Remembering the Waterbury state offices a decade after Irene

September 4, 2021  |  By Mary Carlson 
Once emptied, the Osgood Building was among some 20 structures demolished. State employees were relocated until a new office building was constructed. File photo by Gordon Miller

Once emptied, the Osgood Building was among some 20 structures demolished. State employees were relocated until a new office building was constructed. File photo by Gordon Miller

That 2011 late summer Sunday when Tropical Storm Irene dumped so much rain on Vermont, I spent the day with ear glued to WDEV radio in Waterbury. 

When earlier news stories warned the storm would hit Vermont that day, I feared our offices in Waterbury would be in trouble. A week earlier, a cute little island had appeared in the middle of our parking lot after the Winooski River overflowed its banks and covered that lot and the adjacent huge cornfield. We considered adding a beach umbrella and lounge chair to Osgood Lot Island. It seemed funny at the time.

It was creepy to hear WDEV announce that the emergency response center in the state office complex was being evacuated due to encroaching floodwaters. From my Montpelier apartment, I was unaware that two of my favorite coworkers were struggling to save themselves and their homes. They live across Route 2 from each other east of Waterbury village. Kris, whose townhouse is on the river side of the highway, escaped by wading to the car she had the foresight to park at the top of the sloping driveway. The river filled the ground floor of her home and crossed the highway where it filled the lower level of Nita's house. That space was the recreation room and storage area for contents of a recently closed restaurant owned by Nita and her husband. It took years for Kris and Nita to pick up the pieces from that day.

The following Tuesday, the state let small groups of us with offices on upper floors inside the building briefly to retrieve items. Entering Waterbury felt surreal. Gray silt coated the village, and passing cars would turn it into dust storms. Everybody wore face masks. Hearing that the local food shelf needed to replenish supplies lost in the flood, I took canned goods to the site where two volunteers were at a card table next to the sidewalk, undoubtedly exhausted but grinning as they welcomed donations and figured out how to rebuild a local food resource that was more needed than ever. 

Lighting inside the office building was dim because there was no power. Plastic sheeting formed a walkway to guide us through the network of buildings. We had to duck around large plastic tubing that snaked through the buildings to pump in fresh air. However, the air was anything but fresh, and the heat and humidity had us dripping with sweat. They only let us inside for 10 minutes. That gave me just enough time to grab records needed to keep payments flowing for a farmers market produce coupon program I managed. Vermont farmers had lost soil, animals and equipment to Irene. The least I could do was ensure that our program would promptly pay produce growers for the taxpayer-funded veggie coupons they accepted at farmers markets. 

Irene profoundly changed the lives of so many state of Vermont employees. I was very lucky. My home and office were high and dry, whereas many coworkers lost both. Our Waterbury work sites shifted to Williston and Essex Junction, forcing some people to quit jobs they loved because the longer commute added time and childcare costs they could not afford. When the state personnel system shifts the physical location for a position, the employee must cover any extra travel expense. 

In the months following Irene, local residents and displaced state employees lobbied for the state to commit to rebuilding offices in Waterbury and returning workers to their former work site. File photo by Gordon Miller

In the months following Irene, local residents and displaced state employees lobbied for the state to commit to rebuilding offices in Waterbury and returning workers to their former work site. File photo by Gordon Miller

It would be interesting to measure the dollar value of the difference in productivity within the community setting at the old Waterbury office campus to that in the Skinner Box setting created for us in an institutional gray and beige structure on the IBM campus. Posting something on the wall required magnets because walls were made of metal. After a few months, they permitted many of us to work at home two days a week. This was very helpful but required me to install email and internet capacity at home, something I had planned to delay. Of course, the state did not pay for that either. Turns out, my huge old-fashioned desk with pullout trays at home was the perfect farmers market coupon processing station. That coupon program was only a third of my job but helped me stay sane and grounded in the years between Irene and retirement. 

The Waterbury offices had reminded me of my family home, an old red brick building filled with joy and trauma and occupants bonded by awareness that we were family and would all freeze in winter and roast in summer. It was a treat to learn that my office door had bars because the room once housed criminally insane women. The newly constructed office space in Waterbury is prettier than the IBM site but feels just as lacking in soul. I retired just in time to avoid working there and am not the only one who misses those funky old brick buildings in the Waterbury state office complex.

Montpelier resident Mary Carlson retired from working for the state of Vermont in 2015. When Tropical Storm Irene hit In August 2011, she worked with the Economic Services Division of the Department for Children and Families at the Waterbury State Office Complex. 

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