directly behind, the best shot was from the shadow of the tower, in the left-turn lane in the middle of an almost-deserted Sunday street. The son didn’t trust me to warn him of impending traffic, instead, taking a higher-angle shot from the safety of the sidewalk.
From a candy store at the other end of the main street, a present for the
warden wife, as thanks for allowing us an unescorted jail day-pass. With a flurry of intellect and originality, Batavia calls their main street, Main Street. My little British-styled home town called ours, High Street.
We didn’t know that while we were gone, one of the daughter’s cats had broken her favorite glass, but we used some of grandson WillowThorn’s kind donation, to purchase her another. The Wiccan Witch of the West loves it.
These were the photo chronicles of a lovely, sunny, warm, Sunday stroll through an historically interesting little village which grew up into a productive city, without losing too much of its heritage. Next week I tell the tale of our welcome(?) return to