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Benicia Boom (a few years after Tom Adams’ recent nourishment suggestions in BeniciaNews.com) |
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Copyright © 2001 by Dave Badtke |
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When Shirley Myopic got a job offer from a Benicia business, she immediately called her best friend, Claire Vue, to tell her the good news and bad. The job would challenge her and help her to learn new skills, she told Claire, which was good, but she’d have to move to Benicia, which was bad. “Bad?” Claire said. “I was just in Benicia. It’s a great town.” “Whaddya mean?” Shirley said, mockingly. “I went to my interview, drove around the industrial park some and couldn’t find anything to do. It was really bleak. One building after another. No trees. It reminded me of Emeryville. The Reserve Fleet floating on Suisun Bay was nice, of course, and the water and bridges. But really bleak.” “What about all those trees they planted?” “Those little sticks everywhere, you mean?” “Well, sure they’re sticks now,” Claire said, surprised that Shirley’s new progressive-lens glasses hadn’t improved her foresight. “But imagine how great it will look in five to ten years!” “Yeah, maybe,” Shirley said. “But Benicia’s been around for more than 150 years. You’d think the trees would be bigger by now.” “True,” Claire said, realizing the glasses hadn’t diminished Shirley’s told-you-so hindsight. “But it wasn’t until recently that the town understood that industrial areas need to look sharp too, that trees aren’t anti-business.” “Maybe,” Shirley said, reluctantly. “Anyway, after driving around a bit, I just got on 680 and drove home.” “Without going to First Street?” “Nah,” Shirley said, her voice laden with been-there-done-that derision. “I was there a few years back, during the Bush-W Recession. Couldn’t see the point in going back. Bunch of empty offices and stores with no place to sit. Always seemed like they just wanted you to come in, buy something, and get out. Couldn’t even find the artist thing—what’s it called?” “Arts Benicia,” Claire said, patiently waiting for Shirley to listen—really listen. “Yeah, that’s it,” Shirley said. “Must be somewhere way out of town.” “That’s too bad,” Claire said, remembering when Shirley’s optimism turned pessimistic when, long on Yahoo, she watched her two-hundred-dollar shares sink to five bucks during the stock market crash of 2001. Claire sighed. “First Street has changed completely since you were last there.” “That right?” Shirley said, patronizingly. Claire had been trying to move Shirley along for years. To tell her to give people a chance did no good. She knew that she had to patiently recite chapter and verse to her, over and over again, before Shirley would finally realize that life without growth and change was death. Expect the unexpected from people, she would tell her, and you’ll never be disappointed. “First Street changed dramatically,” Claire said, speaking slowly. “But only after Benicians realized that people like a place where they can relax and linger. It’s great to have shops and restaurants if you just want to get in and out—if fast commercial culture, like fast food, is your goal. Malls have it in abundance. You may shop at a mall, but you certainly don’t visit one. Never would you want to live in a mall.” Shirley laughed. A good sign. “Benicians began to think about their town in the same way that they thought about their homes: To be comfortable, there must be different places serving different purposes. They narrowed First Street for cars so that businesses could place wares and chairs outside. They installed benches all along the street, encouraging people to sit and watch those who passed. They planted shade trees around the green at the end of First Street so that on hot days, the best time to be near the water, it was possible to lounge, even lie on the green grass and sleep. At very little expense, they turned the green into a park where parents now take their children.” “They did all that?” Shirley said, surprised. “That and more,” Claire said. “Because they began adding places that were like community family rooms where spontaneous events could happen, where people could sit and talk and meet new people and old friends. Businesses worked with artists to create a train museum and an arts gallery in the restored Train Depot. Sculpture and art were added wherever there was space, creating playful, whimsical places for people to rest. First Street flourished.” “I’ll be darned,” Shirley said. “So you think it’s a good place to live?” They were talking on the phone; Shirley Myopic couldn’t see Claire Vue’s broad smile when she said: “Absolutely. It’s a terrific place to live.” |
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- Dave Badtke can be contacted at: www.CarquinezReview.com; Dave@Badtke.com; PO Box 763, Benicia, CA 94510; or by calling 707-745-5540.
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