Scott Tower: The Ghosts of the Past in the 21st Century
In 1942, a weather observation tower was built in Holyoke, Massachusetts, in the Community Field on Northampton Street. A lifetime ago, Community Field was visited much more frequently. I remember stories from my mom talking about how, in the 1980s, they would invite our whole extended family to play volleyball there. My father told me that his grandfather likely worked on Scott Tower as a member of the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) in the 1940s. There even used to be a pool in there, back in the 1980s.
Scott Tower today stands as a ghost. A forlorn ruin at the end of a long road, what was once a more prosperous and actively used site, lies today as a reminder of the decay that defines much of American infrastructure in the 21st century. In this article, I document my rather haunting and reflective trip up to Scott Tower and talk about my own personal relationship with it, and about it as a legacy of the distant past.
I began around 3 PM, October 3rd. Before coming, my mom had told me that Scott Tower could be dangerous, and to exercise caution. She hadn’t been a big fan of the fact I chose it as a location. At night, it’s generally ill-advised to go there, but it’s considered safe in the day; you’ll even see people bring their children there as an attraction of sorts.
The trail starts at the end of Community Field and goes right under the highway. Right away, it can feel uneasy to start your walk. It’s not illegal to go there, but a roadblock is placed so you can’t drive up to it. Decades ago you could just drive all the way up to the tower, but since its abandonment, it’s been closed off.
The path, at first, is fairly linear; no forks, no alternate paths, just a straight road. Walking the road, you’ll note how dilapidated it is; cracked and worn, the road likely hasn’t been paved in years. Strewn about are countless bits of writing and drawings, dates written to mark when a group of people before you made the same journey. A thing I didn’t take a photo of were rocks with people’s names written on them along the sides of the road.
It’s like that for a while walking down the trail before you eventually find your first fork, a woods trail that leads you to Scott Tower. One of many trails that occupy the area, it serves as an interesting departure off-road.
Early October is a particularly striking time to pick. It’s early enough into fall that leaves are on the ground, but not so late that the greenery has faded away. For a while, I just let my mind shut off and walked the trail, enjoying this particular time of year. For a while, I continued to just coast and enjoy myself, before stumbling upon something minor but thought-provoking.
I came across the brick wall along the woods trail. I’m not actually sure what it was for, nor what structure it was a part of, but over time it appears to have decayed and succumbed to nature. Covered in moss, cracked, stones falling out, it must have been there for decades, if not over a century. I felt a strange sensation staring at it for the first time, the same sensation I got looking at the graffiti on the roads. In the past, for reasons I won’t ever get to know, others came through here and built this wall. What could it have been for? To make the trail nicer? Was it the foundations for something else that was never built? Could it have been something else a long time ago but the ruins of it are all that’s left? Something felt haunting about it. This long-forgotten relic of human creation stood in the midst of the woods, a crumbling reminder of efforts long forgotten.
I decided to keep moving, but the questions hadn’t left. It was the spark that lit my mind with questions. Before long, I came across another site, something I actually remembered from visiting previously.
Around the end of the woods trail, just before merging again the main road, I discovered these sticking out of the ground. At first, I couldn’t really recognize them or what they were for before realizing I had been to this exact spot before.
Two years ago, what feels like a lifetime ago since the pandemic began, I had been here with a few of my friends. I believe a long time ago, these actually had wood on them and were tables you could sit at, it’s just been so long that something must have happened to the wood. Whatever happened, I noticed that there were multiples of these barren metal structures all around the end of the woods trail back to the concrete road. I felt a strange sense of Deja Vu coming back in this new context. Coming to a location in a different season will always do that, but something felt somber about the whole affair. I felt the same feeling you get walking through a graveyard, constant reminders of entropy and the way we all fade away. Even the creations we build to last longer than us will never stand forever.
The closer I got to Scott Tower, the more memories of days past came to me, reminding me of all the fun I had, the people who are no longer in my life since, and how different the world is now. I remember being 16, coming to Scott Tower with a few other people, and just having a good time hanging out. I haven’t spoken to any of them in about a year, and truthfully, this trend hadn’t begun during the pandemic but rather was exacerbated by it. I’m not really sure why, but it seems my social circle gets smaller and smaller with each new school I attend. These last 2 years might be the loneliest I’ve ever been, as my social space seems to get smaller and smaller.
The road walk up was one of the most difficult. I’m a bit of a heavy guy, so walking up hills is always a bit of a hassle. I was glad to have grabbed a walking stick before making the journey up. I made the rookie mistake of not grabbing water either, so by the time I made it, I was sore and a bit dehydrated.
But before long, I finally saw it.
The Tower loomed, forlorn and aged, surrounded by foliage, covered in moss; A menagerie of graffiti adorned its walls. Staring up at it, I felt it was the tipping point; my journey was almost over. Relieved, but affirmed, I climbed up the stairs to the tower and started snapping photos of the scenery.
Eventually, I made it to the top.
The sense of relief I felt as I sat down and looked out the view of the top was indescribable. Even though it was a short walk, I felt a massive weight on my shoulders the whole time. A million little anxieties, saddened reflections, that feeling of haunting, just for a moment, all went away. I could feel the wind in my hair blowing as the soft rain fell, and for just a little while I felt at peace. I knew it wasn’t gonna last forever, or even for a while, but those fleeting moments of serenity were all I needed. In this valley of death, among the decaying and decrepit monuments of the 20th century, I could feel just a little bit of life creep into me, and it was all I needed.
Returning from the trip, I felt a sense of peace. All of this collection, all of these things to do, this massive bucket list of college, and the feelings of loneliness, dread, and anxiety had melted away as I walked home. I felt changed in some way, like my sense of self was returning. The haunting had, if briefly, stopped, and for just a while the only thing I could feel was the soft rain touch my skin, hear it patter against the trees.
At first, this article was all about my fear and anxieties, the ways our environment shapes us, and how we shape it. The ways the ghosts of the past, the decisions of people long past affect your present and hold you captive to it. But as I sat atop that tower, I could feel, even if just for a moment, a glimpse of something beyond that. For a moment, I escaped it; and now, I feel at least a little more comfortable in confronting the issues these create head-on.
Thank you for reading.
