After the talk today and before we were P.T. Barnumed to death, I asked Matt Warshauer if he knew anything about a statue I have always noticed amid the clutter of Brainard Road, just as you come off the 91 exit beyond the traffic light, tucked in the overgrown shrubs near the highway. He told me the name of it: “The Forlorn Soldier”
The Proposed Park
After hearing and reading some conflicting accounts of what Horace Bushnell had in mind for Hartford’s future park, I searched for the editorial which appeared in the Hartford Courant after Bushnell made his proposal to the City Council, as mentioned by our tour guide today. I found comfort in discovering that perhaps Bushnell’s idea was founded on some noble causes and not just opportunistic business and political reasons. His proposal may not be my idea of a relaxing day at the park, but it appears that Bushnell might have had his heart in the right place.
I’ve attached a PDF of the editorial which spells out the proposal to the Common Council, which includes the following:
“We want an open ground…a ground as centrally located as possible where it will add an air of culture and ornament to the city…a place where children will play and the poor invalid will go breathe the freshness of nature…where and high and low, rich and poor will exchange looks and make acquaintance through the eyes; an outdoor parlor opened for cultivation and good manners and a right social feeling. It must be a place of life and motion that will make us completely conscious of being one people.”
By the way, it’s amazing what you can find by searching through the Hartford Courant files. I had some fun with it (I know, get a life).
As I’m reading Baldwin’s “Domesticating the Streets,” I’m thinking about the subtle hints at his own ideology, the implied assumption that the (academic) reader of the 21st century shares this ideology, and what all this says about us as 21st century Americans and academics. Here is an example from Chapter 6 “The Children Are Off the Streets,” where Baldwin is describing the “Vacation Schools” spearheaded by Dotha Bushnell Hillyer and her Civic Club members: Continue reading
How do you get paralized by building a bridge? But if only we still had that bridge crossing the Park River into Bushnell park. From the poem by Wallace Stevens to the history of the pollution and filth of those lower class workers (and horrible immigrants) to the Bushnell and Olmsted landscape architecture – one thing runs through our readings (as it ran through Hartford itself): the “Little/Mill/Hog/Park – after Bushnell’s efforts – River.” From what I gather, all those illustrious planners and thinkers would certainly be horrified to see what later generations did with that river. It was just as responsible for Bushnell Park and Pope Park’s dimensions as was the Ct. River for Riverside Park. All the walkways and strategic plantings of native trees and flowers related to the river. But just as interesting is the idea that the glorious beautiful things Hartford celebrated and still celebrates were often invented to cover up the stuff no one wanted to see – the poor, the dirty and the undercurrent of those outside the institutions of control. It’s like Ani Difranco’s song “Fuel” about the slave cemetary discovered beneath Manhattan – where “there’s a fire just waiting for fuel.” It’s one thing to reconstruct Samuel Colt’s extravagent gardens and do away with his greenhouses and his ponds. It’s another thing to obliterate Front street and the whore houses on State street and the ethnic culture of the riverside.
I was struck reading Chapman’s book by many things. First, her geographic progression down Main Street and Asylum Avenue was exciting to read, as I know many of the streets and intersections well. I felt some vicarious pride toward my city. On the other hand, I also recognized the privileged lens through which she reminisced. Continue reading
I’ll be in Maine on June 8 while you’re discussing Connecticut and the Civil War, but I’ll be curious about a couple of details that I recall (maybe some misremembering here?) from the Prudence Crandall readings: Continue reading
Wallace Stevens watches the sunset over the city and listens to the Hog River behind 61 Woodland Street
Of Hartford in a Purple Light
A long time you have been making the trip
From Havre to Hartford, Master Soleil,
Bringing the lights of Norway and all that.
A long time the ocean has come with you,
Shaking the water off, like a poodle,
That splatters incessant thousands of drops, Continue reading
Hi, Folks. Just wanted to let you know that the first fruits of our seminar labors is starting to grow. Ok, enough horticulture. The committee we formed to work on the One Play idea will meet with Hartford Stage education staff in two weeks to plan our first event in the fall. This idea was generated by our project. I’ll keep you posted. –Jeff