Buckingham or Bust
The Torch I Carry is Handsome...
They don't want A N Y T H I N G ! She sat back in the Windsor chair beside the desk, exasperated. I have asked them over and over, and still the answer is always no. A crux in generational taste. Tall case clock. Family silver. Victorian sofa. Great Grandmother's Limoges. Nothing. Change comes at a cost. Much underscores the obvious. Rejecting treasures is immediate; abandoning tradition a long-term undertow. Thanksgiving on paper plates. Christmas catered. Who needs a sterling fork for pizza? I haven't even mentioned the house. Ten generations and suddenly the place is dated. She leaned forward in her chair. I'm told the windows are too small, the rooms too tiny.
General Greene Inn, Buckingham, Bucks County, Pa., February 21, 1949
Photography by Hayes Photo Service, New Hope, Pa, Sta-Nu Prints
No open floor plan. A dropped baton. A tossed torch. Abandonment. It's a new age, my children say. An open market littered with memories reinforces this attitude. Still, the loss in the physical may be retrievable years later. But with ephemera, a tsunami sweeps the beach clean. It is here you touch the hands of your ancestors. Once you lose their grip, they are gone.
Buckingham or Bust
Carl Hart is an amazing individual. He is not of woman born. No. The moment he entered our world, he flew past his doctor's palms, beyond his mother's arms, then straight into the world. His energy is boundless, his curiosity legendary, and his thirst for knowledge intimidating. Having been born in Bucks County, and coming-of-age in Buckingham village, his sense of place is strong. Time has only patinated his passion. To engage him in conversation is immersion. He spent his youth exploring fields, forests, and Buckingham Mountain. Part of his early years was working at Brown Bros.
Postcard - Old York Road at Buckingham, Pa., late 1940's.
This is the corner now home to Wawa. Change was about to start in this Route 202, 263, & 413 intersection.
The stone in the photo middle is our memorial to War veterans, now sitting before the flag pole at the Buckingham Elementary School located opposite Brown Bros.
Trustworthy, reliable, his word is bond, never compromised. Auction attendees are illuminated each time he enters the gallery. Top of the morning to you! His optimism is contagious, his grasp of life spot on. Except for a short period in California, Buckingham remains his home. Then, last week, he did the extraordinary. I knew you would like these, he said. Before me, he spread out his family photo albums. In them were images of our village, long ago erased by progress. Time tumbled away and we once again walked the worn path we remembered, reminding us of what we had gained, and equally lost.
Photograph dated 1953. Talk of the town. In the above photograph is this house tucked behind the trees. But the world was changing. The house was sold and moved down Route 413, past Brown Bros., and set on a lot opposite the elementary school. It has sheltered several more families since then. Apparently it too was heading to Brown Bros. Hope it was a Saturday.
The Overturn Overture
As Napoleon led his soldiers deeper into Russia, the Czar's army retreated, deliberately. It was summer, 1812, and supply routes were strong. Mile-after-mile, day-after-day, the invading Grande Armeé marched, oblivious to the abandonment unfolding before them. The Czar had ordered his troops to burn all behind them. Villages. Towns. Fields. Storehouses. A scorched earth policy. Nothing was to remain to aid Napoleon's troops. Nothing. As summer wore into autumn, French supply lines dwindled. If one walks long enough through Russia, he will step right into winter. Lack of food and the Russian winter defeated Napoleon's planned invasion far more than battle.
Buckingham intersection, photograph dated 1968. After the house was moved in 1953, aTexaco gas station was built on the spot (now home ot Wawa). To the right is a second Esso gas station, part of the General Greene Inn property. There were three gas/service stations in this village, attesting to the success of the autombile age. On the left is a Breyer's Ice Cream sign, part of the general store on the corner. If you turn right after the light turns green, of course since this is still 1968, Brown Bros is down the road on the left.
Napoleon Bonaparte left Russian soil in December, never to return again. Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture, composed in 1880, commemorated Russia's victory.
A Certain Charm in Charon's Crossing
A scorched earth policy comes in many forms. Military. Political. Economic. There has been a disturbing cycle, whether premediated or causal, effecting our landscape for a number of years. First, developers target an untouched geographic area, purchase substantial real estate there, then start building. Fields and farms fall to houses and shopping centers. All is new. All is exciting. Buyers swoon. After a few years, cracks appear in the foundation. Then one day the anchor store in the center closes, the flagship of the retail fleet. The irony is, within a mile or two, in land developed a generation prior, these stores are also vacant, and remain so. New money never chases old. What does one do with acres of abandoned buildings on hectares of paved parking? Fight crime.
Buckingham intersection, May, 1970. Progress shredded the warmth of the village center forever. The new age had arrived. The perspective is looking south on Rt. 413, past the General Greene Inn, and ending up at Brown Bros. This single photograph sent chills through this writer. Yesterday woke today. Taking a date home several months later, on July 4th, 1970 around 11 PM, we were driving this direction. By then the new road had been paved, but barricades and debris still littered the sight. The night was dark. Driving south, we crossed Rt. 263 and following the road's path found ourselves head on with an approaching car. His headlights were glaring. Split second reaction and a guardian angel kept us inches from harm as both cars swerved in the narrow lane just enough to pass safely. Just five months earlier, we had lost our Senior class president in a headon crash. The emotion was fresh. His death brought pain and anguish to the first graduating class from Central Bucks East High School. A hurt all of us still carry to this day.
Resurrection may arrive, but only after years of neglect, the damage done. This cycle repeats itself in communities across America. The interstate bridge has all the allure, but just once in a while, we all miss the jaunt on the ferry.
A Picture's Worth a Thousand Verbs
In Carl's photo albums were images of the quiet crossroad of Route 202, 263, and 413. Single lanes. Two traffic lights. Two gas stations. The General Greene Inn pictured with its wraparound porch still intact. There was no hint of change on the horizon. In 1953, the first salvo crossed the bow. The moving of a residence in village center to a lot south on 413, just below our gallery. This opened the corner for a gas & service station. In 1970, Pennsylvania widened Route 263 and expanded the 202/413 intersection. Along 263 a raised road bed smothered the schoolhouses. Within the village four lanes grew along with requisite traffic signals, turn arrows, and lanes.
Rolling skating at Pax-A-Fun in Buckingham, Pennsylvania. Photograph dated April 20, 1951. You know the property better as Brown Bros. This image is along the southeast wall where we display table top items. Please don't try this position yourselves. Let us help you out the window. The gallery has always been a people place, from Roaring Twenties big band dancing, to the skaters of the 1940's & 50's. Now, an auction crowd populates the property, and has since 1963. Seems the tradition is richer than you ever imagined. Many relationships started in the parking lot.
Hustle and bustle replaced a gentle air. Tempers rose to match the madness, the middle finger the choice for a morning greeting. The only clue of yesterday is the photos in our hands.
Combing Hydra's Hair
September 21, 2051. Dad? Mom? Why don't we have anything from Grandma's house? The woman removed her alpha ear inserts. I can't seem to find any information on them in the ancestry database either. Her parents glanced at one another. Well dear, to be honest, they threw away or sold most of those items years ago. said her mother. But why? asked the daughter. The parents were caught in their embarrassment. We didn't really want it, and I guess they got tired of waiting for us to take it, spoke her father. So they just walked away from it all? The parents nodded, shfiting uncomfortably. Why didn't you save it, at least for me?
Pax-A-Fun Roller Skating. Photograph dated November 26, 1951. This image is in front end of the building, looking toward the bathrooms, also a known tradition. Originally the room was completely open, so what you see in this image is behind the artwork wall that was built in the late 1950's. There were hand rails from post to post, an area for walking and resting.
The daughter shook her head slowly. No photographs either. Guess they were kept in old phones you probably threw away too. Scorched earth comes in many forms - on the battlefront, sometimes the homefront. Rejected heirlooms. Abandoned familial connections. One pulled plug and we are back in the cave. Troglodytes.
Pax-A-Fun, 1949. The Cloak Room was located where our office is presently. Written on the reverse - Tony and Barney at Skating Rink. The main entrance to the skating rink and dance hall was in the front door along Route 413. Note the microphone, today very collectible.
Saturday we return to what we enjoy most. Preserving history. Perhaps yours?
Doors open at 8 AM. Auction starts at 9 AM. PA AU 1265L [bb]
The photographs in this article will not be sold. They were loaned by the generosity of Carl Hart, and will, once again, return to their proper place...his heart.