Black Rock - Table of Contents

First There Was Black Rock
By Mark Goldman

Click on photos for larger size

Black Rock today

Jubilee Springhouse on Delaware and W. Ferry supplied water to both Black Rock and Buffalo.
Source: "Views of Old-Time Buffalo," pub. by The Express, Jan. 1, 1916.

Breckenridge St. Presbyterian Church.
Built 1831. Still standing, much changed. Oldest church building in the city.
Source: Buffalo Historical Society. "The Picture Book of Earlier Buffalo," 1912

Engine #15 Fire Station, 64 Amherst Street

St. John's United Church of Christ (1890) / 71 Amherst

International Bridge to Canada - used by Canadian National Railroad

International Bridge

International Bridge. PresCo 2000 tour

Factory adjoining Canal



Black Rock Lock

West Side Rowing Club

190 which separated Black Rock and Riverside from the Niagara River

St. Francis RC Church
as seen from the Niagara River

At a recent baseball game in Delaware Park, far from his home diamond in Riverside Park, a young man stood at the plate ready to hit. It was a close and tense game between two Little League teams, and hordes of the players' family and friends had come from different Buffalo neighborhoods to watch.

Quiet settled over the field and the boy readied himself for the pitch. As he did a cry was heard from somewhere among the spectators: "C'mon Mike, hit the ball! Show 'em what a Black Rock kid can do!"

The people of Black Rock, as well as those in Riverside and Grant-Amherst, have, despite the changes that have caused the decline of their communities, always been proud of their neighborhoods. A proud neighborhood, however, is not necessarily a strong neighborhood. For what neighborhoods need above all is economic and political power. Throughout most of their history, these three neighborhoods were strong. With their own local economies, a deeply entrenched system of political power and a population that stayed put for many years, Black Rock, Riverside and Grant-Amherst were vital and significant neighborhoods within the larger city. Today they have lost much of their economic and political leverage and are left with little more than their pride and their memories.

What follows is the story of how these three neighborhoods acquired their strength during the late 19th and early 20th centuries and how they have lost it in our own time. By understanding what has happened to Black Rock, Riverside and Grant-Amherst we can learn not only about the history of these neighborhoods, but also what might be done to improve them in the future.

Black Rock

While outsiders may think of Black Rock, Riverside and Grant-Amherst as part and parcel of the same community, they are, for those who live there anyway, three distinct neighborhoods, each with its own history and identity. Referring to a map of Buffalo, Mary Ann Lotito, a life-long resident of Amherst Street, says emphatically: "This is Black Rock. East of those railroad tracks at Amherst and Tonawanda . . .now that is Grant-Amherst. And there, bordering the Niagara River north of Hertel, there is Riverside." With a further hint of warning in her voice, she adds: "Don't confuse them. We're each different."

Indeed, it is because each neighborhood has had separate and unique patterns of development that today's residents continue to relate to them as special places, almost as villages within Buffalo.

Black Rock was, in fact, a separate village until Buffalo forcibly annexed it in 1854. Until then it had been a healthy and aggressive rival. With approximately 2,000 people each, they were of equal size. Like Buffalo, Black Rock too yearned to win the high stakes competition over which town would be selected as the terminal point of the Erie Canal. As the Canal neared completion in the early 1820's, the rivalry between Black Rock and buffalo became bitter and intense. In the see-sawing battle between the two towns that lasted over the next two years, both Black Rock and Buffalo organized elaborate grassroot campaigns to influence the state.

Despite Black Rock's unsuccessful effort, the struggle became legendary in the community. Indeed, if there is one fact that every contemporary resident of Black Rock knows about Buffalo's history, it is that at some time - not everybody knows exactly when - their community was a robust rival, equal in all respects to Buffalo.

Pointing to the hulk of an early 19th century Greek Revival church west of Niagara Street on Breckenridge (now the offices of Stritt and Priebe Inc., a piping firm), John Kreiger, whose family name first appeared as a resident of Black Rock in the 1850 census, says: "That was Commercial Street, the main drag in Black Rock. That old church was the Black Rock Presbyterian Church. It was built in 1832. It's one of the oldest still standing in Buffalo."

Kreiger also knows that at that time, the Village of Black Rock was divided into two sections: the Upper Rock, centered at the intersection of Niagara and Breckenridge (this despite the fact that the actual Black Rock was originally located in the Niagara River at the foot of Albany Street) and the Lower Rock, now the neighborhood of Black Rock, bounded by the Scajaquada Creek, the Niagara River, Grant Street and Hertel Avenue.

While the Upper Rock section was quickly absorbed by the rapidly expanding City of Buffalo, the Lower Rock - today's neighborhood - remained separate and apart. This section did not begin to develop until 1825 when the construction of the Erie Canal along the Niagara River required that a lock be built where the canal passed Austin Street, then known as Lock Street.

The lock laid the foundations for the commercial development of the neighborhood. As the canal boats waited in the lock for the water level to change, the ever-restless entrepreneurs who made up a large proportion of America's urban population would unload some of the produce on the boats. By selling some of the wheat, lumber, iron and other raw material that moved down the canal, and by marshaling the power created by the force of water that came streaming through the locks, he people of Black Rock created a local, neighborhood-based economy.

By the late 1830s and early 1840s the canal towpath in Black Rock - at the foot of Amherst, Austin and Hertel - had become a significant manufacturing center with several flour mills, cooperages (barrel factories), and lumber mills. Remains of this early period in Black Rock's history can still be found in an abandoned brick factory at the foot of Austin Street and in the stone home on the southeast corner of Dearborn and Amherst Streets.

The lack of adequate transportation reinforced Black Rock's isolation. Other than the Buffalo-Niagara Falls Railroad, which began its run in the early 1850s, Black Rock had no direct transportation connection with downtown Buffalo until the inception of the Niagara Street streetcar line in the early 1890s. Because of this, Black Rock developed as a self-sufficient entity, legally linked but physically separate from the rest of Buffalo.

Very much like a medieval village, Black Rock had its own market, churches and water supply. The unusually wide sidewalks visible today at the corner of Amherst and Niagara are the remnants of Black Rock's middle 19th century public market. Churches - the Dearborn Street Baptist, founded in 1839, the Dearborn Street Methodist, organized in 1844, St. Francis Xavier, formed in 1849, are among the oldest and most enduring in any section of today's city.

The Jubilee Springs, known today only by the marker on Delaware Avenue, was the neighborhood's source of water.

In addition to its economic strength, its social cohesiveness, its strong sense of its history and its physical separation, Black Rock also enjoyed and enormous amount of political power. For Black Rock, like other neighborhoods in mid-19th century Buffalo, was the beneficiary of a political system that gave a substantial amount of political power to small geographic enclaves called "wards."

Far smaller than the current councilmanic districts, the boundaries of the wards reflected an arbitrary combination of natural and man-made borders, ethnic settlement patterns and the prevailing beliefs of the time that political boundaries should reinforce the neighborhood segregation along race, ethnic and class lines that had already been developed.

Throughout most of the 19th century each of buffalo's wards, like states in the United States Senate, regardless of size, population or economic importance, sent two alderman to the Common Council. With no city-wide representation and with a mayor whose office (until the end of the 19th century at least) was virtually titular and whose powers were highly circumscribed, the wards dominated the political decision-making in the city. Black Rock was part of the 12th ward, the only part with any significant settlement in the 19th century.

Thus, despite its relatively small population -- 1,400 in 1855, 1,700 in 1865, 2,200 in 1875, and 3,000 in 1895 -- Black Rock had a great deal of political clout in the city at large.

As a result of this combination of factors, Black Rock, by the end of the 19th century, had developed a community structure and outlook that was similar in many respects to a small town. With its own economic base along the Erie Canal, a vibrant small-store economy, a community social life rooted in the intricate and intimate patterns of generations of neighboring, its own political and religious institutions, its own community newspaper, "The International Gazette," its own businessmen's group -- The Black Rock Businessmen's Association -- it is no wonder that this working-class community also developed an intense feeling of neighborhood loyalty.

While Black Rock, like Grant - Amherst and Riverside, has always consisted of working-class people who worked in the factories that surrounded these neighborhoods, the community was never ethnically homogeneous. Indeed, what is so interesting about the rich and compelling community that developed in Black Rock is that it appeared among an ethnically diverse people.

While German Catholics continued to predominate among both immigrants and their descendants, there was, throughout the 19th century, a healthy mixture of Irish, Canadians, French, English and American born residents.

"We had everybody here," recalls a long-term resident of East Street. Talking about the early 20th century, he says, "School 20 on Amherst was as mixed as the United Nations. We were mostly German, that's true. But people forget about how many Canadians we had. And French too."


There were, however, very few Poles in Black Rock. They lived across the railroad tracks at Amherst and Tonawanda in the Grant-Amherst neighborhood.

Above all, It was the railroad the determined the development of the Grant-Amherst district, the heart of which came to be Assumption Parish. There had always been railroads crossing at the intersection of Tonawanda and Amherst. First, the Buffalo-Niagara Falls, then the New York Central and the Grand Trunk between the United States and Canada. The most significant for the development of the Assumption Parish was the Belt Line. When completed in 1833, the Belt Line was a freight and passenger line that circled the city, much like the expressway system does today.

Suddenly, whole new areas of the city, until then inaccessible, were open to settlement. For the price of a nickel, people could leave older, inner-city neighborhoods and by riding the Belt Line could move to Central Park or Grant-Amherst.

Industry, too, now guaranteed a way to receive and ship materials, took advantage of the Belt Line and began to move away from the older, industrial areas near the waterfront to those newer, outlying sections of Buffalo. Many local industries chose the Amherst-Tonawanda intersection, and by the turn of the century this section, just east of Black Rock, had become very heavily industrialized.

Some factories, like Pratt and Letchworth, had been there since the 1870's. Most , however, came after the completion of the Belt Line. Within a 10-year period, Buffalo Cooperative Stove, McKinnon Dash, Acme Steel, Hard Manufacturing and Standard Plaster were among the large companies that were located at this prime site. By 1900 the Belt Line had attracted still more industry: Fedders, Kittinger Furniture and Pierce-Arrow, among the largest.

Offering jobs and direct transportation, the Grant-Amherst neighborhood grew quickly. The largest group of settler consisted of Poles who, bursting out of their older and overcrowded neighborhood in the East Side, began to settle in the Grant-Amherst section. At first, these Polish settlers shared the neighborhood facilities of Black Rock. But, the cool reception they received (Black Rock's newspaper, "The International Gazette," said in referring to that growing number of Poles here that, "In the sweet bye-bye they may be desirable acquisitions, but they are not looked upon in that light now,") in addition to the long and dangerous journey across the wide expanse of street level railroad tracks, discouraged communication between the two neighborhoods.

Thus, in 1888, a group of Poles living in Grant-Amherst requested and received permission from the Diocese to form their own church. In December 1888, Assumption Church, a plain wood building on Amherst Street between German and Peter, was formally dedicated.

With Assumption Church as a focal point, and with new homes and factory jobs as lures, the number of Poles in Grant-Amherst grew rapidly. By the early 20th century Assumption was, after St. Stanislaus, the largest Polish Parish in Buffalo.

But, ethnicity alone did not make this a separate neighborhood. The impassable street-level railroad tracks were even more significant. "We didn't have a hook and ladder company 'til 1912," says Stanley Kasinski, who joined Assumption in 1906. "The closest one was on Amherst and East across the tracks in Black Rock. Now, these are all wood homes here, and fires were a real problem. Trouble was, by the time the hook and ladders made it across those tracks, most of time it was too late."

So, cut off from the older Black Rock section, the Poles in Assumption Parish developed a self-sufficient community of their own. Indeed, it was not until the railroad tracks were raised onto a viaduct in 1931 and an east-west bus was routed on Amherst Street that there was substantial communication between the two neighborhoods. Traditions of neighborhood separatism, long in the making, were not easily changed.

The large and sudden influx of Poles into Grant-Amherst -- there were approximately 1,000 here in 1900 and over 5,000 in 1915 -- led to the exodus of other residents. With the exception of a small yet significant Hungarian Community (St. Elizabeth's Hungarian Church on Grant Street was founded in 1907) the Grant-Amherst neighborhood, with the Assumption Parish its primary focal point, had become a Polish Ghetto.

Most of those who left were moving to Riverside.


To turn-of-the-century downtown newspapers and to the policy makers in City Hall, the area was known simply as "North Buffalo." But, to the residents here and in Black Rock, it was always "Riverside." These differences in neighborhood nomeclature - the name that residents use for a place as opposed to the name used by outsiders - are an important aspect of a neighborhood's identity. For a while the outsider's name of "North Buffalo" implies similarity and extension of the rest of Buffalo, the name "Riverside" suggests something vastly different - a place apart - quiet, peaceful, an almost bucolic and pre-urban environment.

Indeed, that is pretty much the way Riverside was until the early years of the 20th century. During the last quarter of the 19th century, as Black Rock was becoming increasingly industrialized, overrun by large factories owned by people from outside the neighborhood, Riverside was left alone. It remained predominantly an area of farms and several large exurban private homes, like that of William A. Bird, the president of the Erie Savings Bank, who lived on a large estate located between Hertel Avenue (then known as Bird Avenue) and Ontario Street.

Things began to take a change with the passage of the Hertel Avenue Sewer Bill in 1888. Just as is true in contemporary suburbia, sewer construction and real estate development proceeded concurrently. In 1890, for example, one of several real estate companies working in the area -- the North Park Land Company -- bought 30 acres of land in the vicinity of Riverside Park (then known as Germania Park), subdivided it, built two-family homes on the building lots and sold them to incoming homeowners. The area grew steadily and by 1900 there were close to 2,000 people in Riverside

The roots of the contemporary community were already firmly planted. Although settled and primarily by people from Black Rock and by non-Polish exiles from Grant-Amherst, Riverside was not modeled after these two older neighborhoods. It was, in fact consciously created according to different notions of what a community should be. Unlike Black Rock and Grant-Amherst -- their narrow, perpendicular streets set in a landscape of heavy industry -- Riverside, with its long, sweeping streets, the panoramic views of the Niagara, the grassy expanse of Riverside Park (like Delaware, designed by Frederick Law Olmsted) was a working class suburban retreat within the city.

The differences between Riverside and the older neighborhoods in Buffalo were not only physical. Certainly, its homes were newer, its streets cleaner and its air free from industrial waste. But the people who came to live here were also different.

Although still largely blue collar workers, the people of Riverside, unlike those in Black Rock and Assumption Parish, were overwhelmingly American-born. This, compounded with the area's more recent development, gave Riverside the ambiance and the image of success - the feeling of prosperity and newness.

Lillian Strom, whose family had lived in Black Rock since the end of War of 1812, moved to Riverside in the 1920s. She recalls that "there were no factories here then. From where we live now (on Crowley Street) you could see clear over to the Niagara River. Cornelius Creek, all filled in now where Grant Street runs, was our favorite fishing place. Boy . . . it was new all right. New and undeveloped"

Blossoming Neighborhoods

Oddly enough, it was the Depression years of the 1930s and the war years that followed that were the high points in the history of Black Rock, Riverside and Grant-Amherst. For it was during this 15-year period, when mobility was severely limited -- first by economic hardship and then later by wartime shortages of building materials which prevented the development of new suburban communities -- that life in these neighborhoods thrived.

Even during the Depression, local shopping districts, drawing to a large extent on a captive population group, thrived. Within the immediate vicinity of Ontario and Tonawanda Streets, for example, was Robert Franke's Market, Richardson's Hardware, Sully's Art and Gift Shop, Sam Ruffino's barbershop, the Riverside Diner, Thompson's Funeral Parlor, Rowland's Department Store, Grant's, Woolworth's, Kresge's.

Not only shopping, but entertainment, too, was neighborhood-based. Herbert Strom, whose family goes far into early 19th century Black Rock and early 20th century Riverside, remembers "weaving our way through Saturday night crowds on Tonawanda Street" on his way to the Riverside Theater and Murtaugh's Soda Bar.

Neighborhood life was equally compelling in Black Rock and Assumption Parish during the 1930s and early forties. Few people moved away, the population was stable and local businesses, despite the hard times of the Depression, held their own.

Black Rock, Grant-Amherst and Riverside, it seemed, were here to stay.

Federal policies Hurt Neighborhoods

The end of the war, however, signaled the beginning of the end for all of these old, solid and stable neighborhoods. Indeed, not only these places but neighborhoods throughout urban America were devastated by the general prosperity that characterized postwar America. During these years, the unprecedented purchase of new automobiles and homes led to the complete erosion of city neighborhoods that had taken so long to create.

The federal government played no small role in the unraveling of American neighborhood life. Indeed, it was government policy, as implemented by the Federal Housing Authority and the Veterans Administration, that encouraged the massive exodus of residents from Black Rock, Riverside, Grant-Amherst and neighborhoods like it throughout the United States.

By guaranteeing millions of dollars of low interest, long-term mortgages to millions of purchasers of new homes (by funding only the purchase of new homes it became virtually impossible to purchase a home in the city under these federal programs, as most of the housing stock there had already been built), and by developing a system of tax incentives that encouraged the construction of new commercial and industrial facilities, the federal government created the northern suburbs.

When the federal and state governments added highways to their list of subsidized programs, there was little that the city neighborhoods could do to stem the loss of people and business to the suburbs. Unable to compete with the suburban beneficiaries of the government largeness, American urban neighborhoods entered a long period of decline.

Nothing better illustrates the decline of neighborhood life in the northwestern section of Buffalo than the construction of the New York State Thruway.

Planned in the late 1940s, the Niagara Extension of the Thruway was begun in the early 1950s. When plans for the Thruway were made public in the late 1940s, it was immediately obvious that the state planned to build the highway adjacent to the Niagara River. This would rob the citizens of Black Rock and Riverside of their Towpath, the oldest and most popular recreational spot in the area.

The canal Towpath had long been the site of several hunting and fishing clubs whose history extended back into the 19th century. There was the Oak Tree Fishing Club, the Riverside Hunting and Fishing Club, the Turkey Point Club and the Parkside Wheeling Club.

Most famous of all were the George Washington Fishing and Hunting Club and Mutz's Tavern and Boat Rental ... Working with local representatives, the members of these clubs, as well as over 100 people who lived alongside the Towpath overlooking the Niagara River, fought desperately and unsuccessfully to save it.

It could easily have been saved without jeopardizing the Thruway, argues "Chick" Houck, a long time member of the Washington Club and a fisherman on the Niagara River since the early 1930s.

"The land is still there - that walkway along the river in front of Ontario Street," says Houck. "They haven't done a thing to it. It's like the urban renewal. We could have kept all those buildings except the state and the city didn't want them. I think they thought it wouldn't look pretty or something, to have all those wooden buildings there as people whizzed by on the Thruway in their cars."

The residents of Black Rock and Riverside lost more than the shorefront when the Thruway was built. They also saw the destruction of most of Riverside Park. The construction of the Thruway along the waterfront at street-level resulted in the demolition of the park's magnificent, terraced, two-story casino, two large swimming pools surrounded by landscaped, grassy slopes, and a bandstand, the site of community dances and celebrations for over 50 years.

The citizens of the area made alternative proposals for the Thruway. Some suggested that it be built underground. Others above ground. Transportation planners, however, would hear none of it. The Thruway was built in the worst of all possible places. The city lost its shoreline. Black Rock, Riverside and Grant-Amherst mourned their loss.

Black Rock, Riverside and Grant-Amherst also lost many people during these years. While their populations have not declined as rapidly as inner-city neighborhoods (Black Rock has lost about 12% of its population every census year since 1950, Grant-Amherst over 20% and Riverside, whose population continued to grow until 1960, now, too, has begun to lose population at about 105 per decade), the loss has been significant. It has been large enough to result in diminished political power.

Local Politics

In 1961, following a four-year-term as the Democratic councilman from the North District (that is, Black Rock, Riverside and Grant-Amherst), Victor Manz, disenchanted with what he felt was the boss-controlled administration of Mayor Frank Sedita, challenged Sedita in that year's Democratic Party, promptly entered the mayoral race as an independent. The Democrats, now split between Manz and Sedita, divided votes between them, permitting the election of the Republican candidate, Chester Kowal.

Black Rock, Riverside and Grant-Amherst, unfortunately, paid for what was regarded as Victor Manz's party disloyalty. Although there is no evidence to prove it and Victor Manz, now a judge on the Erie County Family Court, himself questions it, there is a large body of opinion that swears that as punishment for Manz's brazen challenge of the Democratic incumbent, his district, whose solid support had made his challenge of Sedita possible, was irreparably partitioned.

By councilmanic legislation strongly supported by Sedita and the Erie County Democratic Party, the German-American Black Rock section was broken off and joined by the predominantly Italian-American Niagara District.

The polish working-class Grant-Amherst community was served and artificially grafted onto the "Silk Stocking" Delaware district.

St. Florian's Parish, another Polish parish in the Grant-Amherst area, was separated from Assumption Parish and placed in the new North District along with Riverside and the Hertel Avenue section.

Black Rock, Riverside, and Grant-Amherst, politically intact since 1854, had always been drastically gerrymandered. Always regarded politically as one of the strongest areas in the city, these three neighborhoods were now critically wounded as each became the forgotten section of three larger councilmanic districts.

The stakes of this little game of political revenge were very high. More was lost than Victor Manz's political base.

Three whole neighborhoods had lost their political voice.

Future Prospects

Despite the short-sighted federal and state policies that have subsidized the development of the suburbs, despite the continued population loss that had affected them since the late 1940s, despite bitter political infighting that has punished them, there is still hope for the future of Black Rock, Riverside, and Grant-Amherst.

It is based primarily on two foundations. One is the deep sense of loyalty and commitment that, after all these years, continues to exist in these three neighborhoods.

"Sure, we've lost a lot of people," says one long-term resident of Dearborn Street. "But there are a heck of a lot of people - not only here but in Riverside and Assumption, too, that have been here for decades. They may not be young and they may not be rich, but they're here and they love their neighborhood."

Perhaps still more significant is the general sense that the high cost of new housing, combined with the increasing cost of gasoline, has finally put an end to the devastating effects of suburbanization that have so badly undercut the ability of the city neighborhoods to survive.

Bruce Garber, the executive director of the Black Rock-Riverside Neighborhood Housing Services, the most successful housing rehabilitation program yet in the City of Buffalo, not only senses the change -- he cites figures to prove it.

People are definitely moving back - there's no question about it," he says. "Young people who grew up in the area, who after they got married and rented apartments in Tonawanda, are starting to buy homes in the old neighborhood. School 51 is good, local bankers are very cooperative and much of the housing stock is sound and comparatively low-cost. More important still," continues Garber, "people want to feel part of the neighbor hood -- identify with their turf. You can do that in black Rock, in Riverside or in Assumption Parish. People feel at home here."

Dan Quider, the councilman for the North District (who, incidentally, desperately wants to see the three neighborhoods rejoined in one powerful councilmanic district), is particularly upbeat about the area.

"We've been killed in the last several years," he says. "On River Road alone, we've lost hundreds and hundreds of jobs, as companies like Western Electric, Semet-Solvay, American Standard on Rano Street, to name but a few, have just picked up and walked away. We're trying to regroup. It's difficult, but it can be done."

Quider talks optimistically about the master plan for the area. It calls for a comprehensive program of improved public services, housing rehabilitation, recreational improvements along the riverfront and in Riverside Park, and a long-term program of economic development that would retain existing businesses, expand others, and attract still more.

Driving through the streets of Black Rock, Riverside and Grant-Amherst and talking to any number of residents confirms the optimism of these professional neighborhood boosters .

"Listen," says one resident of Framer Street in Black Rock who spends most his spare time working on his 85-year-old-home, "with the price of a house in the suburbs so high, where am I going to go? You don't have think I'd like a little more space? A driveway for my car? A bigger back yard for even an above ground swimming pool? But it's out of the question right now. So I"m painting and fixing up here. Might as well make the best of a lousy situation." People are beginning to think twice about moving out of the old neighborhood. And, others are beginning to think about moving in.

While there is hope here, the obstacles to improvement are great and the prospects for success far from promising. The national economy could well continue to decline. There could a reversal of the recent changes in federal policies that have benefited the neighborhoods. New discount department stores could still be built that would knock the bottom out of the best efforts at neighborhood commercial revitalization. Blacks, now leaving the Ellicott and Masten districts in droves, might as well move into Black Rock, Riverside and Grant-Amherst, provoking an unknown reaction in these traditional enclaves of white working-working class ethnicity.

These neighborhoods are, in short, highly vulnerable to events beyond their control. They may never succeed in recapturing the economic and political strength they once enjoyed. But, they can recapture some of it. And, they are trying.

Christine Eber, the creative and organizing force behind the impressive Black Rock-Riverside Community Calendar that was published in 1979, is convinced that if any places can come back, Black Rock, Riverside and Grant-Amherst can. "The people here love these places. With the right policies, some decent economic breaks and some more neighborhood political power, they will make it. I know they will

Page by Chuck LaChiusa
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