The CPO Club Needs Saving From Demolition and Itself

On a recent Friday evening, several other Artvoice staffers and I enjoyed a delicious, cheap, sit-down meal on Buffalo’s waterfront. Such a thing does still exist. Our table, directly adjacent to a large bank of windows, was bathed in the warm pink and orange light of the setting sun as we tucked into generous portions of beer-battered fish accompanied by heaping piles of macaroni salad, french fries, and cole slaw. Outside, on the front deck, temperatures were mild enough now for shirtsleeves, despite what the remnants of Lake Erie ice drifting lazily by had to say. Several folks sat outside, listening to the cacophony of cackles and caws rising from the bird colony that nests on the breakwall in spring.

It was there, in that perfect moment, $2 Budweiser in hand, that I realized how strange it was that I’d never heard of the Chief Petty Officers’ (CPO) Club before, especially as it’s located within my Zip code. It’s exactly the kind of cozy, unpretentious place that Buffalonians flock to, and on the waterfront.

It is in imminent danger, though. As it stands right now, the CPO Club must be evacuated by June 1, at which point its landlord—the New York State Division of Military and Naval Affairs (DMNA)—will tear it down and replace it with a parking lot.

CPO Club

Yes, the state is threatening to tear down a building on our waterfront…but not without a fight. Since the news became public roughly three weeks ago, there have been cries of outrage and pledges of support from local preservationists, community groups, and politicians alike. One person has even suggested creating a bumper sticker to protest the proposed action: “No more surface parking in my name.” Assemblyman Sam Hoyt has said, “The last thing that I’m going to allow for is an interesting, if not historic by statute, building immediately on Buffalo’s waterfront to be demolished for the purpose of putting up a parking lot.”

How did all of this come about, and what does the CPO Club have to do with the DMNA?

Let’s start with the second question. The CPO Club was effectively hatched in the summer of 1971, by a group of chief petty officers (the highest enlisted rank in both the US Navy and Coast Guard) who were on duty and drilling at the nearby Navy & Marine Corps Reserve Center. They wanted a social club, a place to kick back, drink some beers, and talk military talk. They elected a president, and for 10 years the CPO Club was nomadic, holding events—picnics, meetings, dinners, and initiations—wherever space could be found. The current building, situated directly north of the Buffalo Yacht Club, became free in 1981, when the new Navy Operational Support Center was opened. Through the efforts of a few influential members and with the added clout of being a veterans’ organization (the IRS gave them that classification in 1975), the CPO Club leased the old boathouse from New York’s DMNA for the unbeatable price of $1 per year. Members of the club, mostly do-it-yourself military types, invested a great deal of sweat equity into the building, fixing it up to be a place they were proud of. They added rooms, completed a beautiful second-story banquet room, updated the sprinkler system, installed satellite TV, and added restaurant and bar services to it. Over the next two decades, the CPO’s membership—made up entirely of current and former military personnel—grew. Eventually, they opened the club to the public on Friday nights for fish fries.

Somewhere along the line, though, something went wrong. It’s not clear when the CPO Club fell into disrepair, but a building inspector from DMNA showed up in September 2006, and issued a damning fire safety report. On a 116-item list, the CPO Club was cited for 23 violations ranging from fire doors that were wired shut to inoperable fire extinguishers and extension cords wired directly into electric panel boxes.

The inspector was being lenient: He had also marked an additional 20 items that needed to be addressed immediately, but took care not to cite the club for them. Instead, he made careful notes on the side, as if to say, “Hey, guys, it would be a good idea—if you want to stay open—to fix these things, too.”

When he returned 10 months later, however, not enough had changed, and this time he wasn’t so lenient. On a fire safety inspection report dated July 10, 2007, the DMNA inspector cited the CPO Club for 32 fire and building code violations, 20 of which were the itemized problems that he’d hinted at in the last inspection. To their credit, the CPO Club’s membership had righted 21 of the previous violations. But they were mostly smaller items, involving “housekeeping” and storage of combustibles. The bigger challenges—like installing a new sprinkler system, coming up with emergency evacuation plans, and reinforcing major walls—still hadn’t been tackled.

Then, in a letter dated February 1 of this year, DMNA’s Director of Facilities Management and Engineering, Paul McDonald, wrote Club President Charles Poremba: “DMNA will not consider any further occupancy of the property on the part of the CPO Club. The CPO Club must vacate the premises and remove any and all CPO Club property no later than May 1, 2008.”

McDonald cited the fact that the CPO Club’s lease with DMNA had expired and not been renewed (at DMNA’s behest, it turns out) in 2001. Additionally, the building, which belongs to the DMNA and sits on their land, had deteriorated to the point that it was considered a liability. “We don’t want to be responsible if the building goes up in flames or falls on somebody’s head,” says Eric Durr, DMNA’s Director of Public Affairs.

The other problem, in Durr’s bureaucratic-speak, is that the CPO Club “is not required by the DMNA for any one of our missions, and it is not our mission to maintain a facility for a private group.” In other words, New York State doesn’t want to own a building where a bunch of unaccountable ex-military guys are running a half-assed restaurant and social club.

There’s something to be said for that stance. The membership of the CPO Club did, after all, have ample warning that the state wanted them to clean up their act. Besides the fire inspection in 2006, Durr says that the reason their lease wasn’t renewed in 2001 was because “we were asking them if they were going to fix it up and make it liveable.” Presumably they didn’t respond. And, gradually, the state began to think it was a bad idea to have a private club in their building.

The funny thing about it is that the CPO Club gets a good deal of its charm from its unofficial ways. It is homey there, lacking any and all pretention. Food comes slowly there on a Friday night, like it does at home. All the more time for enjoying good conversation over a cheap beer, or for watching the gulls swoop and dance over the water. When it finally does arrive, your burger or fish fry is served by some of the friendliest waitresses you can find in the food industry. And it’s all dirt cheap. Sure, it’s run by a bunch of old military guys. They’re the kind who will roll up their sleeves rather than call a contractor when there’s work to be done. That ethos really rankles the crisp-collared bureaucrats in Albany, and it raises their insurers’ eyebrows.

Make no mistake about it, the state is a formidable opponent. Over the years the CPO Club’s membership has aged a bit and diminished accordingly. It’s not easy to maintain such a big building and keep up on taxes. DMNA’s name is on it, though, and they want it to be run as smoothly and by-the-book as any state agency or, for that matter, commercial business. Can the CPO Club manage that?

When they received the first letter from McDonald in February, members of the club enlisted Hoyt’s help to delay their eviction. McDonald responded on March 20, giving the Club an extension through June 1. This time, however, he added, with a note of finality, that the building “is in the preliminary stages of being scheduled for demolition.”

That’s when the news finally became public: The CPO Club was in trouble.

Hoyt has been quick, not to mention loud, in coming to the club’s aid. He contacted the State Historic Preservation Office (SHPO) to perform a determination of eligibility (DOE) on the building to confirm whether it has enough historic value to be listed on the State and National Registers of Historic Places. The building, constructed sometime around 1930 for the New York Naval Militia, probably doesn’t have the historical value of, say, the neighboring Yacht Club, built in 1893. But SHPO visited the site this Tuesday, setting in motion a 45-day determination process and giving the club at least an extra four days (June 5).

Hoyt also called Michael Balboni, the state’s Deputy Secretary for Public Safety (e.g. the guy that DMNA answers to), who, Hoyt says, “was surprised and sensitive to the concerns that I raised.” Additionally, Hoyt hopes to use language from the law that created the Niagara River Greenway Commission to hold off demolition. That law states that any construction, demolition, or major changes to any entity within the Greenway has to be consistent with the plan. Knocking down a building on the waterfront, it would seem, is inconsistent.

But none of these are solutions. They are tactics designed to stall the wrecking ball. DMNA came up with an unofficial estimate of $1.5 million to $2 million for repairs and renovations to the site.

The CPO Club wants to take another crack at it. They contend that the repairs could be made for as little as $100,000. They hope to get the money from Hoyt and by raising member dues by $100 for its roughly 100 members, generating $10,000. But it’s unlikely that the state will willingly deal with the CPO Club, which in the past has not inspired confidence in their landlords. They’ve already stated unequivocally that they’re done doing business with the club.

While it would be a shame for the club to lose its home, the members bear the brunt of the blame for its current state. What’s most important to the community is that the building remain, whether it’s the CPO Club inhabiting it, the West Side Rowing Club, the Buffalo State boat building program, or another restaurant. Demolition would undermine the other efforts on the waterfront, from the new Frank Lloyd Wright Rowing Boathouse to Buffalo State’s Great Lakes Environmental Center, the dog park in LaSalle Park, and even the improvements to the Outer Harbor. Such decisions rest in the hands of the state’s real estate people in the Office of General Services. We hope that they keep the building standing. As one member put it, “Too many people put sweat, blood, tears and divorces into this building to see it come down.”