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cathywRecently at my work they've posted a series of historical photos, both taken during the construction of the facility and aerial photos at various times as plans were being made for large-scale construction.
I knew, intellectually: The neighborhood where my work is located, despite being beyond dilapidated now, used to be a thriving district with restaurants, department and clothing stores, bars, churches, homes, people. (And a soap factory - the wastewater treatment plant was not the worst smell in the neighborhood! - a small pop bottler, and a steel mill.)
I knew, intellectually: When a major expansion of my work was made in the early 1970s, a lot of property had to be acquired. The one structure that was left was a Catholic church, now itself empty but I remember working on a Sunday and hearing the bells ring.
I knew, intellectually, the whole city was starting to empty out starting in the '50s and really picked up the pace right around the time my workplace did the big expansion - unsurprisingly, around the time my parents moved to the suburbs.
It was still a bit of a shock to see that the property that was acquired for that big expansion was an *entire subdivision complete with elementary school* and a lot of the businesses along the main road.
I looked up some of the history of the neighborhood. It had been a very tight ethnic enclave for ~75 years, but post-war culture and the switch from transit culture to car culture started the movement to the suburbs in the '50s. The freeway cut a chunk off the neighborhood in the '60s. But a lot of the old-timers say that what really kind of signed the neighborhood's death warrant was when the water board bought out that subdivision in the '70s.
I suppose I shouldn't feel bad about that? it was 40 years ago, representing a use of eminent domain for a legit public purpose (sewage treatment is why we have civilization), and the neighborhood's decline was absolutely inevitable given the rest of the city? But that was still something on the order of 200-250 homes, 200-250 families, hundreds of lives uprooted, and I can't help but... regret it a little, I guess.
Also the school was beautiful and demolishing it was a tragedy, except, again, an inevitable one.
I knew, intellectually: The neighborhood where my work is located, despite being beyond dilapidated now, used to be a thriving district with restaurants, department and clothing stores, bars, churches, homes, people. (And a soap factory - the wastewater treatment plant was not the worst smell in the neighborhood! - a small pop bottler, and a steel mill.)
I knew, intellectually: When a major expansion of my work was made in the early 1970s, a lot of property had to be acquired. The one structure that was left was a Catholic church, now itself empty but I remember working on a Sunday and hearing the bells ring.
I knew, intellectually, the whole city was starting to empty out starting in the '50s and really picked up the pace right around the time my workplace did the big expansion - unsurprisingly, around the time my parents moved to the suburbs.
It was still a bit of a shock to see that the property that was acquired for that big expansion was an *entire subdivision complete with elementary school* and a lot of the businesses along the main road.
I looked up some of the history of the neighborhood. It had been a very tight ethnic enclave for ~75 years, but post-war culture and the switch from transit culture to car culture started the movement to the suburbs in the '50s. The freeway cut a chunk off the neighborhood in the '60s. But a lot of the old-timers say that what really kind of signed the neighborhood's death warrant was when the water board bought out that subdivision in the '70s.
I suppose I shouldn't feel bad about that? it was 40 years ago, representing a use of eminent domain for a legit public purpose (sewage treatment is why we have civilization), and the neighborhood's decline was absolutely inevitable given the rest of the city? But that was still something on the order of 200-250 homes, 200-250 families, hundreds of lives uprooted, and I can't help but... regret it a little, I guess.
Also the school was beautiful and demolishing it was a tragedy, except, again, an inevitable one.
