Something about "building it"

The town is embroiled over a proposal to build on its waterfront via something called a transit-oriented development (TOD) project. I just spent a good part of the afternoon reading an open dialogue with the town's mayor on a citizen's group page.

What the city is proposing is a mix of commercial and residential buildings around the train station, without affecting the waterfront (which also received $3 million to develop Long Dock Park). The proposal includes a sort of grassy promenade that serves as a "pathway" from the station to Main Street, and incorporates better walkways and bike paths to encourage alternatives to cars.

I’ll start the discussion with a citation in a recent article in The New Yorker about Governor’s Island, which, it seems, could likely fall back into oblivion after we’ve all been there, done that, and gone home again.

“…Richard Florida, the social theorist and the author of ‘The Rise of the Creative Class,’ who argues that urban renewal and invigoration occur not through master planning or public works but, rather, via density of ‘high bohemians’—artists, musicians, homosexuals, and other non-Roveans. Old story: derelict neighborhoods attract artists, who, in turn (ultimately to their own disappointment) stimulate gentrification.”

It seems to me that this town needs a combination of both government intervention and local moxy. Main Street is book-ended with contemporary design and gift shops, galleries and new consumer venues, but a vast stretch of in-between is a barren wasteland of empty storefronts. There's even a theater for sale, with 800-seat capacity and an orchestra pit.

It’s deceiving to someone passing through, perhaps during a lunch break from the museum. There is no signage for tourists, no subsidized transportation, nothing that suggests to the uninitiated that there’s anything worthwhile past the first cafe on the corner. However, I took a walk into some more stores today, only to find nothing useful (and I still can't find ice-cube trays). I finally made it into the pharmacy across the street (as opposed to Rite-Aid down the block), only to find one of each of a few select products, neatly pushed to the front of the shelf. The copy shop does just that, makes copies. It does not have computers and it doesn’t print. It doesn’t even have nice paper – just copy paper. I'm not saying that these stores should meet their maker, I'm simply suggesting that more traffic might spark new sales strategies.

Having been on the precipice of two major gentrifications in the city – Little Italy in the early 90s and Williamsburg in the mid 90s, I feel like I kind of know how it works. It’s definitely the people who initiate the change, not development. When I lived on Prince Street, I shared a large 2-bedroom apartment for $1,200 per month. When I moved to Ainslie Street, I lived in the entire third floor of a house for $650 per month. Sure, Brooklyn was an inconvenience at the time, perceived as such because it was unknown. I had to bribe people to take the L train. “Nolita” did not exist. Bedford Avenue was a ghost town. I remember the first issue of Time Out that featured Brooklyn in its listings. This thing now is essentially not a new experience to me, just a little further off the beaten path.

Just about everyone “new” here moved here from Brooklyn. That is not an assumption, that is a fact that I actually did not know before I moved here. It’s the affordable, larger housing. It’s the relative convenience to the city. It’s the opportunity to start something interesting at perhaps less financial risk (or more, depending on how you look at it). And when you're here, there's definitely something special about the place. Now that we have the influx, let’s do a better job of connecting transit to the heart of the community—at showing visitors what's on offer, past the occasional Times article. And, when that effort generates some success, people might want to live here (a potential boon to Main Street commerce). I'm not in real estate and I don't own property here, so I'm in no way invested other than emotionally.

And I don’t think it’s a bad thing to think about marketing and public relations. The waterfront project, I think, has a price tag of about $12 million. A little branding and proactive communications costs a lot less. Word of mouth, better store hours (I am encountering many “CLOSED” signs during normal hours of the day), strategic promotions, and sure, yes, publicity. There is a lot of cool stuff going on here, albeit in much lower density--particularly in the arts and culinary worlds.

I have to respect the opinions of store-owners and residents who have been here a lot longer than I have, and I’m sure they’ve been down this road more than once before. I’m just curious as to how this all turns out, and I hope I can be involved in some way.

And for those of you who are more interested in the dating scene, I'm working on that.