In the meantime, Suffolk will host its final slate of races this summer, and continues to offer simulcast races from other tracks around the country. Track operator Sterling Suffolk Racecourse LLC recently announced a plan to conduct racing at the Great Barrington Fairgrounds in Western Mass. next year. For photos of the long-abandoned fairgrounds, see February 20, 2011, "Lose, Place or Show."
I never gambled at Suffolk Downs, or any other horse track. I went to the venue many years ago to see a Radiohead concert. I've traveled near the track numerous times over the years of riding the subway with my son, Owen (see July 27, 2011, "Look, Up On the Restaurant"). I decided that, since the track would soon be demolished and replaced with shiny, new things, he and I should check it out. And so we did one recent day.
I was pleasantly surprised that before we got to the track, we spotted some tracks.
These tracks are left over from the Suffolk Downs Loop, according to this article at Boston Streetcars (scroll down). The loop, presumably, brought folks from Boston to the track, and back again. This area also featured the Gladstone Loop, which was used to park and turn around streetcars, and additional tracks that continued to Revere Beach, per the article.
Pretty cool, eh?
I didn't realize how close Suffolk Downs is to the Blue line train station, and how close I'd be able to get for a few photos.
Stay tuned for more photos as this property moves into its next life phase.
So there I was, minding my own business outside the Dunkin' Donuts near the North Station subway stop waiting for my son, when I looked down.
I haven't taken a lot of shots of these tiled mosaic business entrances, but I think they're very cool. I was unable to find out much about the Hotel Ketterer. I found a photo online of a shot glass for sale that says "HOTEL KETTERER LADIES AND GENTLEMEN'S CAFE," as well as a June 1916 article from the Cambridge Sentinel that refers to the hotel as "famous." I have no idea when it opened or closed.
It's too bad when neighbors don't get along. Years ago my wife and I owned a home in Boston's West Roxbury neighborhood, and got along well with the woman who lived next to us. When she died, in her 80s, a woman in her 40s moved in, and we clashed from the start. Long story, short: we sold the house (not because of her) and heard by way of a Christmas card from another neighbor, that the woman who we sold the house to didn't get along with her new neighbor either, and put up a "spite fence" in order to gain some separation. This was the first time I'd heard this term.
Well, in the photo above is a well-known "spite house" in Boston's North End neighborhood. Known as the Skinny House, this quaint abode on Hull Street sits across from Copp's Hill Burying Ground, the city's second cemetery. Built in 1884, the spite house was erected by one brother who had inherited a plot of land, only to come home from the Civil War to find out his brother, and fellow heir, had built a large house on the land. "Miffed, he built the Skinny House, blocking sunlight and his brother’s views of the harbor," according to this Boston magazine story, which is worth reading.
This is 88 Prince Street in Boston's North End. At the top it reads "A DESTEFANO A 1915 D BLDG," which I thought would make it easy to find information about the building. I was wrong. I suppose when you're located just a few steps away from both the birthplace of Prince spaghetti and a famous Mafia hangout, it's easy to get overlooked. Let's just assume that among the major influx of Italians to the North End more than a hundred years ago was a family named DeStefano that did so well in manufacturing or shipping or banking that they erected this metal-fronted apartment building.
In the Boston area, Brigham is a fairly well-known name, due in large part to two wildly different businesses: Brigham and Women's Hospital and Brigham's Ice Cream, a former independent ice cream manufacturer (and one-time restaurant franchise operation) now owned by HP Hood. The only benefits I receive from these companies is that sometimes familiarity with their names makes it easier for people to know how to spell my surname. Other times, they mess up and want to call me "Bridgeman" or "Bringham" or even "Bingham."
There is a Brigham Circle in Boston's Mission Hill neighborhood, named for Peter Bent Brigham Hospital, which became part of Brigham and Women's. There is a Brigham Farm Stand in Concord, Mass. And in your grocer's freezer aisle there is Brigham's Ice Cream, which features flavors such as Just Jimmies, Paul Revere's Rocky Ride and the Big Dig. Unfortunately, the last few hold-outs in the restaurant chain closed several years ago.
And long ago, before the hospital and ice cream, there was Brigham's Hotel & Restaurant in what is now the Chinatown/Downtown Crossing area of Boston. It was at the corner of Washington and Essex streets:
(I believe the building with the black awning -- Wild Duck Wine & Spirits -- was the exact location of the hotel and restaurant, based on photos and a drawing in Boston and Bostonians that I found online. I'll get to the building on the left shortly.)
Robert Bent Brigham, nephew of the aforementioned Peter Bent Brigham (do you think the phrase "get bent" was invented for them?), opened Brigham's Hotel & Restaurant in 1860 or 1861 (dates differ in the sources I've found online). The building had gone up in 1824, however, as the LaFayette Hotel, according to the 1987 "Midtown Cultural District: Historic Building Survey" issued by the Boston Redevelopment Authority and the Boston Landmarks Commission. From 1848-1860/61, the building was William Bacon's Oyster House, according to the survey.
In 1888, Brigham added a building in the rear, according to the survey.
(These photos show Hersey Place, which, according to Boston and Bostonians [1894, American Publishing and Engraving Co.], was where the main entrance to the hotel was. The restaurant entrance was on Washington Street; guests could access the hotel through the restaurant. I'm not sure whether any of the buildings in these photos were part of the hotel, which had at least 65 rooms.)
(Kaze Shabu Shabu restaurant has nothing to do with any of this, but I love the mural on the back of this building, which is on the opposite side of Hersey Place from where Brigham's Hotel was.)
Next door to the former Brigham's Hotel site, at 630 Washington Street, is this building:
The Sons of Liberty plaque commemorates this site, which was where Garrett Bourne built a house in 1626 and, roughly 20 years later, planted an elm tree. By 1765 the tree had become integral to the burgeoning revolutionary movement in Boston, and effigies of those who supported the Stamp Act were hung here. That year, the tree was dubbed the Tree of Liberty and from that point on many important meetings were held here. Read more about this story here.
Some sources online indicate this as the site of Brigham's Hotel and Restaurant. Perhaps the inn and eatery occupied both of these buildings and at least one more on Hersey Place. This photo at the Historic New England web site indicates that Brigham's Hotel was indeed the building I guessed, and that the one next to it was for a time Washburn Department Store.
Prepared to see something awesome? OK.
At the 3:24 mark in this amazing little movie, you can see Washburn's. Unfortunately, you can't see Brigham's Hotel.
In later years, after the hotel went out of business, this site became a little more, uh, lively, shall we say. From the Midtown Cultural District survey mentioned above: "1900 - Since Brigham's time, the building has had an infamous history of
famous bars : 1920's-' 40 's - nationally renowned Silver Dollar Bar; 195Q's-60's - The Palace - one of the most noted and popular bars of college crowd and others. Famous "Twist" joint. Since the Palace, place has slid downhill in a succession of lesser- account bars: Pink. Kitten, Downtown Lounge, 2 O'clock Lounge."
I recall walking through this area more than 20 years ago and seeing a very skeevy dive bar in this general location. Might have been the 2 O'Clock Lounge. History is so cool, isn't it? And the Internet, you also are cool. I love that I can shoot photos of buildings, plug the address into Google and just about always find out some background that allows me to keep this blog alive.
My parents moved from Weatogue, the neighborhood of Simsbury, Connecticut, where I grew up, to nearby Windsor several years ago. In that time, I have driven dozens of times through the intersection of routes 178 and 187 in Bloomfield, which is sandwiched between Windsor and Simsbury. It was just a few years ago, however, that I noticed a collapsing structure tucked into the woods at that busy junction.
Still, I didn't make time to explore this little corner until just recently. I found more to photograph than I was expecting, but less about this forgotten homestead than I was hoping.
As you can see, this place has been abandoned for quite some time. There doesn't appear to be a basement and the walls are flimsy. This wasn't a fancy house. Nonetheless, it was somebody's castle.
The other three corners of this intersection are holy sites: Bethel African Methodist Episcopal Church, the First Cathedral and the Apostolic Fellowship Church of Christ Jesus. There are at least two dozen churches in Bloomfield, a town of less than 21,000. Unlike many Hartford suburbs, Bloomfield is majority African-American (57.5%, as of the 2010 census), a demographic shift that has taken place over the past 70 years.
Incorporated in 1835, Bloomfield was, like many towns in the area, a farming community, with many farmers involved in growing shade tobacco (for more about the Greater Hartford tobacco industry, see September 20, 2017, "One-Stop Barnstorming Tour," and July 19, 2016, "Tobacco Road."). The section of Bloomfield that we're discussing shows up on old maps as the Old Farm District. So I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that at one time this homestead and the churches around it were farmland.
I guess there are a thousand reasons why the homeowners left this place to collapse in on itself: divorce, illness, death, financial ruin, incarceration. Take your pick. I'm fascinated by houses that just stop being loved, or even owned. Several years ago I documented the remains of a house in Weatogue that had fascinated me as a teenager (see February 7, 2013, "President Little, Part II: From Myth to Man"). Any time I see a dilapidated house that someone lives in, or a collapsing place like this that once was the center of somebody's life, I have so many questions.
I had no idea before I started walking the short distance from the road into the woods, that there was a second structure on the property.
I could see a vehicle in the garage, and guessed it was an old car, tractor of pick-up truck. But no.
So what's going to become of this place?
In October 2014, a developer filed an application for a zone change with the Town of Bloomfield to allow for five multi-use residential buildings containing 20 units. In July 2015 an amended application for 10 duplexes was filed. Two years ago the project had morphed into "proposed elderly multi-family" housing (138 units) proposed by a company called Calamar. Since that time, nothing seems to have been filed.
So long for now, old car and garage. I'll keep an eye on you.
