Maturity becomes Fenway activists

 

Thomas M. Keane Jr.

25 June 2003

Boston Herald

 

Thirty years ago, members of the Fenway Community Development Corp. were chaining themselves to buildings, suing in court, attacking developers and battling against the Boston Redevelopment Authority.

 

Last month, Fenway CDC members stood side by side with many of those old enemies, christening a newly built assisted-living center. The mayor, the head of the BRA and other members of the city's establishment heaped praise on the CDC. The once radical outsiders had now become mainstream.

 

The ideals of youth giving way to the compromises of maturity?

 

The better argument is that the CDC has figured out the system, in the process making itself far more effective than it was in its older days.

 

Thirty years ago, Boston's tiny Fenway area (bounded by Back Bay, Huntington Avenue and Longwood Medical Area) was slated for destruction. Urban renewal had just wiped out the West End and was now heading for the Fenway.

 

Out of that, the CDC was born. It aimed to organize the area's residents. The enemies were everywhere: bureaucrats who believed the cities of old were doomed; developers looking to make a quick buck; arsonists trying to accomplish by fire what the courts refused to allow; institutions that saw the Fenway as a good place for expansion.

 

That was then.

 

"Today," says CDC Executive Director Carl Koechlin, "The neighborhood is in less desperate shape. We can accomplish things rather than just oppose."

 

That's involved some growing up. Koechlin points to the organization's once hard-fought battles with universities and health care institutions. "At some point in the early 1990s, we went through a maturing process. Rather than fight, we tried to figure out how we could exist, how we could accommodate each other."

 

The same thing happened with the CDC's relationships with other major players. It entered into a detente with the BRA to target residential buildings that it could buy and save for affordable housing. It began to work with developers such as the Abbey Group, owner of an abandoned Sears, to figure out how new projects could benefit the community. (The result - the Landmark Center - now houses a 13-screen cinema as well as retail and office space.)

 

And, most recently, the CDC has been pushing for a redevelopment of Boylston Street along the lines of what it bills as an "urban village." Critical to that was persuading the Red Sox to drop plans for a new stadium. The Sox credit the CDC for coming up with ideas such as the seats above the Green Monster that allowed the team to renovate rather than tear down Fenway Park.

 

None of this has come without controversy, however. Home to 33,000 - most of them young and looking to make their mark on the world - the Fenway is an exceptionally fractious community. Some new groups, such as the Fenway Action Coalition, have arisen in response to a perception that the CDC has become too conservative. But the longest running battle has been with a residents' group, the Fenway Civic Association.

 

In part, that's because the two have differing visions: The CDC allied itself with newcomers and aggrieved tenants, the Fenway Civic Association with longer-term residents and owners.

 

It also has to do with the CDC's finances. For a community organization, the CDC is well heeled. Its budget of close to $1 million supports 19 staffers (many of whom do not live in the Fenway) and a well-equipped office. That money comes in large part from real estate developments. That can create problems. One project on Kilmarnock Street was too big and too close to sidewalks. But the CDC was able to push it through City Hall, seemingly a classic case of conflict of interest. ("Not our proudest moment," says Koechlin, who was not executive director at the time.)

 

Cases like that are what cause one Fenway Civic Association member to brand the CDC a pretend civic group. Still, the CDC has built housing, saved buildings and aided less well-off residents. Koechlin modestly concedes that his organization is just "one of the voices in the Fenway." And the bottom line is this: 30 years after the CDC's founding, a once imperiled neighborhood thrives.

 

Talk back to Tom Keane at tomkeane@tomkeane.com.