To the editor:
It’s nice that Presque Isle is building a new recreation complex. That said, a community’s strength and well-being isn’t measured by the newness of its buildings. I grew up using the city’s recreation program, and must demand that an important, yet missing, consideration in the planning process be given top priority. Its absence to date from the agenda is unfathomable.
If there’s such a thing as the civic soul, it’s safe to say that the William Haskell Building—known simply as “the Rec Center” to generations—has, for over 7 decades, been it. It started life, during the tumultuous World War II era, as the USO building, and afterwards became “Presque Isle’s gathering place” for almost every imaginable type of activity. The classic, little structure’s walls hold more history, lifeblood, sweat, and tears than can probably be told.
In World War II, Presque Isle was suddenly called on to accommodate a crush of military troops. These brave men and women were, indeed, the “greatest generation”, that helped save the world from barbaric tyranny. And the USO Hall was one of the most important ways Presque Isle responded in making itself a “home” for freedom’s champions. It was even included on Hollywood’s legendary “morale tours”. It served in those dark days as a much-needed haven of welcome and compassion for those who stayed here, before they left down our runways. For the many who perished, Presque Isle was the last physical connection they would have to the country they sacrificed all for. Truly, no greater visitors ever came to our streets, and no greater purpose ever led to a County building’s construction.
Today’s “Rec Center” is a living, vital connection to Presque Isle’s most profound, incredible chapter — one of few remaining. History is to be found not just in books or on TV, and the brave spirits of those remarkable men and women who crossed paths with our ancestors can almost be felt inside the Haskell Building to this day. We experience living history to be inside the place where heroes once sought refuge from the deep, unimaginable thoughts and struggles assailing them. When we honor their legacy and the memory of those events, we mysteriously enrich ourselves as well.
Of course, since its earliest days, almost every person who has grown up in Presque Isle or just called it home has been immeasurably enriched by “going to the Rec Center”. Saving it also honors the legendary Bill Haskell, who made it the hub of his tireless efforts to make Presque Isle a great place to live and play. Today it serves as a living monument to that giant of a man and his legacy. Its floors have seen much more than games, recreational activities, and dances, however — residents have come together inside its walls for community meetings, elections, charity campaigns, immunization drives, pageants, educational events … you can likely add to the list of uses it’s seen. Over the decades it has well-served people at all ages of their lives, and each of us has their own memories of times and experiences spent inside it.
Presque Isle’s rich history deserves to be honored. It would be incredibly cavalier, narrow-minded and shortsighted to destroy a place we should be the most proud of—one that has been the physical heart of the community for almost 70 years. Civic pride demands that we hold it to be the living heritage and resource that it is and not destroy it. Conversely, failure to protect it would say that the community cares little about such things. Over thirty years of American “urban renewal”, sociology, public policy, and other communities’ histories provide us with crystal-clear lessons, if we choose to learn them.
Finally, it seems unacceptable that in recent years, historic preservation in Presque Isle (sporadic as it has been) has been driven almost entirely by private citizens and groups. They’ve had to rush into the breach at the last minute to save city treasures after municipal leaders said “pass” to the difficult but vital work of valuing and maintaining the city’s living history. Isn’t it reasonable to ask the city itself to lead the charge at least now and then? Other Maine cities have long recognized and known what Presque Isle’s leaders must recognize and include in their plans and calculations: an important community quality that draws people to it, or leads them to stay, is having a distinct, special sense of place and character. When it comes to Presque Isle’s, and the landmarks that contribute to it, the Haskell Building is one of a select few — and none are closer to being lost. It eloquently speaks of Presque Isle’s history; its finest moments; its tradition of service and its struggles; its valuing of children, community, and country.
Those who care little about such a heritage will ask, “What’s the cost of saving it?” But genuine municipal planning and community building require that we simultaneously ask: “What are the costs of not saving it?” That is a hallmark of true leadership.
Jim Cyr
Caribou
