RUDIMENTS, pt. 1,332
(glory be to glory that was)
Not wishing to misconstrue,
the particulars of Elmira made
it, in effect, a hothouse of a
decaying old industrial city;
which, in turn, made it unique
and singular too. You could
just hear things dying off as
you walked along. The two
periods - pre-flood and
post-flood, also, became as
different as night and day; as
if, pre-flood, plastic and tacky
had not yet been invented and,
post-flood, it had taken over.
Contractors and re-builders
swarmed the place, each
outdoing the other in the
surpassing any semblance of
the old by dousing it in the
new, which in the mid-1970's,
mostly meant crap and junk.
Picture a city of Ford Pintos,
or Chevy Vegas, for equivalence.
Plastic. Cheap lumber. Bad
siding and colors. Many of the
finest and oldest little shop
and storefronts became sheeted
in bad glass, inoperative windows,
and new, hideous signage. Any
'old America' charm was lost.
I'd imagine it wasn't the first
terrible flood to hit the place,
but I don't know what they did
the other times either. Maybe
1946, as I recall, had some
sort of lesser flood. A few of
the big 'anchor' type stores
just upped and left. There was
a crappy but flourishing 'mall'
a few miles out, on the way to
Corning, and I think some just
moved there.
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Corning was a whole different
place; income levels were higher,
corporate jobs and positions, the
legions of glassblowers and glass
museum people gave the town a
different feel. Like a corporate
campus more than anything else;
not so much a 'town' or a 'place.'
Housing was different; modern and
suburbanized. The mall I already
mentioned, and there wasn't much
of a downtown. But the people all
seemed lifeless; drained, dead. There
was no joy or happiness there, just
stiving. Poor folk are usually, at
least, happy - in their own way.
Ironic humor. Dirty jokes. Beer
and babes. None of that in Corning.
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Every place out there had its story:
another local town called 'Horseheads'
made claim to its name with a story
that the first settlers there came across
a horse graveyard, kept by local Injuns,
and all they saw was a field of, yep,
horse heads. Ok, sure. And there's no
joy in Corning because glassblowing
replaced any other kind of blowing.
Another one was Cortland; home of
the famed Cortland apple.
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Of course, buying a town of my own
was never an option, so I usually kept
quiet when the people where I worked,
at break time or at lunch, would sit
around yapping or gawking about all
the wonderful new things happening
'in town.' The place had pretty much
been taken over by the Army Corps
of Engineers - which was channeling
and chopping all that it could to prevent
'flooding' (destroying much of the
storybook views of the river and its
small island; trees, undergrowth, etc.);
pouring these horrid, concrete, sidings
all along the riverbanks and then calling
them riverside parks - with grass and
fountains but barren as all get out. I
swear I once heard Mark Twain and
Huck Finn puking in the bushes after
seeing this. Everyone did seem to love
their 'new' Elmira. Architectural smears
and 'urban renewal' notwithstanding.
They somehow were still able to talk
of 'Elmira' as their quaint, little riverside
burg. No one any longer had a foot in
reality. It was all dream and imagination.
Of course, one of the next things done
was for the three bridges, needing to be
rebuilt (Maple St., Walnut Street, and
Main Street bridges) and that started
almost immediately too - for a full
year, bright lights and all-night
pile-driving and construction crews,
loudly laboring away (we, fortunately,
were not bothered by noise or lights
where we lived). I don' know how
people put up with it; it just went on
and on. And new billboards were up,
just as quickly - stupid crap, Burt
Reynolds and Sally Fields in some
racecar or Smokey and the Bandit
movie, right off the bat. Entertaining
the idiot masses was as important, I
guessed, as rebuilding. I didn't know
why the Dukes of Hazzard couldn't
just jump the river in their General
Lee car instead of re-doing these
bridges; it all would have seemed
just as right.
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So, the next destructive thing was
that some idiot devised a new roadway,
four-lane, express. A new route, right
through the middle of town, allowing
'travelers to bypass Elmira, without
even stopping in to say 'hi.' Every
passing car meant, for small-business
owners, probably 20 bucks they'd
never see, as people just never
stopped. Brilliant idea! Then they
called it the Samuel Clemens/ Mark
Twain Expressway, commonly referred
to now as the Clemens. A few exits,
and many small businesses removed,
along with any homes which may have
been in the way. Making matters worse,
as these corrupt little towns everywhere
do, they build a Clemens Performing
Arts Center adjacent to the roadway
and near town center, so the rubes
could come see Christmas Shows,
moronic concerts, third-rate singers
imitating superstars, and panoramic
reviews of the town they'd just
destroyed. And, of course, every
song, dance and playlet referring to
Mark Twain that they could. The
'Faux Show Playhouse' I called it.
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Long about the 1880's and past, the
town did once have rail service and
a nice train station. Now there was
nothing left of that except a dingy,
overhead rail line that ran on its own
series of pedestal trestles right through
the center of town, literally - 30 feet
above, and direct. Endless slumbers
of lazy freight trains. The train station
was re-purposed into a number of
stores, a Chinese restaurant, and one
or two hippy type bangles and clothing
stores ('Glad Rags' and 'Fat City').
Going back now, all that is gone too,
and some company (Hilliard Co) has
taken it all over as a storage yard.
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Glory be to glory that was.
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