“There’s new life in the city, but there’s still a struggle on the street.” -Eileen Gloster
I spent the day in North Adams on Saturday. I was up at 5:00 a.m. and on Main Street by 6:45. It was cold. I bought some film at Brooks Drugs just after it opened and the clerk remarked, “I almost had to scrape it off my windshield this morning. It was gettin’ kinda crunchy.” But the bright sun warmed up the crisp air by the time I left my friends at the Bean, and I was energized by the first spell of autumn weather.
It’s been a great summer. Tourists came by the thousands to Mass MoCA, most getting at least a peek at the renewed beauty of downtown. The Downtown Celebration drew crowds most small cities could only imagine getting. Young people hung out and listened to loud music several evenings at the Bean, and events at Papyri Books attracted music and poetry fans from all over the county.
Still, I sense a feeling of uncertainty about the future. Somehow, we always fail to prepare ourselves for the changing of the seasons. You hear the same comments every year:
“It seems like the leaves are turning early this year.”
“Snow already?”
“We had a lot more snow when I was a kid.”
“It’s the middle of April. When is it gonna warm up?”
“Looks like we’re in for a hot summer.”
“I don’t know where the summer went.”
“It seems like the leaves are turning early this year.”
An employee at Mass MoCA expressed doubts about next summer. “I wonder if the New Yorkers will come back. I hope we’re not the flavor of the month.” At the new exhibition near the Hunter Center for the Performing Arts, I spent a good hour staring at photos of the museum in its growing stages. Particularly moving were the views of the Sprague factory just after it closed. There must have been very little hope then. Thirteen years later, we are suddenly forced to deal with the problems of success: how to maintain it and how to build on it.
We are trying. The Blackinton Block has a fresh coat of paint, and the unsightly porches have been removed. But there are no people inside. Not yet anyway. Several new businesses have opened on Main and Marshall Streets, but a mayoral candidate headquarters is the best we can do with the empty Gateway Clothing space so far. In fact, the hot political climate seems to have slowed things down. In a short nine months, the New Yorkers will probably return, and we will want them to have a reason to stray beyond the MoCA parking lot.
The demolition of the former Sofco building on Crowley Avenue is a sign of hope. After all, a thriving business is locating there, and the new structure will dress up the street. But I roamed around the site, and it was eerie to see the rubble and a piece of the building still standing, and to suddenly get an unobstructed view of the old Clark Biscuit Company. I thought to myself, “Will success bring down more buildings? Is the old Jarisch Box Company next?”
A soon-to-be elderly woman in a store told me: “The house is getting too big. It’s just me and my husband now. I can’t imagine having to move. I would miss the view from my front window. I’ve been there almost 40 years. But I don’t know. It’s a lot of work just to keep it up. We’ve got to get a new roof soon.”
North Adams has a healthy share of these people. A lot of nice houses are going to go up for sale in the next 10 years. The owners will pass on, and their sons and daughters will have no use for the old homestead. Who is going to buy them, fix them up and maintain them? Will they just become more property for absentee landlords, or will the city’s success bring in a new middle class to revive the neighborhoods?
In contrast, the photos that decorate the windows at the still-vacant Newberry’s offer consolation. I look at these pictures often. They are filled with hopeful people. A mix of staff and volunteers from the Northern Berkshire Community Coalition are holding block parties, taking kids on picnics and field trips, and building playgrounds on empty lots. Up on Kemp Avenue Saturday, a bunch of spirited folks with shovels were putting in a new playground near Sullivan School.
About 6:00, I drove out to Pedrin’s for some fish and chips. The sun was low, and it was already cold. Most customers shivered at the picnic tables and ate quickly. One lady went over to her car and fetched a sweater. The french-fried food tasted good, and I savored what might be my last visit to the drive-in this year. Then I headed back into town for the poetry reading at Papyri.
We learn a lot from the changing of the seasons, but we sometimes forget the lessons. We still wonder every year if things will ever get any better. Winter comes, it gets dark early, and staying warm becomes our primary goal. But instead of turning our backs to the wind, we should be conscious of which way it’s blowing. It’s blowing into North Adams, and it’s bringing a lot of good things with it. On some gray snowy day in January, when you find yourself staring longingly out the icy kitchen window, remember the familiar sign at Pedrin’s: “THANKS AGAIN! SEE YOU IN MARCH!”
