About Connections: Love it or hate it, history is a map. Those who hate history think it irrelevant; many who love history think it escapism. In truth, history is the clearest road map to how we got here: America in the 21st century.
Lately, Connections has been telling stories of the founding of Berkshire towns and villages. For example, the last column told of West Township. It was not about the Williams men — father and son — their land grab, or domestic slaves. That particular story has been told many times in my other books and articles. Instead, it was about the key moments that moved the northern part of the Berkshires from wilderness to West Township to Hoosac to Williamstown.
These columns ask: what makes one place uniquely and distinctly that place? Is the distinction in its history or in its physical characteristics? Is it in when and how it was settled or who settled it? What do we want to preserve — the story itself or the real things that made the place unique?
One mistake we make when talking about preservation is discussing preserving only the past. Of course, that is part of it. But the truth is, as we consider change, we are engaged in shaping the future. What the Berkshires will be in 20 years is based on what we decide to build or tear down, allow or disallow, now. What are the possibilities and choices available for modernization or development? At the same time, what do we want to protect? What must be preserved because it is central to that village’s identity?
Progress and preservation, land use and conservation are simultaneously cross-supportive and at odds. If we accept that change is inevitable and, at the same time, acknowledge that preservation and conservation are parts of sound planning, we do not have a solution; we have merely defined the problem.
The problems are oxymoronic. For example: those things that maximize profits can destroy the things we wished to purchase with the gain; the things that attract second homeowners are changed by their coming, and, in an effort to accommodate tourists, we build things here they travelled to escape.
For example: for decades, Berkshire residents resisted fast food and lodging chains, obtrusive signs, and the destruction of historic buildings. In so doing, there was no place for parking, cell towers, and public rest rooms. Nonetheless, many Berkshire towns made their livings from tourists who wanted parking, cell reception, and public bathrooms. It seems contradictory, and it is. This is just one example of the inherent contradictions, and there are more.
Some of us support land conservation and affordable housing without realizing that protecting land makes the remaining land too expensive to develop at an affordable price.
Some are proponents of affordable housing, and at the same time oppose cluster housing, the demolition of old buildings, and buildings higher than four stories without realizing those things make housing unaffordable to more than the privileged few. The contradiction is not in the minds of the people, but in the complex and interdependent aspects of the problem. And the problem is not new.
At the turn of the century, Stephen Field, who invented and constructed the first electric trolley car, led the fight against having one run on Main Street in Stockbridge. Field wanted Main Street preserved — even from him and his invention. By not putting his trolley on the street, he lost the patent war and the right to be called the inventor of the trolley.
Today, preservationists, merchants, environmentalists, developers, full-time residents, and second homeowners may think they represent six opposing sides and find they have bedfellows as strange as Mr. Field.
For example, if Lenox or Stockbridge “enters the 21st century” and puts up neon signs, parking lots, motels, and a Taco Bell on Red Lion corner for the tourists, there won’t be any tourists. Why come here when they have that there? If we strictly preserve our bucolic hills without reference to modern invention, we lose our children to job markets elsewhere. There is no absolute winning strategy, no absolute right.
The complexity and internal contradictions inherent in planning — in modernizing, preserving, and conserving — call for sober contemplation. Even before COVID, the Berkshires was very popular with tourists. Since COVID, the influx of second homeowners is staggering. What we should do is not a problem for the future — it is a problem now.
Whether the plans proposed are good or bad, successful or not, those plans will change us. We cannot know whether they will make us richer or leave us with empty buildings and deserted malls. Quiet discussion and cool heads must decide. Beware those who claim to have all the answers; the wisest among us have all the right questions.
What guides us through the forest of contradictions? The simple things: purpose and process. The basics are the guides. Owners can act by right except as limited by zoning. Careful zoning protects the common interest. Yes, it limits the individual owner, but it also protects that same owner as a member of the community.
Planning boards exist to limit individual rights in the name of the public good just as speed limits do. The members are elected so it is clear they represent their constituents — the townspeople. That is their purpose and if any board or member becomes confused, they can rely on process. Proper process such as Open Meeting Laws, public hearings, and the necessity of informing abutters, help guide elected officials to remember their purpose. It is a tough job, and the volunteers should be thanked for a job properly done.
