For the love of a building

Five years ago, my sister called me and said, "Hey, I saw in the paper that they're doing tours of the Central Terminal. We're going to go. Want to come, too?"

I replied, "What's the Central Terminal?"

She was aghast that I didn't know of it, but to be fair, I'd moved away at 18 and growing up, my experience with the East Side of Buffalo had been really limited to trips to the old Rockpile for ball games. By the time my sister started breaking in there to hang out and drink in high school in the late 80's/early 90's, I was grown up and gone out of the house, moved out of state, and more or less completely detached from any Buffalo interests. And even if I had known about it when I was a teen, chances are slim I would have actually been able to escape the iron fists of my parents long enough to actually check it out.

I went on the tour with my family, and what happened that day will forever be etched in my memory because it was so profound. As we approached the building from Memorial Drive, the tower loomed in the near distance, rising above the surrounding neighborhood. At that moment, something about it just hit me like - dare I employ a really bad pun here - a ton of bricks. I've always been interested in architecture, particularly that of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, and this Art Deco masterpiece literally took my breath away. How was it that I lived in Buffalo for the first 18 years of my life and had never even seen this building?

The approach, however, was just the beginning. After we parked and walked up to the building, we were met outside by our docent, the president of the Central Terminal Restoration Corporation, Russell Pawlak. Russell started the tour outside, explaining the history of the neighborhood (he'd grown up there) and the history of the Terminal's inception, construction, and eventual decline. I couldn't wait to get inside, and kept wishing he'd hurry up and take us in, but this guy knew his stuff, and he wasn't going to just let us loose in there until he was damn sure we knew it, too.

When we finally got inside, this is when it happened. We were treated to a brief video in the entrance, and then led into the concourse. All at once, as the concourse opened up in front of me, I was filled with a feeling, overwhelmed with a connection to this place. It was as if the building itself spoke to me and said, "I need you here. You belong here. This is your cause." I literally fell in love. Right then, right there, I knew I'd found something really special. It makes sense, really, if you think about it; both my late grandfathers were railroad engineers. Grampa Jack drove for Erie-Lackawanna, and Grampa Ed drove for Conrail. Both of them undoubtedly passed through the building many times, and it's consistent with my beliefs as a Spiritualist that they'd be hanging out in there now, or would have at least stopped by to sway me in the CTRC's direction that day. As my mom pointed out, trains and spirits are in my blood. It all came together.

Over the next five years, I would volunteer as much of my time as I could (which, as I would unfortunately discover, wasn't a whole lot between working multiple jobs and then working and going to school full time). I've been the Oktoberfest Bier Wench. I've sold merchandise. I've scraped paint. I've stacked chairs, collected trash, served hot dogs, and this year designed the poster for the anniversary. I never feel as if I could ever do enough. This is love, remember.

The CTRC is made up of an incredible group of dedicated and passionate individuals, and through the organization's efforts the building has undergone an astounding transformation. What was a dilapidated, abandoned, and largely unusable old train station has become a gorgeous work in progress on its way to restored splendor. Throughout the years and through the tireless efforts of the group, numerous events have been held there, from weddings to picnics, parties to art shows, car shows, concerts, ghost hunts, theatrical performances, festivals, and train shows.

Today, it held a wake. Russell Pawlak passed away on August 8, at the much-too-young age of 59. His untimely death comes just a year after stepping down as the CTRC's president, and though he was no longer involved, he was still close to the cause. Passion and dedication such as Russell's doesn't fade. And as I walked into the Terminal this afternoon and saw how beautifully everything was arranged, transforming the beloved building into a stop on Russell's journey to his final destination, I remembered that day five years ago, and I fell in love all over again.

Thank you, Russell. Rest in peace, and I'm sure we'll be seeing you.