Train Stations of Western New York (1970)
Old Photo Album - Spring 2022
By: Steve Mangione
It was 1969-1970—my senior year at the Rochester Institute of Technology. I was in the Photographic Illustration program, which was a fine arts course of study based on a problem-solving theme. For our senior year, we had to complete a thesis based on a photographic essay. This would be followed by a photography show for all 19 graduates. The course had started four years before with 88 freshman—but only 19 survived the program. The thesis subject was discussed for a month before I finally arrived at a subject agreeable to the professor. Because of my long-term interest in architecture, I chose to focus on train stations of Western New York. I would pick a small, representative group of stations showing various styles of buildings.
The images would be taken “old School.” That is, using a large, 4 x 5, bellows-type camera on a tripod. For added light, I would use large, old-style, screw-in flash bulbs. With the likes of Ansel Adams, Elliot Porter and, of course, Edward Weston as my photography idols, I would pay particular attention to fine grain, shadow detail and to obtaining the highest quality images by using specially formulated developers. The next eight months would be an adventure that the simple pictures produced could not fully describe.
Six stations were selected. Only two of the six were operational at the time, but all had a story to tell. My first encounter was the station I am calling Henrietta for the town in which it was located. I arrived very early to catch the first light and spent the entire day there. I shot only seven views, partly to save money—large sheet film is expensive for a student—and partly to really get to know the subject. This was followed by a day in the darkroom, developing and printing. The following day, I met with the professor to discuss my “vision” and to see if I was going in the right direction. A few days later, I headed back to the site to shoot more pictures—only to find an empty concrete pad. In the four days since I took the original pictures someone had removed the building. There were no signs of heavy equipment being used so I had to surmise that the building had been picked up and moved. Years later, I heard that a railroad buff had moved it to his back yard.
The next station was “Lima,” just south of Rochester. I believe this one still stands. Lima filled in all the correct blanks; interesting style, and most importantly for my aesthetic, lots of peeling paint. A few shots and I was happy with the result.
Rochester Junction came next. If you draw a straight line across New York State from Albany to Buffalo, you see that the city of Rochester lies a few miles north of the railroad line. At Fairport, Rochester-bound trains would leave the main line and head up to the city. After that, they would rejoin the main line near LeRoy. The trains not needing to go up to Rochester would make their stop at Rochester Junction. This was an old wooden building that would look very much at home in a western movie. It was still in operation at the time and the long, covered sections were a clue to its use, which was mainly for freight. Sadly, a few years after my pictures were taken it burned to the ground. A viewing platform has been erected at Fairport so people could view the trains splitting off and going west or north to Rochester.
Next on my journey was Lockport. Lockport Station was a beautiful, abandoned station near downtown. It had been stripped of anything that could be moved, but it was still striking, with great architectural style. I made many trips to the station and in the years since I’ve gone back many times. I’ve watched it go from abandoned but well-kept and sturdy, to disrepair, to a complete restoration as a high-end restaurant—and finally to a burned-out skeleton of a building.
Finally, we arrive at the two architectural highlights of the thesis—Buffalo’s Central Terminal on Paderewski Drive and the Delaware, Lackawanna and Western Railroad Terminal, commonly called the DL&W Terminal, at the foot of Main Street. The New York Central was still in use in 1970. The long hall with benches that led to the platforms was still intact, not yet having been sliced off so that the “new” tall trains could get through on their way to Toronto. Everything was there, just like it was when I was a child taking family vacations to New York City and beyond. There were the shoeshine stands, the pay phones, the restaurant, the magazine sellers—and of course the big Bison watching over everything.
I was sorry to see that there was one ugly addition—a powder blue wall, eight feet tall and the width of the concourse, had been built to keep people from the clock tower area and the original restaurant. My guess was that it made cleaning easier, but this wall was a hindrance to my picture taking as I knew the wonderful architecture located on the other side. A closed, windowless door had been built in the middle of the wall. I looked around, and with no one to ask, I carried my 30 pounds of equipment through the door and set up for the “Grand” picture.
Perhaps at this point, a brief explanation of the process of taking these pictures is in order. The large camera would be placed on a very sturdy and heavy tripod with sheet film holders set up close by, two sheets per holder. The camera could then be focused by going under a black cloth to better see the upside-down ground glass image at the back of the camera. Once satisfied with the design of the image and that all lines were straight, the camera was in focus and locked down, only then would one sheet of film be placed into the camera back.
But the job is not done yet. The exposure would be in the neighborhood of 30 seconds or more. During that time, I had time to run around behind the view of the camera setting off multiple flash bulbs to try and light the unlit inner dome. As many as five giant flashbulbs were set off aiming them at different areas. Unlike today’s digital cameras I would not really know if my exposure was correct or if I might be returning. Hopefully, I had learned enough in those four years of study to get a well-exposed shot.
While I was under the black cloth composing my picture—behind the aforementioned ugly wall—I had a sense that I was being watched. Glancing down from under the cloth, I could see the toes of shiny shoes standing right next to me. Busted! I came out from under the cloth and met a well-dressed, but casually dressed, man who wanted to know “What was I doing in his station?” I explained my purpose and assured him I meant no harm. He hesitated a minute and then told me that I had caught him on a good day. He was the head of the station but was about to board the train for New York City to assume the management of Grand Central Station. With that in mind, he gave me his name and said that if anyone stopped me I could tell them that I had his permission to go anywhere on the property I wished. It could not have been a better day! I was very happy with all my pictures.
The DL&W station was a completely different matter. I arrived with all my heavy gear and walked around the very plain looking building, searching for a way inside. Eventually, I found a piece of plywood someone had loosened to the point where I could fit through the opening. As I walked around, I could see the garbage and refuse left by previous visitors. I set up as before and began taking pictures. I worked for a few hours, aware that it was a little scary in that building as I was all alone. After a while, I needed a break and thought I’d leave my equipment and look around the second floor of the now-abandoned DL&W offices.
For all the time I had been taking pictures, there had been a banging noise somewhere in the building. I had guessed it might be a loose piece of metal hitting another. As I approached the next floor, however, the sounds became louder and louder. Finally, I found myself outside the door of a very large mens’ room. The door was propped open and, as I took a step into the room, I saw a young man about 14 or 15 years old with a large rock proceeding to work his way down the long row of urinals, smashing each one until it was completely destroyed. Fearing what might happen if I confronted him, I backed out of the room, retrieved my equipment and, with a feeling of sadness, left the building.
The once-grand staircase inside the DL&W terminal. Image colorized by the author.
This building, in my estimation, was another in a long line of architectural tragedies that have befallen Buffalo. When Buffalo was at its financial peak, it was a world-class, well-designed city with the finest architecture. The DL&W station, with its classic staircase and waiting room, followed by its very gothic looking pass-through room that housed magazine and candy sellers and then its indoor train platform, was an architectural gem. I could almost picture the joy and pride as my uncles returned from World War II and walked through this marvelous building.
