Clinton's Ditch: Part 1 of 2

These seven days have passed far quicker than I could have imagined.  I never meant this much time to go by between posts, so thank you for being patient with me!  From the conceptual beginnings of The Electric City Redux, I've always wanted to write up something on Clinton's Ditch.  Maybe because it sits just around the corner, the first bar I pass going into town.  Maybe it's the fountain of history behind the name.  Maybe it's the hot bartender.  

Erie Boulevard

But it seemed that every time I went to go grab a drink there, I forgot my camera. Pictures are a large part of this blog after all, so no pictures meant no post.  For all of you that know me, you know that I can't use my phone as a backup.  Sure, it has a camera, but that's a fairly liberal use of the word.  The quality of resolution on that thing makes people look like they were built of Legos.  As of this very moment, I still haven't taken an interior shot of the Ditch, so this blog will be posted in two parts.  In this first part, we'll explore the broad history behind the name Clinton's Ditch.  It should give us a bit of a backdrop to the old Schenectady, and it might even explain why the potholes on Erie Boulevard are so sickeningly bad (Hint: Think of the movie "Tremors").  In the second part, we'll look at the bar itself, one of the best places to grab a drink in downtown Schenectady.

DeWitt Clinton, by Rembrandt Peale

Once, when asked who the greatest statesmen in the United States was, Thomas Jefferson replied "DeWitt Clinton," or so legend holds.  It then goes that Jefferson let out a snorty laugh, because who has a first name like DeWitt?  Admit it, you'd do the same.  It must be remembered that this opinion was very controversial at the time.  Many politicians believed this title should have gone to Strom Thurmond, a rising young Senator at the time (1803).  

Many of us relate Clinton's Ditch with the institution that sits on 112 South College Street in Schenectady, a fine watering hole indeed.  But that moniker comes from a piece of New York history who's importance sits second only to the 1915 purchase of the Yankees by Colonel Tillinghast L'Hommedieu Huston (Honestly folks, we are dropping the ball these days when it comes to naming our children).  On July 4, 1817, construction began on one of the largest feats of engineering ever attempted in the United States up to that point.  A project that would cost an enormous sum of money, and an equal amount of political clout.  A plan so audacious that Jefferson himself called it "a little short of madness."  This, as we all know, was the plan to build a bathtub to fit Orson Welles.  You can imagine the political conflict at the time, as Welles wouldn't even be born for another 98 years. 

Ha! That July the 4th was actually the start of construction on the Erie Canal, eventually connecting Lake Erie to the Hudson, and hence the Atlantic Ocean.  It would revolutionize commerce in New York State, but as with most bold projects, very few could see the merit from the outset (Did someone just say Obamacare?).  Governor Clinton had been the one to convince the State Legislature, against massive opposition, to appropriate $7 million for the project, and it was there that the people found its nickname; Clinton's Folly, or Clinton's Ditch, became the popular label for the dig.  Running from Buffalo to Albany, an impressive 363 miles, the canal took eight years to complete.  Canada, not wanting to be one-upped in achievement, proclaimed that not only would they decimate their own cod fisheries, but would do so in only seven years!  Typically, they didn't manage to do so until 1992.

The opening, combined with a series of New York canal constructions bewteen 1823 and 1828 met with huge economic success.  It only took nine years to fully recoup the cost of the project through tolls. The NYS Canal website points out the effect can be shown easily on a modern map.  With the exception of Binghamton and Elmira, every major city in the state sits along the trade route established by the Erie Canal.  Even today, nearly 80% of the upstate population lives within 25 miles of the canal. 

Now comes the real twist: How many of you realize that, as you drive down Erie Boulevard each day, you're driving over what was once a branch of the Erie Canal?  There it is!  The Aha moment!  The name does seem to make sense now, doesn't it?  That's right, where State Street and Erie intersect there was once a bridge... 

This was the in-town route of the canal until the 1920s, when waste build-up and community pressure resulted in the filling-in and paving of the route.  

                            What was this...                                                                                             

 

                          Became this...

Notice the GE plant in the distance

                                                                                     
And right alongside this bustling thoroughfare sits a handsome brick building with a low slung archway for a door.  It's through this door I'm going to walk tonight and get myself a drink.  And this time, I'm going to have a camera.  I will sit with my beer and look out at the traffic rushing by and think of a slightly slower time.  An era when the movement outside might have been barges and foot traffic, not semis and sedans.  I will think on the name of the establishment I sit in, and remember that folly can sometimes end up as fortune.  

 Keep a close eye here in the next few days for part two of this post.  As always, thank you for reading!