Franklin Park Is Ruin-ed

From Dave Brigham:

Like Ben Franklin with the kite, gettin' over with the key, I was shocked into action when I realized how little I knew about the jewel of Boston's park system, the largest component of Frederick Law Olmsted's Emerald Necklace: Franklin Park.

In May of this year, I wrote about the wonderful remnants of a Franklin Park superintendent's office (see May 11, 2024, "Learning About Boston's Schoolmaster Hill"), as well as the stadium at the park (see May 18, 2024, "Stadiium Tour in Franklin Park"). Near the end of 2019, I posted about the Franklin Park Zoo's old bear dens (see December 18, 2019, "Having a Bear of a Time at the Zoo").

Still, I realized after those most recent adventures just how much more there is to the park. So I explored further. Here's what I found.

I started my tour at the Ellicott Arch and adjacent 99 Steps.

(The lower end of 99 Steps, located in the southwestern corner of the park, just off Circuit Drive.)

(Ellicott Arch, which passes under Circuit Drive.)

(Inside the arch's tunnel.)

As mentioned above, this expanse was designed by renowned landscape architect Frederick Law Olmsted. It is his nephew and adopted son, however, who gets credit for designing the Ellicott Arch. John Charles Olmsted and his brother, Frederick, Jr., took over their father's firm after the elder man retired. The arch, constructed of Roxbury puddingstone taken from the area, was completed in 1899. The 99 Steps, which are made of the same stone, wind up into the wooded area of the park known as the Wilderness.

I've been unable to find out for whom the arch is named.

Mid-way up (or down, I suppose) the steps is a plaque detailing things that were illegal when the park first opened (and, presumably, today).

"It is against the law for anyone when in the park...to make outcries, orations, or harangues...play hand-organs...use vile, profane, or threatening language..." the sign says in part.

Not too far away from these architectural beauties is a more rough-hewn work of art, albeit one that's had a tough time of things in recent years.

Located near a swampy area below some cliffs, the Wizard of Franklin Park is a shadow of its former self, from what I understand. In late May 2021, Universal Hub ran an article about the rebirth of the Wizard: "Earlier this month, as people were beginning to notice fires being set in Franklin Park, whether intentionally or through cigarette carelessness, a Jamaica Plain resident discovered that among the victims was the tree wizard that had long sat in the hollow of a tree in the park's Wilderness area off Forest Hills Street - not just set on fire, but hacked up as well."

Pardon my French, but what the fuck is wrong with people? Who sets fires in a park as glorious as Franklin Park? And who attacks a harmless wizard painted on a tree?

The article continues: "Alex Cook, who knows something about outdoor art, went out a few days ago and rebuilt and repainted the tree wizard." So that was more than three years ago. When I visited in March of this year, the tree looked like it had perhaps been set ablaze again.

While I knew about the Wizard, the arch and 99 steps from advanced research, I wasn't aware of other sites of interest I would come across.

These stone walls are located in the northeast section of the aforementioned Wilderness area, near what are called the Valley Gates. According to this excellent blog post, this area was to be known as The Ante Park, a section "[s]eparating the two halves [of the park], putting a physical and psychological barrier between the natural enjoyment and the community uses of the park."

The natural enjoyment section included the Wilderness and the Country Park, the latter of which is now Franklin Park Golf Course. The community-oriented part was the Greeting (now the Franklin Park Zoo) and the Playstead, home of White Stadiium and other ruins that I will discuss below. The wide lane you see in the first photo above was once known as Glen Lane, a road running through the Valley Gates from Washington Street to Blue Hill Avenue, according to the blog.

Like me, the blog's author was mystified as to the original purpose of the stone walls. I highly recommend reading the entire post, but here's a summary of what the writer found out: he thought at first maybe these were remnants from the zoo, but learned quickly that that wasn't a good guess. He next considered it was an area for park visitors to keep their horses. Nope. Finally, after more intense map reviewing, "I saw that the rocky alcove existed in 1884! [On the map] the space is clearly marked right where I saw it....Which means that it was not part of the Franklin Park plan, but a remnant of some pre-Park farm or home."

Nice detective work!

OK, let's move on to the ruins near White Stadium.

This is what's left of the Overlook, "an 800-foot-long viewing platform elevated above The Playstead," according to this Boston Preservation blog post. "There was a shelter heavily designed by Olmsted on top of the The Overlook. The City allowed it to fall into disrepair and a fire took the building. It is now only a ruin today."

The Overlook was a place for people to gather and watch sports, ceremonies and other exhibitions taking place below, in the Playstead. Judging by the ruins, it was quite a structure.

(Remnant of a water fountain near the Overlook.)

The last two features I want to highlight are two statues at the Playstead entrance to the zoo. I've walked past these works of art many times over the years, but hadn't really appreciated them.

You are likely familiar with the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C. Well, the same artist who sculpted the massive seated figure of our nation's 16th president, Daniel Chester "D.C." French, created the works outside the zoo. The one above is known as Labor; it is "fifteen feet high and consists of a seated Labor in leather apron with his right arm on an anvil which also protects a mother cradling her baby," according to this Jamaica Plain Historical Society blog post. "At his right is the rhythmic figure representing Arts."

The statue's full name is Labor Supporting the Arts and Domestic Life.

Labor and its partner, Science (The Forces of Steam and Electricity Subdued and Controlled by Science) (seen below), were created in the late 18th century for the former Boston Post Office and Subtreasury Building. "[T]he figure Science is a seated woman with her foot resting on a closed volume, representing her concealed secrets," per the historical society blog post. "Crouching at her feet is a gigantic slave with his hands chained to a steam locomotive wheel. Standing at her right is an energetic young man clutching a thunderbolt as the Spirit of Electricity, his youth symbolizing the emerging potential of the new resource."

Erected in 1885, the statues were situated approxiately 100 feet above Congress Street flanking a two-story entry arch. "They were among [the] largest sculptures in the city; they joined the Soldiers and Sailors monument on the Boston Common...the Charlestown Soldiers and Sailors monument...and the George Washington monument at the Public Garden," according to the blog post.

As amazing as the statues are, and as beautiful as the post office building was, the pairing would not last. "The Pubic Buildings Act of 1926 authorized $165 million for new federal buildings and the city of Boston applied for and received an appropriation to replace the 1885 Post Office and Subtreasury Building," the historical society continues. "By the end of December, 1929, the massive city block-long building had been razed."

The statues were removed from the building before its demolition, and offered to the City of Boston. On September 17, 1930, the statues, with new granite pedestals, were revealed to the public at the zoo as part of the celebration of the 300th anniversary of Boston's founding. The site where the statues originally stood is now the John W. McCormack Post Office and Courthouse Building, located in the heart of Boston's Post Office Square.

I strongly encourage my readers to explore Franklin Park. There is still plenty of the site that I haven't checked out; I hope to return soon.