In the mid-1990s, Connecticut officials began the process of closing and disposing of the decaying but still imposing Seaside Regional Center campus in Waterford. It did close, in 1997, but it still has not been repurposed, reused or removed.
After nearly three decades of lawsuits, policy changes and the expenditure of millions of dollars, the state still owns the historic medical site. The main buildings still sit behind chain-link fences, worn and forlorn, but majestic in their way.
Now a court action could resolve the question that’s been hanging over the complex for lo these many years: Can, and should, Seaside be saved?
The state was going to save the major buildings and turn them into a lodge while keeping the grounds open to the public. But officials changed course and announced in February 2023 that the buildings would be demolished, leaving the 32-acre site as open or “passive” parkland.
The demolition has not yet begun, and there’s a chance it won’t be. In March, Farmington developer Mark Steiner, who thrice was named the preferred developer of the property, only to have the state pull the plug on him, filed a lawsuit aimed at blocking the demolition.
“I felt compelled to take action to protect this priceless asset when I learned the state had plans to demolish it,” Steiner said in a statement to The Connecticut Mirror.
“I can’t understand why he keeps doing this [trying to develop the property],” said Kathy Jacques, a nearby resident and head of a small group that has opposed Steiner’s development proposals. His plans also have had considerable support in Waterford.
A historic structure
The recent lawsuit is based on the Connecticut Environmental Protection Act, or CEPA, which among other things allows anyone to sue to prevent the “unreasonable destruction” of the state’s historic structures or landmarks. Buildings listed on the National Register of Historic Places are covered by the law.
Seaside has been listed on the National Register since 1996, which would appear to establish its bona fides as historic. But is its demolition unreasonable?
The state Department of Energy and Environmental Protection, the steward of the property, responded to the lawsuit with a motion to dismiss it, arguing in the legal memo that the action “does not adequately allege a colorable claim of unreasonable destruction or impairment of a historic building.”
Steiner’s lawyers countered on June 26 with a memo saying, to summarize a longer argument, that Seaside does qualify for CEPA protection. If the state’s motion is granted, then barring a successful appeal, it’s game over, walls come tumbling down. If the motion is denied and the case moves ahead, it could see a courtroom in late summer or early fall.
As his lawsuit states, Steiner will argue that Seaside should be preserved because of its unique architectural and medical significance.
Architect Cass Gilbert
The two major buildings on the campus, the former hospital and the nurses’ residence, were designed by one of the country’s foremost architects, Cass Gilbert (1859-1934). His portfolio includes New York’s Woolworth Building, the U.S. Supreme Court and three state capitols. His Connecticut works include New Haven’s Union Station, Waterbury city hall and Hartford’s G. Fox Building.
Seaside was one of his last projects. His challenge was to create a form that would serve an unusual function. It was then thought that children with certain kinds of tuberculosis benefited from sunshine and sea air, which was called “heliotropic therapy.” Gilbert created a hospital in the Tudor Revival style, unusual in institutional architecture, with stepped terraces on either side of the main building reaching out like arms of a throne toward the Sound. The Seaside Sanatorium, as it was first known, was the first such facility in the country and may be the last standing.
Tuberculosis was a god-awful deadly plague a century ago in this country, a leading cause of death, as it still is in some parts of the word. Seaside was a government response to a health crisis.
Youngsters took the sun and air on the terraces, apparently in all seasons, with some good results, until the invention of drug therapies for TB in the 1940s obviated the need for heliotropic hospitals. Seaside became housing for the elderly for three years, then a regional center for persons with developmental disabilities, a function it continued to serve until its closing.
A disposition committee was formed and met for 18 months. The property was offered to other state agencies and the town. When there were no takers, it was put on the market.
Enter Mark Steiner
Steiner, who had developed the Hamilton Heights and Duncaster senior living complexes in the Hartford area, saw the sale notice and bid $2.5 million. He was named the preferred developer of the property in 2000. He proposed to build age-restricted housing and committed to preserving the historic buildings and maintaining public access to the shoreline. He got zoning approval in 2004, overcoming a court challenge by some nearby residents.
But then came a shakeup at the state Department of Public Works. The new commissioner thought the price was too low and started the process over. Steiner, zoning approval in hand, upped his offer to $7.1 million, the state accepted, and it looked as if the deal would finally be consummated.
Not quite. In 2007, Gov. M. Jodi Rell visited the site, was struck by its beauty, and decided not to sell it. Steiner was left at the altar again.
But by late 2009, with the economy tanking, Rell changed her mind and put it back on the market. Steiner entered a bid of $8 million and it was accepted in 2010. He hoped the third time would be the charm.
Almost.
A decade had passed since Steiner had first submitted his plans. The market for age-restricted housing was drying up. Also, the state had done shamefully little to protect the Seaside buildings. The structures endured water damage and were invaded by vagrants, vandals and even ghost hunters. Steiner wasn’t sure he could save the structures.
He went to the town and requested zoning changes to remove the age restriction and to allow him to replicate the buildings if he could not preserve them, as was done at the grand Ocean House in Watch Hill, R.I. The changes were approved, opponents appealed and Steiner prevailed, but another couple of years passed.
The year 2014 was pivotal. First, Steiner wanted to expand the project by adding a 32-room luxury hotel to go with about 100 condominium units he now planned for the site.
He went to the planning and zoning commission in September 2014 to get approval for the hotel. The vote was 3-2 in favor. Unfortunately for Steiner, he needed a supermajority, at least 4-1, because opponents had filed a petition against the project. Steiner felt he was sandbagged, because one of the “no” votes came from a commission member who, along with his wife, were nearby property owners and opponents of the project.
Steiner appealed, but the appeal was never heard. Just days after his appeal was filed, Gov. Dannel P. Malloy stepped in, canceled the contract and announced the land would become a state park. The contract was terminated, a state official said, because Steiner had failed to receive or diligently pursue the necessary land use approvals.
Malloy appears to have acted too hastily.
In 2015 Steiner applied to the State Commission on Claims — a prerequisite for bringing a legal action against the state — for permission to sue the state for $20 million for breach of contract. It took seven years, but in a decision issued on July 22, 2022, the commission authorized the lawsuit.
It ended with a $2 million settlement, all of the money going to Steiner’s secured lender.
Four park options
As Steiner cooled his heels waiting for the Claims Commission to act, the state moved ahead with the plan to turn the property into a full-fledged state park. What kind of park?
A two-year public planning process that concluded in 2016 produced these options: a destination park, an ecological park, a passive recreation park and a hybrid park. All would retain public access to the shoreline.
The destination proposal involved restoring the historic buildings into lodging and related uses such as a restaurant, with enhancements to the grounds and waterfront for recreation. The ecological park concept called for the demolition of the historic buildings and enhancement of the ecological features of the site, with nature trails and the like. The passive recreation park would be much like the site is now, except with the buildings gone and with new amenities such as restrooms.
The final option, the hybrid, is a mash of the other choices. The historic buildings would be converted to lodging and the grounds and ecological habitats enhanced.
The state chose the destination park concept — at least initially.
In 2018 a Request for Proposals went out, looking for a developer/operator for the project. “The State believes the present buildings at Seaside can be an attractive, environmentally sensitive and appropriately rehabilitated and renovated hotel/lodge that will be a strong draw to visitors from the region and the nation,” the upbeat document reads.
The RFP drew two bids, one from an unnamed out-of-state investor and the other from the relentless, or quixotic, Steiner. Both proposals were rejected, and the RFP process was called off in 2019.
Then came the surprising announcement in 2023 that the state was abandoning the destination park idea and would tear down the historic buildings for a passive park. Also, DEEP announced that the state had received $7.1 million in American Rescue Plan Act funds to execute the passive park plan.
Questions persisted
The initial decision to preserve the historic buildings was widely praised by state and national preservation organizations including Connecticut’s State Historic Preservation Office. The sudden change of plans left them scratching their heads.
An article in the nonprofit group Preservation Connecticut’s March/April 2023 newsletter strongly criticized the shift. The publication observes that the destination plan had “overwhelming public support” as well as state approval.
“It’s irresponsible to spend years and taxpayer money creating a plan and gaining public support and official approval … and suddenly drop it simply because there is money available to do something else.”
The article also reminded DEEP of the need to keep unnecessary materials out of landfills, noting, “the greenest building is the one that is already built.”
A group of preservationists met with DEEP officials in 2023.
“They hadn’t really provided a reason for the switch,” said Christopher Wigren, deputy director of Preservation Connecticut, who was at the meeting. “There was no evidence they made any effort … to save the buildings.”
DEEP deputy commissioner Mason Trumble said in a recent interview that a major factor in the change of heart was the greatly increased use of the state’s 142 state parks and forests. Park visitation increased from fewer than 10 million pre-pandemic to about 17 million after the pandemic subsided, he said.
The addition of Seaside, which at 32 acres is much smaller than area shoreline parks Rocky Neck in East Lyme (700 acres) and Hammonasset in Madison (1,000 acres) or Harkness Memorial (304 acres) down the road in Waterford, still provides kayakers, birders and fishermen (but not swimmers) a place to go. With most of the state’s coastline in private hands, 1,500 feet of shoreline is not nothing.
Trumble said his goal was to bring Seaside “to a place where people can enjoy it as they do other state parks … with as much public access as possible,” which presumably increases somewhat if there are no large buildings on the site.
He said he understands the historic significance of Seaside and said his department is working with residents to create an appropriate memorial on the site.
Money is a consideration, as per usual. The 2016 park planning study estimated the cost of a destination park, with a lodge, restaurant and other amenities, at between $23.5 million and $63.2 million. The passive park would be considerably less, between $2.8 million and $3.4 million.
The original idea was that the developer would bankroll the project, as a public-private partnership, with some unspecified state assistance. But with no acceptable private sector plan — Trumble said Steiner’s proposal was rejected because he provided “insufficient detail to show his organization could finance, build and operate a hospitality facility” — the state has to watch the bottom line.
Some urged DEEP to reframe the RFP process and start it again. But, no.
“It was time for the state to make a decision,” said Trumble, noting that the passive park plan was one of the options produced in the 2016 planning process, and one for which the money was in the till.
As things now stand, DEEP has hired an architectural firm for the project and last week posted a public survey to help inform the passive park concept, including the commemoration of the historic buildings, what activities or features visitors might like to see in the park, and to gain better understand how the site is currently used, Trumble said.
Except that the CEPA lawsuit could force a change in plans.
Enter experts
Steiner has collected a team of experts in history, architecture and engineering to make the case for Seaside as a major landmark that should be saved. One of them is Patrick Pinnell, former Yale professor and longtime and highly regarded architect and planner in the state, who is now based in Delaware.
There have been a couple of studies of the condition of the buildings over the past decade or so. Pinnell said in an interview that a “fine grade evaluation” of the structures could yield vital data about the prospects of saving them. The buildings have endured very poor preservation efforts over the years, as is obvious from broken windows, missing tiles, fallen shingles and even some graffiti on the roof of the four-story hospital building. But Pinnell said they are concrete-frame buildings, so the underlying structure is “likely to be intact.”
Pinnell said he believes the key buildings should be saved but said they don’t all have to be saved at once, that the work can be done in phases.
So, Seaside could join the short list of state landmarks, such as Hartford’s Old State House or New London’s Union Station, that were saved from demolition at the last minute. Or, it can join the many that were not saved. It depends on what happens in court.
Somewhat ironically, if Steiner wins the case, it doesn’t mean he gets to be the developer. It just means the buildings won’t be demolished. What happens to them is up to the state.
In a final twist — or a coincidence — in April 2023, two months after the announcement that the passive park was the new plan, a beachfront house down the street from Seaside sold for $1.6 million. The buyer was Nancy Tong, mother of Attorney General William Tong. Tong’s office represents state agencies including DEEP. Attorney David F. Sherwood of Glastonbury, Steiner’s lawyer, asked Tong and his agency to withdraw from the case, citing a possible conflict of interest.
The request was summarily denied, on May 16. In a strongly worded response, the AG’s office said Mr. Tong had no interest in the property “financial or otherwise” and had no involvement in DEEP’s park planning. The office called the withdrawal request “outrageous and offensive,” adding that trying to gain advantage by involving the AG’s aging immigrant parents was a “new low.”
This story was originally published by The Connecticut Mirror on July 28, 2024.
