It was a gorgeous fall morning yesterday, sunny and slightly crisp. I had a productive meeting at Spot Coffee on Chippewa, stopped at the Key Bank for some cash and was heading to the the Hyatt to pick up my car and go to the office.
It was about 9:30, so the surrounding office towers had largely swallowed the day's workers. The trains and I pretty much had that section of Main St. to ourselves. I saw the family approaching from some distance.
An attractive Eastern European blond couple, complete with tow-headed toddler in a high-tech travel stroller and flanked by a young boy and girl were walking quickly towards me. Mom and Dad were in their early 30s and with the kind of lean, active frames that said "triathalon." The father was smiling in earnest as they approached and he asked in careful English...
"Where is the shopping?"
I started to point to what is left of the Main Place Mall several blocks in the direction from which they came, but both the man and the woman shook their heads. She quickly restated the question to him in their native tongue and her husband tried again.
"Where are the shops? Where do people go in Buffalo?"
I immediately thought of the surburban cider mills, foliage and pumpkin farms at this time of year, but realized quickly that was not what they were asking.
"Have you been to Niagara Falls?" I asked, suddenly very grateful to have a Wonder of the World 20 miles up the highway.
The couple shared a quick conversation as the children looked at me expectantly. The father tried again.
"We have one day to see Buffalo. Tomorrow we go to Niagara Falls. Where are the people? Where is the shopping?"
I remembered the shopping districts and the "fussgang" in Dortmund when I was a high school exchange student and realized these folks were confused by the familiar mix of grand churches, old and new architecture ... but no people, shops or cafes.
I thought about running upstairs to get Charlie and offering him as the day's escort to show them all the wonderful things our city offers far from the center, but couldn't immediately think of where I'd send my St. Louis guy. The children's eyes ever so politely said "Help us out, lady. This is pretty boring."
I asked if they had a car. They had.
Did they know where City Hall was? They did.
"Go down Elmwood Street for a few miles and you'll find a variety of shops and restaurants in a neighborhood you will enjoy. If you keep going on Elmwood you'll come to the Art Gallery and Delaware Park. The Buffalo Zoo is in the park."
The children clearly understood zoo and I felt myself slide off the hook. I felt like I had just gotten the spelling bee word before the buzzer.
After I got in my car I recalled there was a convention and visitors office a little further up Main Street where I could have sent them.
But they didn't want brochures. They wanted what we don't have, a vital downtown which encapsulates and defines the city. The picture they could take themselves and say later "This is Buffalo."
I wish I could have sent them to the downtown Buffalo of my childhood, where grand old department stores and dozens of shops mixed with the office towers.
I know this is not a unique phenomena in older American cities, but it's a sad one.
Their cities are a lot older than ours.

Copyright 2005 Judi Griggs