The word historic is often tossed around too easily, used to describe places and buildings that are simply old. But the buildings at Seaside in Waterford are truly historic, which is why it is such a tragedy that the state’s dereliction is likely to lead to them being reduced to rubble.

Seaside embodied how society dealt with some of the biggest challenges it faced, and how those approaches and the attitudes that drove them changed. It began as a noble effort to try to deal with a killer that had long stalked humankind, tuberculosis. It later transformed into an institution for the care of people with developmental disabilities, closing when that approach fell out of favor.

While successive administrations share the blame that it was left to rot away, Gov. John G. Rowland’s administration is the most responsible. When the Rowland administration closed the Seaside Regional Center in 1996 it had no plan to reutilize or preserve the buildings.

Starting in 1961, the Department of Mental Retardation had operated the Seaside Regional Center for the care, treatment and housing of people with developmental disabilities. By the 1990s, society was turning from this institutional approach in favor of integrating these individuals, as much as possible, into our communities.

Closing Seaside was the right decision. Failing to have a plan to preserve the historic state property was a dereliction.

A minimal investment could have preserved the most important of the Seaside buildings, the Maher sanatorium. Constructed in 1934, it was named to honor Dr. Stephen Maher, who had devoted his medical career to dealing with the scourge of tuberculosis. Typical of the time, Maher’s treatments were controversial and largely ineffective, but he tried. Tuberculosis was at the time the leading killer in Connecticut. It would not abate until the development of antibiotics in the 1940s.

The sanatorium at Seaside represented the state’s best pre-antibiotic efforts. Constructed of brick, granite, tile, and slate, and with its trademark steeple, watchtower, and large verandas, the building was more opulent than institutional. It was the physical manifestation of “heliotherapy,” based on the belief that tuberculosis sufferers, particularly children, could best benefit from plenty of fresh sea air and abundant sunshine.

Connecticut’s Tuberculosis Commission had employed acclaimed architect Cass Gilbert, who also designed the U.S. Supreme Court building, to create a facility that embodied the treatment guidelines of the day. In retrospect, the benefits to sufferers were minimal, but it showed how medical experts were trying their best at a time when there was no real cure.

When a cure came, the sanatorium became obsolete. It and the adjacent buildings were eventually repurposed as Seaside Regional Center.

If, at the time of Seaside’s closing, the state had made the investment to maintain the Maher building, heat it, keep the roof from leaking and had provided minimal security to discourage thieves from stripping away its copper gutters and drains, it would not have met the end it now likely faces. Like preserved lighthouses, it could have been opened for occasional tours by those interested in its design and history. Perhaps a state office or two could have utilized it.

When none of that happened, the deterioration came rapidly. Restoring an old building is far more expensive than maintaining one. The gubernatorial administrations to follow showed no interest in making such an investment.

The best chance to save Seaside came in 2010 when developer Mark Steiner, who had already pushed his idea for several years, signed an agreement with the state to buy the property for $8 million, contingent on him gaining the necessary zoning approval to restore and repurpose the structures as high-priced condominiums. The deal included the provision that the public would retain access to the shoreline for passive recreation. The plan faced neighborhood opposition.

Steiner never seemed a player big enough to carry out the undertaking he had signed up for, struggling along with a shoestring budget, with the shoestring purchased on credit. My expectation is that if he could have pushed his plans over the finish line, Steiner would have flipped the project or found a deep-pocketed partner to make it happen.

His plans crashed in 2014 when he could not get the necessary votes from the Waterford Planning and Zoning Commission to pursue the redevelopment. A key vote in opposition came from a member who appeared to have a blatant conflict of interest. Steiner filed an appeal. But four days later, Gov. Dannel P. Malloy terminated the contract and announced the property would become Seaside State Park.

Steiner may yet get his payday. Inexplicably, the Connecticut Office of the Claims Commissioner took seven years before deciding last year that Steiner had the right to sue the state for breach of contract. His case looks like a solid one.

Malloy’s decision likely ended any real chance to preserve the historic buildings. In 2018, the state sought proposals to restore the buildings for lodging in connection with the state park, but with more years of deterioration the cost made the approach unrealistic. No viable proposals came forward.

Now Gov. Ned Lamont’s administration has announced its plan to use $7 million in federal American Rescue Plan Act funds to fully develop the property as a state park. The former sanitorium and other buildings are not in the plans and will likely be demolished.

I wonder if neighbors who opposed the Steiner proposal have gained a pyrrhic victory. On many a weekend crowds fill the beautiful, nearby Harkness State Park. It can be hard to find a picnic table. When Seaside State Park becomes a more viable alternative, and word gets out, spillover crowds may well turn up there.

Some of these visitors will read the informational signs about the history of the place and the buildings that once stood there. But details about the screw-ups that led to the demise of the historic structures will likely be lacking.

Paul Choiniere is the former editorial page editor of The Day, now retired. He can be reached at p.choiniere@yahoo.com.