Orphaned Rail Stations
Orphaned railroad stations are transformers, changelings. If not, they don’t survive. Designed with a specific purpose in particular locations, new uses after railroad days are over may require inventive, even inspired redesign. When visiting an old rail depot reborn as something else you never know what you’ll find.
From the mid nineteenth to the mid twentieth century these buildings were the principal portal to places large and small, lifelines to the outside world. Raw materials came in by rail and finished products were shipped out. Trains brought people from far away speaking myriad languages, bringing vibrant diversity and hands and minds to labor on farms and in factories, as well as visitors eager to see new places. Tracks are long gone in many smaller communities, and even where trains still run the stations are often vestigial structures in an age where there are no longer station masters, ticket counters, and baggage handlers.
Locomotive Conjuring
My rail station ponderings began while sipping a beer at a local watering hole about a two minute walk from home. Here, at the foot of Main Street in Collinsville, Connecticut, squeezed between the road and a paved walking and bike trail where tracks once ran is a narrow, single story wooden building with a generous overhang supported by knee braces. For more than a decade it’s been the Crown & Hammer Pub, alive with conversation, music, food and drink. Before that it had an incarnation as a coffee shop and bookstore which was preceded by a brief life as an art gallery. For many years the structure stood forlorn, paint peeling, haphazardly used for storage. Its life began as a railroad freight depot in 1850. Of three rail stations (and two rail lines) that once were close to home, it is the last survivor.
The final locomotive thundered through town more than half a century ago, and the building has sustained two small, but sympathetic additions. As I sat chatting with neighbors and watching the Red Sox on a television above the bar, I imagined the rumble of a huge locomotive chuffing like some angry mechanical animal, a cloud of black coal smoke billowing. In my mind’s eye it went by in a flash. Momentarily the past seemed present, as if it had been loitering for an opportunity to be noticed in the now. The original function of the building had changed radically, but its essence as a place tying the community together remained.
Sure, it was sad the other stations in town, elegant little buildings, were demolished or had succumbed to natural disaster, but more significant was the thriving of this one. What, I wondered, had become of rail stations in other places that were orphaned when trains stopped running, or became obsolete on active lines and literally passed by. Inspired by my daydream locomotive, I began adventuring in silent whistle-stops at old stations wherever and whenever I found myself.
Born Again Depots
On a lark one summer morning I decided to binge explore and see how many different uses I could find for railroad stations in a day’s drive. The beautiful Litchfield Hills beckoned, so I began by heading west and a bit north on U.S. Route 44 where my first stop was in Norfolk village at a small fortress-like station of gray stone that has long outlived the tracks. Built in 1898, it’s now a coffee shop, but has served a variety of commercial uses. Clearly built for the ages in a world never anticipating an end to rail service, the substantial structure seemed a caution about the future.
Continuing west, Canaan Union Station in North Canaan is perhaps the most exquisite of small town depots. Built in 1872, it’s been called the nation’s oldest continually used rail station. It features a three-story tower with a locomotive weathervane and is flanked by two-story wings at right angles. Board-and-batten siding, round arched windows, and decorative bracketing is eye-catching. Although a few trains still rumble past, regular freight and passenger service ended in the 1970s. The building featured retail and a restaurant when a 2001 arson fire caused serious damage. Slowly restored with strong community support, this icon is the centerpiece of an annual Canaan Railroad Days festival with a craft fair and flea market, fireworks, a car show, music and other events. Regardless of whether trains still run, railroading means something here.
Going south on U.S. Route 7 following the old Housatonic line, my next stop was West Cornwall where the two story board-and-batten station with a trackside canopy is a private residence and office. Tucked into a tiny village a few miles away is Cornwall Bridge station featuring a metal roof with small redbrick chimneys on either end of the ridgeline. It was vacant when I was there last, but I remember it as a residence, antique shop, and art gallery. Once evidence of dynamic American industrial growth, in their retirement these depots demonstrate the national passion to reinvent oneself, to have second and third chances.
A long, story-and-a-half board-and-batten structure with a generous overhanging roof supported by arched knee braces, the eponymous Kent Pharmacy now occupies the old depot in the center of this bustling small town. Painted barn red, I was struck at how the divergent original and current uses nevertheless shared a role as critical community functions, once for transportation and now for all the medicines, greeting cards, snacks, cosmetics, and other necessities and luxuries sold at drug stores.
Brewpubs to Museums
With many stations to go, I stopped at each one just long enough to take in the scene, perhaps about the time it once took to disgorge and take on passengers. Plunging south with curiosity driven velocity, I found New Milford’s depot occupied by the local chamber of commerce and an art galley. In Brookfield the hip roof station is part of a crafts center and hosts a glass blowing studio. Danbury built a new station in the 1990s, and the brown and buff brick structure with brownstone accents has become the non-profit Danbury Railway Museum, full of fascinating artifacts inside and antique rolling stock in the adjacent yard. Connecticut is a small state and was never a major rail hub, but railroads persist in our imaginations and we host several museums devoted to the iron horse.
Next I stopped in Bethel where the station has become Broken Symmetry Gastro Brewery. Tall divided light windows illuminate the restaurant where several ales are on tap as well as “grub” with a Mexican flair. Further south, the tiny hip roofed Branchville depot is home to the Whistle Stop Muffin Company. Inside, there’s an octagonal tile floor, walls with wainscoting, and a glass counter holding pastries. The coffee is excellent. Wilton’s old rail station with its steep gable roof and Gothic details was moved from trackside to a campus of historic buildings, and houses Triloma Spa & Hair Design.
The day was getting long, so I made my way east and then north through the Naugatuck Valley in the direction of home. First stop was Derby where the squat tan brick station dominated by a large hip roof seemed vacant although some signs indicated fairly recent office use.
Next up the line was Naugatuck where the old depot is now The Station Restaurant, an upscale eatery. The handsome two-story stucco structure with brick accents features a central arched cross-gable within which is a beautiful clock with a face that appears made of tile. The building has the quiet grandeur of an Italian villa. The interior is posh with a finely decorated barrel vault ceiling rising a full two stories. There are fireplaces, pilasters, chandeliers, elaborately carved woodwork, metal grillwork, and marble. Old stations tell stories about their communities. Over a century old, this depot in a gritty post industrial city speaks of giddy confidence and wealth brought by long lost business success. Rail stations were portals to their communities and often built to make an impression. Equally poignant, today’s
“station,” within site of the restaurant, is a mere platform with a plastic enclosure deserving of a bus stops. Passenger service continues, but seems second class.
It was late and I sped faster than I should have north to Thomaston where a classy 1881 nine bay brick station with decorative corbelling and arched windows with granite sills is now the Railroad Museum of New England. It’s best known for its scenic train rides, including the popular Christmastime Northern Lights Limited and Santa Express. I was a frequent visitor when my son was young and wide eyed. The museum is run by volunteers who know there’s something ineffable about trains and rail stations that also speaks to the child inside adults, a kind of model railroading grown large.
End of the Line?
Despite the late hour, I would have pushed on to one more town north, but after 113 years Torrington demolished its brick railroad station in 2011. It was used for storage in the 1990s, but vacant for years, it suffered neglect. Reaction in this small industrial city was fierce and pointed. Some were glad to see an eyesore disappear. But many lamented the loss of a local landmark with so much history. Others were angry, the destruction symbolizing larger concerns about a lack of community investment. Loss of an old rail station can result from lack of funds, little interest in historic preservation, poor planning, and a host of other reasons. But in the end it’s a failure of imagination. Each generation must be creative with buildings that lose their original purpose. It takes more than romancing the rails.
The fate of old rail stations is one way to take the measure of a community. These buildings make statements about both the past and present. Wherever I travel, I make a game of finding old depots. Even when I’m close to home, many still beckon for a visit. Recently I passed the Tylerville station in Haddam which has been a gift shop. A comic book store has long occupied Newtown’s depot. In Windsor, the large brick 1875 freight house has become the Windsor Arts Center with exhibitions and performances.
Follow train tracks or abandoned rights-of-way and an old depot is likely to appear at some point. In a world where we usually know what we’ll find, these changelings have the capacity to surprise. Despite abandonment by railroads, many of these buildings have yet to reach the end of the line.
