Going Home, Staying Home

#159, January 19, 2005

 

“You can’t go home again.” Thomas Wolfe gave this oft-quoted title to his final book, in which Wolfe’s protagonist George Webber is rejected by his home town following the success of his novel, a story which reveals unflattering truths about his former neighbors. I can empathize with George Webber’s alienation, though from a different perspective. Let me tell you my story.

 

As attentive readers may recall, my original hometown was Gilroy, California. I left the Garlic Capitol for college in 1970, and though I visit family there several times a year, I’ve never returned to live. Unlike Webber, I always felt welcome in Gilroy. Being there gave me the sense of security you get from standing on “home turf.” And I remained loyal to my home, and long considered myself one of its defenders.

 

But Gilroy seems to have changed, profoundly. For decades, the change was just the steady uprooting of orchards, but the heart of town kept beating. Then “we” brought in the factory outlet mall, which appears to double in size every year. Gilroy, unable to muster political support for urban growth boundaries or a downtown redevelopment district, couldn’t say no to retail sprawl.

 

This summer it hit me, finally, like an approaching shock wave I’d been watching but hadn’t yet felt. My sister took me on a tour of the latest round of retail expansion on the city’s southwest edge. We drove along wide soulless streets, lined with spacious parking lots fronting a Who’s Who of big box stores. Crowning it all was Wal-Mart, soon to be metastasizing as a vast new “Power Center” in a former garlic field. Then we drove downtown. The last two main street banks had been boarded up; storefront vacancies and sleazy establishments abounded; and the old tomato cannery -- which once lent the fragrance of an Italian sauce to the summer evening air -- was being torn down.

 

Then the final blow: a downtown used car lot surrounded by chain link and topped with…razor wire. Razor wire on Monterey Street! At that point, I gave up on Gilroy. It was lost. It brought to mind Potterstown, the tawdry future of lovely Bedford Falls; the town without the civilizing influence of Jimmy Stewart’s George Bailey in the film “It’s a Wonderful Life.” I later talked with a former schoolmate and dissenting City Council member, who told me, “We killed the center core of downtown.”

 

But Potterstown was just a bad dream. And lovely Petaluma is *still* a wonderful town, though the imperial retail powers that have exploited and ruined Gilroy and scores of other towns across America won’t bypass Petaluma just because we love our small town charm. But they can be controlled, as Petaluma is learning. The big box retail expansion proposed for the Petaluma River upstream floodplain (aka Chelsea Outlet Mall expansion) was recently turned back for lack of City Council support. And now, at last, there is serious consideration of purchasing that land for a far more appropriate use: playing fields and riverside parklands.

 

Playing fields are a perfect fit. As other far-sighted cities like McMinnville, Oregon, have learned, you can develop recreation while reducing flood damage, allowing you to attract funding from open space, recreation, and emergency management sources. As for retail development, of course we need it. But, as I told the Council, “you can be *all for* new retail development without being for *all* new retail development.” We can decide *where* we want it – downtown and along the Washington and McDowell corridors, near the freeway… not in the flood plain. And *how* we want it, rejecting businesses that will cannibalize locally-owned firms, using their national base to subsidize lower prices only until their competition is killed.

 

Maybe we really can’t go home again. But we don’t ever have to leave, to abandon it and let it be spoiled to begin with. The time to act is now. Start by telling your City Council and City Manager (citymgr@ci.petaluma.ca.us) you want them to aggressively pursue playing fields for the Corona Reach floodplain. Send an email and attend the City Council meeting this Monday, January 24, 7PM.