You Don't Have to Be Crazy to Live Here, But It Helps

From Dave Brigham:

In 1995, when I turned 30, my girlfriend (now wife), Beth, joined members of my family in buying me my first mountain bike. She'd bought one in college, and wanted to share her passion for trail riding with me. She still cracks herself up talking about how the first time I rode in the woods, I wore jeans, instead of bike shorts.

We rode a lot initially at the Middlesex Fells, a large (more than 2,000 acres) reserve that spans the towns of Malden, Medford, Melrose, Stoneham and Winchester, just north of Boston. I had a great time exploring hills, meadows, and old fire roads. Over the next 2 1/2 years we rode in a lot of places in New England, but none more intriguing than the grounds of the old Metropolitan State Hospital straddling Belmont, Waltham and Lexington, Mass.

Opened in 1930, the hospital housed mentally ill patients in at least a dozen large, red-brick buildings. The facility closed in 1992 as part of the national movement to deinstitutionalize such patients and move them into smaller hospitals and group homes. For 15 years, the site sat shuttered and deteriorating, a magnet for urban explorers, adventurous partiers and hikers and mountain bikers. In 2007, most of the buildings were torn down to make room for a 387-unit apartment development. Some of the old buildings were renovated and used within the new community.



Above is the administration building, the last structure awaiting renovation or demolition. I remember touring past this building and several others just like it, only larger, with Beth and our friend Mike. We didn't go in any of the buildings, but spent a fair amount of time on a few occasions marveling at the buildings and wondering just what sort of things went on behind the closed doors.

For great photos of the inside of some of the Met State buildings, check this out. To read more about the conversion of the site to luxury apartments, read this.

The photo below is from the Gaebler Children's Center, which opened in 1955 on the state hospital's property. This picture is the only one I've taken while knowingly trespassing. I drove right past the "No Trespassing: Police Take Notice" sign, figuring no cop would arrest me as long as I had my two-year-old daughter with me. The folks at Opacity report that in the time since I took this picture, the site "appears to be under development by Testa Construction and Site Dismantlement; demolition or renovation seems imminent."



For some cool inside and outside pics of the children's center, check this out.

"Just Drop Me Off Here...."

From David Burke:

While taking the most around-about way to the Maker's Mark distillery in Loretto, Kentucky, two friends and I drove past this old house in the rural town of Lawrenceville. Being a passenger, I asked Scott to PLEASE stop and back up. He kindly obliged and I then snapped this one picture from the car window, and we continued on our way.

I was not quite sure as to why I found this house so intriguing. Perhaps because it is not like anything I might come across in New England. It does not seem to be ransacked or vandalized. I wanted to say "just drop me off here and I think I'll start afresh."



Well, I am back home but this little house still stays on my mind.

The Butt Ugly Building

From Mick Melvin:

Driving to work every morning, I had always wondered about the huge, abandoned building located at the corner of Main and Trumbull streets in Hartford. It sits on its own little island in the middle of the city surrounded by parking lots near Route 84. I couldn’t imagine why this building was not scooped up by some developer. I searched the Internet trying to find out what was at this location, but came up with nothing. Much to my delight, I opened the newspaper one morning and there it was, “The Butt Ugly Building.”



I had no idea it was dubbed the “Butt Ugly Building” until that day. It is certainly a fitting name for the structure. When Dave told me his plans of starting this photo blog, this building was one of the first things I thought of capturing for the project. I hesitated to post any pictures because I didn’t know the history behind this butt-ugly building. As it turns out, it was the home of the H. B. Davis department store. The building has been vacant since the store closed 30 years ago.

The building has been in the headlines as of late because of legal problems surrounding the development of the property. The building has played a part in the demise of former Hartford Mayor, Eddie Perez (see 7-8-10 Hartford Courant, "City Moves to Buy Butt Ugly Building"). The new Mayor, Pedro Segarra, has plans to demolish the building next month and rid the city of this long standing eyesore.

Roadside California Movie Sets

From Joe Viger:

Travelling around California I kept finding great old ruins. Many were defunct roadside businesses and there was something remarkable about these places. It took me a while to figure it out, but I think it was the level of preservation and a unique quality to the way the time has worked on these old buildings. I’m a lifelong New Englander and the hot, dry climate in California seems to age buildings differently. The construction plays a role in the impression these building left on me, too, as there is more masonry and stucco than the typical wood structure in my home state. The character of these buildings was so strong that they struck me as looking like movie sets waiting for the crew to arrive.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t always stop and make a picture but Lemon Cove, CA, was worth getting out and stretching my legs for. Here, blocks apart from each other, were two amazing old filling stations.





Just east of Fresno, CA, a man selling cherries out of the back of his truck caught my eye and I quickly realized his place of business had a past life. I stopped to take a few pictures and ended up buying some cherries. I don’t like them but he was a nice guy trying to earn a living on this desolate, hot corner where clearly others had failed.

This Blue Bird Done Flown the Coop

From David Burke:

The last thing I expected to find while roaming amid abandoned auto repair buildings in Plainville, CT, was a burned-out Blue Bird school bus. Yet there it was in all its eerie and singed glory. There were several other decaying vehicles clustered nearby, but the bus was the crown jewel of the whole mess.



In my opinion, the mattress is the creepiest part. This just doesn't seem to be the appropriate place for a nap or romantic getaway, but I have the feeling that someone felt otherwise. I went back to the same location a couple of months later and found that the bus was gone. Just goes to show that the Backside is often brief and fleeting.

Dark Side of the Motel

From Dave Brigham:

When I was a kid, my grandparents lived in Lakehurst, NJ. Most times when we visited, we stayed at their house in a retirement community. But on at least one occasion, we stayed at a place called the Moon Motel (after a bit of research, I'm pretty sure that this is the place. Located in Howell, NJ, this motel is about half an hour from Lakehurst, and is described in a few locations online as being "infamous" and "easily the shadiest place in town.") I don't recall much about the place, but I remember swimming there in the evening and thinking that was really cool. Nobody in my family has much recall on the place, either, other than to remember that it was either "a dump" or "not anything fancy."

Still, I have a soft spot in my heart for old motels, especially ones with loads of neon, nice pools and just a hint or two of mystery. I never stay in them, however, so I'm a party to their demise.



The Picture Lake Motel in Bourne, on Cape Cod, seems like it was just such a place, minus the groovy neon. The abandoned motel is located a few doors down from the spot where the My Tin Man Diner burned down 10 years ago (see Backside's "Two Hearts Beat As One," 7-28-10).

A thorough search online turns up nothing whatsoever about the place, other than generic listings in lodging directories. It's like the place never existed.

The pool, at least, is probably listed in the minds of Bourne-area skateboarders as a cool place to ride, late at night. But watch out for the cops cruising on Route 28, especially under a full moon.

This Old, Decrepit House Update

From Dave Brigham:

As I reported last month ("This Old, Decrepit House," 7-25-10), there was a good chance that a long-abandoned house in Watertown Square in Watertown, Mass., would be torn down. The house had been neglected even when it was occupied, and had holes in the exterior walls. I drove by today and sure enough, the place has been demolished. The new owners hoped to save it, they said, but if they couldn't, they talked about building something in a similar style. I hope they follow through on that. I'll post updates as construction gets under way.

Stairway to...?

From Michelle Loya:

I took this picture in Woodstock, Vermont, while wandering around the historic town on vacation. I was lucky to find some amazing objects to photograph, this metal staircase being one of them.



It was located in the back of what seemed to be a house. There was a very narrow door to the left of it, which first sparked my interest because I was confused by its size. This miniature door led me to this beautiful staircase.

I was unsure how to photograph the staircase. There wasn't one specific way I could capture its beauty; I was tempted to take a video of it. The rusting wrought iron curling in such a simple pattern was amazing to me. There were a few parts broken or missing from it and I wondered how old it could be.

Not many things stay so nicely preserved in the tundra that becomes Vermont in the winter months. Despite its beauty, the staircase looked very unsafe, as it wasn't quite flush against the house and only had one side with a railing. There are so many questions I still have about this staircase, but I suppose I may never know and thats part of the beauty of it.

Two Hearts Beat As One

From Dave Brigham:

The one time I went to the My Tin Man Diner on Cape Cod I was underwhelmed. I don't remember what I ate, but it was nothing special, and the place was a little rundown. Still, I loved diners, so I longed to go back. Unfortunately, in 2000 the place was torched by a guy who thought his wife, a waitress at the diner, was fooling around with customers. The burned-out hulk of the diner sat hard by Route 28 in Bourne for years before being torn down.

I vacation in Bourne each summer with my wife's family, so every July I find myself thinking about the diner. This year, on a drive with my son through North Falmouth, I cruised through a four-way intersection that I'd traveled through before, and spied a "Tin Man Diner" sign. The next day, with some alone time on my hands and anxious to use my new camera, I made a bee-line right back to that intersection.

I parked in the small lot out front and started snapping pictures, acting as though I'd found some Egyptian artifact that nobody had ever seen. After a few minutes, a guy about my age, wearing an apron, approached me and asked whether I was from the newspaper. I told him no, I just love diners and was excited at discovering that the Tin Man had risen from the ashes (I didn't say it so poetically that day). Then, a woman in her late 50s or early 60s joined us. The cook explained that I was just a diner lover, and she gave me a hearty handshake.

Turns out some locals have given the diner a hard time. The woman turned out to be the owner, Barbara Lind. She said that each day she had her small neon "OPEN" sign turned on, the town of Falmouth assessed her a fine (I didn't find out how much). There have been people out front protesting the diner, she said, although she didn't say for what. I suspect that the neighbors in the well-to-do neighborhood weren't too pleased that a scrappy, working class woman and her daughter, who were associated with a lurid and sordid arson case, were now working in their midst.



Barbara was kind enough to invite me in to look at the diner and take some more pictures. "I'm so glad you turned out to be alright," she said to me with a big smile on her face. I wished her well in her battle with the town and her neighbors and told her I'd try to get back the next day for breakfast. Unfortunately, I didn't make it back.

The place is resplendent in "Wizard of Oz" decor, and neat and clean. Barbara has proudly hung a bunch of articles about the original diner's demise, and the launch of the new place. I don't know if I can wait a year to get back there to eat. Some weekend in the near future I need to sit down at the counter and devour some waffles, bacon and home fries.

Finally, how's this for a way to complete the circle: on the exact spot where the My Tin Man once stood, a new diner has been dropped. I snapped a couple of pictures of the place, and as I did so I could hear a radio from inside, and see signs of people working to fix it up for business. Looks like next July I'll have two choices for home-cooked breakfast.

This Old, Decrepit House

From Dave Brigham:

This creepy old manse is right around the corner from one of my family's favorite restaurants, Not Your Average Joe's, in Watertown, Mass. At the time that I first noticed it, my kids were totally into "Scooby-Doo," so I dubbed it The Scooby-Doo House. Backside contributor Joe Viger thinks it looks more like 1313 Mockingbird Lane, aka The Munster's house. Whatever you call this place, it's sad how much the longtime owners let it run down before it was purchased nearly a year ago by three brothers who hope to renovate it to its previous glory.



The Watertown Tab has written a few stories about the house, which has been abandoned for many years. According to neighbors, the house was very beautiful 20 years ago. It's not hard to see how with a LOT of time, money and elbow grease, this could be an amazing residence again. But, given that some exterior walls have rotted away and the place is filled with junk, excrement and decay, the new owners may have to tear it down. I, like the owners and neighbors, hope it can be restored. I'll keep an eye on this project, no matter which way it goes.

For a look inside the house, watch this video:

Elegantries

(Photos by Wendy Hammond)


From Dave Brigham:

These spectacular pictures were taken by my friend Wendy Hammond, who, unlike the rest of us here at The Backside of America, is a professional (not to say that the rest of us don't take great pictures, just that we don't actually, you know, get paid for doing so).

The photos depict long-abandoned Long Island Railroad gantries in Long Island City, New York. Gantries lifted freight cars from rail yards onto float bridges, which then transferred the cars to barges. The barges, or car floats, took the trains to ships or to rail lines across the river in New Jersey.