COMMENTA RY
Charity Vogel: Bits of Aud need to be preserved
Piece by piece, layer by layer, down it comes. Memorial Auditorium sits disconsolately by the side of the Skyway, these days, looking for all the world like a middle- aged dowager caught off guard during a facial peel.
Every day, more hunks of that austere gray facade get ripped away. Steel beams, chunky cement blocks, ratty insulation — you can see it all, now, the very guts of the place.
The arduous asbestos abatement wrapped up last week. Next comes the wrecking ball.
Meanwhile, inside the 1940 hulk, blue seats and dasher boards are being rounded up for auction in mid-November.
In the midst of all this tear-down theater, it’s time to pause and ask a question.
Not about what the Aud can do for us. Those days ended 12 years ago, on a night Pat LaFontaine’s Sabres beat the Whalers, 4-1, and the old train whistle shrieked for the last time.
This time, let’s ask what we can do for the Aud.
Consider what other cities around the country have done to memorialize their historic fields and arenas.
In Montreal, you can still visit the old Forum, because folks there made sure center ice stayed put.
They preserved the spot where the puck dropped for countless Habs games — even though the site was turned into an entertainment mall. You can see center ice painted onto the floor, climb into a few rows of vintage seats, and look up to see the hook that used to hold the scoreboard. (Have I done these things? As the wife of a die-hard hockey fan, I can say: yes).
In Pittsburgh, likewise, Forbes Field lives on. Though the 1909 ballpark where the Pirates won the 1960 World Series on a game-clinching homer by Bill Mazeroski was bulldozed to make way for the University of Pittsburgh, some historic bits remain.
Today, students walk to classes in Posvar Hall over Forbes’ home plate, which sits embedded under glass in a hallway. Outside, you can see the left-field wall over which Mazeroski’s ball soared. Every year on Oct. 13, the anniversary of that win, hundreds gather to play a radio broadcast of the game.
“Part of this is simply nostalgia,” said Rob Ruck, a sports historian at Pitt. “But sport roots people in the history of their town. Sport is a way to tell a story, about who we were growing up. It’s our collective story.”
Here, city officials say some sort of marker to the Aud is in the works. They are tight-lipped, though, about what it might be. But if we’re going to save a bit of the Aud’s spirit, the time is now.
While center ice — or at least its ghost — exists, we should set it aside as a patch of land we care enough about to keep.
Let the $400 million Canal Side redevelopment project spring up around it, in this area of the historic Erie Canal Harbor. Bass Pro? Bring it on.
But don’t tell me it wouldn’t be cool to see, tucked in among fishing rods and gun racks, a set of those clap-trappy Aud folding seats and the exact spot where the Sabres used to play.
Think for a moment about what an example we might become.
After all: We aren’t the only city losing an old sports palace this fall. A little joint in the Bronx is about to be torn down. According to Mayor Michael Bloomberg’s office, the site of Yankee Stadium is going to be turned into a park. Parks are nice. But we can go them one better.
Come on: Save center ice. Remember the glory? Remember the fun?
Let’s hang on to a tiny bit of it. Before, in a few weeks, it’s too late.
