Andover no longer allows neon signs, and I like neon signs. They're pretty; they make me happy. Maybe it's partly nostalgia that I feel that way; my dad's store, "Dalton's Pharmacy" had a neon sign, as did many other Main Street stores in the 20th Century. They were tasteful and made the center of town colorful and bright, especially at night.
I'm not overly fond of imposed taste, especially government-imposed taste, and I believe such impositions should be handled cautiously. If somebody owns property, he ought to be able to do with the signage as he deems fit. Oh, of course there have to be outside limits; few people want Andover to look like Las Vegas.
Since I'm in a judgmental mood, bigger trees should have been planted when the town's center had its face-lift. The trees are too small again. I say "again" because a few decades ago, when the center had some surgery, little trees were put in with a promise that they would look good when they got older. They were removed last year just about the time they were older and looked good.
The state was in charge of the recent Main Street project and probably the one before it. Main Street is Route 28, a state highway. (Once upon a time you'd drive from Andover to Cape Cod on Route 28.) It's more expensive to work around existing trees and that's why existing trees are ripped out and replaced, so the trees are small again. Eighty-nine trees of 12 varieties were planted last year to replace the removed trees. I don't expect to ever see mature trees downtown.
People in Andover were often unhappy with their town center. In the mid-20th Century there was the decades-long whining about how ugly the now-called Old Town Hall was. Then tastes changed and everyone decided it was a beautiful building. In the early 1960s, the center was seedy in spots, especially along Post Office Avenue and Park Street and some of Main Street needed touching up. In 1961 an urban renewal project was proposed by a group of Andover citizens. Many of you may be surprised to think that Andover was ever a candidate for urban renewal - after all, wasn't urban renewal designed to fix blighted cities — but, indeed, Andover qualified and all it had to do to receive two-thirds funding by the federal government — the all powerful Oz — was to agree on a plan.
I thought about doing a column on Andover's urban renewal battle, but after taking 25 pages of notes on the subject, I decided it was too much for my column. Urban renewal was a two-year fight. The selectmen kept their powder dry waiting for the right moment to opine or else hoping the idea would just go away. On a document that needed their approval, the selectmen deleted the words "slum" and "blighted." The fact that the words were in there in the first place tells you something about how strong the pro-urban renewal people felt about the condition of the center.
The original plan was a tad draconian. It would have leveled level Main Street, shut down 80 businesses, and moved out 40 people who lived downtown. This was to be done through the power of eminent domain, and there was no guarantee that the original owners and businesses would be able to return. Over many months the plan softened a little, and even the Andover CO-OP (a landmark cooperative market on the south end of what is now CVS) proposed a plan of its own. The effort to change the center was a huge issue dominating the town's news for months.
At the time of the urban renewal fight, my father owned his drug store as well as the Barnard Building (which is now on the national historical register). One night he mentioned casually that some people wanted to tear down all the downtown, including his business and building. Dad always quietly tended to the business he'd worked in since he was 16, and he had lots of friends. He avoided public politics, but in private conversations he stated powerful opinions about the theft of eminent domain and government intrusions into individual's rights, including property rights. This made me curious as to why he was casual about the possibility of having his business and building destroyed. I think he knew from the beginning that urban renewal wouldn't work out.
One day, when the urban renewal battle was at its peak, he said his building and business would not be part of the plan. Wally Hazeltine, one of the leaders of the urban renewal drive, had given dad his word. He was a banker who eventually moved on to become the biggest banker and one of Maine's most successful businessmen.
Urban renewal died at a Town Meeting, but the town's lengthy discussion about it was healthy. By the time it was defeated, local businessmen like Phid Dantos, John Davidson, Linc Giles, Dan Hogan and others decided to invest time, energy and money in the center. Eventually, the "blight" went away and the center evolved.
The town's center is important and will sometimes be a place of controversy. In spite of the little trees and lack of neon signs, it's a nice place right now with lots of good businesses. The town finally concluded that allowing businesses to have more latitude about things such as outside eating and displays on the sidewalks are good ideas. That's smart because what's good for the center is good for the town.
Bill Dalton writes a weekly column for the Andover Townsman and enjoys receiving your e-mails at billdalton@andovertownie.com.
