This article is from April when Hillary Clinton was still a possible option. It is a very interesting read and, as the usual Kauffman style, illegitimizes all candidates as being from "nowhere... or everrywhere". In the end it is a very interesting use of 5 minutes of your time during this election season!
In 1969, novelist Norman Mailer ran for mayor of New York City on a promise to make the city the 51st state and a platform of self-governed neighborhoods.
Bill Kauffman has a short piece on Mailer's campaign posted on First Principles.
There would be no inane happy-talk about the “family of New York” from Norman Mailer. He realized that “the good farmers and small-town workers of New York State rather detest us.” Rather indeed. “The connection of New York City to New York State is a marriage of misery, incompatibility, and abominable old quarrels.” His concern was properly with his own brawling grounds, but he did see a favorable fallout for we hicks as well, for going it alone could spark “the development of what has been hitherto a culturally undernourished hinterland, a typically colorless national tract.”
Yes, Niagara Falls, Cooperstown, Lake Placid, Susan B. Anthony, Grover Cleveland, Washington Irving, John Brown’s North Elba—we are cultural and scenic starvelings for sure.
What does WNY have in common with NYC?
Here's an MP3 of a radio station interview with Bill Kauffman about his book on Luther Martin.
A little outdated, but I just found this article by Bill in The American Conservative on last month's "Bill Kauffman Day" at Dwyer Stadium.
Then there is the more recent TAC column about Lucine Kauffman, town supervisor of Elba. (to follow that link, you need to sign up or a temporary free account -- pretty painless -- and then be able to download the PDF).
The Republicans are indulgent of Lucine’s non-Republican husband, but then in a healthy society politics plays so small a role in our lives that who really gives a damn how others vote? Cold ideologies melt in the warmth of daily communal life.
I think of the local civic organizations in which, say, Assembly of God churchgoers and gays work side by side in the cheerful labor of neighbors. They can be friends because they are, to each other, rounded and fully dimensional. They are people, not cartoons.
This is nigh impossible in larger places, where such disparate folk would never meet and would exist to each other only on the flat screen of the TV set. Instead of Kate and Dave they would be “Religious Nut!” and “Fag!” How dreary. How lifeless. How very Red and Blue.
If you can, read the whole thing -- it's full of Bill's usual wit and fine writing.
On Saturday October 18, 2008, Genesee County residents gathered to remember John Gardner, a well-known novelist and university professor who was born in Batavia, NY. He wrote more than twenty works of fiction, children's stories, poetry, and literary criticism. Among his most popular novels are Grendel (1971), The Sunlight Dialogues (1972), Nickel Mountain (1973), and October Light (1976). Gardner died in a motorcycle crash near Susquehanna, PA, in 1982. He is buried in Batavia's Grandview Cemetery.
Ten people volunteered to read excerpts of Gardner's works for the evening's program including author Bill Kauffman and his daughter Gretel, a student at Elba High School; Tracy Ford, Associate Professor of English at Genesee Community College; Batavia Muckdogs President Brian Paris; and Erica Caldwell, owner of Present Tense bookstore. This was the 12th annual "Batavia Reads John Gardner" event at the Pok-a-Dot.
In the Charelston City Paper, Dylan Hales reviews Bill Kauffman's new book about Luther Martin, and refers to Kauffman as "the patriot of Batavia."
I kind of like that better than Gore Vidal's "sage of Batavia."
It's a favorable review.
As Kauffman aptly notes, the Founders are often revered as the designers of a "federal compact," wary of the dangers of big government tyranny.
In fact, it was the "anti-Federalists" who were the true advocates of self-government, and Martin was their most spirited proponent.
One of the implied theses of the book is that history is written by the winners, and we are all worse off for it. Kauffman is at his best noting Martin's unfair treatment by Constitutional scholars and historians, who have for the most part regarded him as "the town drunk, the class bore, the motormouth."
Kauffman thoroughly debunks this as obtuse obstructionism. In fact, Martin was a relatively modest participant at the Constitutional Convention. His attachment to the Articles of Confederation was predicated on a reverence for local government as well as the illegality of the usurpation of power promoted by Hamilton, Madison and the gang.
I just started reading the book last night. I'll probably post something about it after I finish it. The book can be purchased at Present Tense, where last I heard, there were still autographed copies available.
Richmond Memorial Library will host a book lunch today in the library's Gallery Room at 19 Ross Street in Batavia. Folks are encouraged to come by to hear Bill Kauffman talk about his new book (that's it here to the right) while they eat lunch. They call it "Books Sandwiched In," and it starts at 12:10pm and runs to about 1:00pm, long enough to get a healthy dose of culture, but not too long that you can't make it on your lunch break from work.
From the press release:
Bill Kauffman will talk about his new book, Forgotten Founder, Drunken Prophet: The Life of Luther Martin. The Friends of the Library co-sponsor this free program. Bring your lunch; coffee, tea and cookies are provided. All welcome. For more information, call the library at (585) 343-9550, ext. 8 or log on to www.batavialibrary.org.
Bill Kauffman spoke Sept. 9 at the Holland Land Office Museum dinner and Patrick Weissend recorded it as part of HOLM's ongoing podcast series.
You can listen to it here.
Bill's new book is Forgotten Founder, Drunken Prophet: The Life of Luther Martin.
Luther was an anti-Federalists, a misnomer used to describe a group of people who opposed ratification of the Constitution because it would, they believed (and accurately predicted) that it would lead to a concentration of power in the national government at the expense of communities and states. The opposition of the anti-Federalist did help lead to the drafting of the Bill of Rights.
In the podcast, Bill covers Luther Martin's biography and his opposition to the drafting and ratification of the Constitution.
The Muckdogs lost. Big time. The final score of tonight's big match with Jamestown was a blowout: 13-4.
The Jammers (44-29) now sit a mere half game back of Batavia (44-28) in the Pinckney Division.
Meanwhile, Brooklyn won again, to maintain a half-game lead in the wild card race.
All-in-all, a bad night at Dwyer Stadium.
Or was it?
Tonight was "Bill Kauffman Night." Bill threw out the first pitch, autographed books for fans who gave the correct answers to trivia questions, and his daughter and a friend sang the National Anthem and "America the Beautiful."
I sat with Kauffman and his friends and family in the third-base bleachers. It was a good lesson in what it really means to attend a minor league baseball game in a small town.
It isn't all about the game. It's about the camaraderie, shared memories and hearty laughs.
That said, not a single significant play was missed by the group and the level of baseball knowledge was higher than I've found in big league stadiums where I've seen games.
If that experience in "Little Elba," as General Manager Dave Wellenzohn calls it, could be captured in a marketing message -- if more families and groups of friends could better appreciate how much fun an evening at the ballpark can be, win or lose, the Muckdogs would sell out every game.
As much fun as the evening was, the highlight might have been meeting local legend John Hodgins.
After the fifth inning, when Wellenzohn thanked The Batavian for its sponsorship of the team in 2008, and pointed out that I was sitting with the "Little Elba" group, Mr. Hodgins came over and introduced himself.
I cringed at first. I thought he was going to complain about our "fly swat" post, poking fun at a cartoon he drew for the Daily News. Nope, he said. That didn't bother him at all. He's just curious about what we're doing and wanted to meet me. That, my friends, is quite a complement.
I've seen Hodgins art work. I'm impressed. I hope to own some of it some day. I'll feel honored for a long, long time that he wanted to meet me.
I also got to meet in person for the first time Russ Stresing. We chatted for ten minutes or so as the game drew to a close. That, too, was cool.
So, you see, a night at the ballpark is more than just about the game. It's also about the people.
You should go.
Yes, the division crown isn't wrapped up yet, but there is hope: The Muckdogs, sitting in the cat bird seat, have two home games against State College (18-54) who seem hardly to even be going through the motions anymore, while Jamestown must play third-place Williamsport (38-34).
After the game, however, Wellenzohn and the Red Wing's Dan Mason insisted that State College needs to be taken seriously. There's no guarantees. With that said, you really need to get out to Dwyer Friday and Saturday and support the team.
Local author (Dispatches from the Muckdog Gazette and Ain't My America, etc.) spoke this week at Ron Paul's Rally for the Republic in Minneapolis.
A two-part video has been posted to YouTube.
The normally mild-mannered scholarly writer really gets into it.
In part 2 Kauffman makes the case that localism, the idea that people should look first to their families and their neighbors for their sense of place, for a sense of peace, is asserting itself all over again.
Local authors Bill Kauffman, Den Linehan and Nick DiChario will be at Present Tense on Saturday, Sept. 20.
They will be helping the store celebrate its third year in business. Even goes from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m., but the authors will be on hand at 1 p.m. for book signings.
Kauffman will be there is support of his new book, Forgotten Founder, Drunken Prophet: The Life of Luther Martin. Kauffman's previous books include Dispatches from the Muckdog Gazette, Ain't My America, America First! and Look Homeward America.
Den Linnehan is a photographer who's books focus on Upstate New York.
Nick Dichario is a science fiction writer and his latest book is Valley of Day-Glo.
On Friday, Sept. 19, author Christopher Paolini will be at the store at 11 p.m. for a release party of his new book, Brisinger. Costumes are encouraged. UPDATE/CORRECTION: The author will NOT be at the store. This is merely a local release party.
On Tuesday, September 9th the Holland Land Office Museum will have a dinner program at the Emmanuel Baptist Church, 190 Oak Street. The dinner is open to the public and will feature the Church’s famous Swiss Steak dinner, served family style. The dinner begins at 6:00 p.m. The price of the dinner is $9.00 per person.
After dinner, our special guest speaker will be our very own Bill Kauffman. Mr. Kauffman will be taking time out from his extremely busy book tour schedule to promote his latest book, Forgotten Founder, Drunken Prophet: The Life of Luther Martin.
Martin was a delegate from Maryland to the Constitutional Convention of 1787 in Philadelphia. He opposed a system of government where the large states would dominate the small ones. He believed a new central government would have too much power over state governments and would threaten individual rights. Not finding support for his ideas, Martin eventually walked out of the convention.
To reserve your spot at the dinner, RSVP’s are necessary. Please call or email (director@hollandlandoffice.com) the Museum by September 3rd at 343-4727 to reserve your spot at the dinner. The book is due out in the middle of September, but we will be fortunate enough to be the first place in the United States to sell the book!
Much has been made of Batavia's mall in recent weeks. So we here at The Batavian thought to turn to a citizen who has never been afraid of expressing his opinion on the subject, Bill Kauffman, author of Dispatches from the Muckdog Gazette. Kauffman has often used this mall in his writings for a national audience as an example of big government gone bad. In particular, we asked Bill Kauffman what he thought of City Council President Charlie Mallow's recent comment that the city should consider demolishing part of the mall.
Here's what he had to say:
The mall ought to have been dispatched long ago to that circle of hell reserved for brutalist architecture. For 30-plus years it has been a monument to misplaced faith in big government and capital-p Progress. Urban renewal was a catastrophe for many American cities, Batavia not least among them. The demolition of old Batavia was a crime against our ancestors, ourselves, and our posterity. Any discussion of human-scale, pedestrian-friendly, small business-centered alternatives to what remains of the mall is welcome. More than that, it's a sign of civic health. Batavia still matters. (And while we're at it, perhaps that imbecilic and pretentious spelling of "Batavia City Centre" can be corrected to "Center." Batavia is neither Canadian nor a suburban strip mall straining for "class.")
What do you think?
Another YouTube discovery this morning -- a two-part radio interview with Bill Kauffman. The primary theme of the interview is anti-war conservativism.
The interview was broadcast on July 22, 2008 on 1250 AM WTMA talk radio in Charleston, South Carolina.
The rain out of yesterday's Muckdog's game also washed away an opportunity to take in nine innings with Bill Kauffman.
Instead, we sat in the stands above the soggy field surrounded by 500 restless summer camp kids and chatted until the din of some undefinable noises from the sound system drove us away. Once we discovered a mutual affection for the Pok-A-Dot and concluded the game would not be played, we dashed over to the diner for lunch.
Having exhausted Google in requests for links to articles by Bill Kauffman, I asked him to send me some pointers to published pieces.
This morning's e-mail brings another essay about Batavia, Play Ball, in First Principles.
Kauffman delights in the quirky fates of life in America, where either by chance or odd ball persistence, people leave marks both indelible and obscure. In "Play Ball," Kauffman passes along the tale of Vince Maney, perhaps the first and perhaps the only Batavian to ever play major league baseball.
The chance of a lifetime was the result of Ty Cobb fighting with a fan, which led to a suspension, which led to Cobb's teammates refusing to take the field, which led to a team of amateurs and semi-pros filling out the roster of the Detroit Tigers for one day nearly a century ago.
The game of May 18, 1912, was a rout. Emergency Tigers pitcher Aloysius Travers, who later became a Jesuit priest, was touched for twenty-four runs on twenty-six hits in eight innings. Who needs a bullpen? Vince Maney described the game in a letter to his brother: “I played shortstop and had more fun than you can imagine. Of course it was a big defeat for us, but they paid us $15 for a couple of hours work and I was satisfied to be able to say that I had played against the world champions. I had three putouts, three assists, one error, and no hits.”
If only Bill James had been sabermetricking in 1912. For Vince also walked once and was hit by a pitch, giving him an on-base percentage of .500. Calling Billy Beane!
Maney played under an assumed name that day. He was a strikebreaker, after all—a scab of sorts, although Ty Cobb wasn’t exactly Samuel Gompers. For nigh unto one hundred years the baseball record books listed Maney as Pat Meaney, forty-one, of Philadelphia. The fictive Meany’s made-up age gave him the specious distinction of being the oldest rookie ever to debut in the majors, till forty-two-year-old Satchel Paige joined Cleveland in 1948.
I just wish I had been in the stands last August when Kauffman read a Charles Bukowski poem to the fans between innings. Perhaps he can be persuaded to reprise the performance this summer.
Batavia's very own Bill Kauffman is setting radical hearts aflutter in the blogosphere this week as the publication of his new book nears. The Western Confucian muses on the sage of Batavia and proudly proclaims his own love of Kauffman's works.
If you've read Bill Kauffman, you know that he's at his best describing the quirky, eccentric political characters that make America great, as opposed the the bland figures that make her ugly. A book about America's "drunken prophet" will likely [be] pure Kauffman.
Daniel McCarthy previews the book, titled Forgotten Founder, Drunken Prophet: The Life of Luther Martin, on his blog: The Tory Anarchist.
Coming from ISI Books in September: Forgotten Founder, Drunken Prophet: The Life of Luther Martin. Martin, a Maryland delegate to and “the bitterest states’ rightser at the [Constitutional] Convention,” was a great Anti-Federalist whose detestation of Thomas Jefferson drove him, ironically enough, into the Federalist Party. I’ve just had a glance at the galleys of Kauffman’s book so far, which looks to be every bit as good as you’d expect.
Here's an excerpt of the work, courtesy of McCarthy:
Martin understood quite clearly that the Constitution was a counterrevolution, recentralizing that which had been decentralized upon the assertion of American independence. ‘Men love power,’ Hamilton told the convention. To Hamilton this was a simple statement of fact, not at all deplorable. The Anti-Federalists had their doubts about its accuracy—did not men love their families, their homeplaces, their liberties even more?—but in the event, they desird not to channel this powerlust toward profitable ends but rather to block those avenues down which power is pursued. If it is true that men love to wield power over other men and that a centralized state will attract such warped creatures, then rather than design a Rube Goldberg scheme by which the will to dominate is transmuted into gold for the commonweal, why not just not construct a centralized state? Remove the means of gratifying the temptation.
Visit the publisher's site for a synopsis of the work. We will probably hear more as the publication date nears — it's not due out until September — but in the meantime, for an interesting and well-written read about Kauffman, check out the article by John McClaughry published on Reason Online last January. Or see our our earlier post where Howard takes a look at Kauffman's Batavia.
Driving to and from Batavia today I thought of what a habit it has become for me to avoid the Thruway if at all possible.
And I thought of Bill Kauffman again and his essay "Back to Batavia."
The curmudgeons carped and the mossbacks muttered, and the thruway was built. Its first casualty was Route 5, Batavia's Main Street, for years a bustling thoroughfare. Travelers ate at diners along Route 5, and slept in hotels, and shopped at stores—until progress came, and the farms were paved, and Route 5 died. Across Upstate, countless locally owned and owner-operated businesses were bankrupted. Drivers stuck to the thruway and ate at the Howard Johnson's monopoly.
In nearly two years of Western New York residence, I've found myself avoiding the Thruway more often than not.
I dislike the Thruway because:
So you're much more likely to find me tooling down Route 5 than 90.
Has there ever been a "Boycott the Thruway" effort? The the Thruway seems easily avoidable, even for long trips. So why use it?
What do you think of the Thruway? Is it a modern transportation convenience, a necessary evil, or something that can and should be avoided as much as possible?
Previously: Contemplating Bill Kauffman's Batavia
I've been thinking of my old home town in Southern California this morning, and Batavia.
If it seems odd that I would be thinking of two towns 3,000 miles apart, thank Bill Kauffman.
Yesterday, I sumbled upon a pair of essays Kauffman wrote in 1991 about Batavia. Here's Part I, and here's the Conclusion of "Back to Batavia."
For Kauffman, Batavia has gone to ruin -- grand old buildings destroyed, venerable local stores shuttered and chains, corporations and big media pulling residents away from a pace of life that was seemingly more connected, more rooted.
Everywhere In Batavia I found small independent businesses in retreat. The Tops grocery chain has opened a super store on West Main, and all those little corner grocers, where at three o'clock the kids liberated from school, bought pretzel sticks and Bazooka Joes and Red Hot Dollars, all those Lamberts and Wandryks and Says and Borrellis are gone, gone, gone. Mr. Quartley just died, and the Platens are hanging on, barely. And now Tops has a pizza oven, and a Domino's just opened in the K Mart Plaza, so Pontillo's and Arena's and Ficarella's and Starvin' Marvin, you'd better dig in and fight. Or maybe it would just be easier to sell out, pack the wife and kids into a U-Haul, and slink down to Florida—to a trailer-park reservation with all the other white Indians.
Kauffman calls himself a localist. I knew very little of Kauffman before we launched The Batavian, but in an odd way -- a way I'm sure he would find very odd indeed -- he might be our godfather, or at least a good touchstone of what we need to be about.
One of Kauffman's complaints is that modern New Yorkers know little of their regional literature, so rather than assume that Batavians know who Kauffman is, let me supply some background.
Kauffman was born in Batavia in 1959 (which makes us roughly the same age). He is a writer of books and essays, mostly on politics, social and cultural issues from a conservative/libertarian bent (which makes us roughly aligned, though there seem to be many specifics on which we diverge). His most famous book seems to be Dispatches from the Muckdog Gazette, which is about Batavia. His most recent book is Ain't My America.
Kauffman believes in small town America, and in Batavia. I've spent my entire journalism career working for small town newspapers. Community journalism is all I know and all I care about.
I've never said this about myself before, but I guess I'm a localist, too; albeit, one lacking the true small town roots of a Bill Kauffman.
As we've said before in The Batavian, community journalism long ago lost its small town soul.
Kauffman's own analysis isn't far from our own:
The daily newspaper has passed from the Griswolds and the McWains—fine old Republicans, how gentle that Main Street Harding hauteur seems now—to a chain. The chain sent a team of journalism school, degreed outsiders to Batavia, where they patiently instruct us in contemporary etiquette. (Let's get some foreign titles in the video store! What Batavia needs is a nice Mexican restaurant!) The editorial writers are all looking to move up and out, so the paper's leaders feature plenty of "Outlaw Pit Bulls" and "Dwarf-Tossing a National Disgrace" and "A Plan for World Peace" and nary a "Save a County Courthouse."
Yes, The Batavian is owned by a corporation that runs chain newspapers, but the goal of this project is to give back to community journalism its soul. While neither Philip nor I currently live in Batavia (for myself, I wouldn't mind seeing that change some day, but it doesn't seem at all a realistic possibiility now), the future staff writers of The Batavian will be residents (and we hope native Batavians).
See, I know what it's like to watch a small town lose itself in its quest for glory and riches.
That old home town I was thinking of this morning was El Cajon, a suburb now of San Diego, but once a two-hour stage coach ride from the big city, so it developed its own identity.
We didn't move to El Cajon until I was 14, but I knew the town well because most of our extended family lived there.
My dad moved us to El Cajon so he could start a business. He put me in the same high school he had attended. Eventually, I would get my first daily newspaper job in El Cajon, and I would start my first entrepreneurial enterprise in El Cajon (an online community news site in 1995, which is in some ways the precursor of The Batavian.).
By the time I launched that online site, the El Cajon of my youth, the quaint small town of the 1960s through early 1980s that I knew, was gone.
The old buildings on Main and Magnolia, gone. Empty shops dotted what was left of Main Street.
All in the name of urban renewal.
Batavia went through that, too.
Kauffman:
Batavia responded to the demise of Route 5 with an act of parricide unequaled this side of Rumania, where the demonic Ceausescu once waged war on pre-Communist architecture. The city fathers rushed headlong into urban renewal, whereby the federal government paid Batavia to knock down its past: the mansions of the founders, the sandstone churches, the brick shops, all of it (even Dean Richmond's manor, which had become an orphanage financed by Miss Edna, the city's legendary madam with a heart of gold, may she rest in peace.)
Batavia tore out—literally—its five-block heart and filled the cavity with a ghastly mall, a dull gray sprawling oasis in a desert of parking spaces. The mall was a colossal failure, but it succeeded in destroying the last vestiges of our home-run economy. J. C. Penney and Wendy's were in; the Dipson Theater and the Dagwood Restaurant were out. As our chamber of commerce might put it in one of their doggedly goofy brochures, Batavia had entered the global economy.
The mayor who stole El Cajon from me was Joan Shoemaker, who envisioned turning El Cajon -- a smoggy valley populated by factory workers and cowboys -- into the La Jolla of East County, with boutiques, quaint book stores (not that disheveled and dusty 50,000 Books I shopped in throughout high school and college years -- inset picture of now closed bookstore) and "white tablecloth restaurants" (a phrase that will be acid in my ears until I'm an old man).
It's been two years since I visited El Cajon. Except to see my grandmother, I have no desire to go back.
The city has slipped completely into poverty and waste and ruin. Joan Shoemaker's vision of an "East County La Jolla" has vanished behind trash on the streets and graffiti on the walls of her strip malls. A city that once was home to modest people earning a modest living raising their families in quiet and security has been overrun by Section 8 housing and Dollar Tree stores.
Batavia is nothing like that.
And here is where Kauffman and I diverge. There is still much about Batavia that is local.
Downtown is full of good, locally owned restaurants and stores. While pedestrian traffic is often light, it is not non-existent and plenty of people still seem to frequent the city's core.
Yes, City Center is pretty much a monstrosity, but there is still something left of old Batavia on Main Street. (I wonder if any of the former city leadership who led the charge to destroy all those grand old buildings are still around, and if they would own up to the failure of the project?) (And I should mention, the BID has done a great job with downtown, and expect to see that group yet make something useful out of City Center).
As somebody who comes from 3,000 miles away, a transplant to Western New York who thinks the region is just great and plans to spend many decades living here, I've got to say that I see no reason Batavia can't have a very local present and future. We hope The Batavian can help encourage a vibrant localism.
And I've got to say, I'm glad I've learned about Bill Kauffman. He is my first open window into literary and historic New York. In California, I had a grand collection of regional books, and I had explored the state thoroughly. When I left California with an idea that I would never return, I donated those books to Matt Welch, then an editor with the Los Angeles Times and now editor of Reason Magazine (where Kauffman used to write). Those books sit on some shelf in the Times building, I'm told. I trust they're in good hands. Now it's time for me to learn more about, and embrace, my adopted state.
For a visual look back at old Batavia, here is a collection of pictures and one of postcards.
Area author Bill Kauffman gets a favorable review of his new book, Look Homeward, America, in Reason Magazine.
Writer John McClaughry compares him to East Aurora's writer, thinker and quote machine, Elbert Hubbard.
In many respects—not including the creation of a 300-employee publishing house—Bill Kauffman of tiny Elba, New York, has become today’s Elbert Hubbard. But unlike Hubbard, whose essays glorified the lives and works of famous people, Kauffman’s literary journey seeks out “the America of holy fools and backyard radicals, the America whose eccentric voice is seldom heard anymore…the [voice of] third parties, of Greenbackers and Libertarians and village atheists and the ‘conservative Christian anarchist’ party whose founder and only member was Henry Adams.”
Kauffman’s earlier books mined interesting veins of localism and hostility to modernity. America First! celebrated America’s forgotten isolationist activists, from Hamlin Garland to Alice Roosevelt, plus other assorted individualists, including Edward Abbey, Gore Vidal, Sinclair Lewis, and this writer, included because he considered me, not altogether inaccurately, the last lonely true-believing Jeffersonian. His Dispatches From the Muckdog Gazette celebrated the lives of the common people of Kauffman’s Genesee County, home of the minor league Batavia Muckdogs baseball team.
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