Vermont’s Historic Barns Facing Ruin

Vermont’s grand old barns have weathered many a blizzard in their time, but most are ill-prepared to withstand the latest storm front on the horizon--neglect.

With disturbing regularity, these gentle giants of the rural landscape are buckling, collapsing and falling into disrepair--looking more like blatant reminders of Vermont’s agricultural crisis than anything else.

“Vermont is in danger of looking like New Hampshire--a forest with a couple of gift shops thrown in,” said Jan Lewandoski, a carpenter specializing in the restoration of barns and other old buildings.

Vermont is losing about 5% of its 5,000 or so barns each year. Many of the charming old buildings are being replaced by sleek prefabricated metal structures more in sync with the modern farmer’s needs.

The problem has not gone unnoticed. The Green Mountains’ rural spaces are being invaded by condominiums and young forest growth at an unprecedented pace, alarming those officials charged with preserving the pastoral character of Vermont.

‘Ongoing Problem’

“Vermont is in danger of losing its barniness,” said Eric Gilbertson, director of Vermont’s Historic Preservation Division. “It’s been an ongoing problem, but it’s been exacerbated by the demise of farming.”

About 10% of the state’s 3,000 dairy farmers were forced out of business last year, victims of the same agricultural glut that afflicts producers nationwide.

Many of those who have not sold their land to developers are barely able to afford repairs on the huge wooden structures.

Although fixing the average barn usually costs $4,000 to $10,000, restoring old barns--some of which are as long as 180 feet--can cost $25,000 or more.

Only about half of Vermont’s 5,000 old barns are being properly maintained, Gilbertson said.

Becoming Obsolete

The march of progress further threatens to make big old barns obsolete. The spacious structures, many three stories high, hail from an age when gravity was considered a farmer’s closest friend.

By storing hay high up in a barn’s gloomy recesses, farmers of yore single-handedly could kick hay to waiting animals below without relying on extra farm help.

Nowadays, though, escalating fire insurance costs make it more practical to invest in forklifts and store flammable feed farther away from animals.

Other rustic reminders of Vermont’s agricultural past--blacksmith shops, chicken coops, corn cribs and hop houses--are also falling by the wayside, officials say.

“When you see a nicely kept farm as you drive down the road, you’re able to read the activity that took place there,” Gilbertson said.

Stands as Evidence

More than mere storehouses for livestock and feed, Vermont’s barns stand as irrefutable evidence that man’s and nature’s handiwork can harmoniously coexist.

Although “people feel guilty about falling barns,” practical considerations often prevent potential homesteaders from converting a rotting, folding structure into a livable residence, Lewandoski said.

“Even the smallest barns are larger than the average house,” he said.

To make matters worse, state efforts to restore Vermont’s historic buildings are suffering from federal budget cuts. The state received more than $600,000 in federal historic restoration money in 1979, but only $270,000 this year.

Indeed, the finely splintered sunlight that cuts through the dusty gloom of a barn’s interior may soon play to an empty house.

“The landscape that’s reflective of the hand of man working cooperatively with nature--that’s what we’re going to lose,” Lewandoski said.