Time runs out for old whale oil refinery

But the whaling industry left New Bedford in the 1920s, and the great cauldrons that refined oil in the Baker-Robinson plant never fired again. The hydraulic press that made candles out of spermaceti, a waxy substance taken from the whales’ heads, fell silent.

The Greek Revival structure was transformed into an ice house, a fish-processing facility for the Finicky Pet Food company, and finally an abandoned property fallen into disrepair, its bygone significance forgotten for decades.

Now, the 172-year-old Baker-Robinson building is back in the spotlight and embroiled in contro versy, its gray granite frame the subject of an often rancorous debate about how far New Bedford should go to preserve tangible links to its whaling glory days. Last month, the developer who owns the property cleared out the interior to make it a function center for a new hotel. Preservationists say the project has ruined an important historical site, and the city did nothing to stop it.

“You can’t save every building,’’ said Peggi Medeiros, a research historian who specializes in 19th-century New Bedford history. “Not every building is important. But some of them are, and this is one.’’

This is more than a question of aesthetics in New Bedford, where the story of whaling’s heyday is a primary tourist attraction. For decades, the city has been trying to restore the crumbling 19th-century buildings near its center, which has been preserved as a national park.

Located outside the park boundaries on the artery that connects Interstate 195 with the waterfront, the Baker-Robinson property is being incorporated into the construction of a Marriott Fairfield Inn & Suites, which city planners say will attract conventions and encourage tourists to stay in town longer. Last month, workers removed the brick hearth that once held the cauldrons, a metal piston left over from the press, wooden wainscoting from the second floor office, and the Baker-Robinson company safe. They left the four walls and the roof.

Medeiros called this a “criminal assault on our culture.’’ She and other preservationists argued that enough of the facility remained to restore one of the few standing whale oil factory buildings in the country.

“Every splotch was a tangible and real link to the whaling industry,’’ Medeiros said in a recent interview. “Instead, the building has been gutted and roped off.’’

Anne Louro, the city’s historic-preservation planner, countered that Baker-Robinson was so run-down that the only way to preserve it was to adapt the outer structure to modern use.

“We like to retain as much as possible,’’ she said. “Sometimes reuse doesn’t make that possible.’’

No one disputes the factory’s significance. The products derived from sperm whales fueled the expansion of the New Bedford whaling industry, until the discovery of petroleum led to its demise. Nor is anyone overly sentimental about the nature of the work, which required long hours in miserable conditions.

Bricks from the hearth and other items removed from the Baker-Robinson building have been preserved, said Jennifer T. Nersesian, superintendent of the New Bedford Whaling National Historical Park. The park also used cutting-edge laser technology to make a three-dimensional video record of the interior before it was stripped, she said.

“I don’t want to say that anything virtual is better than a tangible experience,’’ Nersesian said, adding that preservation of the artifacts and the shell of the building was probably the best way to save something that otherwise might have collapsed and been lost forever.

Medeiros acknowledged the need to balance economic considerations with the safeguarding of history. But she said the city neglected an opportunity to protect a crucial part of its heritage. She said the renovation has ignored the original plans of the national park, drafted after its establishment in 1996, that cited the Baker-Robinson site as one that needed to be preserved. A more thoughtful restoration, Medeiros said, could have retained original windows, doors, and shutters, and included a bridge over the basement so that visitors could see the hearth.

City Councilor Jane L. Gonsalves said New Bedford officials should have asked the developer to suspend work on the interior until city planners and preservationists had a chance to discuss what needed to be saved.

“It’s great to have a hotel downtown and a function room. Certainly, that is a boon to New Bedford,’’ Gonsalves said. “My concern is that it would have been great to keep the building together.’’

Louro defended the city’s record on preservation, pointing to the renovation of several buildings into office space, low-income housing, and the headquarters of the national park.

The developer of the Baker-Robinson property, Richard Lafrance, said he preserved what he could. It would have been easier for him to demolish the structure, he said, but he spent more than $500,000 to retain the shell. He said he is planning to include a multimedia display and possibly some of the artifacts, to “tell the story of this building.’’

Louro said the hotel is set to open in June and soon thereafter host a trade show for New Bedford’s current leading industry: commercial fishing.

“There’s nothing that can be done at this point,’’ Medeiros said. “The lesson has got to be that it can’t happen again.’’