From loud mouths may come wisdom

29 December 2000

Aren't those loudmouths infuriating? Neighborhood groups, civic activists, historic preservationists and the like - they all seem determined to stop progress in Boston.

For example, during the 1960s the city laid out plans to transform the Back Bay of modestly sized residential brownstones into a new Manhattan. Big, boxy apartment complexes were to be built, replacing the old 19th-century buildings that line the neighborhood's boulevards.

A few were completed. You can see examples at 180 Beacon St. and 330 Beacon St. But then those pesky neighborhood activists stepped in. They successfully cut height limits from 155 feet to 65 feet. They got the state Legislature to pass a law declaring the entire area an historic district. They stopped development on one empty lot and marched on City Hall, eventually forcing the city to build a playground.

Think of the opportunities lost.

And it gets worse. In the 1970s, residents mobilized to stop the construction of the Southwest Expressway. Slated to run from the western suburbs right through the South End, the new highway would have wiped out that neighborhood. But after all, the South End was just a collection of dusty old buildings.

But the loudmouths screamed and yelled and ultimately persuaded then-Gov. Frank Sargent to stop the whole thing. Instead of a highway, the area became a park.

Meanwhile, developers had great plans for a ring of skyscrapers around Boston Common. Instead of the modestly sized Four Seasons Hotel, for example, there would have been a 70-story tower. Once built, the Common would probably have been paved over because the new buildings would have blocked sunlight from ever hitting the area again.

Sounds good to me. This is a city after all. To paraphrase the immortal words of Mayor Thomas Menino, if you want green space move to Duxbury.

Enter those pesky activists again. The city wouldn't help, so they finally got a state law passed prohibiting any building from casting a shadow on the Common.

Hrumph. They probably just added to the skin cancer rate.

The North Slope of Beacon Hill should have been populated with tall structures such as the Saltonstall building. The loudmouths stopped it. The dream once was that the Combat Zone would extend along Boylston Street all the way through the Back Bay. The loudmouths stopped that as well. Ten Post Office Square should have been razed. Symphony Hall and Horticultural Hall should have been gone. The loudmouths saved them all.

And they continue to interfere today. From the Faneuil Hall footbridge to the Millennium tower, from the Fan Pier development to a new Fenway Park, they never stop butting in, they never stop trying to get their way.

Truth is, a lot of people in the corridors of power roll their eyes at the mention of the loudmouths. They don't have big checkbooks. They don't have powerful friends. But they sure do make a lot of noise.

Take Shirley Kressel, for instance. Kressel, a landscape architect who heads the Alliance for Boston Neighborhoods, aggravates everyone with her constant nattering about the wisdom of every newly proposed development.

Even more aggravating, she's frequently right.

Or how about Susan Park, head of the Preservation Alliance? Not only does she object every time someone wants to tear down an old building, she then insists that some way should be found to reuse it. Her group stops the United Shoe Machinery building on High Street from being torn down, pays for a restoration study to prove it's worth saving, and then works with new owners to rehabilitate it.

The loudmouths argue that Boston's most important qualities - its smaller scale, its walk-ability, its residential character and its relative lack of density - are fragile things. Preservation matters, they claim, not only for its own aesthetic merits but because the past informs a city's present. All of these things, they say, are too easily sacrificed when short-term goals take precedence over long- term planning.

Maddening, isn't?

Still, the activists don't always get their way. Their biggest loss, of course, was when the entire West End was razed in the 1960s to make way for Charles River Park and Government Center. And residents in Chinatown now fear they will soon lose a fight to prevent a strip-tease club from opening in their neighborhood, potentially wiping out all of the gains they have made over the last several years.

Yet, for all of their setbacks, for all the times they are mocked, the loudmouths are having an effect. The Boston of today is vastly different than it would have been if they weren't around. And amazingly enough, even the developers are better off; one needs only look at Boston's sky-high real estate values for proof.

Don't let the loudmouths know, though.

Like Jimmy Stewart in Frank Capra's classic movie, they might begin to understand just how important their contributions have been to Boston. They might begin to realize that, despite their frustrations, it's a wonderful life after all.