Many gather dust in obscure antique shops or are bleached in the sunshine of open-air flea markets.
The luckier items wind up as souvenirs in the family rooms of sentimental railroad buffs.
All of them, at one time, contributed to the grandeur of the New York Central Terminal's art deco interior.
Metal and frosted-glass sconces. Finials in fleur-de-lis patterns. Silver and bronze grillwork in geometric shapes. Lunch counters of black Carrara marble.
Most are long gone.
Over the years, owners have allowed antique dealers and others to cart off truckloads of light fixtures, cast-iron radiators and other elements of its art deco interior.
What's left is an empty shell that some preservationists argue still has potential and others say is ripe for demolition.
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"The Central Terminal is still a grand space with all those things missing," said John Conlin, a Buffalo Preservation Board member.
Majorie L. Quinlan, founder of the Friends of the Central Terminal, is less optimistic.
"I think it's a lost cause," she said. "I think we'll see it bulldozed just to keep the vandals out. . . . There's nothing left there to save anymore."
The demise of the terminal -- and the removal of its interior relics -- is nothing new to city officials, preservationists and developers who have struggled for years with how to put the building back in use.
Michael J. Fornasiero said he has witnessed firsthand what the terminal has been reduced to.
"It's so unsettling to see things decay like this," said Fornasiero, who lives in Clarence. "The story of the terminal in the last few years is a very unsavory one." Fornasiero, 24, is producing a documentary film on the life and potential death of the terminal.
"I want this to be a definitive memoir on the place," he said. "A large part of the film is about people being denied their heritage. . . . It's about preserving memory."
Opened in 1929 -- just in time for the Great Depression -- the terminal never really had its heyday.
"The building was an anachronism when it was built in 1929," said Fillmore Council Member David A. Franczyk.
Franczyk has monitored developments closely at terminal, about one block off Broadway on the East Side, because it's in his district.
"During World War II, it was a beehive of activity. But the war brought the automobile and the death of railroads," Franczyk said.
Though it may not look like one in its present condition, the terminal is a designated local landmark and is listed on the National Register of Historic Sites.
Those distinctions, nevertheless, offer no protection for the treasures -- some with more sentimental than real value -- in the building.
Owners of local landmarks must get permission from the Buffalo Preservation Board to change any element of the building's exterior. But the interior is fair game.
"There's the continual temptation to cash in on the value of the artifacts," Conlin said.
And the systematic stripping of the terminal has been going on for years, according to Greg Olma, Franczyk's legislative assistant.
But previous owners don't deserve all the blame.
"No one is free of blame, even the most earnest person (roaming inside) the terminal," said Fornasiero.
Railroad buffs remove things, thinking they better take the stuff before it gets stolen or destroyed by vandals.
"The dereliction and damage that can be done are just unbelievable," said Tim Tielman, a member of the Preservation Coalition of Erie County.
And it's not just a matter of a few broken windows.
The broken windows mean snow and rain seep in. The water floods tiled washrooms, warps wainscoting and turns plaster into mush.
That leaves Franczyk preoccupied with securing the place instead of preserving it.
"My biggest concern right now is security," Franczyk said. "I don't want people to get in and cause more damage."
The subject of the terminal and its demise has become a full-time job for Fornasiero, who has dedicated $15,000 of his own money to produce the film.
That hasn't discouraged Fornasiero, however, who's been conducting interviews and recording the devastation on Paderewski Drive since last July.
He's plastered parts of downtown and neighborhoods around the terminal with posters seeking input from anyone having any connection with the terminal.
"It's such an important social record," he said. "It's not just about the building. It's about the way people lived."
The last passenger train pulled into the station in October 1979.
Then came the dreams of private owners like Tom Telesco, who bought the building for a song in a city tax auction in 1986 and drummed up grand schemes -- ranging from a wedding mall to conference center.
More than two years ago, Sam and Bernie Tuchman unveiled an $80-million plan to convert the terminal into a major shopping center, tourist attraction and residential development.
However, they said their efforts have been stalled in the courts. They have sued the General Services Administration over its decision to relocate offices of the Internal Revenue Service to a Cheektowaga shopping mall instead of the vacant terminal.
"We're still fighting," said Bernie Tuchman, who refused to comment further about their plans. "We hope to be victorious."
In the meantime, the terminal continues to rot.
Mrs. Quinlan was the train station's curator for several months in 1984. She took photographs, gave tours and compiled the terminal's history.
Through her efforts, the terminal was added to the National Register of Historic Sites.
Mrs. Quinlan, a Frank Lloyd Wright scholar, has moved on to other projects like the Darwin Martin house and gardener's cottage. She said she simply lost hope and interest.
Since then, no one has stepped in to fill Mrs. Quinlan's shoes.
Why didn't other preservationists come forward?
"The rationale was to let the Friends of the Terminal and two railway societies exercise that prerogative," said Conlin.
Tielman, whose group recently included the terminal in a tour of the city's endangered landmarks, offered another reason.
"There's little the preservation groups can do materially to help the building," he said. "We don't have the money."
Railroad buffs salvaged a lot of paperwork from the site but shied away from restoration efforts.
"The money involved was far beyond our means," said Joseph Kocsis, a trustee of the Western New York Railway Society. "We're hoping it has a future. It would be a shame to see it disappear."
Some suggested city officials take the lead.
"The city has the power of law behind it," said Tielman, who recommended an oversight group be created to monitor the situation.
"No one gets together to talk about it on a regular basis. A lot of stuff that happens to the terminal happens under cover of darkness," he said.
But Franczyk said the city cannot do it alone.
"In the scheme of things, the Central Terminal was secondary to saving the housing stock," he said. "It's just too big a project for any one entity."
Thus, Franczyk said he must rely on the initiative of private developers such as the Tuchmans.
"I gave the two previous owners the benefit of the doubt, so I at least owe (the Tuchmans) that," he said. "But my skepticism grows with each new owner."
As does the cynicism.
"What's saving the Central Terminal now is that it would cost too much to tear down," said Olma, who estimated it would take between $15 million and $20 million to raze.
"I wouldn't worry about demolition. I'd worry about getting to the place before it gets too bad," he said.
EDITOR'S NOTE: Anyone wishing to contribute a memory or other information to Michael Fornasiero's film project, can call 759-7798 or write to P.O. Box 340, Clarence Center, N.Y., 14032.
