Op-Ed; Hub virtues can't be fabricated

THOMAS M. KEANE, JR.
785 words
15 March 2002
Boston Herald
All Editions
025
English
(Copyright 2002)

Cities don't happen by accident. Here are two examples.

In 1967, Boston was in the midst of a boom. Investment was needed; Boston had been declining for decades. But the new buildings - Prudential Center, Charles River Park, Government Center - were big, ugly and soulless.

Enter Stella Trafford, age 55. A transplant from Mississippi, she fell in love with Boston. At an age when many are contemplating retirement, she embarked on a career as a civic activist.

Her first mission was to save the nearly dead Dutch elms along the grand Commonwealth Avenue Mall. For a while, some mocked her obsession, dismissively calling her the "tree lady." In fact, Trafford was smart and tough, with a dry, disarming wit. She raised money, organized, cajoled and testified. She would "harass you and charm you at the same time," says former state Rep. (and now Congressman) Barney Frank. People began to help.

The trees survived.

More important, Trafford became one of a group of activists who popularized a new urbanism, one that valued Boston's open spaces, its historic buildings and the city's small scale. Their efforts profoundly affected some of Boston's most well-known places, including the Boston Common and the Public Garden.

Decades later, Trafford's work has been so successful that what was once regarded as insurgency is now common wisdom. The proof of that could be seen in the crowd that turned up last week to fete her 90th birthday - movers and shakers from around the city, including the mayor. In typical fashion, Trafford turned her party into a fund- raiser, this time to benefit Copley Square.

When he hits 90, Eric Schapero probably won't have such a star- studded celebration, although perhaps he should. Schapero, decades younger than Trafford, owns Zapatos, a remarkable shoe and clothing store in the South End.

If you haven't heard of Zapatos, you're not alone. Schapero doesn't advertise; all of his trade comes through word of mouth. His store is inside a nondescript warehouse on Union Park, marked by an unobtrusive sign. Still the place is packed.

Why? Zapatos (which means "shoes" in Spanish) has unbelievably low prices. Schapero is actually a wholesaler. He buys shoes, shirts, pants and other items by the container-load and distributes them to stores around the country and overseas, but holds back 35 percent to sell through his store.

Zapatos serves some of Boston's most impoverished neighborhoods. Boston minister Alex Hurt calls it "a poor man's Kmart." Many customers are homeless. A large number are immigrants. For 20 years, it has been a lifeline to those who are barely scraping by.

It's a lifeline that almost went away. As grungy as Schapero's warehouse may look, it's more valuable than it once was. He had been paying $10 a square foot; in today's market it's worth upwards of $25. Not surprisingly, Schapero's lease was not renewed.

High rents don't work for a store like Zapatos. For a year, Schapero searched, increasingly worried he would eventually be pushed out of the city. If so, he would have been just one more in a long list of off-price stores that have closed, forced to shut because Boston space had become too pricy.

Schapero's quest is the downside of Boston's success. Cities have historically served as a way station for immigrants or those on the lowest rungs of the economic ladder. They have been places where prices are low, work is available and there usually is a network of support for families. After a generation or so, of course, the once- new immigrants are now established. Their descendants often leave, making way for yet another group of arrivals.

For that cycle to happen, though, cities need places like Zapatos. To be sure, Schapero does well in his business. But he is as aware as anybody of how much people depend upon places like his. He hires locally and has a reputation for treating his customers with uncommon dignity and respect - not a claim that all mainstream stores can make.

His tale has a happy conclusion. Schapero eventually found a new location on Albany Street near the Flower Exchange. He'll move at the beginning of April.

Trafford's and Schapero's stories may seem very different, but really, they aren't. Stella Trafford is rightly celebrated as a woman who preserved Boston's physical fabric. Eric Schapero is engaged in a very different kind of preservation: that of Boston's social fabric.

Both matter.

Tom Keane can be reached at tomkeane@tomkeane.com.

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