Hey Connecticut, there are no walls between towns
I was on a panel at a Leadership Danbury event hosted by the Greater Danbury Chamber of Commerce Wednesday morning and trying to sort out in my head precisely what felt a little off.
Ahh, that’s it. It’s because we’re in Bethel.
As I later commented to Stamford Chamber of Commerce President Heather Cavanagh, “I can’t imagine speaking at a Stamford chamber event in Greenwich, or vice-versa.”
I turned to my left and asked Danbury chamber President P.J. Prunty how many towns fall under the umbrella of “Greater Danbury.” “Ten.”
I addressed the audience of roughly 30.
“So I’m curious, who here is not from Danbury?”
Several hands went up. “Where are you from?” “New Milford.” “Bethel.” “Ridgefield.” “Brookfield.”
“OK, you’re going to be surprised: South Windsor.” “Brewster, New York.” “Poughkeepsie ...”
I was suddenly distracted by the 110-mile distance between South Windsor and Poughkeepsie. I referenced a line from that day’s editorial that Connecticut tends to be allergic to regionalism. I shared how my years working in Greenwich and Stamford taught me you just can’t color outside the lines when it comes to a lot of local news coverage there. I’ve explained it to a lot of new staffers over the years, but you have to be an eyewitness to appreciate it. I didn’t have to translate this for the Bethel audience, as an audience member did that for me.
“I work for a nonprofit. Every time we talk about fundraising ... recruitment or retention, we say internally that ‘Well, Fairfield Country is different. What works in Hartford doesn’t necessarily work in Greenwich.’ I do community outreach in Danbury, Norwalk, Stamford and Greenwich. Then you go to Bridgeport and it’s a totally different story. Lower Fairfield Country is just a ...”
She took a hesitant pause. “It’s a weird place. It works really different.”
She’s not wrong. I was covering a monthly event in the fall that was moved from Greenwich to Stamford. Organizers warned me that many participants avoided Connecticut’s most successful city. Sure enough, many confessed they never crossed the border into Stamford. Little seemed to have changed since I was the rookie introduced to the phenomenon in the ’80s.
Prunty transitioned to how Danbury & Co. are different.
“We’re sort of our own sustaining ecosystem here in Western Connecticut,” he said. “It’s a different feel. Towns support each other because people live in Brookfield and work in Danbury or work in Danbury and live in Brookfield.”
Danbury Chamber Events and Membership Director Helen Brickfield described it well after the event: “The borders are porous here.”
Almost on cue, Danbury Mayor Dean Esposito walked by, a reminder of the controversy over his living in Brookfield when he ran for the office last year. The “porous” concept is not lost to me. After three decades of living in Stamford, I now reside in Newtown. I know my way around, but half the time I don’t know what town I’m in. I always know if I’m in Greenwich, Stamford, Norwalk, New Canaan or Darien.
Stamford is the anomaly among city chambers in Connecticut. The Hartford Chamber of Commerce promotes the region. The Greater New Haven Chamber represents 15 communities. Even the Norwalk chamber embraces the “Greater” tag, enveloping Wilton, Weston and Westport as well as New Canaan and Darien. Norwalk’s website even reminds visitors that Darien was originally part of Stamford.
But Stamford is not a hub city like Danbury. Not only is Norwalk right there, but — I’m just going to say it — the Town of Greenwich is really a city (cue to release the hate mail).
Not that any of these individual towns throughout the state don’t have their own chambers, or that they don’t collaborate.
Cavanagh came to the Stamford helm having previously guided the Darien and Westport-Weston chambers. When the Stamford chamber hosted the mayoral debate last fall, it was just over the Darien border at the Water’s Edge at Giovanni’s. And the Greenwich, Stamford and Norwalk chambers reliably unite for expos at UConnStamford.
Yeah, it’s a weird place. People in Connecticut cling fiercely to local identity. Before I started writing this column nine years ago, our former editor David McCumber suggested I name it “Out My Back Door,” as a nod to my predilection for exploring different parts of the state. A reminder to people that it’s OK to cross borders.
Prunty wrapped things up Wednesday morning with a clever epilogue to my discourse on the definition of “local.”
“Tip O’Neill said all politics is local. Well, all news is local. What I’m coming away with right now is how important it is to keep that local identity,” Prunty announced in his best Anderson Cooper tone. “John, I’m going to put you on the spot with one last question:
“Onions or no onions on your cheeseburger from Greasy Nick’s?”
Silence from the Connecticut crowd that didn’t get the reference. Shock and awe from me. “HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?”
Prunty enjoyed a well-earned chuckle.
“My parents were high school sweethearts from New Rochelle,” he revealed. “You said you were from New Rochelle.”
“Greasy Nick’s” is the ideal “I’m from New Rochelle” shorthand. I summarized how I grew up thinking my grandfather’s references were to a bar before discovering the shoreline shack on my own, complete with corn doing the backstroke in butter, steamers, etc. And in case anyone is inclined to make the drive, know that its real name is “Leno’s Clam Bar” (it was founded by Jay Leno’s uncle).
“My father is obsessed with this place,” Prunty explained. “If a story would run he would frame it.”
I challenged the audience to name their local version of “Greasy Nick’s.”
“Denmo’s” (in Southbury). “JK’s” (in Danbury). “Sycamore” (in Bethel).
I’ve been to all of them. Because it is good to explore.
But it’s local flavor that makes us feel we are home.